Falling for the Princess

by Sandra Hyatt

  “Why not just tell me now?”

  “Because it’s an…unusual strategy, and if I tell you now you’re going to try to walk away without properly thinking it through. And if we’ve only just started eating our mains, I have a better chance of you staying to hear me out.”

  There was the honesty she’d come to expect from him in their few brief encounters. She could almost appreciate it. “The stomach is the way to a man’s heart, not a woman’s.”

  “I don’t want your heart…only your ears. And your time.”

  Of course. “And once you’ve told me your strategy you’ll leave me be.”

  “If that’s still what you want.”

  “You have a lot of faith in your persuasiveness.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t know me.” And nothing he could say would sway her.

  “I know you well enough.” He stood. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Name the restaurant, I’ll meet you there.” Not only did she not want him to know where she was staying, but she also didn’t want to be dependent on him for transport. Once she’d heard his so-called strategy she’d leave. On her own.

  Logan smiled that too-knowing smile of his. “As you wish, Princess,” he said with mock civility. He held out his hand and without thinking she put hers in his and let him help her to standing. The touch of his palm, calloused and strong, sent an alien thrill through her that warned her that this man was like no other.

  Logan looked at the woman seated across the table from him. When he’d first seen her this afternoon he almost hadn’t recognized her. Dressed for the beach in a slim-fitting yellow dress with a light cardigan, her blond hair loose about her shoulders, she’d looked younger and more relaxed than he’d seen her before. He’d known a moment’s regret at being the one to bring wariness and suspicion to her gaze. Now her lush hair was tied back, and she wore a fiercely elegant black, long-sleeve dress. The only thing it had going for it was that it molded nicely to her curves. But her arms were currently folded across her chest. Even without the schoolmarm dress, it didn’t take an expert to read her body language.

  He needed her to relax, he needed her on his side. That challenge looked even more Herculean than gaining the foothold in Europe he currently sought for his company. It had been a long while since Logan had anticipated a challenge so keenly. “Another glass of sauvignon blanc, ma chérie?”

  “I’m not anyone’s chérie, Logan, least of all yours.”

  She was her prickly, defensive best. Which might go some way to explaining why she wasn’t anyone’s darling, a fact that would otherwise amaze him. He knew she had her fair share of suitors but, despite press speculation, none of the relationships had ever come to anything. “So that’s a yes to the wine?” He began pouring.

  She was way too uptight and way too suspicious. He was taking a gamble here and he needed her a little more open-minded. A little relaxed. Had she ever been even the least bit tipsy? Hard to imagine the always restrained and regal Ice Princess giggling, maybe getting expansive and effusive. An image flashed into his mind of her head tipped back, her pale throat exposed to him, inviting the touch of his lips.

  “So what’s this strategy of yours?”

  Logan blinked away the image, let the prim, almost grim, reality replace it. “Not until the mains.”

  “We’ve finished the appetizers. The appetizers that weren’t necessary.”

  “But the mains haven’t arrived and a deal’s a deal. So tell me,” he said, hoping to distract her, and perhaps himself, “what exactly were you expecting to achieve in running away from San Philippe?”

  Her gray eyes, almost colorless in the dim lighting, darted away from his. “I wasn’t running away. I was taking a break. A well-deserved break,” she said with a note of challenge in her voice.

  He liked unsettling the ever cool princess. “Call it what it is. You were running away.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “I was just curious to know whether there was any truth to the rumor I heard.” Her posture was already perfect but somehow she managed to sit a little straighter. Confirming what he already knew, that his information was correct. After all, he had it from the best of sources.

  “You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

  “Sometimes it pays to have my ear to the ground. I never know when I might be able to turn a situation to my advantage.”

  A waiter set two plates of crayfish, the New Zealand equivalent of lobster, in front of them as the wine waiter brought a new bottle to accompany this course. Logan took a sip of the chardonnay as the young man waited for his approval. “Excellent.” Though to be honest, he’d rather be drinking a beer.

  After their glasses were filled, Logan raised his in a silent salute to her. She watched him steadily, regally, but beneath her cool gaze he glimpsed her uncertainty. The uncertainty of someone who didn’t quite know where to turn.

  He could help her with that.

  He set his glass down. “Assuming the gossip I’ve heard is true—” he watched her expressive eyes “—you will soon be somebody’s chérie even though you don’t want to be. So, I’m suggesting you…be mine.”

  Two

  For a moment Rebecca’s expression was comically blank and her pretty, royal mouth dropped open, her soft lips parting as she stared at him. Quickly, she closed her mouth and a frown wrinkled her brow. “Did you just say…? Did you suggest…?”

  Logan nodded. “It’s the perfect solution.”

  She pushed back her chair and stood. “I think I should go.”

  Surely that wasn’t hurt clouding her eyes.

  “Thank you for the meal.”

  Logan stood, too. He’d more or less expected that reaction, but she had the cool, serene act down to perfection and he’d wanted to ruffle those perfectly preened feathers of hers. So why did he now regret it? “Stay. Hear me out.”

  “I think I’ve heard enough.”

  She turned and he reached for her wrist, circling it easily with his fingers, her skin cool beneath his touch. “Wait.”

  Maybe royalty really were different. Merely touching her sent a subtle charge through him. The same sensation he’d experienced up at the lookout point when she’d placed her hand in his.

  She stilled and glanced at his hand but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his touch, making no attempt to pull free. “Logan, we’re both wasting our time here.” She looked almost endearingly earnest as though she were trying to let him down gently. But her pulse beat surprisingly fast beneath his fingertips and a hint of color brushed her cheeks.

  “Stay. What have you got to lose?”

  She was silent a moment and he watched her searching for an answer. “An otherwise perfectly lovely evening?” she said tentatively.

  He laughed lightly and held her gaze until finally her lips twitched and her gaze softened. “Stay.” He released her wrist and tried not to think about wanting to coax a full smile from her. “The food’s good, the setting beautiful.” He gestured to the nearby ocean and she, too, looked out at the white, cresting waves, something wistful in her expression. “And otherwise I’ll have to follow you. Because I only said I’d leave you be once you’d listened.”

  “I just don’t think anything you’re going to say is going to make sense.”

  “It’ll make perfect sense once you hear it all. Just let me explain properly.”

  “You’re not just making fun of me?”

  “No.” His denial was emphatic. And surprised. Her question revealed an insecurity he would never have guessed she had.

  They faced off for long seconds and he could see her hesitation, her desire to be away from him. But that desire was for more than a temporary reprieve. She wanted his absence to be permanent. Almost as much as she needed a solution to her current problem. If she wanted either of those things she needed to hear him out. And if he was to seal the deal that would secure his company’s future in San Philippe he needed h
er to listen.

  And to agree.

  “I know you’re used to getting your own way. But so am I. And I’ve had to fight far harder for it than you. I never give up.” It was how he’d gotten, against everything thrown at him, to where he was now. “My way will be quicker.”

  Slowly, she sat. “Tell me,” she said on a sigh. He could see her shutting herself off from him. Maybe that subtle withdrawal was how she got through the tedium of so many of her royal engagements.

  She folded her arms across her chest. He was guessing she didn’t realize how that movement subtly lifted her breasts, increasing the creamy swell at the otherwise demure neckline.

  Logan brought his focus back to what he had to say. He didn’t want to be noticing her breasts. He raised a forkful of crayfish to his lips, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on hers.

  A flush stole up her cheeks and she looked down and picked up her fork. She was easier to disconcert than he’d expected. “Your father expects you to…wed, yes?”

  She didn’t say anything but she dipped her head once. Her younger brother had recently married—although he’d married the woman her father had intended for Rebecca’s older brother. But her father had eventually been satisfied with the outcome. There had even been speculation that that was the match the reigning prince had intended all along. The only thing beyond speculation was the fact that he was unambiguously on record as stating he expected that soon all his children would be married.

  And when Prince Henri expected something of his family, it happened.

  Which meant that Rebecca and her oldest brother, Adam, were both to get married, and sooner rather than later. Off the record, her father had been even less subtle. He’d told friends that he wanted royal weddings for the morale and the economy of the country and the reputation of the royal family. And he was going to do what he needed to see that it happened.

  Rebecca lifted a morsel of crayfish to her mouth. As she chewed she glanced at him in surprise. It really did taste sublime. She hadn’t expected that. She took another bite and he realized that he’d stopped eating just to watch her savoring the flavors. “Admit it,” he said, “I was right about the crayfish.”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  And he knew that getting her agreement on even that small detail was important. It was a tried-and-true sales technique. Get the prospect to agree on something small—anything—and then build on that. For a time they both ate, but Logan could keep only part of his attention on his meal. The rest was on her.

  She looked up, caught him watching her and set her fork down. “You were talking about my father?”

  He almost regretted the switch in focus. “I believe he’s even drawn up an unofficial list of suitable candidates.” Rafe, Rebecca’s brother, had shared that information with him one evening after a particularly close fought polo match. “And I’m on it.”

  “In last place,” she pointed out.

  “Hard to believe, I know. A few European aristocrats and assorted eager young politicians are ahead of me.”

  “The only difficult thing to believe is that you’re on it at all. Although…I guess you could be there to make the others look good.” Mischief glinted in her eyes.

  Logan laughed. She sounded so sweet even as she tried to shoot him down in flames. Before tonight she’d been nothing but coolly reserved; he hadn’t been on the receiving end of what was a surprisingly sharp wit. He could only assume she was unsettled by both him and her situation.

  The entire thing with her father had come as a shock to him, but apparently they did things differently in San Philippe. Who was he to criticize? It was a country that would soon prove lucrative to his business interests and, more importantly, was pivotal to his plans for expanding into Europe, so hey, whatever worked for them.

  “You don’t want to get married?”

  The glint vanished from her eyes. “Not at this point in time.”

  “But your father wants you to.”

  She inclined her head. He noted the deep plum color of her lipstick as her mouth tightened. And now, along with the image of her pale throat, another surfaced of her lips parting for him. It was only the challenge of the forbidden. All his life he’d been a rule-breaker. Living a life like hers—following all the rules—would destroy a part of him. He didn’t know how she did it. And it wasn’t his problem, either.

  “You know, I think I can hear your teeth grinding.”

  Surprise flickered in her eyes and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. The other thing he’d never be able to stand about the way she lived was the fact that clearly, so few people ever said what they genuinely thought to her. “Between my father and you I’m surprised I have any molars left.”

  She fought that hint of a smile away and looked at the slim gold watch encircling her wrist. “One more minute, Logan. That’s all I’m giving you.”

  The thing they apparently had in common was that they both liked control. And she was fighting for it now.

  It was time to stop playing games. Logan leaned forward. “You love your father, and you want to please him. You are, both literally and figuratively, his princess. Furthermore, he’s not well.” His failing health was another of the rumors Logan had heard. “He wants you to get married. But of all the things you would do for him, that’s a little extreme. But the people of San Philippe want it, too, and they know he expects it. So, in short you have the pressure not only of your father’s wishes, but of an entire nation watching you. You have to at least try to please him. Or be seen trying to please him.”

  Her gaze dipped to her watch.

  “Apparently most of the candidates on your father’s list, for reasons I can’t begin to fathom, are practically salivating at the prospect of dating and then marrying you. I, on the other hand, don’t want to get married. Least of all to someone like you.”

  “Flatterer.” She lifted her wineglass so that it was a subtle barrier between them.

  Had that been another flash of hurt? Surely not? She was the last person to care what someone like him thought. He paused. Maybe he wasn’t going about this the best way. But usually being straight up worked for him, so he pressed on, watching her closely. “What I’m suggesting is that we be seen to have a relationship. We date for a time. I was thinking four intense weeks. One here, three back in San Philippe. I can fit that in before I have to be back in the States.”

  She took a sip of the wine.

  “We’ll be seen publicly together, with a few more private photos also making it into the media. It’ll be clear to everyone that we’re blissfully happy. In private, between our dates, we don’t have to have anything to do with each other. At the end of the four weeks you’ll be spotted with a diamond on the ring finger of your left hand.”

  “I’m supposed to fall in love with you in a matter of weeks?” Her frown deepened.

  “Stranger things have happened. People see what they want to see. And if they want to see you in love, it won’t be hard to imagine. Especially if you smile a little more. Don’t forget nobody will know precisely when we began seeing one another. It could have been going on for some time already. Perhaps since I first saw you at the ambassador’s gathering, surrounded by people but looking so remote and so alone. The night I asked for an introduction.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You asked for that introduction?”

  He nodded. He’d seen her and wanted to meet her. It had been that simple.

  “And then two weeks after we get engaged,” he continued, “the ring will suddenly no longer be on your finger. Our breakup will be amicable, but you’ll be heartbroken.” She lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle her sudden amusement. That was precisely the kind of smile he’d been thinking of for the media shots. He’d never seen her eyes dance with merriment the way they were now. It transformed her face, lifting the seriousness to reveal someone else entirely. Unfortunately, now was not when he wanted to see that reaction. “All of a sudden,” he continued, “public sympathy will be
back on your side and your father will see that pushing you into a relationship when you weren’t ready was a mistake and that you’ll need time to recover. It’s got to buy you at least a year.” And all of a sudden there was a glimmer of interest in those pretty gray eyes.

  The interest turned just as quickly to cynicism. “What’s in it for you?”

  He met the suspicion in her gaze. “It’ll be good for business. I’m in the process of buying out a subsidiary of leBlanc Industries. If I get it, it’ll be the one that cracks Europe open for me. One of the unstated factors holding things up is that several members of the board of directors are deeply traditional and I’m seen as a newcomer with no history and not necessarily any future in the country. Dating the princess will be just what’s needed to tip the scales in my favor.”

  “What happens when we break up?”

  “We won’t break up until after I have board approval and the necessary contracts are signed. All I need now is a nudge in the right direction at the right time, something to tip the scales. And if we’re seen to still be friends afterward, I can manage the PR. Besides, people will take their lead from you. If you’re not mad at me, no one else will have the right to be.”

  “So the charade would have to go on?”

  “Periodically. Nothing taxing. I’ll be over for business and polo anyway. All you’ll have to do is smile and wave if we happen to be at the same event.”

  “And that’s everything? That’s your strategy?” She sounded far from convinced.

  But that was okay because he was far from finished. “Simple but effective.” People too often failed to see the strength in simplicity.

  She glanced at her watch and stood. He stood, too, and calmly endured her silent, perplexed scrutiny. Finally, she spoke. “Thank you for the meal and your honesty. It’s been a truly…enlightening evening.”

  He sat back down and watched as she glided from the restaurant. The stillness of her head and the regal line of her back couldn’t quite negate the feminine sway of her hips.