Falling for the Princess

by Sandra Hyatt

  “No. Don’t—” But it was too late. He’d hung up.

  She didn’t have to stay. She could just phone him back. A text came through from Eduardo suggesting they get together to discuss a charity they both sat on the board of, the pretext transparent. She didn’t leave and she didn’t phone Logan back. Instead she wandered around Russell, trying to enjoy the anonymity as she waited.

  Her broad-brimmed sun hat shaded her face as, two hours later, she stood on the main wharf watching yachts and launches and fishing boats coming and going in the harbor. A few feet away two boys dangled fishing lines into the water. Her phone rang. Already she recognized the number. “I’m on the wharf.”

  “I know.” The voice sounded from both her phone and from behind her.

  She stayed where she was, looking out over the water as Logan come to stand beside her, casting his shadow over hers. “So this relationship we’re having…?” Was that smug amusement she heard in his tone?

  “I told my father I was dating you in the hope he’d cancel the ball. Apparently it’s too late for that. I didn’t know he’d phone you.”

  An old-fashioned sailing ship with rigging and square sails slid through the water toward the wharf. Men scurried over the decks and up the rigging. The ship wasn’t sleek and shiny like the other boats around but it had its own charm and beauty. If she focused hard enough on it she could almost forget about the man at her side.

  “It doesn’t work that way, Princess. Telling him that gets you what you want but there’s nothing in it for me. Plus it’s a stopgap measure. With no public appearances it’ll only buy you a couple of weeks at best.”

  “You think I don’t know that. I was desperate.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “So it would seem.” The sailing ship—Shanghai, according to the faded green lettering on its side—drew up to the wharf with a grace and precision she wouldn’t have thought possible from such an old craft.

  “It doesn’t have to be a measure taken in desperation.” Logan’s voice was low and thoughtful. “You know where you stand with me. After a lifetime of subtlety and under-handed political maneuvering I’ll be an uncomplicated change. I also make you look good. We’re an intriguing contrast. My rugged looks with your delicate—”

  “I’m still going with desperation, pure and simple.” She turned to face him. Rugged? Not exactly, but there was something elementally masculine about him. He was nothing like the few men she’d dated, who all had a far more polished veneer of sophistication. Logan was tanned with a lean muscular strength. He had a look about him that said he was a man who made his own way in the world.

  “Suit yourself,” he said easily. “Desperation works just as well for my purposes.”

  A man on the Shanghai, with arms like Popeye, threw a rope to a teenager on the wharf. The throw went wide and Logan reached for her as she stepped out of the way and came up against him. For just a second his arm tightened around her waist, his shoulder cushioned her head and her body pressed flush against his, her back to his chest. For a second, everything within her stilled. They stepped apart at the same time and turned to watch the teen secure the heavy rope around a bollard. Rebecca used the precious minute to regain her equilibrium after the unintentional intimacy. By that time more people had gathered around them. Touching a hand to her back, Logan guided her out of the small crowd.

  Farther along they stopped and watched as out in the harbor a speedboat towed a parasailor. How would it feel soaring high and fast? Too perilous for her tastes and yet here she was contemplating doing something that in its own way was just as daunting.

  “I have a list of occasions I need to be seen with you at,” he said, all business. “You’re welcome to add more of your own. Within limits.”

  “Within limits?” Oh, how the balance of power had changed.

  “Yes. I don’t want you getting all demanding and expecting too much. I won’t do the opera and I won’t go shopping with you or make nice to your sycophantic friends.”

  Could she push him in the water? She might lack his strength but she’d have the element of surprise on her side. He could insult her all he liked but she wasn’t having him insult her friends. “My friends aren’t sycophantic.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it, for your sake. But I still don’t want to have to make nice to them. One spoiled woman is enough.”

  “Spoiled?”

  “Admit that much at least. You’re a princess, how could it be otherwise?”

  Who knew? Maybe he was right. But it didn’t win him any points. “Do you even think this can work?”

  “Of course it can,” he said with the assurance that seemed inherent in him. Did he ever doubt himself?

  “But we’re so different.”

  “That’s the beauty of it. Won’t it be refreshing to be with someone different? There needn’t be any pretense, except in public. And who you can be honest with in return. You can say what you actually think. Nothing will offend me. Nothing will go further than me. It won’t damage political relations or cause a diplomatic uproar. Try it.”

  It was almost tempting. But she’d had a lifetime of keeping her thoughts hidden. And much as she might get some kind of pleasure from pointing out to Logan just how overbearing he was being, not to mention insulting, she wasn’t going to do it. She couldn’t.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “Go on. You can do it. I’ll bet you’ve got a long list of fancy words you’d like to call me. Tell me I’m insufferable and deplorable. You know you want to. I’ve never been called names by a princess.”

  “That’s the difference between you and me. Good manners. Breeding, some might say.”

  He looked sharply at her, then guided her out of the way of a kid on bicycle heading straight for them. “What do you know about me?”

  They strolled to the other side of the wharf. “I know you’re a successful entrepreneur, your primary business is systems design but you have diversified business interests in many countries. But not, I think, New Zealand. And I know you’re a friend of Rafe’s—which, trust me, is not in itself a recommendation. I also know you think monarchy is an outdated and elitist concept. And that’s everything. Apart from the fact that you think extremely highly of yourself. So all in all I know very little. Which is all the more reason to make what you’re proposing and I seem to be considering ridiculous.”

  “You’ve gone past the stage of considering if you’ve told your father you’re seeing me.”

  “But only just past it. I’m definitely still in the ‘perhaps I’ve made a mistake and should back out’ stage. Is there more I should know before I get any further into this?”

  “You mean am I going to give you the reason or excuse you need not to do this? No. I’m certainly not the type of man you’ve dated before. My background’s not great, very common, very poor, in fact, but there’s nothing seriously unsavory in it. Nothing that will reflect badly on you.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “So, let’s get this show on the road. We need some where private where we can discuss the terms of our arrangement.”

  “Terms? There are going to be terms?”

  “Of course. Think of it as setting out our mutual agreement.”

  “That’s insane. We’re only going to be pretend dating.”

  “But we both need to be clear on what we expect. Because it’s not dating. I want all the parameters in place. It’s for your own protection as well as mine.”

  A middle-aged woman on the wharf ahead of them nudged her partner and pointed at Rebecca. As her partner lifted a camera, Logan deftly turned Rebecca around.

  He took her hand and walked her toward the land end of the wharf. “I thought you’d want people getting shots of us.” She’d half expected to be ambushed by photographers the instant Logan had appeared at her side.

  “I do. But not until you’ve said yes unequivocally. Not until you’ve admitted to yourself that this is what you
need and want to do. After that there will undoubtedly be photos. Lots of them.”

  “So you’re not going to just bully me into this by making it seem the only option?” Did he know he still held her hand? His larger, calloused fingers engulfed hers, his self-assurance evident in even his grip. He was clearly too used to taking control, and she would have to be vigilant about protecting her own interests. No one else was going to do it for her.

  “It’s not your only option but it is your best option. I’ve thought it through from both of our points of view. It has to be a win-win situation or it’ll never work. But the sooner it starts the sooner it’s over. Where are you staying?”

  Rebecca sighed. He was right. Delaying beginning only delayed the end. Once they broke up she would be given space and privacy and most importantly time. “Friends have a place on one of the islands.”

  “George and Therese? I thought they were in South America.”

  Of course he knew them. Though Therese was one of Rebecca’s best friends, George was one of Rafe’s. And if Rafe knew them, then odds were that Logan did, too. “They are.”

  “I’ll come out there with you now. A little privacy while we get this hammered out will be a good thing. I want our public appearances carefully planned.”

  “And no more than necessary.”

  “My thoughts exactly. See, we’re on the same page already. We’ll be able to make this work.”

  For the first time a flicker of hope replaced the desperation. Maybe they really could make it work.

  One hour later, shaded by an enormous market umbrella, they sat on sun loungers by the pool. Though summer was officially over, it lingered on in the balmy temperatures. Rebecca, wearing shorts and a loose blouse, sat more upright than Logan with a notepad on her lap and a pen in her hand. Logan had a notepad, too—she’d given it to him. The difference being that his was lying on his face to block the light.

  For a man who was reported to work intensely seven days a week, he was currently a picture of relaxation.

  “I’ll want you with me at my father’s ball,” she said, doing her best to ignore the expanse of muscled torso hinted at beneath the T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and chest. Unfair, she’d wanted to protest. That, too, was a difference between him and the men she’d dated, this lean purposeful strength that looked to have been honed over a lifetime of activity. He even had a couple of small, intriguing scars, one on a bicep, another across a knuckle. She clenched her hands. She did not wonder how her fingertips would feel on those scars or the contours of his chest…

  He lifted the notepad from his face and looked at her as he shook his head. “That’s too far away. I’ll be back in the States by then. I’m speaking at a charity fund-raiser the day before.”

  “I want you with me at my father’s ball. Can you come back for it?” He watched her closely, frowning slightly as he appeared to consider her request. “That’s my deal breaker. Remember, Logan—” she smiled as she quoted his own words “—it has to be a win-win for both of us.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly then lowered the papers back to his face, “I’ll come back for it.”

  “These things you want to be seen with me at.” She scanned the list, which, as well as dinners at elite restaurants and high-profile gatherings, included black water rafting—she didn’t even know what that was—and a polo match.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “They’re not my usual type of thing. I generally live as quiet a life as I can outside of royal commitments.”

  “If we did your usual thing no one would seriously believe I was dating you. But you can add your things to the list, bearing in mind there’s only so much of the orchestra and inane cocktail parties that I can stand.” He sat up, placing his feet on either side of the sun lounger, and suddenly he was intense. “Are we doing this or not? Because if it’s not, pleasant as this is, I have other places to be. And you, doubtless, will be wanting to come up with another plan to put your father off. Unless of course you want to start working your way through his list?”

  He held her gaze. The lesser of two evils? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

  “It’s a good plan,” he said.

  Rebecca swallowed. “I’m in.” And with those two tiny words she committed herself to the unknown.

  Four

  Logan had had some bad ideas in his time. He hadn’t thought this was one of them.

  Until now.

  He dragged his gaze from Rebecca’s curves as she wriggled into the full-length, skintight wet suit and reached behind her back for the zipper. He’d known that beneath the sleek lines of her tailored outfits she had a good body. But the wet suit wasn’t tailored.

  It clung. Like a second skin.

  And it left nothing to the imagination. He was, he admitted, floored. Good was a completely inadequate word.

  Suddenly he wanted her back in something—anything—that disguised the curve of breast and waist, and flare of hip, the length of her slender legs. Failing that, he wished their guides, standing close in the sparsely furnished briefing room, were a mile away because he’d seen the appreciative glances the young men had directed at her, even as they were explaining the seriousness of their safety procedures.

  And that was before the wet suit.

  It wasn’t that he was being either possessive or protective, it was just that…she seemed to have no idea. Not of how she looked or of how others looked at her. She thought they saw only the princess—not a woman.

  The black water rafting—floating on inner tubes through an underground cave system—had been his idea, in part because he’d figured that it would be something completely different for her, something a little out of her comfort zone. And he didn’t want her thinking she was the one in control.

  Now she was the one making him uncomfortable.

  She turned her back to him and stepped in front of him. “Can you finish pulling my zip up, please.” She sounded exasperated. The zipper rested in that hard-to-reach spot between her shoulder blades, revealing a deep vee of pale skin.

  Logan closed his eyes and swallowed. Opening his eyes, he rested one hand on the curve of her waist as he slid the zipper up, closing the vee, sealing away the skin with a mixture of relief and regret.

  “Thank you.” She stepped away and he let go of the breath that had stayed trapped in his lungs.

  He forced his attention back to the guides as they explained what to expect during their trip.

  Ten minutes later the four of them stood at the top of a short drop into a dark, watery cavern. The first guide jumped in, landing with a splash. Rebecca, who was supposed to jump in next, took off her headlamp hard hat and fiddled with the adjustment for the chin straps before placing it back on her head.

  Was it his imagination or was she looking paler than she had earlier? Logan moved to stand in front of her. He shifted her cold, fumbling fingers out of the way and fastened the strap for her, his fingers brushing her throat and beneath her chin. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel good about it.” He’d wanted her out of her comfort zone, but he hadn’t meant to frighten her. And fear was what he thought he read in her wide gray eyes. He had to remember that she was sheltered and probably pampered—she was nothing like his brothers, relishing challenges, relishing the chance to vie for superiority. Never backing down.

  Not meeting his gaze, she stepped away from him and smiled. But it was a royal smile. Brittle and practiced. “I’m fine.” Before he could say anything more she took hold of her inner tube, took a deep breath and stepped off the ledge.

  Maybe not so dissimilar to his brothers.

  Only much better looking.

  She bobbed, seated on her inner tube and floating out of the way as Logan jumped into the frigid water after her, followed by their second guide.

  In the quiet, watery darkness, they drifted together through the caves, holding on to one another’s inner tubes as their headlamps played over the vau
lted caverns adorned with ancient stalactites and stalagmites. The only sound was the occasional drip of water falling from the ceiling above.

  They passed through a narrow opening and into a much larger cavern. And on the lead guide’s instruction turned off their headlamps. Beside him, Rebecca gasped. He shared her wonder. The darkness would have been complete but for the tiny lights of thousands of glowworms dotting the unseen limestone surfaces and reflecting in the ink-black water. As it was, he could see nothing of the hand he held up inches from his face.

  It was like floating in the night sky.

  Rebecca shifted her grip on his inner tube and her hand bumped into his. When she would have shifted her hand away again he took hold of it. He couldn’t make out so much as her outline. But the joining of their hands, palm to palm, was a warm point of human contact amid the silent wonder. They maintained that wordless contact for the next twenty minutes of their trip.

  It wasn’t until they floated out of the darkness and into the light and warmth of day that Rebecca eased free of his grip.

  They reached the point where they got out of the water. Logan went first and again held out his hand. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked.

  She let him help her from the water. “It was certainly the most unusual first date I’ve ever been on.”

  “But did you enjoy it?” he persisted, not accepting her evasion. “It’s not a contest, Princess, you don’t lose anything by telling me you enjoyed it.”

  She sighed. “It was amazing. Thank you. I never would have done it otherwise.” Gratitude, and traces of their shared wonderment, shined in her eyes.

  “You were frightened? At the start?”

  “I was…uncomfortable.”

  Was that princess-speak for terrified? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  She smiled at him, her regal best. “You weren’t supposed to.”

  Admiration wasn’t something he’d expected, or wanted, to feel for her. Nor, he admitted, was the attraction that had him thinking extremely improper thoughts about the very proper princess. The admiration couldn’t hurt. The attraction, on the other hand, could well lead him into trouble.