by Any Hahn
Well, he didn't actually deny it. He stated he was not going to comment on the subject. The show's title wasn't listed.
"It's only coincidence,” Chloe murmured aloud into the quiet room. “He couldn't possibly be starring in the show I'm hosting. It just isn't possible."
But it could be. She knew that. It was too much of a coincidence. She didn't know much about the EVE Network's show due to the fact there was extreme secrecy connected to the project. Even she, the hostess with the mostess, was left in the dark. However, she did know two things: one, it was titled Courting His Royal Highness, and two, it was about a famous royal bachelor and his dating escapades.
Chloe suddenly felt very ill. This was definitely not the best way to start on the right foot at her new job. She had never wanted to be one of those girls who slept her way to the top. She refused to be categorized that way.
This can't be happening. He just can't be the prince of my show. No way. Fate wouldn't be so cruel.
But common sense told her he most likely was. After all, she had met him at the party. For what other reason would he be a guest at EVE's annual Halloween bash?
He had to be the royal blue-blood who was to star in Courting His Royal Highness.
She stood, tossed the magazine onto the counter, turned off the light and opened the door. Then she tiptoed past the bed and exited the room as quickly as she could. She was too mortified by her passionate actions of a few hours before to look back at the sleeping prince.
As she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, she noticed how her fingers shook. In fact, her entire body trembled. And it wasn't a result of passionate lovemaking. She couldn't wait to go home. She'd had enough excitement for one evening.
Sam greeted her at the entrance to the hotel. He tipped his hat to her. “Did you have a good time, Miss Tanner?"
"I did.” She ducked quickly into the backseat, hoping he didn't catch the blush highlighting her cheeks.
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Chapter Two
She was the sexiest woman he had ever encountered. She gave a new name to desire. He felt as though he would never be able to drink his fill of the mysterious and passionate Chloe, a.k.a. Queen Mab of the Fairies.
Max groaned and rolled over onto his back. The bed seemed immensely lonely without the alluring Chloe sprawled out next to him. He glanced over at the clock—it blinked back at him that the time was 10 a.m. He had a meeting scheduled for noon. But the last thing he wanted to do was talk business. He groaned again and buried his face in Chloe's abandoned pillow. He could still smell her scent, a faint combination of apples and cinnamon.
The fragrance was an instant catalyst to memories of the previous evening. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as images of long dark hair and black eyes filled his mind and more erotic scenes played like a movie in his head. He saw Chloe writhing excitedly beneath him, her soft, breathless voice urging him to make love to her, her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips hungrily devouring his, her hips rising up to meet his every thrust.
And just like that, he was turned on again.
A knock at the door brought him out of the dreamlike state. Max cursed his aroused condition, grabbed his discarded boxer shorts off the floor, and slipped into one of his favorite T-shirts. It was overly large and hid his erection from sight.
He tried to think of something other than the sexual, lustful, irresistible Chloe. He would only waste time thinking about her. It had been a one-night stand, nothing more and nothing less. He doubted he would see her again. Good grief! He didn't even know her last name.
Max pulled a shaking hand through his dark hair before peering into the security peephole. His personal assistant stood out in the hallway, looking not at all pleased. Great. Eric Von Stratton. Definitely not the first person Max wanted to see the morning after a night of mind-blowing sex.
He sighed and opened the door.
"What happened to you last night?” Eric Von Stratton plowed past Max into the room.
Max rolled his eyes heavenward. “And a good morning to you, too."
Eric sniffed imperiously. He pushed up his round glasses and flipped out a large black book. “You were supposed to be networking last night. I didn't expect you to vanish after only a couple of hours."
Max ignored his accusing gaze. “Breakfast?” he asked. He closed the door, walked past Eric, and then sat on the bed and picked up the phone. “Well?"
"I've already had breakfast, thank you very much."
"Well, I haven't and I'm hungry.” Max quickly put his order in. His stomach grumbled rather loudly at the mention of French toast and scrambled eggs.
"So, where were you?” Eric looked down his nose. “And don't tell me you were with a girl. I've grown tired of that excuse."
Max grinned. Eric had been his closest friend since the age of four. They were as different as night and day, but Max couldn't do without him.
"Then you don't want to hear why I left the party early."
"You attract women like honey attracts bees. But you refuse to choose one and settle down. No wonder your family is fed up with you."
Max waggled his eyebrows. “I can't help it if I'm attractive."
Eric smoothed his perfectly pressed suit. “You're a cocky bastard. Of course women find you attractive—you're royalty. They all want to be princesses. Every little girl dreams of it."
Max stretched out on the bed. He propped up pillows against the headboard and laced his fingers behind his head. “She was spectacular."
Eric raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He grabbed a chair and sat down, placing the oversized black appointment book on his knee. “So, tell me about her."
"I don't know much about her except for her name."
"And?"
"Chloe."
"Nice name."
"That's what I said."
"Last name?"
Max shrugged. He stared up at the ceiling.
Eric stared at him incredulously. “You are unbelievable. You must remember who you are. Max, you're not like other men. You must be more cautious."
"What am I supposed to do, Eric? Background checks on every woman I want to sleep with?"
Eric nodded. “That would be a start. She might have been a tabloid reporter. Now the whole world will know what she thinks of you in bed."
"That's ridiculous. Besides, I'd receive only glowing reviews.” Max grinned.
"As crazy as it sounds, it could happen. Just look at all the rubbish they print about Prince William."
"I don't need a lecture,” Max grumbled. He received enough of that from his mother and siblings. Being a prince was exhausting. It was a full-time job just to remember correct protocol. Most of the time he was in trouble—lots of it—for not following the royalty rulebook.
Eric smiled sympathetically. “I'm sorry, Max."
"Have I told you lately how much I hate being a prince?"
"Yesterday"—Eric glanced at his Rolex watch—"at about this same time."
"Well, I'll say it again and again and again. I'd rather be a regular guy."
"But you aren't a regular guy."
Max sighed in defeat. “Yeah, you're right. I've got duties to perform. I've obligations."
"Like marrying and having heirs."
He grimaced. “That sounds so medieval.” He hated feeling like a horse put to stud. “So, what does my family think of our little plan?” he asked.
"They aren't happy."
"Angry I didn't talk about it with them first?"
"Them, and the Romalia Royal Council."
Max was not a big fan of the Romalia Royal Council—the designated ruling body of his country. The fifteen-member council advised the royal family on everything. Heck, the council even picked out the shape of soaps in the guest bathrooms at the palace. Max thought the council too controlling and wanted to dissolve the governing body entirely. But doing was not within his power. At least not yet.
Max preferred to
live his own life, which was one of the reasons he loved America. The United States was a nation where a man could be true to himself and pursue and achieve his dreams. It was a refreshing change.
Max didn't really know what his dreams were. He'd never had time to think about what he wanted—his country always came first. He was a prince, and the duties and responsibilities of a prince came before individual dreams and aspirations.
"But they can't do a thing about it."
"Well, you did sign a contract with EVE. They are mad as hornets, but they agreed you must fulfill the contract."
Max grinned. For once he got to choose. It was a thrilling victory.
"They also see a chance to generate some money into Romalia's economy. You'll probably be a big hit. American girls will flock to Romalia just to catch a glimpse of the famous prince. Think of all the money they'll spend."
"So, they win and I win."
"Well, we certainly hope you find the girl of your dreams.” Eric pointed at the black appointment book. “Get showered and changed. We have a meeting to get to."
Max yawned. He jumped off the bed and walked into the bathroom.
"Hurry up."
"Why did they schedule a meeting on Saturday morning"—Max squeezed out Crest toothpaste onto his bright red toothbrush—"especially after a big bash like last night's?"
"No idea. I guess they're in a hurry."
"I wonder if I'll ever see her again."
"Who? The girl from last night?"
"Yeah."
"Who cares? You had one hot night. You'll have dozens of women from all over the world to pick from. You'll soon forget all about this Chloe girl."
Max started to brush his teeth, staring hard at his reflection. He doubted it. No man could forget Chloe. And why would he want to? She was gorgeous and sexy and warm and feminine. Most of all, she had somehow managed to weasel her way under his skin—which was not an easy thing to do.
Nope. He wasn't about to forget her. He just wished he had met her before he started his new job. Starting today, he was off limits for the women of the world—except for the fifteen women who would compete for his affection on the reality TV show he'd agreed to star in. But doing the show was his choice, the first choice he had made on his own in years. And it felt good. Damn good.
* * * *
Chloe was having a bad day. First, her cat vomited all over her new Anne Taylor suit. Then the only two pairs of nylons she owned managed to snag and run. She quickly applied self-tanner, but it turned her skin a horrible shade of orange. She raced to the mall, but Victoria's Secret declined her credit card when she tried to purchase a new pair of hose. She did manage to come up with enough cash to buy the nylons after digging in the black hole that was her purse. To top it off, she spilled hot tea—blueberry-flavored—on her favorite pink blouse.
Staying up late last night and indulging in a forbidden tryst between the sheets was now affecting her day. She possessed not a drop of concentration. She couldn't stop thinking about him: the James Bond dead-ringer with the fabulous eyes and flirtatious smile, muscled biceps and amazing hands. Ah, yes, those wonderful fingers that had touched her most secretive places. Max. Lusty, hunky, handsome Max. Last night she'd experienced pure nirvana—that was truly the only way to describe it.
She needed to stop thinking about Max and start thinking about her job. She desperately wanted to give a good impression to the executives at EVE. Okay, so they had already hired her for the position and she had signed a contract, but Chloe knew from experience things seemingly too good to be true often were. This job could open doors she never knew existed. It was her chance to make it big, and she had no intention of screwing it up. She'd do whatever they asked. She'd be whomever they wanted. She was their puppet. Right now, this job was more important to her than breathing.
"Chloe Tanner to see Mr. Carridine and Ms. Lewis.” She flashed the security guard her EVE Network I.D. He returned her smile and waved her in.
"Take the elevator to the sixth floor, Miss Tanner."
"Thanks,” she said, smiling as she walked past him through the swinging glass doors into the network's headquarters.
It was an impressive lobby. Skylights decked the ceiling and the walls were made of windows, allowing the California sun to stream in. Palm trees and tropical plants decorated the black-and-white tiled entrance. The centerpiece of the room was a massive waterfall. Chloe felt as though she had just stepped into a tropical forest.
She walked up to the elevators and pressed the UP button. The gold doors, engraved with the network's name, glided open without a sound. She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The doors shut behind her.
Her heart started to race wildly as the elevator zoomed up to the sixth floor. So much was riding on this job. Her career depended on the show being a success. What had ever possessed her to agree to be hostess of a show shrouded in the utmost secrecy and to sign her life away on a legal binding contract? EVE basically owned her for the next two months. And she had no clue what she had signed on for.
For the first time in a long time, Chloe doubted herself. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to jump into the ocean without checking for nets. They might ask her to eat pig intestine or worse, like those poor fools on NBC's Fear Factor. But she didn't think so. Courting His Royal Highness had to be something along the lines of FOX's hugely popular Joe Millionaire from a few years back, or ABC's The Bachelor and The Bachelorette. At least that was what she hoped.
The elevator came to a smooth stop, and the doors swept open to the sixth floor.
"Miss Tanner?"
There was no turning back now. The receptionist had seen her.
Chloe forced a smile on her face and strode towards the receptionist. “Yes, I'm Chloe Tanner."
"Mr. Carridine and Ms. Lewis are waiting for you in the conference room."
Panic made Chloe's heart flutter. She looked at her watch, a fashionable pink thing from Target. “I'm not late, am I?"
The girl laughed. “Not at all. They just happen to always be early.” She rose from her desk and offered her hand. “I'm Karen. Welcome to EVE."
Chloe shook Karen's perfectly manicured hand. She looked not a day over eighteen, probably a high-school dropout who couldn't wait to make it big in Hollywood. She most likely thought working at EVE was the first big step into stardom. Chloe had once felt the same way. She'd even worked as a tour guide at Paramount Studios and operated the rides at Universal Studios, but not one agent had signaled her out. It was hard to be discovered.
"You can call me Chloe."
Karen's smile was bright and friendly and genuine. “I'm glad to meet EVE's next big star."
Chloe blushed. “Oh, I doubt that, but thanks for saying so."
"Well, these reality television stars are hugely popular. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up winning an Oscar someday."
Chloe laughed. “Now you really are dreaming."
Karen shrugged one slender shoulder. “It never hurts to dream. And sometimes dreams turn into reality—especially here in L.A."
Her innocent optimism was refreshing. Chloe hoped Karen's dreams—whatever they were—would come true.
"Yeah, sometimes dreams do come true."
Karen grinned. She was rather pretty, with wide green eyes and flaxen hair. She was also incredibly tall—definitely model material. Chloe guessed she'd find an up-to-date portfolio behind the desk, just in case someone important walked through the elevator doors.
She followed a talkative Karen down the hallway covered with glossy posters of favorite EVE programs and shows, paying little attention to what the cheery young girl said. She could only think about the meeting with Mr. Carridine and Ms. Lewis. She had never been so nervous. Her belly butterflies were now swarms of locusts, and she felt sick to her stomach. She hoped she wouldn't embarrass herself by upchucking all over her new bosses. That would not be a good impression to set the first day of the job.
They paused before Conference Room #1.
"Ready?” Karen asked.
Chloe nodded.
"You'll do fine. Besides, they've already hired you."
"That doesn't mean they can't fire me."
"Don't worry. They aren't going to can you. They like you. I've heard good things."
Chloe wasn't sure how a receptionist knew so much, but Karen's comment softened the nerves pinching her stomach.
"You should be a professional cheerleader,” she commented as Karen rapped lightly on the heavy oak door.
Karen flipped a long strand of blonde hair over one shoulder. “I was."
"I'm not surprised,” Chloe chuckled. Yep, Karen was definitely a half-full type of gal.
Mr. Carridine opened the door. He was a tall, stately man in his early 60s, with salt-and-pepper hair and a dazzling smile. He was an important man at EVE Network, second only to Ms. Lewis.
"Chloe, how nice to see you again."
It surprised her when he grabbed her hand and brushed a feathery kiss across her knuckles. She didn't really mind. It was nice to be treated like a lady for once. Some feminists would be outraged by such treatment, but Chloe still appreciated a man who opened the door for her and placed a protective hand on the small of her back.
"I'm looking forward to being part of the EVE team, Mr. Carridine."
He took her elbow in his palm and steered her inside. The door shut softly behind them. The room was simply decorated in soothing tones of blue and green. A long table lined with twelve green leather chairs highlighted the middle of the room, while a comfy couch hugged one wall. A couple of overstuffed matching chairs took up space in one corner.
"I insist that you call me Lester. Being addressed as Mr. Carridine makes me feel so old."
A light, feminine chuckle resonated throughout the room. “You are old, Les."
Chloe turned to face Ms. Antonia Lewis, EVE Network's charismatic CEO. She was a decade younger than Lester and had been in the biz since the age of four, when she'd starred in a popular television commercial. She had worked her way up the ladder, and now she was one of the few women at the top in the business.
Chloe knew all about Toni Lewis. All of tinseltown knew how the silver-haired woman had managed to single-handedly turn EVE into a profit-generating phenomenon. Cable television had never seen anything like it before. The ratings were through the roof. Women programmed EVE into their TiVo, addicted to the emotional dramas, light-hearted comedies, biographies, fashion shows, talk shows, and soap operas that rivaled General Hospital and The Young and the Restless in popularity. EVE knew its market niche well and kept creating programs women wanted and loved.
