by Any Hahn
"Welcome, Chloe. Take a seat. The rest of the crew should be joining us shortly."
"Nice to see you again, Ms. Lewis.” Chloe shook the infamous cable tycoon's hand before taking a seat directly across the table from the elegantly dressed CEO.
"I insist you call me by my first name. Everyone here calls me Toni, and I like it that way."
Chloe couldn't help but return the warm smile. Mr. Carridine and Ms. Lewis seemed so nice that her nervous jitters evaporated. She had only met Antonia for the first time at the Halloween Ball, but she had met Lester briefly before the Halloween gala, when she'd tested for the hostess part on Courting His Royal Highness. Both had been brief encounters, hardly giving her a glimpse into his personality at all. Of course, anyone who dressed up as the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz couldn't be all that bad.
"Did you enjoy our little party last night?” Antonia asked.
Chloe smoothed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. She sat stiffly in the chair. She still wanted to look her best despite the casual atmosphere.
"It was wonderful. I had a fabulous time."
"You looked simply breathtaking in that fairy gown,” Antonia said with a pleased smile. “I think viewers are going to fall head-over-heels in love with you. Even without the costume."
Chloe just hoped the viewing public liked her. Otherwise, her career might be grounded before it even took off.
"We didn't see much of you. Where'd you disappear to?” Lester asked. He took a seat next to Antonia.
Chloe had no idea what to say to that question. She could feel the flush heating her cheeks. She glanced down at her lap, staring intently at her laced fingers. She noticed a few chips in her newly manicured nails.
"Lester, leave her be. She probably hooked up with some guy. It's none of our business,” Antonia admonished gently. “You don't need to tell us a thing. We're just happy you enjoyed yourself."
Chloe looked up. “Oh, I did. I had a great time."
"Good."
Receptionist Karen poked her head into the room. “The director and crew are on their way up, and the prince has arrived."
Chloe straightened in her chair. The nervous butterflies returned. Would it be him? She hoped not. But she knew it would be. How many reality TV shows about a bachelor prince could there be? Only one. The very one she was contracted to host.
Antonia smiled at Chloe. “Ah, yes, the prince. Escort him in, Karen."
Karen nodded and disappeared into the hallway.
Lester chuckled. “Chloe, you look so shocked. You knew a prince was involved, didn't you? The title of the show should've been a clue, but you should always be prepared for surprises in reality TV."
Chloe smiled and nodded. She didn't want to give away the real reason for her reaction. What would they do if they found out she had spent a night of pure ecstasy between the sheets with the star of their newest and hottest show? She didn't want to think about it. She decided it was best to play dumb.
"So, we really have an actual prince on the show?"
"Yep. He's royalty through and through. We were thrilled he agreed to do this."
Chloe swallowed the huge lump in her throat. “He's the royal bachelor looking for a bride?"
"Yes. And the fifteen women we chose for this are ecstatic about becoming a princess."
Chloe wouldn't mind being a princess herself. But the idea was so farfetched. Fairy tales didn't really happen. Okay, so she still hoped that somewhere out there was the man of her dreams. But a real Prince Charming? That was a little ridiculous. Even she had to draw the line. Princes did not ride up on white horses, save the day, and whisk the damsel in distress off to their palace for a lifetime of happiness and pleasure. Nope. No way, no how. Living in tinseltown the past ten years had taught her that much. Prince Charming didn't exist, but Prince Scum overpopulated the earth.
"You'll be working very closely with him for the next two months. We hope you'll hit it off."
"Oh, I'm sure we will,” Chloe said, forcing a bright smile. Something told her the prince and she would have no trouble getting along. If the man who walked through the door ended up being her James Bond from last night, chemistry would most definitely not be a problem.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in,” Antonia called.
Karen swept in. Her eyes glowed. “Prince Maximilian Alexander Henry Tarleton Radborne of Romalia. And his assistant, Mr. Eric Von Stratton."
Two men trailed behind her. One extraordinarily handsome with his startling blue-blue eyes, an attractive lazy smile, and fine chiseled features. Aristocratic features. She knew the face. She knew it well.
Chloe's heart tumbled to her feet.
It was him from last night. Prince Maximilian Alexander Henry Tarleton Radborne of Romalia. Not James Bond. Not a super spy. But a prince. Royalty. Just as the magazine had stated. He was the guy she had to work with for the next two months. She would watch this man—this guy whom she'd spent a very intimate night with—date fifteen beautiful women.
Damn. He looked good, too good in a classy suit with a red tie. But he'd look good in absolutely anything. He'd look just as sexy in an old flannel shirt and faded Levi's. Perhaps more so. He was going to cause American women to swoon. He'd made her swoon, right into his strong arms and into his big king-sized bed.
Chloe wanted to melt away into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West.
Max spotted her immediately. His blue eyes sparked recognition. His smile widened. His adorable dimple appeared. And he winked at her. He actually winked at her.
Chloe wanted to die.
Her day went from bad to worse in a millisecond.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Three
Max couldn't believe his eyes. His passionate, exuberant, exotic Queen Mab sat before him.
She looked lovely in a pale pink blouse and black jacket. Her licorice-colored eyes gazed up at him, wide with astonishment, under the attractive sweep of her long lashes. It disappointed him to see her gorgeous mane of hair pulled away from her heart-shaped face in a loose ponytail. A few wisps escaped, softly caressing her flushed cheeks and neck.
What was she doing at EVE? She must work at the prominent network. After all, he had met her at EVE's big gala bash. He felt giddy. Could she possibly be assigned to work on his show? His heart thump-thumped wildly in his chest. He hoped so. Working with her daily for the next few weeks would be a real treat.
"Good to see you again, Your Highness."
Max chuckled at Lester. He shook the older man's hand. “Please don't call me by that horrid title. Call me Max."
Antonia grinned. “Welcome back to America, Max."
Max brushed her outstretched hand with a feather-soft kiss. “You're looking elegant as ever, Antonia."
"Toni."
"Toni."
He looked from his new boss to Chloe. “And who is this beautiful creature?” He thought it best not to give away the fact he knew Chloe. And knew her intimately. He put on his most princely smile and rounded the table.
"We'd like you to meet your show's hostess, Miss Chloe Tanner."
So that's why she was at EVE. She was involved with his reality show. Max chuckled inwardly. Fate had a weird sense of humor.
"Ah, Miss Tanner."
Chloe gazed up at him. She looked completely embarrassed and mortified to see him, but he saw just a glimmer of pleasure as well. It was obvious she hadn't forgotten him or the night they'd shared. Who could? It had been one earth-shaking night.
"Your Highness,” she whispered breathlessly.
Max grabbed her hand. He noticed it trembled. He recalled how the curves of her nails left crescent-moon creases on the surface of his body. Heat coursed through every inch of him at the memory of her clawing at his back, her voice raspy and filled with need as she embraced him, surrounded him, begged for her climax.
"I insist you call me Max.” He swept his lips across her skin. She smelled good. Just as he r
emembered. Apples and cinnamon. A delectable, delicious, enticing scent. He preferred the fruity fragrance to the expensive colognes sold in boutiques all across Europe. “I've never been one for titles. Always thought them rather pompous."
Chloe smiled at his admission. “Nice to meet you, Max. I'm looking forward to working with you."
He returned her smile. He wished to be alone with her. For a brief moment, he fantasized about taking her in his arms, lifting her onto the conference table, and peeling off articles of clothing ever so slowly. He noticed her short pink and black skirt and the long sweep of her slender legs, legs encased in silky nylon the color of night. Sexy. Damn. He wanted her again. He realized he had never stopped wanting her. She intoxicated him. Drove him mad with desire. He couldn't remember wanting a woman more.
"Well, we have a lot to go over. Take a seat, Max. I'll have Karen bring in information about the show,” Antonia said.
It proved difficult to pull his eyes from Chloe. She looked good enough to eat. As he took a seat next to her, his leg brushed against hers, and he noticed the blush on her cheeks deepen at the contact. Her lashes swept against her cheeks as she gave him a sidelong glance. He grinned. She jumped slightly and looked away, focusing her attention on Lester and Antonia.
Karen sashayed into the room, her arms filled with blazing red folders.
"For you, Your Highness."
Max smiled and thanked her, not at all surprised when she blushed and started to giggle nervously. He was used to this reaction. Women were enchanted by princes and usually grew quite tongue-tied around him. He figured it had to do with the fact that little girls were raised with romantic fairy tales. They all dreamed of being a princess and marrying a handsome prince who would shower them with expensive gifts and take them on exotic trips and love them until the end of time.
Damn the Brother's Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson. The real world simply didn't operate that way. It was a nice concept, but it just didn't exist. After all, weren't Princess Diana and Princess Grace evidence of that?
"Max, Lester and I want to tell you again how thrilled we are you agreed to jump on board with this."
Max settled back into his chair, conscious of Chloe sitting so close beside him. His arm brushed hers. Sizzling heat flamed up his arm at the contact.
"I'm looking forward to it,” he said.
"Good. Now we have a few things to go over before we send you and Chloe to the location."
"Location?” Chloe asked.
"Yes, we will be filming the show in Arizona."
Max watched Chloe fiddle with the edge of her folder. Her nails were painted pale pink, the color an almost exact match to her blouse. He wondered if pink was her favorite color. He wanted to find out.
"You and Max will be filming in Scottsdale. A good friend of mine agreed to lend her eighty-acre estate for the show. She is honeymooning in Barbados and won't be back until after Christmas."
"We'll be staying there?"
"Yes, you and Max will be permanent residents of the estate for the next few weeks."
Max was pleasantly surprised. The idea of staying with Chloe, tucked away in a secluded estate in Arizona, was very appealing.
Antonia continued, “The fifteen women who have been selected to participate in Courting His Royal Highness are already in Scottsdale, awaiting the arrival of their prince charming. However, they are not at the estate yet. They won't arrive until the beginning of the week."
Oh, yeah, the other women. Max had completely forgotten about them. The whole concept of the show revolved around fifteen women competing to gain his affection. Most guys would give anything to be in his position.
"They come from all over and I, along with Lester, personally selected them for the show. I don't think you'll be disappointed, Max."
Antonia grinned at him, and he grinned back. Her enthusiasm was contagious. She was a beautiful lady with a head for the entertainment business. She was positive the show would be a success with audiences around the world, and Max believed her. He had no reason not to. She had taken a struggling EVE and revamped it, making it one of the most popular networks in
America. Besides, people were fascinated with royalty. Half would tune in just to get a look at him.
But he didn't mind. He was used to the media scrutiny, to dealing with the intrusive lens of the paparazzi. Next to Prince William of England, he was the most photographed royal in the world.
However, it was not a title he appreciated. He would rather live out of the public eye and in seclusion on some remote island. But he had duties and responsibilities to his family and his country—one being to find a wife. And this show was supposed to help solve that problem. This solution was not of the traditional fashion, but he had grown tired of the pressure. And he had always been the rebel in the family, seldom following the strict rules of royal propriety.
Chloe leaned forward. Max glanced at her. Her dark eyes gazed into his for a millisecond, and his heart skipped a beat. A piece of dark hair slipped across her cheek. She brushed it away with those long, elegant fingers, tucking it behind one ear.
"And what is my role in this? I know I'm hostess, but what does that mean, exactly?"
The fragrance of apples and cinnamon wafted up Max's nose again. Just the scent of her was enough to arouse him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"My dear, besides looking pretty, you'll present each girl to Max. You'll also help him select which two to eliminate each week.” Antonia opened the folder and flipped through several papers. “Well, the first week you will eliminate five."
"I get to help him pick?” Chloe asked as she looked over at Max.
Max grinned crookedly at her. He reached out and grabbed her hand, and her fingers curled against his. Her skin was smooth and warm and soft.
"I have absolute confidence in you."
Her dark eyes were huge and wide. Shock illuminated the dark depths. He remembered looking into those eyes when she had climaxed, when he had climaxed, and his heart thundered wildly in his chest.
"We do as well,” laughed Antonia. “We know you will make a great team."
Max lifted Chloe's hand to his lips, feeling her shudder as he kissed the ridges of her knuckles. She looked away and pulled her hand from his. He wished they were alone. Making passionate love to her sounded like a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
"Okay, so what happens in the end?” Chloe asked.
"Well, Chloe, it is rather simple. One woman will fulfill the lifelong wish of every little girl: to marry a prince. At the end of the show, Max will propose to the last woman standing and we'll have a spectacular wedding in the spring, which we'll film. We already have a name picked out for that, Marrying His Royal Highness."
Max's heart squeezed tight when he saw the hurt in Chloe's luminous eyes. He reached for her hand again, but she shrank away from him. This was bad. This was really bad. He was in a contract with a television network to choose a woman to be his bride and to actually marry her. He couldn't have a future with Chloe. She was the hostess of the show, not one of the fifteen women he was supposed to select from. But he didn't care about the other women. He only cared about the woman sitting beside him, with glistening tears shining in her brown eyes.
"Chloe, I didn't know you were hostess of this reality show. They told me they'd selected a lovely woman whom I would meet today. I promise I didn't know,” he whispered. He reached for her again. His fingers lightly brushed the back of her hand.
She shook her head and sank further back into the chair, managing a small smile. She looked over at Antonia. “The audience will love it. They'll tune in every week to watch Prince Max and his hopeful princesses-in-waiting."
"I know!” cried out Antonia with overzealous enthusiasm, completely oblivious to what was transpiring between her two stars. “Isn't it fabulous? It will be the biggest event in television history! Don't you agree?"
Max's heart ached as he watched the emotions flit across Chloe's face. H
e had hurt her. He had hurt her deeply. Yes, they had not made a commitment to each other. But he couldn't convince himself their night of passion meant nothing. It did mean something—he just didn't know what. And he doubted he would get a chance to figure it out, thanks to this ridiculous television show.
For the first time since he'd signed the contract with EVE, Max was filled with regret.
How could he work with Chloe every day for the next six weeks and not hold her and kiss her and be intimate with her? How could he date fifteen other women and think about marrying one of them, when all he could think about was the pretty American girl sitting next to him? She was lovely, with snowy skin and dark hair and even darker eyes. Her smile caused his heart to trip.
He couldn't. But he knew he had to.
What he wanted to do was pursue the strong feelings he had for Chloe. But that was out of the question. He was under contract, and so was she. And they wouldn't get a chance to be alone. For the next six weeks, other women, camera crews, producers, directors, and the hundreds of other people it took to make a television show would surround Chloe and him.
What had he gotten himself into?
Heartbreak. That was what. And a whole lot of it.
* * * *
Her job was to help him find a wife, his princess, and eventually his queen. This seemed above and beyond hostess duty. She was actually going to help him select his bride.
This couldn't be happening. She was physically and emotionally attracted to Mr. Prince Charming. And she had no chance with him. Absolutely zilch. She felt sad, betrayed, and just a little bit angry. The handsome man at her side, the man with whom she had shared a most erotic night, was off limits to her. Completely.
