by Any Hahn
She shivered at his words. His voice and his intense gaze clearly indicated he was indeed a man who was never refused anything. An almost possessive glow lighted his blue eyes, a steely determination to have what he wanted.
He wants me. He wants me.
The bell chimed, signaling the arrival of the luggage. She turned towards the carousel, withdrawing her hand from his. As she did so, her bare arm bumped his, and goose pimples swept up her arm. She trembled and rubbed her arms with her hands. She liked him immensely, and she wished more than anything that she could pursue a relationship with him.
But that couldn't happen. She needed this job to solidify her career. Emotional involvement with him could jeopardize it. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd declared his love for her and asked her to marry him.
Prince Max was only offering more fabulous nights under the sheets. Not love. Their sexual attraction was not the issue. It was mind-blowing. But it didn't create love or a happily-ever-after marriage. Only love did that. Love. A future with him was not a sure thing. This job was. And she had to dedicate herself to it. She had to take care of herself. She wasn't about to consider breaking her contract with EVE.
She needed this job more than she needed a man in her life. This was her time to shine. Sure it'd be grand to be a princess, a queen, but that wasn't a guarantee.
What if they threw caution to the wind and indulged in a torrid affair? What if it ended after only a few weeks or a few months and he left her? What then? She'd be broke, jobless, and without Hollywood connections because her name would be mud. She'd probably lose any chance of ever making it big in the business. She'd be sacrificing her dream, and the thought terrified her.
"Yours?"
She spied the matching pieces and nodded. The luggage was a high-school graduation gift from her mom and dad. “Can't miss them. Both have bright green ribbons on them."
He patted her shoulder. “Genius."
"My mom's trick."
"If I traveled commercial, I'd do the same."
"Don't brag,” she teased. “I wish I had my own private jet."
"I'll give you a ride in mine sometime."
"Max, I think we should—"
He held up a hand to halt her words. “I know. I'll drop it.” He gave her cheek a quick kiss. “For now."
Her spine tingled at the husky promise in his voice. “We missed the luggage,” she whispered, turning her face to his. The tip of his nose touched hers.
"They'll come around again. There's always a second chance."
Chloe knew he wasn't talking about the luggage.
She did the only thing she could do. She kissed him.
* * * *
It had probably been a bad idea to kiss Max. But she had anyway. And it had felt deliciously wonderful. No man had ever affected her the way Max did. He was fast becoming an addiction—an addiction she couldn't afford.
Chloe released a miserable sigh as she tossed her purse onto the bed in her new bedroom, the room that would be hers for the next few weeks while shooting the show. She was thankful she'd be sharing this wing of the house with the camera and production crew and not the beautiful women vying for Max's hand. Max shared the west side of the house as well. That could be trouble.
She glanced around the room. It was a huge, amazing room, larger than her entire apartment. She still found it hard to believe people lived in such extravagance. She slipped off her sandals—they were starting to pinch her feet—and traipsed across the room towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. Not a single curtain adorned the windows, allowing for a magnificent view of the McDowell Mountains, which zigzagged along the north edge of the property. The sun was just beginning to descend on the horizon, and purple and red shadows caressed the peaks and valleys of the mountain terrain.
"Wow.” She whistled appreciatively as she took in the view. She could get used to waking up every morning and going to bed every night to this picture-perfect landscape. She'd always heard about how beautiful the Sonoran Desert was; now she knew it to be true.
She turned on her heel and studied the room. It possessed a high vaulted ceiling and a sand-colored tiled floor crisscrossed with area rugs in Navajo style. The walls were painted a pale yellow, except for the wall behind the queen-sized bed, which was painted a deep red. Large clay pots and vases, filled with dried flowers in an array of vibrant colors, decorated the room along with statues of geckos, coyotes, and the famous Native American flute player, the kokopelli. A small fountain tinkled soothingly in one corner.
Chloe felt as though she'd just stepped into a spa. It was an oasis far more extravagant than any place she'd stayed in previously. Traveling with her family involved overnight stays at KOA campgrounds or at the Holiday Inn.
"I wonder if I'll ever have a home this luxurious?” she mused aloud. She hoped so, although she doubted it. She couldn't see herself living in such fancy surroundings. After all, she was still a country girl at heart. She had simple tastes for the most part—except when it came to her shoes and clothes.
She zipped open one suitcase and tipped it on its side. The contents spilled out onto the bed. She quickly tossed underwear and bras into the top drawer of a purposely-rustic dresser in one corner of the room and flipped on the light to what she thought was the bathroom. Only it wasn't.
"Wow!” she cried with a childish clap of her hands.
She didn't really care at the moment if there was a bathroom connected to the room. What stretched before her took her breath away. A huge walk-in closet loomed in front of her, far bigger than her entire bedroom back home. She stepped into the immense emptiness and started to laugh. The sound echoed off the walls, and still she couldn't stop laughing. It was extraordinary. Every woman dreamed of a walk-in closet like the one she stood in.
"I think I've gone to heaven,” she whispered with a shake of her head as she pivoted around in a miniscule circle. “Wait until Jules hears about this. She won't believe it."
Chloe didn't waste any time filling up the closet. She emptied all her suitcases. She hung dresses, blouses and skirts on the hangers, and folded jeans, shorts, and T-shirts in the shelves provided. There were even slots for her shoes. After unpacking, she stood back and surveyed her work. She made a decision that she definitely needed to go shopping for more clothes. Too many empty spots glared back at her. Yep, she needed to shop some Scottsdale boutiques.
The attached bathroom caused her to ooh and ah again. A Jacuzzi tub sank into the floor, looking incredibly inviting. The north windows surrounding the spa tub offered breathtaking views of the McDowell Mountains, and a skylight directly above provided an evening bather a great view of the stars. Live exotic flowers and vines tumbled over the ledge circling the tub. To top it off, the bathroom had double sinks, a mosaic-tiled floor, terry-cloth robes hanging on hooks, and a comfy bench covered with a blue cushion and laden with blue, brown, and red pillows.
Chloe wanted nothing more than to indulge in a tub with warm water and fragrant bubbles. But she couldn't. She glanced at her watch and groaned. She only had fifteen minutes to get ready for her dinner date with Max. She caught her reflection in the long horizontal mirror over the sinks and wrinkled her nose. It would take more than fifteen minutes to make her look ready for an expensive dinner with a drop-dead gorgeous prince.
A prince she desired with every breath in her body.
Off-limits. Completely.
"You aren't going to think about him that way any longer,” she scolded her reflection. She shook her finger for emphasis. “Absolutely not. He isn't available. Even without the show, he would be unattainable. So just knock it off."
But how could she tell her heart what to think?
It had never worked in the past. And she was positive it wasn't going to work now. Hearts were ruled by emotion, not logic. Logic said to stay away from Mr. Prince Charming. Emotion said to get closer and closer and closer and....
"I said, knock it off!"
She exited the bathroom and slipped into t
he closet, where she stripped out of her travel clothes and then squeezed her size-6 body into a silky green strapless dress and her size-8 feet into high-heeled shoes of the same color. A necklace and pair of dangling earrings made out of chunky turquoise completed the look. She raced back to the bathroom, ran a brush through her hair, smoothed the unruly strands with a few drops of water, and applied eyeliner, mascara, and her favorite lipstick.
Five minutes later, she grabbed her purse and walked out into the hallway.
From his spot waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, he looked up at her and smiled his royal smile. She about melted on the spot. He was delicious. Scrumptious, really. A totally irresistible, tantalizing dessert.
Logic said to run like hell.
Emotion said to stay and enjoy.
Chloe smiled back, placed a trembling hand on the smooth banister, and started her descent down to the first floor. Max met her halfway, his contagious grin lighting up his blue-blue eyes.
"You look amazing,” he complimented.
"I betcha you tell all the girls that,” she chided. But she was secretly pleased. She wanted to look good for him—that was why she'd chosen her favorite dress. She knew the clingy fabric hugged every curve of her body. And the blue-green color emphasized her dark hair and eyes.
He looked dashing in a pair of neatly pressed gray dress slacks and a button-down blue shirt, tucked in snugly at the waist. He was broad and muscled, and his eyes had never looked so blue.
Those eyes really were startling. No wonder women across the world swooned over him and magazine photographers loved him. Blue eyes. Black hair. Olive skin. Charismatic smile. Model bod. Loads of money. European royalty. Posters of his smiling face probably adorned the wall of every female college student in the fifty states, smack dab next to Prince William Windsor of England.
The electric touch of his hand on her elbow as he gently escorted her out the front doors sent excited chills up and down her body. It was amazing what a simple touch could do. His fingers were warm, the pads kneading softly into her skin. Chloe remembered quite well the feel of his hands on her body. He was an expert with those hands, a talented lover. She refused to ponder how many women he'd practiced on before her. She knew in her heart the number would be crushing.
A limo waited for them in the roundabout driveway of the Mediterranean-style mansion. The driver tipped his hat and opened the door. The heat of the Arizona sun still lingered in the evening, the fragrance of a flower she couldn't identify permeated the air, and she could hear the romantic melody of water splashing from a nearby fountain into a tranquil pool.
"Are you ready to dazzle Phoenix with our charms?” asked Max.
She tilted her head slightly so she could view his face. He seemed to tower above her. So broad. So muscular. So spectacularly handsome. An amused smile tipped the corners of his mouth up. And the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so attractively.
I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love.
The knowledge was wonderful and horrifying at the same time.
She smiled up at him. “The question is, are you ready?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, challenging him.
He chuckled. His fingers curled about her elbow. She suddenly wished she'd remembered to exfoliate the rough skin. A little lotion wouldn't have hurt either, but she hoped he wouldn't notice. His European sweeties probably exfoliated all the time; their skin was probably as soft as a baby's bottom. Of course, they didn't shave. At least she had that over them. She'd shaved that very morning and was thankful she had. Rough elbows and knees and heels could be forgiven, but not hairy legs.
"Where are we off to, Simon?” Max asked.
Chloe dipped into the limo, her fingers lingering against Max's. She didn't want to lose the skin-to-skin contact.
The driver grinned. “A popular fondue restaurant."
"Sounds delicious."
"It is. One of the best in Phoenix, sir."
Max slid in beside Chloe, and his fingers curled around hers. “Fondue fan?"
Chloe admitted she'd never had fondue.
"Tonight will be a new experience for the both of us.” He brushed her knuckles with a kiss. His blue eyes never left her face.
Delicious shivers shimmied up Chloe's spine.
"Cold?"
"No."
He draped his arm about her and pulled her close. She happily rested her head against his chest, closed her eyes, and resigned herself to enjoying this one night alone with Prince Max. They had one night together before the crew arrived—and before the bombshells vying for his attention showed up with their claws extended.
"I want this night to go on forever,” he whispered against her hair.
She snuggled close. “Me, too."
The limo lurched forward, slowly rolling down the winding driveway towards the tall iron gates marking the entrance into the estate. The gates swung inward, and Simon steered the luxurious car out onto a road lined with tall palm trees, with white lights circling the slim trunks.
"Do you think you'll be noticed tonight? Have a hundred autographs to sign?"
"I hope not. I don't want any distractions.” He kissed the top of her head. “I want to focus completely on you."
"Sounds marvelous,” she murmured. And she wanted the same. She wanted to share him with no one. He was hers and hers alone. At least for tonight. After that, she'd have to share him with a television crew, fifteen bachelorettes, and the world.
And have her heart broken all over again.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
The fondue restaurant was located in one of the many outdoor shopping plazas Scottsdale was famous for. Towering palm trees lined the entrance to the plaza; hundreds of tiny white lights wrapped about the thick trunks. It was a warm autumn night—even in October, the temperatures still soared in the high 90s—and dozens of people sat on outdoor patios laughing and visiting, cooling down with glasses of chilled wine and other thirst-quenching beverages.
A bubbly blonde hostess welcomed Chloe and Max into the restaurant and soon seated them in a cozy booth for two in back. Chloe was disappointed the place didn't have outside seating, but it was a charming place with small secluded booths and soft candlelight. It was very romantic and amazingly quiet. The gentle sound of classical music floated out through nearly invisible speakers in an overhead sound system.
"Nice place,” Max commented as he slid in across from her. He grabbed the wine list and thumbed through it. “Drinks?"
Chloe nodded. She unfolded the linen napkin and placed it on her lap. She noticed her knees were shaking and covered them with her hands. This guy—actually, this prince—did something to her. He totally unbalanced her. And she wasn't used to being out of control. Nope. She was an in-control-of-herself gal.
She looked over at Max. He smiled at her over the top of the wine menu. There was no way he could see her knees shaking, but she had a feeling he knew she was nervous. Of course she was; after all, she was having dinner with royalty. She couldn't resist smiling back. His smile was contagious. Heck, he was contagious. Yep. A hunky, delicious, contagious disease no woman in her right mind would want a cure for. Unless, of course, there was no way she could have him.
"A favorite?"
"Chardonnay or Riesling. I think I'd like a Riesling."
"Fabulous choice. I think I'll have the same.” He folded the menu and placed it in its designated pewter holder at the far end of the table.
A waitress took their drink order and handed them a dark blue dinner menu. She rambled off the specials, flashed a big-toothed smile, and looked Max up and down appreciatively before walking away.
"She was checking you out."
Max glanced up from the menu. “Oh?"
Chloe laughed. “You don't seem surprised."
He shrugged. “I'm just happy she didn't notice who I am."
"Like the flight attendant?"
A wicked grin split his countenance. “Exactly!"
Still laughing, Chloe flipped open the menu. It wasn't long before her mouth was watering. The choices were scrumptious: Raspberry vinaigrette salad, lime-cilantro salad, bread and cheeses, filet mignon, lobster, and shrimp; and strawberries and cheesecake dipped in chocolate fondue for dessert.
Chloe leaned forward. “I think I'm going to enjoy fondue,” she whispered.
Max duplicated her move. His hands closed over hers. The warmth of his fingers against her skin sent delightful shivers throughout her body. She liked his touch. She liked his touch so very much. She couldn't recall a man who'd ever had this much of an effect on her. Why, oh why was he unavailable? Why, oh why couldn't she have met him under different circumstances? But without the show, she'd never have met him. It wasn't as though they traveled in the same social circles. Far from it.
"I think I'd like it better if we were alone back at the mansion."
An erotic thought flashed through her mind. Him. Her. Warm, gooey chocolate dripping on their bodies. The very idea of him licking chocolate from the valley between her breasts sent her heart into a tailspin. She wrenched her fingers from his and sat as far back in the booth as she could, as far away from him as possible. She looked down at her hands and nervously played with the edges of the silky cloth napkin.
"I apologize,” he said softly, “but my mind is filled with thoughts of you—and they aren't G-rated."
"I know. Me too,” she murmured, gazing up at him through her lashes.
The waitress brought their wine. Chloe grabbed her glass and took a long sip.
"Ready to order?"
Chloe glanced down at the menu. The words blurred. She couldn't think straight. Food was the farthest thing from her mind. She craved him. She hungered for him. She wanted to devour him with her lips and her tongue and....
"We'll have the Couple's Special."
Chloe didn't even know what was in the special, but she didn't really care.
The waitress nodded, batted her lashes at Max, slid the menus from the table, and wandered off again, but not before looking back at Max over her shoulder.
"I think you've got another fan."
