by Any Hahn
"Do you know when Eric arrives?” Max asked.
Mr. Parker stopped talking and typing and glanced up from his keyboard. “Who?"
"Mr. Von Stratton."
"Mr. Von Stratton should arrive any minute.” He went back to spewing forth information about the day and coming week and yelling at his assistant for another cup of coffee.
"Do you really think you need another cup of coffee?” Max asked.
"Yes. If I don't have my coffee, I can't function."
Max believed it. As the assistant raced past him to fulfill the eccentric director's request, Max mouthed “make it decaf.” She started to laugh, but clapped her hand over her mouth to smother the giggles. Mr. Parker didn't seem to notice. He was far too busy being a Nazi general and giving Max orders about how he was supposed to act and what he was supposed to do.
Max's mind drifted again to Chloe and the night they'd shared. Desire bloomed anew at the thought of her. What was he doing? He should break the contract with EVE, pay a huge fine to make amends, and sweep Chloe off her feet and into his arms forever. There was no reason why he couldn't: after all, he was the Prince of Romalia. What was the use of having all that power and prestige if he couldn't use it to his advantage?
Breaking a contract might taint his family honor for a while, but the world was forgiving to its royals. However, Chloe was relying on this to propel her struggling career. Her eyes lighted up when she talked about being an actress. How could he destroy her dream just because he desired her? And he couldn't promise her a happily forever after. Or could he?
Do I love her? Maybe. I just don't know.
He knew with certainty he'd never felt this way about any woman before, and he'd dated quite a few; Eric surely had a number somewhere in one of his organizers. Chloe made him happy. Thinking about her made him smile. Being with her made him feel whole. Was that love? He was starting to think so. He couldn't get enough of her, and she was becoming important to him—he couldn't imagine life without her.
"And that will conclude the week,” Mr. Parker interrupted Max's thoughts. He glanced up from the computer screen and scanned the room. “I wonder where Miss Tanner is? She's going to be late in two minutes. And you're needed elsewhere."
Damn. The show. He'd thought the show was such a good idea at first, but now he didn't want anything to do with it. He wanted out. He wasn't interested in any woman other than Chloe, and she wasn't one of the choices on Courting His Royal Highness. Something had to be done. And he knew it was up to him to do it.
"And where am I supposed to be?” Max asked.
Mr. Parker looked completely and utterly exasperated. “Makeup and wardrobe. Haven't you been listening to me? And it's on your schedule. Don't you look at that thing?"
Max shook his head. “I usually have Eric to do that.” It was a true statement. Eric scheduled everything for him and was always around to inform him of where he should be and when.
Jack guffawed. “Royalty!"
"Hey!” Max snapped irritably. He didn't appreciate the attitude. Okay, okay, so he was a little spoiled and pampered. It didn't mean he was incompetent. He simply didn't have the experience of organizing and scheduling his life. That job had always belonged to Romalia officials and Eric. It was just the way things were. Period.
"Ah, there's Sleeping Beauty. So, you finally decided to join us."
Max turned his focus from clobbering Mr. Parker with his laptop to the love of his life. Chloe stood in the doorway to the living room. She was a vision in a pink tank top and denim shorts, which showed off her legs to perfection. Pink had to be one of her favorite colors. It was something he planned to remember for future reference. Pink roses, pink lingerie, pink champagne, pink....
"Sorry if I'm late, Mr. Parker."
"Don't worry about it, kid.” Mr. Parker waved off her apology with one hand. “You're not late at all. It's just that I start everything early. Remember that for future reference."
Chloe smiled her lovely smile. “Okay."
Suddenly, Max realized he did love Chloe Tanner. He loved her completely and madly and deeply. He loved her as a man was supposed to love a woman. He wanted a future with her. He wanted her to be his bride, his princess, his wife, and his queen. He wanted to have children with her, children with her large brown eyes and dark wavy hair.
The realization hit him like a bolt of lightening. He was shocked by it, and yet he was not. It was simple. He saw things clearly, as he never had before. He'd found his soul mate. He'd found his other half. And he was going to do everything and anything to keep her in his life.
But did she love him?
He knew she cared for him. He could see it in her chocolate eyes. But love? He didn't know. He'd only just realized he loved her. Maybe she did love him, but didn't even know it yet. He had to convince her they were meant to be together. He had to show her how much he loved her.
Max wanted to bolt from his chair, cross the room, and kiss her. She looked so cute. He wanted to kiss her all day long and all night and all week and all year.
"Where's my cup of coffee!” Mr. Parker yelled.
His assistant scurried in with a steaming cup.
"Coffee, Miss Tanner?"
"Tea, please."
"Get Miss Tanner some tea."
"Yes, sir.” The assistant exited the room as fast as she could.
Mr. Parker gestured to an empty seat. “Sit down. Sit down. Join us. We've got much to discuss. I'm afraid Max can't stay. I've already filled him in. He seems to be oblivious to what's on the menu today and all week. Doesn't look at his schedule, I guess."
"It's with Eric."
"Ah, yes, Mr. Von Stratton."
"I'll admit I haven't looked at mine either."
Mr. Parker groaned. “What am I going to do with you two? My two stars don't have a clue what they're supposed to do. What did you do the last couple of days?"
Max grinned at Chloe. She grinned back. They'd definitely had other things on their minds. He was happy to hear she hadn't given too much thought to her schedule either. He hoped she'd been focusing on him—and there was something warm and honeyed in her eyes that told him she had. She wasn't looking at Mr. Parker, hadn't glanced at him once. She had eyes only for Max. And he had eyes only for her.
"Sit down, Miss Tanner. We've got a lot to cover in not a lot of time.” Mr. Parker took a quick sip of his coffee. He grimaced. “Not hot enough. And not enough cream. Max, you're already off schedule. Get going."
Max stood at the same time as Chloe crossed the distance between them. He touched her arm. She gazed up into his eyes. He wanted to tell her right then and there that he loved her. He loved her so much that he couldn't imagine life without her. She was his life. But this wasn't the moment to tell her—not in front of their executive producer and director.
"Did you sleep well?” he asked softly.
She blushed. It made her more beautiful. He lightly squeezed her wrist. “I did. Very well,” she whispered.
"Me, too,” he whispered back.
"I'm glad you're both well-rested,” Mr. Parker chimed in. “Now let's get to work."
"I'll see you soon?” And he didn't mean in the company of others.
"I hope so,” she said softly. She covered his hand with hers briefly. “I'd like that.” He saw sadness cloud her eyes. “But I don't know how that's possible, Max."
"Good grief! You're going to see each other every day for the next six weeks!” exclaimed Mr. Parker with a shake of his head. He took another sip of his coffee and complained once again, very loudly, that it wasn't hot enough.
"I need to talk to you, Chloe."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"There is."
She shook her head and pulled gently away from him. “No. There's nothing to talk about. We have a job to do. Let's do it as professionally as we can."
"But there's so much to say, Chloe. I have so much to tell you. You have no idea."
The despair in her smile wren
ched his heart. “No. It's over. It's over,” she murmured softly so Mr. Parker couldn't hear. “It was wonderful. But it's done. Finished. Let's not continue to torture ourselves."
He was about to confess his love to her, but Mr. Parker interrupted him, informing Max—quite authoritatively—that he was needed immediately in makeup and wardrobe. Chloe turned away from him, sinking into an overstuffed chair and giving her complete attention to Mr. Parker, who immediately launched into informing her about her duties for the day.
Max was not used to being dismissed. He usually dismissed people. But it was obvious Mr. Parker was finished with him, and Chloe didn't want to talk about what was happening between them.
Max had never been so frustrated. He felt helpless. A tide of events had been set in motion—thanks to him—and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it. He reluctantly left the room. As he did so, he was tempted to stomp from the room like a little boy, but refrained. That was not an attractive quality in a grown man.
What was he going to do? There had to be some way to stop this crazy, seemingly uncontrollable ride he was on. He was a prince. He had oodles of people at his disposal. There had to be something he could do to flip the tables in his favor.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
Weeks from hell. That was what the last three weeks had been. Chloe had hated every second of every minute of every day within those three weeks. Watching the prospective brides swarm over Max was enough to drive her insane. And watching him plaster that amazing I'm-a-prince-so-love-me smile on his handsome face made her absolutely nauseated. Sometimes she almost believed he enjoyed every moment with these complete strangers.
But what man wouldn't have a fabulous time? After all, the fifteen women were absolutely gorgeous. And they weren't flakes either. Of the six who remained, there were a non-profit lawyer, a pediatric doctor, a high-school history teacher, a college English instructor, a zoologist, and a motivational speaker and etiquette specialist. Just perfect.
Chloe felt inadequate compared to each one. Antonia and Lester had done a fantastic job with their selections. Each woman acted as if she could marry a prince and slip into the role of princess effortlessly. Chloe envied them. She hated that she did, but she wanted to be one of Max's choices. She wanted it badly. And she hated helping him choose which women to keep each week. It was horribly hard sitting with him and going over attributes and flaws, of which there were very few; in fact, she was pretty sure she knew who the two finalists would be. But even that she could bear with dignity.
What she had a hard time dealing with was that it seemed as if Max was actually interested in the women. It felt like he'd completely lost interest in her. She tried not to judge him too harshly. First of all, she'd told him to forget about what they'd shared. Secondly, they hadn't been alone since the night they'd made love. When they were together, they weren't really together. The cameras were always rolling, and they always had an audience.
Oh, they'd been together plenty. Their days were filled with meetings and more meetings. She had meetings with makeup, hair, and wardrobe, and producers, directors, and camera operators. She was so sick of people in her business twenty-four hours a day, she was about ready to pull her hair out. She was surprised the people with the white jackets hadn't arrived to take her away. She'd almost prefer a sanitarium to the lunacy of Courting His Royal Highness.
She wanted out. And there was no way out.
Chloe sank deeper into the tub and closed her eyes. She tried very hard not to think of Max, but it was next to impossible. He haunted her whenever she was alone. His blue eyes, his dark hair, his wonderful dimples, his fantastic build, the way he wiggled his eyebrows when he was amused, the way his smile filled an entire room.
She missed his smile—his real smile. The one he'd bestowed upon her when they'd been alone together those two brief days.
Chloe brushed a tear from her cheek with shaking fingers. What she needed was a good cry, but she didn't have time to unleash her shattered emotions. She felt alone and lost and, well, so alone. It was a horrible, terrible, miserable feeling. And her heart ached. It ached so badly.
Another tear slid down her cheek. She ignored it, deciding maybe it was best to not fight it anymore. She'd held it inside for three long, excruciating, tortuous weeks.
"Max,” she whispered softly into the stillness of the bathroom. “I miss you. I miss you more than I ever thought possible."
Bubbles popped and crackled near her ears. She sank deeper into the water, immersing herself in the fragrant bath. She pressed the button for the jets and sighed as the water started to swirl about her emotionally and physically drained body.
"Three more weeks.” She could do this for three more weeks. And then she'd be free of Max forever. “Three more weeks."
Chloe wasn't normally a crier. It took a lot to bring her to tears. But she couldn't stop the tears any longer. They cascaded down her cheeks; faster and faster they fell, dripping off her chin and nose into the water.
Chloe couldn't remember the last time she'd suffered a broken heart. It had been awhile. Her last great love had been a boy in high school. Gregory Adams. She'd been madly, deeply, totally in love with him. But he broke her heart senior year. She'd caught him cheating on her with her cousin and best friend, Daisy. That heartache propelled her to pack up her bags after graduation and move to California.
Gregory and Daisy had married a year after high school. Daisy owned a beauty salon—gossip central—in their small town, and Gregory worked as the assistant football coach to the high-school football team—his dream job. They happened to be the IT couple of the town.
And for some odd reason, at that moment, Chloe missed them dreadfully.
Weird.
Chloe sighed sadly and grabbed a mesh sponge. She only hoped the sacrifices she was making with her heart would pay off in the end. Perhaps if she gained her fame and fortune, she would forget about the Gregory's and Max's of the world and be able to concentrate on her career.
She smiled. She envisioned herself winning and accepting the Academy Award, placing her handprints in the cement in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater. She also wanted to use her celebrity status to help thousands of less fortunate people across the world and donate millions to arts programs in schools across the country. She always thought is so sad that the arts and music programs were usually the first to get cut when budgets were tight.
Chloe focused on her dreams. They improved her mood, minimized the ache in her heart, and stopped the tears. She needed a different focus. Focusing on Max only made her incredibly sad. And she didn't want to be sad. Everyone wanted to be happy, and she was no different.
"Chloe?"
Her eyes snapped open. Her entire body stiffened. The good feelings and pleasant dreams drifted away. She found herself looking directly into a pair of brilliant blue eyes framed by long, black lashes. His eyes. And his dimpled smile. And his beautiful face.
"What are you doing in here?” she asked, completely and totally startled by his appearance in her bathroom.
He filled the entire doorway of the room with his tall frame, looking good enough to eat in loose-fitting jeans and a red T-shirt. He was barefoot, which was incredibly sexy, and his hair was damp. The midnight tendrils of hair curled attractively against the curves of his ears and at the nape of his neck.
Chloe's insides tingled. Her heart tripped. Her pulse quickened.
"The door was locked."
His blue eyes caressed her face. “I have a key."
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?"
He looked guilty, ashamedly so. “I had it made."
"You had it made?” she asked incredulously.
"Do you forgive me?"
"I think it's rather pompous of you to do so without asking me,” she retorted. “Give me the key and get out of my room. Now."
"No."
Chloe sat up so fast that water sloshed over the sides. Hot anger seared thr
ough her. She had to be angry with him—it was her only defense against his irresistible charisma, and she refused to be a victim again. Once was enough. Okay, twice. But she couldn't afford to give in to him again. Her heart wouldn't survive another encounter.
She realized her abrupt rise from the tub exposed her breasts. She clasped her hands over them and glared hatefully at him, sinking back into the water.
He smiled at her. His eyes twinkled. “It isn't like I haven't seen you naked before."
She pointed at him, her forefinger shaking angrily. “Don't you dare! Don't you dare bring up our past history! Not ever!” She slapped the water. “Get out! Get out! Get out! Can't I have a moment alone?"
His smile vanished, as did the twinkling of his eyes, but he didn't leave. He walked further into the room. Chloe glared at him. All her defenses were up. She was armed for battle. She knew what her priorities were now—and he was not among them.
"What do you think you're doing?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and praying the overdose of bubbles wouldn't vanish and expose her entire body to his view.
"I wanted to talk to you. It's been so long since we've been alone."
Chloe looked away from his searching gaze. “I don't want you here, Your Highness."
He stopped his approach, coming to a standstill in the middle of the room. She looked up at him, and her heart lurched. Pain darkened his eyes. She couldn't bear it. She glanced away again and willed herself to be strong. She would not hand over her body or her heart to him. Never again. Never again. Nothing could come of it. No happily-ever-after existed for them.
"Chloe, my feelings for you haven't changed."
"What feelings are those?” she asked softly.
He kneeled beside the tub. “You know what feelings."
"No.” She moved as far away as she could from him, which wasn't much, and focused her attention on the tiled wall. “Lust? Passion?"
"I've missed you.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I need you."
The feel of his hand on her skin sent warm shivers through her body. Her body betrayed her. Anger and frustration overflowed inside her.
