The Princess Test

by Shirley Jump

  “It’s…” An uncomfortable look came over his face, but she refused to look away. “Well, it’s research.”

  The words hit her like ice. She should have known better. Should have listened to her instincts. That’s what happened when she got too far from the castle. She relaxed, let down her guard and believed she could be just like any other woman. “I thought you invited me on this picnic because you were interested in me. Me, not my status as a member of the royal family.” She let out a gust. “So is this it? Your whole plan? Do you have a microphone stashed somewhere I don’t know about?”

  “No, no microphones. I swear. When we do the interview, it’ll be in the studio.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He exhaled a long breath. “My boss has this idea. Based on The Princess and the Pea book. He wants to…”

  “Wants to what?” Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer.

  “Do a princess test.” Daniel put up his hands. “I had nothing to do with it. Apparently, my boss thought it would be a good idea to do a Princess and the Pea type approach to the story. I tried to argue against it, but he insisted. And he, unfortunately, is the boss.”

  She laughed, but the sound was hollow. “How on earth are you going to conduct such a test? Are you going to have me lie on twenty mattresses?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Daniel let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Carrie. If there was anything I could have done—”

  She jerked to her feet and grabbed her tote bag. The wine bottle bumped against her waist. Carrie yanked the bottle out and dropped it onto the soft blanket. The pinot landed with a thud, the golden liquid inside glistening in the sun. “I don’t need to take a test to prove who I am. You want to know who Carlita Santaro is? Look in there. Everything you want to know about me is in that bottle. That’s where my heart is. That’s where my soul is. Not in a stone castle. And not in some ridiculous test.”

  Then she turned on her heel and left before she spent one more second believing her attraction to this man was anything other than a fairy tale.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DANIEL packed up the picnic, folded up the blanket and then faced one very disappointed little girl. “She said she had to leave early. I’m sorry.”

  Annabelle pouted and glared at her father. He was clearly not on her favorite people list today. “But I had a present for her. And you said I could give her my present.”

  “I know I did, honey, but—”

  “Daddy! You promised!” She stomped her foot on the blanket, sending one of the water bottles skittering across the grass.

  “Belle, you need to behave. This is no way to—”

  “And you’re s’posed to keep your promises.” Her anger melted, replaced by a sadness that seemed to fill her eyes until they became wide cornflower-blue saucers. “You told me you would.”

  The last was added in a whisper, but Daniel felt the words like a knife to his heart. A year ago, he’d sat down with Belle on her little twin bed, and held her while she cried. She’d wanted some assurance that her world would turn right-side-up again, and he’d wanted only to give that to her. So he’d told her that from that day forward, he would keep every promise he made her.

  At first, he’d broken little ones—I promise I’ll be home in time for dinner, he’d say in the morning, and then he’d get home a half hour after the last pan had been washed by the nanny. Then bigger things—I promise I’ll be there for your first day of preschool, forgetting that would be the day the president would be visiting New York, pulling Daniel away for a long day and even longer night. By the time he realized he’d broken the most fundamental promise of all—I promise I’ll be there to tuck you in every night—the look of mistrust and disappointment had become a constant shadow in Annabelle’s eyes.

  So he’d come to Winter Haven, vowing to do better, to be better. And here he was, falling into the same pattern all over again.

  Becoming his father.

  How was he ever going to win the war between being a good father and being a good journalist? Maybe he was asking too much. Maybe it was impossible.

  He bent down to Annabelle’s level. Her pixie face was filled with stern judgment, but her lips trembled and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Damn. Every time he turned around, he made things worse. “I did promise you, didn’t I?”

  She nodded.

  He let out a breath. Who knew this parenting thing would be so hard? That one man could make so many mistakes? He might not be able to rectify the ones in the past, but he could fix this one. “Well then, let’s finish packing up and go.”

  “Go home? But Daddy—”

  “No, not home.” He took Annabelle’s delicate hand in his own. She was so trusting, and so many times in the past year he had screwed that up. Well, no more. “We’re going to see the princess.”

  As the words sank in, a burst of happy sunshine glowed in Annabelle’s features. “Really?”

  He nodded, then hoisted the blanket and cooler into his arm. “Yep. Because you have a gift for her. And I have something for her, too.”

  “You got a gift, too, Daddy?”

  “No. I have something else.” He started up the hill, Annabelle in tow. “An apology.”

  Carrie had reread the same page three times. Her eyes skimmed over the scene before her, but the words refused to assemble in her brain into any form of a story. It wasn’t that the novel was dull—it was her mind.

  She couldn’t focus. Her attention drifted between the library book in her hands and the view outside the cozy window seat, but her mind was really on Daniel Reynolds.

  Why did she keep thinking about him? He wanted only one thing from her—an interview that would boost his career. Not that she could blame him. After all, wasn’t she looking for the same thing?

  Except…she’d gone on the picnic today intending to use him to achieve her own goals, then found herself getting wrapped up in him, in Annabelle, but most of all, in his eyes. His smile. His voice. How sexy he’d looked, stretched out on the plaid blanket, popping grapes into his mouth as they talked.

  And she’d started wondering if living this rather ordinary life in a country far from home could come with a rather ordinary romance, the kind millions of women had every year, but Carrie had never enjoyed. She’d seen the media firestorm that followed her sisters on every date they took—paparazzi camped outside restaurants, perched in trees at church. They watched and photographed Mariabella’s and Allegra’s every move, speculated about every kiss, every smile. Once Mariabella married last year, the frenzy had shifted to Allegra, and become a nuclear explosion of interest once she ascended to the crown.

  Carrie, as the third daughter and the furthest from the throne, was often, thankfully, forgotten by the media. Her two older, more glamorous and more social sisters captured the spotlight while Carrie was more than happy to stay out of the glare. But still, Carrie had had her share of reporters trying to spy on her dates. Enough that she’d avoided dating as much as possible. What would it be like to be here, in the middle of nowhere, and go out on a date without worries about the next day’s headlines?

  The doorbell rang, jarring Carrie out of her thoughts. She set her book on the bench, then crossed to the front door. Few people knew she was staying here, so who would be coming by on a Sunday night?

  Through the oval glass, she saw a familiar tiara and laughed to herself. Annabelle Reynolds, still wearing her princess clothes. Then Carrie drew up short. Annabelle would undoubtedly be accompanied by her father.

  “What are you doing here?” Carrie said when she opened the door. She kept her tone neutral, the kind of regal dismissive voice that she pulled out every once in a while. It was the voice that said stay away, that put distance between herself and people who tried to get close. But Daniel Reynolds must not have heard the imperious tone, because he took a step closer and offered up a lopsided grin. “And how did you find out where I was staying?”


  “Wasn’t hard. There aren’t many princesses renting cottages in Winter Haven.”

  “Oh.” Her face heated. She hadn’t thought of the news her rental would create around town.

  “I’m sorry for coming by your house,” Daniel said, “but Annabelle wanted to give you something today and you left the picnic so quickly, she didn’t get a chance. And I wanted to say I was sorry.”

  Guilt ran through Carrie. Here she’d been thinking the worst about Daniel Reynolds’s motives and he’d been here merely to apologize and keep a promise to his little girl. She bent down to Annabelle’s level. “You have something for me?”

  Annabelle nodded, and the tiara teetered in her golden curls. “Uh-huh. A present.”

  “A present? Well, now I’m curious.” She smiled. “But I think such a special event calls for a few cookies first.”

  “I love cookies!”

  “Good. Come on in, then.” Carrie stepped back and waved them into the house.

  Annabelle dashed forward and spun a circle in the small living room of the lake cottage, taking in the cozy furnishings and multiple windows that formed the basis of the small house. “This is so pretty. It’s like…where Snow White lived.”

  Carrie laughed. “It is, isn’t it?”

  Daniel leaned in toward her. “Any dwarves lingering about?”

  “Sorry, no. Today is their day off.”

  He chuckled. “And here I thought I’d find servants underfoot and a butler at the door.”

  “Goodness, no. It’s nice to be alone. And I don’t even mind doing the dishes or cleaning the bathrooms.” She realized as she said the words, they were true. She’d spent so many years having others do for her even the simplest of life’s needs that to do them herself had been a nice burst of freedom. “Though I’m probably not very good at it.”

  “Did you bake the cookies, too?” he said as he followed her into the kitchen.

  “My domestic skills don’t extend to the stove. Though I can whip up a mean batch of scrambled eggs if the occasion arises. But that’s it. Don’t expect a gourmet meal from these hands.”

  “I can’t cook at all, either.” He tossed her a grin, and something warm filled his blue eyes. “We’d be no good together. We’d probably starve.”

  The words implied a future. A relationship. Even as she knew she shouldn’t imagine it, the sentence sent a little thrill through Carrie. For a second, she pictured them standing in the kitchen, debating over take-out options, then ending the discussion with a compromise…and a kiss. “We’d, uh, have to order in,” she said. “Often.”

  His gaze darkened and a smile slowly curved across his face. “Yeah, we would.”

  “And maybe we’d fight over Chinese versus pizza.” She had moved closer to him, ostensibly to reach for a coffee mug, but her hand didn’t connect with anything.

  “We wouldn’t fight.” The smile turned into a grin and he took a half step closer. Heat filled the space between them, and the air seemed to still. Far in the distance, a motorboat revved, its engine going from low to high. “Because a smart man lets the woman have whatever she wants.”

  Carrie’s breath caught. It was as if she had run ten miles and suddenly stopped. Her heart raced, her lungs sought air. And all she could see were Daniel’s blue eyes. “And why is that?”

  “Because a happy woman makes a happy home. And that makes for a very, very happy man.”

  He had moved even closer and Carrie’s thoughts tumbled like rocks down a hill. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to? Her pulse thundered in her ears. How long had it been since she’d been kissed—really, truly kissed?

  Too long. Way too long.

  Carrie opened her mouth, began to push the question past her lips. “Daniel—”

  “Daddy! I got to give Princess Carrie her present.”

  Annabelle’s voice made them jerk apart. Daniel spun toward his daughter. “Oh, yeah. The, uh, present. That’s right, pumpkin. I forgot again. Sorry.”

  Annabelle thrust a bright pink bag in Carrie’s direction. “Here. For you.”

  “Thank you.” Carrie took the bag and held it to her chest. A part of her sent up a silent thank-you for Annabelle’s interruption. Carrie had nearly made a crazy, impulsive decision that would have had huge ramifications. How many times had she done that? Acted first, and thought later? She turned her attention to Annabelle…the smartest choice right now. “But first, I believe I promised you some cookies.”

  “Yes…” She glanced at her father. “Please.”

  Carrie grabbed a plastic container on the counter, peeled off the lid and held it out to Annabelle. An assortment of cookies—all courtesy of the Winter Haven grocery store—filled the box. “Pick as many as you like.”

  “Uh, pick two,” Daniel said, waving a hand in front of Annabelle’s eager reach. “We haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “I want this one and…” Annabelle pulled out a double chocolate, then wavered between one with sprinkles and one with frosting. She glanced up at her father. “Daddy, can I have three? Please?”

  Daniel remained firm for another few seconds, then his stern look faded into one of indulgence and Carrie’s resistance to him ebbed even more. “Okay, but you’re going to have to eat all your dinner later.”

  “I will! I promise!” Annabelle snatched up both the sprinkled and frosted cookies, then scrambled into a kitchen chair. Crumbs scattered across the maple surface of the table.

  Carrie poured her a glass of milk, then got both Daniel and herself a cup of coffee. The two of them joined Annabelle—who had already eaten most of her first cookie. Carrie laid the satiny pink bag on the table. “Shall I open this now?”

  Annabelle nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Carrie reached for the drawstring, then stopped. “Hmm…I wonder what’s in here?”

  Daniel put up his hands. “I had nothing to do with it, so if it’s a monkey, it’s not my fault.”

  “Daddy! It’s not a monkey.” Annabelle rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You won’t let me have one.”

  “For very good reasons.” A tease lit Daniel’s eyes.

  “Monkeys are fun. And funny.” Annabelle propped her chin on her hands. “I want one.”

  “I don’t think you do. They can be terrible pets,” Carrie said. “We had one in the castle for a little while.”

  “You did?” Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Was he yours?”

  “He was a gift from the president of South Africa. One of my sisters mentioned wanting a monkey when he was visiting, and lo and behold, a live monkey was on our doorstep a week later.”

  “What did you do?” Daniel asked.

  “My father took one look at it and called the zoo. Allegra was so angry, she didn’t talk to him for a whole week. She visited that monkey at the zoo constantly for a full year.” Carrie reached for the drawstring on the bag. “I’m dying to see what’s in here. Hmm…what present did Miss Annabelle bring me?”

  That was enough to redirect Annabelle’s attention away from monkeys. Daniel mouthed a silent thank-you over his daughter’s head, and the moment of détente sent a whisper of desire running through Carrie. It was all so ordinary, so sweet, so…domestic.

  Could this be her life someday? Sitting at the kitchen table with her husband and her child, sharing laughs and smiles?

  But then Carrie opened the bag and pulled out a slim plastic rhinestone-studded headband and was reminded of who she was and where she belonged. “Why, it’s a tiara. And it’s beautiful.”

  “I got two,” Annabelle said. “So I gave you that one, ’cuz you forgot yours in Yousilly.”

  Carrie bit back a laugh at Belle’s version of Uccelli. “I did indeed.”

  Annabelle pointed to the tiara in Carrie’s hand, then at her own, and grinned. “Now we can be princesses together.”

  How could Carrie resist such a sweet idea? She settled the rhinestone headband on top of her head, pushing down gently until the comb corners caught and held. “How do I loo
k?”

  Annabelle giggled. “Like a princess.”

  “So do you.” Carrie swiped a finger across Annabelle’s button nose. “You’re the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen, Annabelle.”

  Sunshine filled Annabelle’s features, and she scrambled out of the chair to spin a quick twirl in the kitchen, sending her frothy dress spiraling outward like a bell. Then she started moving faster and faster, whirling until she was nearly a blur. “I’m a princess!”

  “Okay, okay,” Daniel said, putting a hand on his daughter’s arm to slow her spin. “I think someone’s had enough cookies.”

  Annabelle came to a reluctant stop. “One more? Please?”

  “Nope,” Daniel said. “You have to leave room for dinner or Grandma will be sad.”

  Carrie pushed the cookie container to the side so it wouldn’t tempt a certain little girl. “Would you like to watch a movie instead? Or some cartoons?”

  Annabelle nodded, and followed Carrie out of the kitchen and into the living room. She settled on the sofa, and within seconds after Carrie had flipped on the television, Annabelle was falling asleep. The plastic headband rose up and down on her head with each soft breath.

  “You should take that off her,” Carrie said to Daniel.

  “Take what off?”

  “The crown. Not even real princesses sleep in their crown.” She tossed him a smile.

  He sighed, then took a step forward and slid the rhinestone piece out of Annabelle’s hair, and left it on the coffee table. His gaze lingered on the tiara for a long moment. “I’m always forgetting the little things.”

  They headed back into the kitchen, returning to the table and their coffee. The TV played softly in the background, orchestral music underscoring the antics of a frustrated cat and a wily mouse.

  Daniel ran a hand through his hair, displacing the dark waves. The slight bit of messiness only added to his appeal and gave his features a sexier edge. Carrie chided herself mentally for thinking about kissing Daniel Reynolds when they were talking about his parenting.