The Princess Test

by Shirley Jump

  Except kissing him was the only thing she’d been thinking about since that moment in her kitchen earlier. Heck, since she’d met him.

  She’d dated men—not a lot because there weren’t many guys who wanted the pressure of a royal girl-friend—but like with her career choices, she’d never stuck to any one. The men she’d met had either been too dull or too wowed by her royal status.

  Daniel was neither. He was…ordinary, but in an extraordinary way. And that was appealing. Very appealing.

  “The funny thing is, I was great at my job,” Daniel said, drawing her back to the conversation. “There was no challenge that I didn’t take on, no assignment I turned down. Without a second thought, I’d fly to a war zone and report on the latest battle, helicopter in to a national disaster and spend three days living out of a duffel bag and a tent. But raising my daughter alone—” he shook his head, and his gaze strayed to the tuft of blond curls peeking over the arm of the sofa “—that’s the scariest damned thing I’ve ever done. I’m always afraid I’m going to screw it up.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you will. You love her, and that covers a lot of ground.”

  “Does it?” Vulnerability shimmered in his eyes and Carrie wanted to promise him everything would be wonderful from this moment forward, that they would all get their fairy-tale ending. But she couldn’t. Even a princess couldn’t promise happily ever after.

  “Obviously you’re doing something right,” Carrie said. “Annabelle seems like a wonderful girl.”

  “She is. I’m blessed that way. But when I think about the days ahead—those teenage years, the first date, the prom, heck, her wedding—I realize that I am so beyond underequipped for this job.” He wrapped his hands around the white ceramic mug and gave it a spin back and forth. “A few months ago, she asked me to braid her hair. I forget why, something to do with being Rapunzel for the day or something. I spent twenty frustrating minutes trying to figure out how to do it, before I finally had to look up directions on the internet. What kind of father can’t do something as simple as that?”

  Carrie reached across the table and laid her hand on top of his. Warmth met her palm. He lifted his gaze to hers, and her heart melted. “One who is trying his best.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I’m no expert,” she said, “but I think you’re doing just fine.”

  A smile curved across his face. “Thank you.”

  In that instant, the simple touch Carrie had started took on new meaning and dimension. Every nerve in her body attuned to the feel of her hand on top of his larger, stronger one. She could feel the ridge of his knuckles, the pulse of his veins, the taut skin that covered his hand. She wanted him, in ways that had nothing to do with a simple friendly touch. Dangerous ground to tread.

  She jerked away and got to her feet. “Uh, do you want, uh, a refill?”

  Never in her life had she felt this discombobulated. This…out of sorts. Like all control had suddenly slipped away, and a part of her that had never spoken before was taking charge. She grabbed his mug without waiting for an answer and turned to the counter. Her hand shook as she poured and the coffee spilled onto the counter in a wide brown arc.

  “You’re going to burn yourself.” Daniel’s voice, behind her.

  She stilled. Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried to remind herself that he was a reporter. That he had an ulterior motive for being with her. But her mind kept dancing away from the truth and flirting instead with the idea of kissing him. Of being held by him. Of taking him down the hall to the little blue-and-white bedroom and exploring every inch of Daniel Reynolds.

  “Sorry. I…I made a mess.” She reached for a sponge, but Daniel laid a hand on her arm. His touch sent electricity running through her veins. Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse skittered, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  “I don’t want any more coffee, Carrie.”

  “Oh, uh, okay.”

  He tugged on her arm until she turned to face him. “I don’t want any more coffee,” he repeated, his voice lower and darker now.

  The TV played a soft undertow in the next room. Outside on the water, the motorboat sped around the lake, a constant quiet roar. But inside the small twelve-by-fifteen kitchen, another kind of roar was growing inside Carrie. She swallowed, then expelled the bigger question in one long breath. “What do you want, Daniel?”

  “This.” He reached up, cupped her jaw with his hands in a move so tender and gentle, it nearly made her cry. Then he leaned in, inch by torturous inch, and whispered his lips across hers.

  It was a taste, nothing more. A quick brush of his mouth against hers, short enough to give her a chance to change her mind. If Carrie was smart, she’d push him away. Stop this now, before it got out of control.

  She didn’t move.

  Didn’t breathe.

  Didn’t say a word.

  “And I want this,” he whispered, and leaned in even farther until his mouth fully joined with hers and their kiss became a dance of discovery and desire. Heat exploded inside her, and her body buzzed with desire. In an instant, she went from zero to sixty with want.

  “Daniel,” she whispered, then opened against him, her hands sliding up his back to clutch at his shoulders, to pull him even closer. No distance separated their bodies now, and every inch of Carrie tingled. But still, she wanted more, wanted…everything. Now, right now.

  His tongue slid against hers, a sexy little move that sent a shiver down her spine. She answered with a darting caress of her own and he groaned. His fingers tangled in her hair and liquid heat pooled deep inside her. Their kiss deepened, turned from tasting to ravishing, and Carrie had a split second to think how this was what she had been looking for all her life.

  When Daniel finally pulled back, his breath still coming fast and dark desire still lingering in his eyes, Carrie swore she heard a sigh of disappointment. From him? Or from her?

  “That, uh, definitely isn’t coffee,” she said.

  He laughed. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Was it a mistake?”

  He danced his fingers along her jaw. His blue eyes looked like the ocean on a stormy day. She felt as if she could stare into those eyes forever and never fully plumb their depths. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated anyone.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And I’ve never dated anyone I was interviewing.”

  “I’ve never dated a reporter.”

  “Then should we stop now?”

  She looked at his handsome face, the defined jaw-line, the deep stormy eyes set beneath a shock of dark hair. All she wanted to do was touch him, learn him, know him. She stepped back into his arms and tilted her chin to meet his. “Maybe later. Much later.”

  He grinned, then drew her to him and kissed her again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY came up for air a long while later. The kiss still burned in Daniel’s mind, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to kissing Carrie. But first, work.

  “As nice as that was,” he said, grinning, “I didn’t come here for that.”

  “No?”

  “Well, maybe.” The grin widened. Then he sobered. “I really came to apologize. I shouldn’t have sprung the princess test on you. I don’t want to be that kind of reporter. I wanted to prove or disprove your identity, of course, but not in some crazy circus of a test.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Prove who I am?”

  His gaze met hers, and in those wide brown eyes, he saw the answers he’d been seeking all day. He’d learned a long time ago to trust his gut when it came to a story, and right now, his gut was saying only one thing. “Yes, princess.”

  She smiled at him, and a switch flipped inside of Daniel. “So what now?”

  “I was thinking—” he reached for her hand, needing to touch her, even as he knew he should try to keep this business-only “—maybe we could work together on deve
loping this test thing. My boss is really stuck on the idea, but if we control it instead of him—”

  “We’ll end up with something that pleases everyone.” She considered that for a moment, her fingers drifting against his palm. Every touch made it harder for him to concentrate. “And maybe if we kept it fun and light, it wouldn’t be…”

  “Humiliating.”

  “Exactly.”

  He lifted his hand and hers. “So we have a deal?”

  “We do.”

  He shook hands with her, then raised her hand to his lips and sealed the deal with a kiss. “Good.”

  He heard Annabelle stirring in the next room. He glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly dinnertime. “I hate to say this, but I have to go soon. My mother has something cooking for dinner…” He grinned at her again. “Why don’t you come, too?”

  “I couldn’t possibly. She’s not expecting me and—”

  “My mother loves company. And I’m sure she’s going to love you.”

  A little while later, they were in Daniel’s car, heading across Winter Haven. Annabelle talked the entire way home. The short nap on Carrie’s sofa had clearly recharged his daughter’s batteries—and then some. Daniel hadn’t heard her chatter that much in months and months, and the constant rhythm of her voice warmed his heart. Had she finally turned the corner on her grief?

  Or did it have more to do with Carrie Santaro’s easy way with Annabelle? He had to admit, Carrie had managed to get Annabelle to open up in ways no one else had in the past year. The first clue? Her running off to the playground by herself. Ever since Sarah died, Annabelle had glued herself to Daniel’s side whenever they were out in public, as if she was afraid he, too, would leave her. But today—

  Today, she’d run off and played for a solid hour. Lost in the imaginative world of a child. Then, back at Carrie’s house, she’d laughed, she’d talked, she’d danced. After Annabelle’s nap, Carrie had set up a tea party in the kitchen and played along with Annabelle and Whitney for a half hour. Annabelle had been delighted that Carrie pretended with her, acting as if they were two princesses using their best manners to sip imaginary tea and nibble on invisible treats. Daniel had watched it all with a growing happiness that told him maybe, just maybe, his daughter and he would finally be okay.

  He glanced over at her and the urge to kiss Carrie roared in his chest. Damn. He couldn’t think of that woman without thinking of kissing her—and more. The kisses they’d shared in her kitchen had started out sweet and slow, then quickly progressed to hot and amazing. She’d been as engaged as him—her hands roaming his back, her body pressed to his, her mouth awakening parts of him he’d thought had died.

  When Carrie had moaned and whispered his name against his mouth, Daniel nearly hauled her off to the bedroom. If Annabelle hadn’t been in the next room—

  Well, she had been, and it was probably a good thing, too. He was moving too fast, getting involved before he thought it through.

  And he knew from experience what a mistake that could be. For the hundredth time, he reminded himself to focus on work. Not the beautiful, intriguing princess.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone smile so much,” Faith said as the last customer of the day left By the Glass on Monday evening. She flipped the sign to Closed, then shot Carrie a grin. “It’s either your birthday or you met a man.”

  Carrie laughed. “Well…it’s not my birthday.”

  “Ooh, a man! I need to hear this. Let’s go grab some coffees at the shop on the corner and you can tell me all about him.”

  Carrie started to say no. Years of living in a household and at a boarding school where everything you said was heard by a dozen people and eventually leaked to the media for their newest headline had conditioned her to be cautious, to keep her personal life close to her chest. But she wasn’t in Uccelli right now. She was in Winter Haven, Indiana, and she was a girl who’d met a cute guy and wanted to share the details with her new friend. “Sounds like a great idea. Let me just grab my purse.”

  A minute later, the two of them headed out of the shop. They walked the two blocks to the small coffee shop that fronted the corner of Washington and Elm as the sun finished setting, bathing the town in an inky purple light. The pungent notes of fresh brewed coffee and newly baked goodies wafted to greet them as they stepped inside and grabbed a table in the corner. Faith got them two iced lattes and a brownie to split. She laid the plate before them, handed Carrie a fork, then propped her chin in her hands. “Okay, tell me everything.”

  Before Carrie could speak, an older woman stopped at their table. Her stylish gray hair offset her cranberry top and chunky gold necklace. “Excuse me. Are you Princess Carlita?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman smiled. “I thought so. You look just like your mother.”

  “Thank you. Did you know her?”

  The woman nodded. “Back then, I owned a little grocery store on the corner of Main and Elm. I sold it to Ernie Waller back in ’98, but when your mother was here, it was known as Irma’s Stop and Shop. I’m Irma.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Your mother came in every week, like clockwork. She always bought tea and cookies.”

  Carrie laughed. “That’s my mother. She still likes to have that for breakfast.”

  “She was a lovely woman. Charmed everyone she met here. And probably broke a few hearts when she left.” Irma smiled. “Why, I think half the town was in love with her.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Carrie said. “The people of our country think the world of my mother. She’s really good with people.”

  “She definitely was. And I know for a fact, more than a few men in town thought so, too.” Irma winked.

  Something in Irma’s tone raised a red flag in Carrie. She tried to brush it off and attribute the reference to typical small-town gossip but the doubts stayed in the back of her mind. The mental puzzle tried to fit, but didn’t. A missing piece? Or was she merely grabbing at invisible straws?

  “Well, I’ll be sure to tell her I ran into you the next time I talk to her.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Irma said. “Your mother made a lot of friends while she was here. I always thought she’d be back.”

  “Maybe someday she will.” Carrie smiled.

  “You tell her that when she does, Irma will have a cup of tea waiting for her.” The woman said goodbye, then headed out of the coffee shop.

  “That was nice,” Faith said, then grinned. “But a total interruption to finding out about this new guy.”

  Carrie took a deep breath. “He’s a single dad with a little girl who is the most adorable creature in the universe.” The details spilled out of her like an overflowing bucket. Her mind was still swimming with the weekend she’d had—the picnic, the afternoon in her kitchen, the cozy meal with his mother. “And he’s tall, dark and—”

  “Let me guess. Handsome?”

  Carrie nodded, feeling like a schoolgirl when a hot blush spread across her cheeks. “Yes, he is. Very.”

  Faith leaned closer. “So, how’d you meet him?”

  “Actually, he came in the shop last week.”

  “And did he stock up on those fine Uccelli wines, or just the fine Uccelli princess?” Faith grinned and forked off a bite of brownie.

  “Neither. He, uh, just wanted to meet me.” She hesitated to tell Faith the whole story about him first being interested in her as a story, not a person.

  “That’s so cool.” Faith reached for her iced latte, and stirred at the whipped cream with her straw. “What’s he do? If you say he’s a doctor, I’m going to want to know if he has a twin brother.”

  “No, not a doctor.” Carrie fiddled with a brownie crumb. “He works for Inside Scoop.”

  “Oh.” Faith’s nose wrinkled, then she tried to cover the gesture with her hand. “Well, that’s…interesting.”

  Dread coiled in Carrie’s stomach. In the past couple of days, she’d done some of her own research on Inside Scoop. Everything she�
��d found about the show had painted it as tacky, sensationalist. In other words, a celebrity’s—and a princess’s—worst nightmare. She knew Daniel’s background was in solid, honest reporting—even if he’d had one very bad day that she’d found on the internet—so she’d told herself that an interview with him wouldn’t be useless fluff. But the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, made worse by Faith’s expression, said otherwise. “Why did you say it was interesting, like it was terrible?”

  Faith let out a long breath. “I don’t want to rain on your parade.”

  “Tell me. Please.” Better to know the truth now than after she was totally head over heels for Daniel Reynolds.

  Too late, her mind whispered. She was already dangerously close to falling head over heels for him. Even as her better sense reminded her that he was a reporter, and thus, not the kind of person she could trust.

  Even as all the signs pointed in the opposite direction, she did trust him. There was something about Daniel—maybe it was the love she saw in his face for Annabelle, or the warmth she felt when she was with his family, or how he seemed to have taken a genuine interest in everything about Carrie—that told her he wasn’t like other reporters. That he was something more. Something, no, someone special.

  “I’ve watched that show,” Faith said. “And it’s…well, it’s kind of exploitive. They always look for the racy angle or the crazy fact to emphasize. They’re not exactly hard news. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you it wasn’t. But you never know. Maybe this guy is different. Maybe the show is moving in a new direction.”

  “I trust him,” Carrie said. They’d talked a lot about the princess test after dinner, and as far as she could tell, Daniel was on the same wavelength as she was. “I think it’ll be fine. Either way, I think it’s time for some chocolate.”

  “Hear, hear, sister.” Faith grabbed her own fork and each of them took a bite of the chocolate dessert. “I love the way you think.”