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“A prestigious position, I’m sure.”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “That’s what Grandmother said.” Which reminded Amanda of what else Grandmother had revealed. Amanda gestured to the tiara. “This is the crown Princess Vivienne is wearing in the portrait, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He led her to the painting of Vivienne. “It was made for her for the Coronation of her husband Prince Louis II in 1852.”
Amanda thought about telling him about her mother’s trip to Europe, to Pasadonia, but hesitated. What if he thought she was trying to claim some type of kinship with the Prince?
She didn’t want their budding relationship—wait, relationship was too strong a word—their budding friendship to be cut short because she made too much of a simple coincidence.
No, she chided herself, she was being silly. Her resemblance to Princess Vivienne wasn’t that strong.
“So guess what?” She wandered a few steps away, pretended an interest in a display she didn’t really see. “I found out my mother took a trip to Europe the summer before I was born. She went with some friends after college. Traveled to several different countries, including Pasadonia.”
He west still, then very deliberately advanced on her. “How interesting.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Perhaps there is a relationship to the Princess. Should I address you as Your Highness?”
She graced him with a teasing smile. “Do I get to wear the tiara?”
“Hmm.” He arched a brow as if contemplating her question. “Ah, no.”
“Spoilsport.”
“All part of the job.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to take a DNA test and—”
“Okay, okay.” She glanced at her watch. Time had flown—it was already an hour later than she’d meant to stay out tonight. Time to go.
“Thanks for the private tour. I’ve really enjoyed learning more about your country.” And him. “But it’s getting late and I have to be up early.”
“Of course.” He bowed his acceptance. “I will walk you to your car.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. My car is just across the street,” She protested. “You finish up what you have to do here.”
“It is necessary. I would do this for any woman. But for you it is also my pleasure.”
Charmed, she accepted his offer, happy to have a few more minutes of his company.
Outside, the fog hung heavy in the air, reducing visibility and dampening sound. It gave Amanda the sense that she and Xavier were alone in a mystic world. She laughed silently. She may not romanticize princesses any more, but fantasy still lingered.
She shivered and was rewarded with the warm weight of Xavier’s hand in the small of her back. A moment ago she’d bragged that her car was nearby. Now they seemed to reach her little red Civic way too soon.
He took her keys, unlocked and opened the door, and bent to check the interior. He was most thorough in seeing to her safety. The effort gave her a warm feeling. It was probably habit for him, but the extra care made her feel cherished.
“Thank you.” She lifted her eyes to his. Would he kiss her? She wanted him to kiss her.
He held up her keys and she opened her hand. He placed the keys in her palm, curled her fingers around them. All without taking his eyes from hers.
He had her ensnared, captivated. Wanting more.
Should she kiss him? Why not? She was a modern woman, confident, sexy. Even with the pep talk she wasn’t that brave. He just wasn’t the kind of man you made moves on.
Though the latent heat in his eyes told her the advances wouldn’t be unwelcome, he made no move of his own. Maybe mention of her mother’s trip to Pasadonia had changed the dynamics between them.
“Well, good night.”
Friendship, she reminded herself, and tore her gaze away from his. She moved to stand in the open door. Then stopped because he refused to release her hand. Surprised, she looked back. At full smolder, he slowly reeled her toward him.
Now the moment was here, her heart fluttered wildly, her blood dancing as his head lowered to hers. She sighed and melted against him. Yes.
His lips settled softly on hers. At the touch of his tongue she opened to him, sighing as she drank in the taste of him.
All thoughts of friendship flittered away into the night. This was no friendly peck. This kiss sizzled her senses, titillated everything female in her.
It took only a moment for her to realize she’d only ever known boys before this. Xavier was all man. He knew what he wanted and took it.
And she gave, leaping into the embrace with wonder and enthusiasm. Arms locked around his neck, she reveled in his strength, in the feel of his hands on her. Her toes actually curled as she sought purchase for her shaky legs.
A car passed them on the opposite side of the street. The intrusion of reality into their world caused Xavier to lift his head. Gently he feathered kisses across her cheek and whispered sexy words in her ear.
“Tu me fais oublier moi-même. You make me forget myself.”
“Me too.” Necking on the street? Her grandmother would freak. But Amanda couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think of was more.
“I must say goodnight.” With obvious reluctance, he saw her safely seated. And then he stepped back and raised his hand in farewell.
She pressed her hand to the window and made herself drive away. She blew out a breath that lifted the bangs off her forehead. Oh boy. She was so lost. Absolutely gone. He made her feel alive, feminine, desirable.
She knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak. He’d be leaving in a few weeks and her life was here. There was no future to this relationship.
But better heartache than regret. She was tired of being afraid to trust. Tired of letting fear rule her. She felt safe with Xavier. And she longed to explore the chemistry that sizzled between them. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d had the courage to grab life and live it to the fullest for the time they had together.
She was going into it with her eyes open. But oh yeah, she was going for it.
Xavier strolled back to the museum, his gaze locked on the vehicle carrying Amanda Carn into the night. When the car turned from his sight, he fixed his gaze forward and tried to calculate exactly how big a mistake he’d just made.
For the first time, man and soldier were at odds as desire warred with duty. He liked this woman, he wanted her physically, but if she was of the royal family, his duty was to protect her against all threats, including himself. With the addictive taste of her still on his lips, he recognized the challenge that represented.
Inside he did a final walk through of the entire museum, as was his habit, ending with the exhibit rooms.
He knew his duty, lived and breathed it day in and day out. Duty was what kept the soldier from kissing her when she so obviously wanted a kiss as much as he wanted to get his mouth on her. The shadow of hurt as she moved away drew the man in him forward as he sought to erase her pain.
And his.
Now may be the only time he had with her, this time of uncertainty while the DNA test was pending. Once her identity was confirmed, she’d be forever out of his reach. And after seeing her next to Vivienne’s portrait again tonight and hearing her mother had been in Pasadonia, he had little doubt a royal connection would be made.
Satisfied the facility was secure he gave his men final instructions and signed out at the security desk.
“Did your date enjoy the private show?” the duty officer asked congenially.
“Yes,” Xavier answered evenly. “She works for one of the local museums so she appreciated the value of the collection.”
“Huh,” the guard made a disappointed noise. “She looks a lot like one of the portraits. I thought she might be visiting royalty.”
“No,” Xavier denied firmly. “She’s just a beautiful woman and a friend.”
That was his answer. Until notified otherwise, Amanda was just an attractive woman he wanted to get to know better. The soldier’s orders were to keep her close, to obtain information.
The man intended to do just that.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMANDA LET HERSELF into her apartment still floating high on that goodnight kiss. She’d replayed the date over and over in her head, reliving the best night of her life.
Dinner at The Top of the Mark proved a feast for the soul. Thirty-four floors in the sky, the revolving restaurant provided a panoramic view of the city. She felt like she was eating among the stars, making the four-course meal a gourmet dream.
And that wasn’t even the best part. Xavier elevated the experience to a whole new level. Attentive and charming, the conversation flowed so smoothly time flew.
She kicked off her shoes and set them neatly in the closet as she remembered the trip to the museum where he gave her a personal tour of the exhibit he protected so zealously.
The jewels and costumes took on extra meaning as he spoke of the events, both violent and celebratory, where they’d been worn or used. Coronations, balls, and battles—the entire collection represented a way of life far beyond her imagining. It seemed the thing of fairy tales, but grittier, with all the trials and tribulations of real life, of real people.
And his kiss. Oh my.
He made her feel as if she’d never been kissed before. And she hadn’t, not by a man of his experience. And yet it wasn’t practiced. It was totally personal, totally focused, totally intense.
He’d made her toes curl, her skin tingle and her body shiver in the best possible way. With longing and need.
Stripping in the bathroom, she placed her dress in the dry cleaning, her lingerie in the hamper.
She’d never needed before. Not that her experience was vast. Sure she’d kissed a few guys, but she’d only had one lover, and it had been pleasant enough, but it turned out he was more interested in a good grade from her grandmother than in Amanda.
Big mistake on both their parts.
In the shower she admitted this thing with Xavier may be a mistake as well. She’d let anger at her grandmother propel her into a date she was leery of. And already it would hurt more to walk away from him than it had to leave the jerk who was only after academic acclaim. She missed being with Xavier, wanted to call and see if he made it back to the hotel okay, if they were taking good care of him, if he liked her as much as she liked him.
Her lack of experience rose up in a tide of insecurity as she wondered if he found her immature. She hoped not. Couldn’t believe he did. Those kisses were in no way juvenile.
Enough already. Any more rehashing and she’d revert to grade school mentality and sock him in the arm the next time she saw him. She needed something to occupy her mind or she’d never get to sleep tonight.
A knock sounded at the door. She frowned, unaccustomed to getting company so late. A glance through the peephole showed her manager. She opened the door.
“Amanda. You had a delivery today. I heard you come in so I thought I’d bring it up.”
“Thanks, Mr. Vey.” She took the box and bid the man good night.
Recognizing the box that contained her mother’s diaries, Amanda carried it to her bed and opened it. Inside she found a note from Grandmother.
Amanda,
Your grandfather believes your disappointing behavior the other night was the result of distress. You can thank him for this.
Grandmother.
Even as she read the note, Amanda didn’t know if she could believe it or not. Was this another example of Grandmother ascribing her own feelings to Grandfather, or had he really put his foot down?
Eager to get to the journals, she decided to brood on the issue at another time. Instead she started pulling out books. She pulled one out and flipped to the first page. And found the first reference to her father.
I never believed in love at first sight until I met him, my prince. I know, it’s childish. But that’s how he makes me feel, as if I’ve found my Prince Charming. Maybe it’s because I’m in Europe where castles abound and royalty is a reality.
I know I can’t trust the feeling. I hear mother’s voice in my head cataloging all the reasons why I should keep my distance, but I can’t. I won’t.
I can’t stop thinking about him. He makes me happy. And we haven’t even been alone; always we’ve been in a crowd of friends though we’ve spent hours talking. And today he stole a kiss.
Stole? Why do I say that when I wanted it so badly? And he actually made my toes curl. I’ll never look on that term as a cliché again.
Amanda laughed, relating with her mother as she read on.
The next time he asks me out I’m going to agree. It may be foolish to pursue a relationship when I’m here for such a short time. Mother would say so. But feelings this strong deserve a chance. If I know it’s not for forever then I should be safe, right?
I haven’t journaled for years but I needed to put my thoughts in order, and this helped. Maybe it will help, too, to read about my romantic adventure when summer is over and I’m back home in the position mother has chosen for me. Or since I’m being brave here, it’ll give me courage to be brave there and seek a position of my own choosing.
Amanda read the next two entries but her mother’s “prince” had had to pop away on business and it was mostly angst about her original decision not to go out with him, and how she wouldn’t make that mistake again if she did, please God, get to see him again, and he still wanted to see her alone.
A lesson learned to grab opportunity when it hammered on your door.
Closing the book, Amanda checked her alarm and then switched out the light. Thank goodness for Michelle, and the push she gave Amanda at the preview event. Otherwise she’d be like her mother, wishing and regretting what might have been instead of remembering a fabulous kiss.
With a sigh she closed her eyes and let her mind take her back to Xavier’s embrace.
Xavier wore his dress uniform for his talk at the museum. His role as senior security officer for the exhibition called for discretion so he and his men wore black suits with white shirts and a black tie adorned by a tie pin of the Royal Republican Guard crest.
But for this event the he figured if he was speaking on being a royal guard he should look like one. The pants were navy with a gold-banded red stripe down the outside of the leg; the jacket was stark white with black epaulettes and red braiding looped over the right shoulder. Medals and ribbons earned through the course of duty decorated his chest to the left.
At home he’d wear his dress sword sheathed at his side. As this was a peace mission, he’d left it locked up in his quarters at home. In its place he’d borrowed one of the simpler weapons from the collection and carried it in a long leather case.
The Children’s Museum of Art and Science sat on the edge of Golden Gate Park. A two story red brick and towering glass building, it married the romance of art and the clarity of science.
Inside, a woman seated at the information desk directed him up a flight of stairs and to the left.
“Oh the kids are going to love you.” She chortled. “I might sneak up and have a peak myself.”
He thanked her and bowed, earning another trill of delight. The corner of his mouth curled up as he took the stairs. American women were so easy to charm.
He found Amanda surrounded by children ranging in ages from about six to ten. She sat in their midst holding a copy of the Little Engine That Could, explaining the mechanics of a steam engine.
The kids were totally into the lesson. And it quickly became clear they were trying to trip her up. But she stayed on point and answered all their questions, patient and in control.
“Why do they call it a choo-choo train?” One youngster asked.
Amanda reached down and picked up a large picture of a steam engine. “Well, see in this diagram how the steam vents out into the air?”
“Yeah,” the kids called.
“When this valve opens, the steam escapes in a rush of pressure making a choo-ing sound. As the train starts, this piston,” she pointed to the diagram, making sure all the kids could see, “is moving very slowly, but once the train starts rolling the piston gains speed and the exhaust is released faster and faster and each time it goes choo, choo, choo.” “Thoo-thoo train,” declared a little boy missing his front teeth.
“That’s right.” Amanda looked up and spied Xavier.
Her face lit up, showing her delight in seeing him. His gut tightened as an answering pleasure swelled in him.
But he had no time to worry over the warmth of his reaction to her interaction with the kids. She was a natural with them, a clear indication she’d make a good mother someday.
Noticing her attention had strayed, the children followed her gaze to him.
“It’s Prince Charming.” A little girl gasped.
Mon dieu. The Lord save him. He supposed he did look a bit like the cartoon character in his uniform. The Lord knew he never wanted the pressure that came with the crown.
Duty and friendship put him close enough to the Prince to see what he dealt with on a daily bases. The demands—everyone wanted something from him—the politics, the economy, the public appearances … it was never ending, and it all fell on the Prince’s shoulders.
“He does look as handsome as Prince Charming, doesn’t he?” Amanda saved him. “But Prince Charming is a character in a book. This is Xavier Marcel LeDuc, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard. He’s a real Royal Guard to the Prince of Pasadonia.”
“Wow.” The exclamation came in one voice.
Xavier bit back a grin and bowed to his audience. The little girl who called him Prince Charming melted to her knees. He met Amanda’s gaze and she winked at him. That did win a smile.
“It is my pleasure to meet you,” he said to the small crowd of children. “Miss Carn has kindly asked me here to talk to you about my profession.”
“Yes.” Amanda took control. “Everyone take a seat. We’ll let Commandant LeDuc speak for a few minutes and then you can ask some questions.”
Taking his hand, she led him to the front of the group then she squeezed his hand and left him to it.
“Wait. Hold this.” He pushed the leather carrying case into Amanda’s hands.
She gasped a little at the weight. “What is it?”
“Visual aid. I borrowed a sword from the collection, but I did not realize it would be such young children.”
“Oh my, that would be an impressive show and tell.” She bit her lip as if considering the idea and then shook her head.
“You’re right, they’re too young. They’d want to touch.” She grinned. “You can show me later.”
He deliberately put the thought of showing her his sword from his mind as he turned to his task. Looking at the young faces he realized he needed to keep this simple.
“Pasadonia is a small country in Europe, and instead of a president we have a Prince. This lovely young lady called me Prince Charming, but in fact I’m the person who guards the Prince.”
“Like the secret serve guys?” One of the older boys asked. “I saw them in a movie.”
“Yes, the Secret Service is an agency responsible for protecting the President and other important dignitaries. I am a soldier. In Pasadonia there are two branches of the military, one is civil defense and the other is responsible for protecting the royal family.”
“If you’re a soldier, how come you don’t have any weapons?” a husky kid with spiked blond hair and freckles demanded. “The policeman who talked to us had a gun.”
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