“You still look like a model.”

An arrow of anger pierced her. Serena was a cop now, and he needed to acknowledge that. “Looks can deceive. I can have you flat on your back in the sand before you can blink.”

His glance was measuring, a hint of a smile playing around his generous mouth. “Might be an interesting experience.”

Annoyed with herself for thinking along the same lines, she snapped, “You wouldn’t think so if it happened. I’m liable to break something.”

“I’ll consider myself forewarned.” He sounded as if he couldn’t wait.

The promise in his tone sent sexual fantasies tumbling through her mind. She had to fight to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t the time and place, if ever there were such a thing. Not until she knew where he stood.

She drew herself up. “We’re not here to exchange sexual fantasies. I need to know—”

He cut off the question by simply kissing her.

Dear Reader,

What better way to start off a new year than with six terrific new Silhouette Intimate Moments novels? We’ve got miniseries galore, starting with Karen Templeton’s Staking His Claim, part of THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY. These three brothers are destined to find love, and in this story, hero Cal Logan is also destined to be a father—but first he has to convince heroine Dawn Gardner that in his arms is where she wants to stay.

For a taste of royal romance, check out Valerie Parv’s Operation: Monarch, part of THE CARRAMER TRUST, crossing over from Silhouette Romance. Policemen more your style? Then check out Maggie Price’s Hidden Agenda, the latest in her LINE OF DUTY miniseries, set in the Oklahoma City Police Department. Prefer military stories? Don’t even try to resist Irresistible Forces, Candace Irvin’s newest SISTERS IN ARMS novel. We’ve got a couple of great stand-alone books for you, too. Lauren Nichols returns with a single mom and her protective hero, in Run to Me. Finally, Australian sensation Melissa James asks Can You Forget? Trust me, this undercover marriage of convenience will stick in your memory long after you’ve turned the final page.

Enjoy them all—and come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance reading around, only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Operation: Monarch
Valerie Parv

MILLS & BOON

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VALERIE PARV

With twenty million copies of her books sold, including three Waldenbooks bestsellers, it’s no wonder Valerie Parv is known as Australia’s queen of romance and is the recognized media spokesperson for all things romantic. Valerie is married to her own romantic hero, Paul, a former crocodile hunter in Australia’s tropical north.

These days he’s a cartoonist and the two live in the country’s capital city of Canberra, where both are volunteer zoo guides, sharing their love of animals with visitors from all over the world. Valerie continues to write her page-turning novels because they affirm her belief in love and happy endings. As she says, “Love gives you wings, romance helps you fly.” Keep up with Valerie’s latest releases at www.silromanceauthors.com.

For Bat Dame and the Bat Cave denizens.

Every writer should have such a safety valve.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Prologue

Historian’s note:

The events described here take place about one year after the wedding of Prince Lorne and Alison Carter depicted in The Monarch’s Son

As a senior member of the Royal Protection Detail, Serena Cordeaux had seen the sovereign ruler of Carramer at times elated, imperious, furious and melancholy, but his emotions were usually so well masked that only those closest to him suspected how he really felt.

Never before had she seen Prince Lorne de Marigny so openly troubled. His dark eyes were clouded with worry and although his pose remained calm, the hands he linked together in front of him were white knuckled.

Seated in a wing-backed leather chair beside the prince’s desk, his wife, Princess Alison, looked calm but her eyes were dark with worry. Her fall of nut-brown hair hid much of her expression, but from the way she kept sneaking glances at the package lying open on the desk, Serena wondered if she expected the contents to rear up and strike her husband.

As well they might.

Knowing how devoted Alison was to Lorne and their little son, Nori, Serena wished she could assure them everything was going to be all right, but Serena was far from certain herself.

The prince placed his hands palms down on the leather blotter on either side of the damning evidence. “You did the right thing bringing this directly to me. How did you learn of its existence?”

Wondering if the monarch knew more than he was revealing about the significance of the package, Serena said, “The R.P.D. got a tip-off that Carramer First intended to disrupt the American president’s visit, so we’ve been monitoring the group’s activities.”

Lorne shifted impatiently. “Naturally.”

He knew as well as she did that the antiroyalist group hoped to manipulate international media interest in the first visit of an American president to Carramer to gain publicity for their cause. The majority of Carramer’s people supported the monarchy, and dissidents were rare in the peaceful island kingdom, so the group was unlikely to gain sympathy any other way.

Knowing Prince Lorne wouldn’t appreciate a history lesson, she straightened a little more. “Two days ago my contact in the group attended a meeting where they were told they’d soon have the means to do more than disrupt the president’s visit. They could destabilize the kingdom itself.”

Lorne tapped the package. “This.”

She nodded. “According to my informant, only the man who took it to the group knew precisely what it contained. He was ordered to deliver it to a prearranged drop-off point so their leader could retrieve it and put it to use.”

“Our old friend, the Hand,” Lorne said heavily.

Serena heard Princess Alison catch her breath. “The Hand” was the only name by which they knew the leader of Carramer First. The other group members were basically harmless hotheads, but according to R.P.D. intelligence, the Hand was a professional criminal, skilled at covering his tracks. Only a handful of the group’s elite were said to know his identity, hampering efforts to pin him down. Through phone calls and taped instructions, he controlled the group’s activities with an iron hand, hence his code name. Everything else about him remained a frustrating mystery.

“What will the Hand do when he discovers you’ve intercepted the package?” Princess Alison asked.

Serena turned to her. “He shouldn’t find out for some time. I arranged a special show for him while arresting my contact.”

“I hope you’ve provided protection for your contact,” Lorne observed dryly. “From what we know of the Hand, he’ll be more interested in getting this back than in rescuing his man.”

“Woman. We flew her to a safe location on Isle des Anges this morning,” Serena supplied. “I searched her very publicly, making it obvious she didn’t have the package on her, so anyone watching us would think she’d passed it to someone else minutes before I got to her. The Hand’s people should be kept busy for some time trying to find out where it is now.”

The prince’s obsidian eyes clouded. “I doubt it will take them long to figure out they’ve been duped and that we have what they’re looking for.”

She lifted her hands, palms upward. “With respect, Your Highness, I don’t see what harm a fake royal birth certificate can do to the monarchy.”

“It isn’t a fake.”

This time she couldn’t control her reaction. If the certificate was genuine…

The prince gestured toward a straight-backed chair in front of the desk. “Sit down, Serena. I take it you examined the contents of the package?”

She perched on the edge of the chair. “Following procedure, I checked everything for explosives and contaminants before bringing them to you.”

He stabbed the package with a finger. “Were there any letters or other clues to the origins of the material.”

She shook her head. “Nothing we can trace. I found only the birth certificate, a plaster cast of a baby’s footprints and the photos you have there, sir.”

The prince shuffled through the items, retrieving two black-and-white photos. One showed a superbly fit dark-haired man clad in tight shorts, working out in a gymnasium, plainly oblivious of the camera trained on him. The second showed the same man in a changing room, clad only in a towel. The first time she opened the package and saw the photo, Serena had felt herself go hot and cold by turns. Now she cleared her throat. “Your Highnesses, I think I know that man.”

The prince’s gaze shone with interest. “Go ahead.”

She felt reluctant to admit the truth, but duty demanded it. “I haven’t seen him for a long time, but his name is Garth Remy. We went to the same high school.”

Her slight hesitation wasn’t lost on the prince. She was glad he didn’t ask how well she had known Garth.

Princess Alison’s sharp look told Serena her feelings toward Garth had been read like a book. The princess’s tumultuous romance with Prince Lorne had begun a little over a year ago, when a riptide dumped the Australian tourist at his feet on his private beach. Her affection for Lorne’s little boy had won the prince’s attention, then the woman himself had claimed his heart. Now it was rumored that Alison might be pregnant. It was well-known that they wanted a brother or sister for Nori. The princess certainly looked blooming. The sudden softening in her expression suggested that she suspected exactly how things had been between Serena and Garth.

Serena held her breath, but the princess shifted her attention to her husband. “I still can’t believe the likeness, Lorne.”

“At school he was known as Duke because of his resemblance to Prince Lorne,” Serena explained. She didn’t add that Garth had hated the nickname. He had come from a poor family, and the name only rubbed it in.

Lorne indicated the photo. “What else do you know about him?”

Her thoughts spun. Even Alison, for all her experience of being swept off her feet by love, couldn’t know how attracted Serena had been to Garth when they were teenagers, or how badly he had hurt her when he dismissed her as being no more than a pretty face. He had made no allowance for her parents pushing her into modeling from the time she could walk, primping and pampering her until she had felt like a doll instead of their child. Nor did he care that she hated modeling but hadn’t had the courage to give it up because her success meant so much to her parents.

It was hardly her fault that her figure had ripened to model proportions in her early teens, or that the camera had loved her vivid blue eyes and blond coloring. At nineteen to her sixteen, he’d believed her looks were all that mattered to her, when they had meant far more to her parents than to Serena herself.

She had told herself she didn’t care what Garth thought of her, yet his censure had rankled for a long time. She told herself he wasn’t the reason she had joined the Carramer Police Force, but she knew his comments had planted the seed. She had chosen crime fighting because it was as far away from modeling as she could get, then had found she thrived on the work. When she was invited to join the elite Royal Protection Detail, she had jumped at it. She loved being a royal insider, doing police work at the highest possible level. Not just a pretty face now, she told Garth’s photo silently.

He would be thirty-two to her twenty-nine now. The midnight gaze seemed to mock her, although she knew she was imagining that. It was obvious he hadn’t known he was being photographed. There was nothing posed about the way he stood with one bare leg on the floor and the other propped on a bench as he dried himself off.

Her throat felt dry as she handed the photo back to the monarch. “Garth and I lost touch after we finished school. Friends told me he’d joined the navy as a diver. Since his parents were in the commercial fishing business, that would seem logical. But I’m afraid I don’t know any more. I have no idea why his photo was in the package.”

Prince Lorne massaged his chin with one hand as he seemed to weigh how much to tell her. After a long interval he said, “Whoever put this together intended to reveal Garth to the world as the rightful heir to the throne of Carramer.”

Princess Alison’s hand went to her mouth although she made no sound. Naturally she would already be aware of the possibility.

Serena had no such forewarning, and shock ricocheted through her. “Surely that’s impossible, Your Highness?”

The prince looked less perturbed by her outburst than by the possibility he’d just voiced. “I wish it were. Unfortunately, my family history makes it all too possible.”

“Since she’s already involved, perhaps Serena should know the story,” Alison suggested.

A faint glimmer of agreement crossed Lorne’s features as he looked at Serena. “The family has always known that my parents had a child before they were married. He was named Louis but was stillborn, or so we believed. I think the certificate, the footprints and the photos are meant to suggest otherwise.”

Serena could hardly deal with the thought that Garth’s resemblance to Lorne might be because Garth was really Lorne’s older brother. Far less that Garth could be the true ruler of Carramer. How was Lorne managing to face the possibility, when he had so much at stake? An entire kingdom, in fact. No wonder his usual composure had been shattered in a way she had never expected to see.

“The footprints could belong to any baby,” she said, knowing wishful thinking when she expressed it.

The monarch knew it, too, she saw in his wintry smile. “Except for one small detail.”

He picked up the plaster cast and angled it for her inspection. She soon saw what he was indicating, a tiny piece of webbing clearly visible between the small toes of the left foot. “Oh.”

“It’s a genetic trait common to de Marigny males,” Alison contributed.

Serena felt a frown start. “That settles it then. Garth can’t be the heir if he doesn’t have the trait.”

Without comment, Lorne picked up the changing room photo and handed it to her. An enlargement of a section of the first photo, it showed Garth’s feet in close-up. At first sight, she hadn’t understood its significance. Studying it more closely now, she saw that the two small toes of his left foot were webbed.

She felt the room spin then settle. “Is it possible?”

Lorne’s expression told her it was even before he said, “The birth certificate is genuine. I recognize my parents’ signatures.”

Alison reached for her husband’s hand. “The original has been missing from the de Marigny archive for years.”

“Even so, it seems unbelievable that Garth could be the heir to the throne. Apart from the resemblance to you, sir, there were no other indications that Garth was more than he seemed. His parents were just everyday people,” Serena insisted.

“They could have fostered him without knowing his history,” Alison pointed out. “Garth himself may be unaware of his background.”

Alice couldn’t have felt more unsettled after falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, Serena thought. “You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?”

Lorne took a slow breath, held it, then let it out. “We have no choice. The certificate, coupled with the cast and the photo, means we must allow for the possibility that my older brother didn’t die at birth after all. And that Carramer has the wrong monarch.”

Chapter 1

She would never accept that Garth Remy was the true ruler of Carramer, she thought as she got ready for her assignment. Not by so much as a blink had Garth suggested he was anything other than the child of struggling commercial fishermen. They had lived aboard the boat for most of Garth’s childhood, only moving into a proper house after his grandparents died. It was hardly the life of a prince.

Garth may not know who he is, Alison had said. Everything in Serena wanted to reject the possibility, but she knew the princess was right. If Garth had been fostered by the Remys from birth, he would have no reason to suspect he was anything but their biological son.

Commanding her to tell no one what she was doing, Lorne had assigned her to meet Garth in the gymnasium shown in the photograph. She had identified the place from a portion of the name shown behind him on the wall. She was to renew their acquaintance and convince Garth to accompany her to the palace. Lorne would take it from there.

When she had reminded the prince that she was fully occupied with security preparations for the president’s visit in two weeks’ time, Lorne had said he would have her duties assigned to Jarvis Reid, her rival in the R.P.D.

Although there was nothing she could do about it, Serena hated the thought of Reid being at the president’s side while she worked on what she still suspected was a hoax. The high profile of the presidential tour meant when it came to choosing the new head of the Solano division, a job Serena had been working hard to earn, Jarvis would have an edge. Once again it seemed Garth was going to interfere in her life.

He had done it before when she was sixteen and he was nineteen, she recalled. She had been drawn to the darkly brooding young man who shone at all kinds of solo sports. If she closed her eyes she could still see his muscular legs eating up the running track or his arms carving through the water as he swam to victory.

She was seized by a sudden, unexpected memory of rising to her feet in the stands and cheering her lungs out the day he won the men’s medley by half a pool length. He hadn’t acknowledged her cheers, looking stonily ahead as he left the water and headed for the locker room. It was as if he had raced for himself alone, and winning was enough. She had told herself not to take it personally. He hadn’t asked her to cheer for him. But her fragile teenage ego had ached for a sign that he appreciated her support, and her heart had bled when none came.

Instead of getting the message, she had started seeing what she wanted to see. Every half smile or brusque word they exchanged had been read as encouragement that she was finally getting through to him. Soon he would ask her for a date and they would be a couple.

How naive could one person be? The date had never happened. The blossoming romance had been all in her head. Garth’s lone-wolf persona wasn’t a cover for shyness or anything else. It was who he was. Who he probably still was.

When she ran a background check on him, parts of his naval record couldn’t be accessed, suggesting he’d been involved in covert assignments. The discovery seemed appropriate for one who liked being closed off from others, she thought. Not long after making lieutenant, he had been involved in a deep-sea diving mishap resulting in a trainee under his care being injured. Instructor error, the record showed. Defective equipment, Garth had argued. He had lost, and left the service under a cloud.

He hadn’t had much luck in his life, she thought. With his navy career in ruins, he had dived on wrecks around the region, living off his salvage efforts. He had also worked part-time in his parents’ fishing business, the same one the other students had maligned, she remembered. Even the same boat, as far as she could tell. The aging engine had blown up only a month before, sending the boat to the bottom of Solano Harbor. Both Garth’s parents had drowned. A stab of concern welled up inside her. No matter how she felt about him, he didn’t deserve so much tragedy.

The record showed no sign of a wife and children. Had he been involved with anyone? She told herself she didn’t care. Another woman was welcome to him. But it didn’t stop her stomach muscles from clenching at the thought.

As Princess Alison had suspected, Serena’s crush on Garth had been deep enough to make her feel hot more than thirteen years afterward. She blushed to recall how her friends had caught her practicing signing her name as Serena Remy and had teased her unmercifully. They had bet her she wouldn’t have the courage to kiss him.

Knowing how much she wanted to kiss him, she had accepted the bet, waiting until she found him alone, then throwing herself into his arms and fastening her innocent lips on his. When his strong, youthful arms automatically closed around her, her heart had pounded as if it would leap right out of her chest.

Instead of admitting to overhearing her make the bet, he had kissed her back as if he had been waiting for her all his life. She had felt the stars in her eyes as he held her away from him, and she had been shocked to see how cold he looked. “Looks like you win,” he had drawled.

She vividly recalled the sensation of ice water sliding along her veins, his switch from passion to indifference making her light-headed. “What are you saying?”

“You can go back to your high-society friends and collect on your bet. If they want proof, I’ll vouch that you kissed me. How much was I worth?”

No money had been involved. Only her pride. “You know about the bet?”

He had leaned indolently against a wall. “I’m not stupid enough to think you’d do it for any other reason. A spoiled society princess doesn’t waste her time on the guy from the other side of the tracks unless there’s something in it for her.”

She had needed something to hold on to, but the only available anchor was him, and if she touched him again she was lost. She had lifted her head, letting a defiance she didn’t feel shimmer in her gaze. “I’d hate you to think I wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh, you wanted to. You want to do it again,” he said. “You might have kissed me for a bet but you enjoyed every minute of it.”

How had he known? “You have a high opinion of yourself,” she had snapped.

He had straightened. “Yes, I do. Unlike you, I have plans for my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re no more than a beautiful doll who lets herself be used to satisfy her family’s ego. Before I get involved with a girl, she’ll have to do more with her life than trade on her looks.”

He had walked away. She had stayed frozen in place until she was sure he was gone, before letting the tears come. All her dreams of togetherness with him lay in pieces at her feet. He not only didn’t want her company, he despised what he thought she was.

The worst part was knowing that she had let her parents use her to fulfill their ambitions. She had barely noticed when her father gave up his banking job to manage her career. Her mother, once a capable casting agent, had always called herself Serena’s stylist. When had that become her sole occupation?

She had known she disappointed them bitterly by walking away from a future as a supermodel. Her mother had been horrified when she chose a career in law enforcement, mainly because of the risk to her perfect features, she assumed. They were happier now she was with the R.P.D., little knowing that the royal security could be as hazardous as any other security work. The modern world was a dangerous place. One day she might have to put her life on the line to protect her royal employers.

She had never expected to have to risk her heart.

The gymnasium overlooked Solano Harbor. She took her own car, and wore a plain teal sweatsuit. Normally she worked out in the luxurious palace gym and wore sweats monogrammed with the royal crest, hardly an option to meet Garth. She had no idea how she was going to convince him to see Lorne and had a feeling that the lower the profile she adopted the better.

He used the gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she had learned when she called from the palace. She waited outside the gymnasium in her car until she saw him pull up in a battered pickup, the back cluttered with diving paraphernalia. In contrast to the state of the car, the gear looked pristine.

Garth didn’t look so bad himself, she thought, watching him lock the car and securely cover the diving gear. A familiar longing washed over her but she fought it. This time she was no teenager, wishing for the moon. She ducked low but he didn’t look around, merely hitched a navy-issue duffel bag over his shoulder and headed for the entrance.

Still as dark and brooding as she remembered, she thought, keeping down as he stalked past. Same sinfully broad shoulders, same narrow hips and grabbable rear, sculpted by the tight jeans he wore slung low like a cowboy’s. All he needed was a Stetson to complete the image.

He’d let his hair grow long, she noticed. Dark with lighter streaks from the sun and sea, it touched the collar of his rumpled blue golf shirt. One errant lock still fell across his eyes. She watched him push it back with an impatient gesture that was all too familiar.

Serena knew her scrutiny was hardly professional, but couldn’t help noticing how tanned he was from years of outdoor exposure, and the way faint lines radiated from his eyes. His wide mouth was so grimly set that she doubted he smiled any more now than he had when he was younger. Although it was late morning, his chin was dusted with stubble. His rugged appearance should have repelled her but instead she felt a dangerous prickle of excitement.

At the entrance he looked around as if sensing her eyes on him. She felt his jet gaze skim over her, so penetrating that she expected him to wrench her car door open and demand to know why she was watching him. Then he shrugged as if shaking off a phantom touch, pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Sitting up, she swallowed hard, swimming in more phantoms. Memories of how she had imagined herself as his girl, cheering his sporting prowess from the sidelines, threatened to swamp her. Few others had cheered for him even when he won, she remembered. He had been too self-sufficient, making it clear he didn’t need anyone’s adulation. She had been the only girl stupid enough to think she was different.

Not anymore. She was here for a purpose, not to revisit yearnings she had grown out of thirteen years ago. She had, hadn’t she? The dryness in her throat argued differently. Not sure how honestly, she told herself she wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. Only Prince Lorne’s assurance that the country’s stability depended on resolving Garth’s claim to the throne—if he had one—got her out of the car and sauntering across the car park after him as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

In truth, she had a handful. This morning at the palace Jarvis Reid had swooped down on her, demanding her files on the presidential visit. He had looked like a cat with his first canary, as well he might. All her hard work preparing for the visit would now give Reid’s ambition a boost at the cost of her own. The thought of reporting to him as head of the Solano division made her feel ill. She had counted on it being the other way around.

Garth Remy had better be the lost prince, she thought angrily. If this was a clever hoax and he was somehow involved, she’d be kicking his fine-looking rear instead of grabbing it.

At the same time, she had difficulty imagining him being involved in a hoax. He may have been aloof, but he hadn’t lied to her. He could easily have taken advantage of her infatuation, but beyond the first kiss, he hadn’t. He had told her openly that he knew about the bet and had walked away. A man who lived by his own code of honor, however brutal it had seemed to her younger self.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door of the gymnasium and stepped inside. Garth was nowhere in sight, probably changing in the men’s locker room. She signed in and headed for the women’s locker room where she peeled off her sweatsuit to reveal a burgundy sports top and black leggings. With her long blond hair caught in a high ponytail, she still looked about eighteen, she thought, grimacing at herself in the full-length mirror. She supposed she should be happy, given the rapid approach of her next milestone birthday. But the image held too many reminders of the girl who had mooned around, waiting for Garth to notice her.

She wasn’t about to do any such thing today, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman at the top of her profession. Well nearly at the top. She’d had affairs of varying degrees of satisfaction. Nobody current, through her decision to focus on achieving promotion. The ingenuous girl whose feelings Garth had trampled no longer existed.

So close to lunchtime, the main floor was almost deserted except for an attendant straightening up equipment on the far side of the room. In the background the steady bass beat of rock music signaled a class in progress elsewhere in the building.

Playing the part of a gym regular, she climbed aboard a stationary bike to warm up. Pedaling steadily, she glanced around, finding Garth doing the same at the other end of the row. He didn’t see her. He wore a tank top and light-blue gym shorts with a navy stripe down each side and a pair of well-worn cross trainers.

After warming up for ten minutes he got off and went to a bench press where he picked out a pair of dumbbells, then lay on his back on the bench, planting his feet on the floor.

She stopped pedaling to watch as he exhaled and slowly pressed both weights toward the ceiling. With perfect control he inhaled and lowered the weights to the starting position, his muscles gleaming in the artificial light. She counted about four beats on the exhalation and eight on the inhalation phases. Impressive.

In danger of becoming mesmerized by the sight of his self-assured movements, she slid off the bike and chose an opal-colored balance ball suited to her height, nudging the sphere closer to Garth’s station. Wedging the ball between her lower back and the wall, she inhaled and lowered herself to a sitting position, bending her hips and knees. The pressure on the ball against her back felt as good as a massage.

Exhaling, she stood, keeping the pressure on the ball with her back. Several repetitions later, she felt muscle fatigue creeping up, but Garth was too intent on his own workout to notice her. Déjà vu, she thought, determined not to let it bother her this time. No wonder he was still unattached.

Deliberately she let the ball escape from under her so it bounced against his bench press. “I’m sorry,” she said as she went to retrieve it. Garth had the weights lowered to his shoulders. She injected surprise into her voice. “Garth? Garth Remy?”

Noticing her at last, he swung himself upright. “Serena Cordeaux? It is you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t exactly sound thrilled to see her, she thought. She forced a grin. “How long has it been?”

He placed the weights on the floor and swabbed his face with a towel, although he had barely raised a sweat. “Years. I heard you left Solano after graduation.”

Unwillingly pleased that he’d tracked her progress for a time at least, she nodded. “I went to the police academy.”

If she had hoped to impress him, he didn’t show it. Merely nodded. “Quite a switch for you, wasn’t it?”

“Modeling was my parents’ choice for me, not mine. I gave it up as soon as I was of age.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I hope I didn’t have anything to do with that?”

Annoyed because he had, she shook her head, feeling the old attraction resurface. Along with something far less welcome. Desire. Hot, potent, stinging because she didn’t want to feel it. She had been talking to him for less than five minutes out of thirteen years, and already she wanted to be in his arms so much she could taste the need. Some people never learned.

“You have a high opinion of yourself,” she said, then felt even more annoyed because she had said the same thing to him after they kissed.

He remembered too, she saw in the sudden gleam of interest flaring in his gaze. The flame died as she watched. “Always did,” he said easily, but the trace of pain in his voice wasn’t lost on her.

She touched his arm. “I’m sorry about your parents’ accident.”

He half closed his eyes, then opened them, his expression impassive. Too impassive, she thought, as if he was suffering but didn’t want anyone to know it. Same old Garth Remy, she thought. Never let anyone get too close.

“I meant to get in touch and thank you for the wreath,” he said.

She’d ordered it after seeing the news on television, telling herself it was the decent thing to do, not because she expected a response from him. “That’s okay. It can’t have been an easy time for you.” She hadn’t meant her tone to soften in concern for him, but it happened anyway.

“I’m fine.”

He moved to a mat on the far side of the bench press, snaring a length of resistance tubing as he went. Dropping to the floor, he stretched his legs out in front of him and anchored the tubing around his feet, then exhaled as he pulled the tubing in to his abdomen. The rowing movement was harder than it looked, she knew, and would help to account for his washboard-flat stomach.

Picking up another length of tubing, she joined him on a neighboring mat. She preferred the cable-row machines but they were on the other side of the room, hardly conducive to continuing a conversation. Not that he seemed to welcome her company. His body language told her he considered the reunion over.

She didn’t.

She looped the tubing around her feet. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

His slow exhalation as he pulled the cable taut was the only sound between them. She had decided he wasn’t going to answer when he said, “I worked my way through college. You might recall I had some catching up to do.”

The defensive tone reminded her that he had been the oldest boy in their high school. His parents had pulled him out of class to help in the family business so often that he had fallen behind academically, although his IQ was the equal of hers. Being older than their classmates, he’d endured considerable teasing, not all of it good-natured. “Good for you,” she said sincerely. “What did you do then?”

“Joined the navy.”

Her arm muscles protested as she paused with the cable at full stretch. “I joined the police, you joined the navy. Interesting.”

“Not particularly. It was the only way I could make a career out of diving.”

“You didn’t want to work with your folks on their boat?”

Seeing his mouth tighten, she cursed herself for mentioning the boat. Its shabby condition had always been a sore point with him. Now it also reminded him of his loss. “Not enough money in it for three people,” he said. From what she remembered, the boat had barely supported the family all along.

Too many questions would make him suspicious. She decided to try another angle. “A few years ago, I moved from the police to the R.P.D., the Royal Protection Detail,” she explained.

“I know what the R.P.D. is. I’ve seen you on TV, shadowing Prince Lorne. Being beautiful must be an asset in royal protection.”

Torn because he thought her beautiful, but obviously still believed she traded on her looks, she let her anger surface. “I was hired for my skills, not my appearance.”

“Such as a black belt in shopping?”

Goaded beyond her limits, she vaulted to her feet and lassoed his broad shoulders with her resistance band, hog-tying him before he had time to react. Leaning back to tighten the band, she let it bite into his flesh just enough to get his attention.

He didn’t move but his gaze held a new glimmer of respect. “Old habit. And you are beautiful.”

“And you’re the same old pain in the—”

Before she could finish, he flexed his muscles, loosening the band enough to throw it off. Yanking on it, he toppled her against him, making her think she was going to find herself in his arms for the second time in her life. The prospect caused her heart rate to rocket, hammering at her shield of professionalism.

For a heartbeat she was back in school, her teenage body pressed against him as her mouth shaped hungrily to his. The memory of his indifference rolled over her anew, giving her the strength to straighten away from him. She could swear he knew what she’d been thinking and had provoked her to see how she’d react.

When she moved back he tossed the apparatus to her, almost but not quite dissipating the unwanted feelings. “You made your point. Both points,” he said, sounding world-weary. Surely he hadn’t wanted her in his arms?

It wasn’t exactly an apology but it would have to serve. Unnerved by the easy way he’d demonstrated his greater physical strength, she dropped to the mat and continued her workout. After a few repetitions she reminded herself she had a job to do. Her own feelings couldn’t be allowed to get in the way.

“Are you on leave from the navy?” she asked.

His powerful movements made the resistance band stretch and contract like breathing. “I left the service after a disagreement with the brass.”

She wanted to say, “I know, and I don’t believe you were at fault,” but couldn’t without betraying how much she knew about him. Instead, she said, “You never did like authority much.”

“I don’t have a problem with authority provided it isn’t wielded by fools,” he growled.

“Such as the man who got you fired from the navy?”

The cord snapped to his feet as he swung his gaze on her. “I didn’t say I was fired. I said we parted company.”

“My mistake,” she said mildly, although her heart was pounding.

He retrieved the cable and resumed his methodical rowing movements. “As it happens, you’re right. Not that it matters who’s at fault when a trainee under my care comes close to getting killed.”

It mattered to him, she saw, impressed that his concern was all for the injured diver. There wasn’t a trace of self-pity or justification in his tone. “You don’t believe you were at fault, do you?”

The mask lifted for a moment. “I know I wasn’t.” Then the shutters came back down. “For all the good it will do me.”

“Couldn’t you get a lawyer to defend you?”

He unhooked the cable from his feet and looped it around his hand. “What’s the point? Admirals are always right. Besides, I’m happy as I am now.”

She was genuinely curious now. “Doing what?”

“Salvage diving. Provided they don’t mind diving with a black sheep, I take adventurous tourists down at exorbitant fees.”

It was out before she knew it was what she wanted. “Would you take me sometime?”

He shrugged. “Your money is as good as anyone’s.”

Annoyed with herself for feeling hurt, she said, “I was thinking more for old time’s sake.”

He drew his legs up and hooked his arms around them. “I wasn’t aware we had any old times.”

“Not because I didn’t want to have them,” she said softly.

“Is that why you made a bet with your friends that you wouldn’t have the nerve to kiss me?”

She felt her face flame. “The bet was their idea, not mine.”

“You took them up on it.”

“Yes I did, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

He tossed the cable aside and rolled over onto his stomach, levering himself up on his arms and exhaling slowly as he pushed himself away from the mat.

Inhaling, he lowered himself down to the point where his chest was a few inches from the floor. His control left her breathless. Resignedly she rolled over and began a set of push-ups as demanding as his own. Showing off? She wondered.

By the time she finished her repetitions she was breathing hard. Garth had already finished and his chest was hardly moving, she noted. And she had thought she was fit.

“You shouldn’t have regrets, especially about me,” he said unexpectedly.

She sat up and blotted her face with a towel. “Don’t flatter yourself. I haven’t exactly been pining.”

A water bottle lay within arm’s reach. Picking it up, he drank then offered it to her. She swallowed some water, trying not to think of his lips on the bottle before hers. Too intimate by far.

“I shouldn’t think you’d be left to pine for long.”

Her head came up. “Because I’m a doll who trades on her looks?”

A shadow darkened his rugged features. “That was cruel. I was out of line.”

Better late than never, she thought. “Thanks, but you were right. I let my parents manage my life for too long. Modeling was never what I wanted to do, but they came to depend on the glamour and the excitement. Whenever I go home I hear about what could have been.”

“They managed without you.”

She laughed hollowly. “I didn’t give them much choice.” When she finally convinced them she was serious, her mother had started a business advising other would-be models and her father had gone back into banking.

“Asserting yourself must have taken courage.”

Finally she had demonstrated a quality he could admire. She fought to stop her spirits from leaping. After he found out why she was here, he wouldn’t waste time admiring her. He would think she was being just as dishonest with him as she had been before. He would be right, too. She decided enough was enough.

She dragged in a steadying breath. “This meeting isn’t exactly an accident.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

She felt her eyes widen with astonishment. “How did you work it out?”

“I saw a program on TV about the facilities you people have available at the palace gym. You wouldn’t be here without good reason. Obviously your reason involves me.”

“I’m sorry,” she began.

His gesture sliced across her apology. “Never mind that, Serena. What do you want from me?”

Chapter 2

She looked around. The thumping music had stopped and people were streaming in from the other room, scattering themselves around the equipment. “Not here,” she said. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

He draped the towel around his neck. “I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

She was ready in nine but he was already waiting for her, his dark hair glistening from the shower and his shirt damp as if he hadn’t taken the time to completely dry off. She knew better than to think he had been anxious to meet her. More likely he wanted to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.

He gestured toward the battered pickup. “We can talk in my truck.”

She had been thinking along the lines of coffee and a baguette in a café by the waterfront. She saw him read her body language and frowned in disapproval. For the latte set he thought she still belonged to, or for her company?

Probably both, she thought on an inward sigh. One day she would learn that he simply didn’t want her around. “Lead on.”

He threw his duffel bag into the pickup and opened the passenger door for her from the inside. Before she could climb in, he reached down and pushed an assortment of fast-food wrappers under the seat. If not for the immaculate state of his diving equipment, she would have believed he was a complete boor.

“Now you can get in,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t care either way.

He slammed the door and she inhaled a mix of chlorine and southern-fried chicken. When he joined her, she asked, “Do you live in this thing?”

“Not usually.”

Only since his parents were killed, she interpreted, feeling a surge of compassion for him. She knew he didn’t have any other family, and losing them must have hit him hard. Her background check showed that he normally lived aboard his dive boat which was presently in dry dock. He would have inherited his parents’ house, but maybe he couldn’t bring himself to move in there yet and was living out of his car until his boat was repaired.

He could also be the rightful heir to the Carramer throne, she reminded herself, although without much conviction. If he ever assumed the crown, the country was in for a shock. The members of the royal family she had met were fairly down-to-earth, but none could match a long-haired, fried-chicken-eating bad boy like Garth. That he could be a de Marigny by birth seemed fantastic beyond belief.

Luckily she didn’t have to make the decision, only bring Garth to the palace so Prince Lorne could investigate his relationship to the throne. She choked back a smile as she pictured them together, alike enough in looks to be brothers, but as different in temperament as night from day.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really. I’m here because Prince Lorne asked me to renew our acquaintance.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

This was the tricky part. A man as private as Garth wouldn’t take kindly to learning she’d been asking about him. “The castle has its resources.”

“Resources like having me watched?”

“Only so I could bring you to meet Prince Lorne.”

He slammed his palms against the steering wheel, making her jump. “The hell with that. Carramer is supposed to be a free country.”

In many countries he would probably have disappeared before he could destabilize the monarchy, she thought. “It’s precisely because it’s a free country that the prince asked to see you, instead of having you arrested and brought before him.”

He looked as if he didn’t particularly appreciate the courtesy. “Don’t tell me the navy has seen the error of its ways and the monarch wants to apologize and restore my commission personally.”

His cynical tone made her want to squirm. She didn’t tell him that the prince had already started a discreet investigation into Garth’s experience with the navy. No sense getting his hopes up in case nothing new was uncovered. “I wouldn’t know about that. He has something more personal to discuss with you.”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“I can’t. It’s a matter of national security.”

“Is it, Serena? Or are you enjoying keeping me in the dark to punish me for hurting your pride all those years ago?”

She half turned, wishing the space weren’t so confined. Garth was so big that their knees were touching, only the gear shift keeping their bodies apart. If she pressed against him, would he feel as hard and lean as he looked? In the gym she had seen how toned he was, wanting to touch him then. She wanted it more now. Evidently she was the only one. Anger drove away the urge, leaving only bitterness. He hadn’t changed. “I’m not that petty.”

“No you’re not.”

The admission sounded so genuine so that she felt her eyes mist and she blinked hard. “To what do I owe the concession?”

He massaged his eyes, digging his fingers into the temples as if his head hurt. “You always managed to bring out the worst in me. I thought I’d grown past it, but evidently not.”

So he was far from indifferent to her! Struggling to keep her seesawing emotions under control, she said, “My father says the same thing about his brother. Even in their fifties, they still fight over little things. It’s called sibling rivalry.” Maybe she could manage her runaway responses by thinking of him in those terms.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Believe me, whatever I thought of you, it wasn’t brotherly.”

Hurt speared her in spite of her attempt to remain unruffled. “Because we came from such different backgrounds?” Was he holding that against her even today?

“Because we come from such different genders.”

It took a moment for his meaning to penetrate. “Oh.”

“They must have taught you about the birds and the bees in security school?”

Thinking of the ways she had been taught to disable a man who even looked as if he had birds and bees on his mind, she felt a smile start. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking. If you did, you’d be out of this truck like a shot.”

If she had any sense, she would leave anyway. But when had she ever had any sense around Garth Remy? And she still had her job to do. She tried for a light tone. “Let me guess. You’re wondering if you made a mistake letting me slip through your fingers the first time.”

He stilled so completely that she wondered if she was on the right track. Surely not? After graduation he had made no attempt to contact her, although he had admitted knowing where she was. And his reaction to seeing her again today couldn’t have been less welcoming. “You were never in my fingers to slip through,” he said after a long time. “All we did was kiss once so you could win a bet. Hardly the love affair of the century.”

How had they strayed onto this track? She felt weary of her body’s betraying response to him, and the one-sided nature of the game. “You’re right. We had nothing then and we have nothing now. At least we agree on something.”

He didn’t look as pleased as she thought he should. “There’s still the reason you’re here.”

“I told you, to arrange a meeting between you and Prince Lorne.”

Garth’s eyebrow lifted. “The ruler of the whole country doesn’t own a telephone?”

“This is too important to discuss by phone. Can’t you just come with me and be done with it?”

A glint of challenge lit his dark gaze. “Maybe I enjoy giving you a hard time.”

“Nothing new in that.”

“When does the prince want to see me?”

“As soon as you’re available.”

“What’s wrong with right now?”

She knew her quick glance at his clothes gave her away as soon as she saw him bristle. “My dress suit is at the cleaner’s. Now or never, your choice.”

“Let me make a phone call.”

He waited with obvious impatience as she called the castle, using Prince Lorne’s private number as instructed. If the monarch was taken aback at Garth’s insistence on an immediate meeting, she didn’t hear it in his voice. “Give me an hour,” was all he said. From experience she knew how much juggling it would take for the prince to free his time. If she wasn’t already aware of it, Lorne’s readiness to do so signaled the gravity of the situation.

She flipped the phone closed. “The prince can see you in an hour.”

He looked satisfied. “The castle is ten minutes away. That gives us some time to kill. I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee.”

The last thing she wanted was to spend more time than she had to with him, but neither could she let him out of her sight. “Okay. We can take my car.”

“What’s wrong with this one? Oh, I forgot, this meeting is black tie. It’s probably treason to roll up at the castle in a car you haven’t cleaned in under forty-eight hours.”

Forty-eight days looked more like it. “I doubt if the prince will care what you’re driving,” she said heavily. She could have one of her security team retrieve her car from the gymnasium later.

“But you do.”

“Stop it,” she insisted. “I’m only doing my job.”

“What made you give up the glamorous life for a gritty job like policing?”

She had to get out of the confined space before she did something really silly, like run the back of her hand down his stubbled cheek to see how it felt. “Can we swap life stories over coffee?”

“Sure.”

She jumped as he reached across her, his hand brushing her breast by accident or design. Either way, her pulse rate shot up. But it was only to lift a black, zippered case from a shelf near her knees. He opened it and took out a portable razor, turning it on and filling the compartment with the sound of angry bees.

Fascination gripped her as she watched him steer the razor across the faint hint of a cleft in his chin. Up and down and across without once looking in a mirror. When he flicked the razor off, the silence was deafening. He lifted her hand to his cheek. “Better?”

His freshly shaved skin felt taut and vital. She was alarmingly aware of his hand guiding hers but couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not even when he made her index finger skim along his lower lip. She felt a little hollow there she hadn’t noticed before. Her breathing shallowed. Half an inch higher and he could close his lips around her finger.

He let her go and she masked her disappointment. It was for the best, she reminded herself unsuccessfully. “Much better.”

Ten minutes ago she had wanted caffe latte by the waterfront. The place he took her to hardly qualified as a café although it was in the open air. More like a kiosk with an awning that folded down when the place was closed, it boasted a few plastic tables and chairs scattered on the grass in front. At least it was waterfront, if she counted the commercial fishing fleet as a view.

He surprised her by pulling out a chair for her. “I eat breakfast here most mornings. Alice’s food is the best.”

So was her coffee, Serena had to admit when the woman brought it for them with a warm smile of welcome. Latte for her, espresso for Garth. Appearances could be deceptive. “This is really great coffee,” she said after the first sip.

Garth looked at the waitress. “Your place is Solano’s best-kept secret, isn’t it, Alice?”

The woman pretended offence. “The number of people you bring here, we’ll always be a secret.”

“I don’t want to share you with just anyone,” he confided.

He wanted to reassure his friend, not make Serena feel special, but he had that effect, she found to her dismay. This would have to stop. As soon as she delivered him to Prince Lorne she would be finished with this. Finished with him.

What would she do if he turned out to be the heir to the throne? Request a transfer back to active policing, she thought. She couldn’t imagine working with him, guarding him, even if he would allow it. He was used to fending for himself, keeping his private life private.

Who would get the greater shock? Garth because his life would be an open book as soon as his heritage was established, or the Carramer people who would have to deal with having a lone wolf as their monarch?

While Serena was lost in thought Alice had moved away to serve another customer, a fisherman, judging by his appearance. The practical setup of the place began to make sense. You could come straight from your boat to a table without worrying about sea-soaked clothes or muddy boots. Serena leaned back. “This is nice.” The salt tang of the air, smelling faintly of fish, was refreshing. Gulls wheeled over the boats, diving on scraps as fishermen cleaned their catches. In its own way, the scene was as beautiful as if the commercial boats had been millionaires’ yachts.

He nodded. “Alice is like a mother to half the fleet. Alice and my mother used to go to the Marine Benevolent Society together to visit the old sailors. She was a good friend to my folks.”

And to him, she heard. “Where do you keep your dive boat?”

As soon as his accusing gaze flayed her, she knew she’d made a mistake. “When it’s not in dry dock, it’s moored around the point, but you know that already. Is there anything your inquiries haven’t told you about me?”

She couldn’t stop herself. “Two things—why you have such a colossal chip on your shoulder, and what you’ve got against me personally.”

He cupped his hands around his coffee mug. Large, practical hands designed for hard work. But not callused or workworn. He might forget to shave in the morning, but his hands looked cared for. She remembered the well-maintained diving gear in the back of his truck. He cared for what was important to him.

“My chip is my business.”

He’d deliberately answered only part of her question, she noted. “You said we could exchange life stories over coffee.”

“You first.”

She wasn’t going to get anything out of him that he didn’t want to share, she understood. She was surprised how much she wanted to share. Maybe if she set an example. “As I told you, I went to the police academy. Graduated third in my class. Worked in uniform for a couple of years then in plain clothes undercover. Then got an invitation to join the R.P.D.” One of only a select few.

He nodded. “Nothing there I couldn’t find out on the public record. What about marriage, children?”

Don’t read anything into the question, she ordered herself. He was probably trying to even the score. “They’d be on public record, too, if I had any.”

“So presumably you don’t. What happened? Afraid of spoiling your model figure?”

She refused to give him the satisfaction of baiting her. “You never know when you’ll need something to fall back on.” She knew she’d said the right thing when she saw respect spark in his gaze. She crossed her forearms on the table. “Your turn.”

“Joined the navy. Thrown out of the navy. Not much more to tell.”

She tossed his own words back at him. “What about marriage, children?”

“Didn’t want to spoil my model figure,” he said, grinning.

Despite herself, she returned his smile. It felt good to laugh with him. She may not have learned much but the ice felt well and truly broken. She was surprised when he said, “I had my share of relationships, one even looked as if it would last. Remember Julia Francis?”

Quick flare of jealousy, just as quickly squashed. “The redhead star of the track team?”

“The same. We lost touch for a few years until she joined the navy, so we had that in common, among other things.”

She didn’t like imagining the other things. “What happened?”

“When I was kicked out of the service, she thought associating with me might tarnish her career. She didn’t mince words. Told me bluntly why it had to be over.”

Underneath that gruff exterior he had feelings and they had been hurt, Serena concluded. Her hand was halfway across the table before she pulled back, sure he wouldn’t welcome her touch, however well-meaning. “I gather it was a long relationship until then.”

“On and off for a few years, depending on what we were doing. Luckily Julia hadn’t wanted children, so the ending was painless.”

He hadn’t said whether he wanted children. And she doubted whether the break had been as painless as he made it sound. She looked at her watch, wishing they could talk for longer.

He caught the gesture. “I know this is boring stuff.”

This time she did touch his hand. “I’m not bored. I don’t want to keep the prince waiting.”

She reached for her purse, but he had already dropped money on the table. “I’ll buy the next round,” she said, wondering what had happened to delivering him to Lorne and moving on.

There wouldn’t be a next round if he had anything to do with it, Garth thought. He had brought Serena to Alice’s kiosk to remind himself that she didn’t fit into his world, then had been surprised by how comfortable she had looked.

Thirteen years ago she would have recoiled in disgust at the stained plastic furniture and the thick stoneware mugs Alice served her coffee in. She wouldn’t have breathed in the fish-tainted air as if it were perfume.

Could Serena have changed so much? Her grooming still screamed class. Even glistening with perspiration in the gym, she had looked like a million dollars. And she still had the longest legs he’d ever seen. She’d always had a great body, and her work had honed her shape to a new level of perfection.

When he had pulled her against him in the gym, his hormones had gone into orbit. He’d wanted to take her in his arms more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

He hadn’t exactly been honest with her. The thing with Julia Francis had been more off than on, and she had ended it about twenty-four hours before Garth could suggest it himself. They had been good in bed together, but out of it, had disagreed about almost everything.

Pride had driven him to let Serena think he had a string of relationships behind him. And stopped him from telling her why he hadn’t. What would she think if he told her she had been his yardstick for the perfect woman all these years, and he had yet to find anyone who measured up.

Time and again he’d cursed his foolishness in letting her haunt him. As he’d told her, one kiss hardly amounted to the romance of the century. It hadn’t stopped him from looking for her in the background whenever there was a story about the monarch on TV or in the papers. After she sent the wreath, he hadn’t responded because he’d feared the effect she might have on him. With good reason, he now saw.

Now she was here, he hated feeling so stupidly glad about it. He couldn’t let it lead to anything. Her pedigree hadn’t changed and neither had his. As a navy lieutenant he might have had something to offer her, but not anymore, thanks to Admiral McRafe. He had presided over the inquiry that had ended Garth’s career, supposedly because his error led to a trainee almost dying during Advanced Nitrox Training.

The admiral hadn’t wanted to hear about Garth’s suspicions of the stage bottle that carried the nitrox mix, probably because the admiral’s brother-in-law’s company had supplied the equipment, something Garth hadn’t found out until too late. He had gone to the admiral with the truth, mainly to stop anybody else from getting hurt. To Garth’s disgust, the admiral had denied everything and had him escorted off the base. Later, he had heard from a friend still in the service that the defective stage bottles had been quietly replaced and a new supplier found. It was something, he supposed.

He had no idea why Serena had come looking for him or why Prince Lorne wanted to see him, unless he wanted private diving lessons. But he would go along because he respected the monarch. Although born to his role, the prince worked hard for the country. From what Garth had read, he had gone through hell with his first marriage, but stuck it out to set a good example rather than change the law that made divorce illegal in Carramer. Fate had intervened when his wife was killed driving too fast along a cliff road, then Lorne had married Alison Carter, the Australian tourist who had turned out to be the love of his life.

Jealousy gripped Garth. He wanted what the prince had, but had only met one woman he considered worth a lifetime commitment. She was so far out of his reach he’d need decompression time if he stayed around her for very long.

Not that he was going to, he assured himself. He would meet the prince, be whatever use the monarch thought he could be to his country, then get back to his own life before Serena worked her way any further under his skin.

Finding out that he’d been under surveillance by the palace had made him feel like the boy from the wrong side of the tracks all over again. He hadn’t felt this inadequate for a long time, and his instinctive response had been to bite back, Serena being the handiest target. He wouldn’t blame her if she wrote him off as a world-class jerk for the second time in their lives, he thought, watching her glide back to his truck. Her hips swayed sensuously and her long blond ponytail kept time. Police training hadn’t stopped her moving like a model, he noticed. He wondered if she still kissed like a dream.

Chapter 3

Although Garth had lived in Solano most of his life, he hadn’t set foot inside the castle grounds for years. Located on a promontory, the distinctive European-and Pacific-influenced building could be seen from every part of the city. Today the blue-and-jade Carramer flag flew above the battlements, indicating that the monarch was in residence.

Garth could have taken a tour of the public rooms anytime he wanted, but he considered the royals irrelevant to him and his day-to-day concerns. He couldn’t imagine what Prince Lorne could want with him. By rights Garth’s treatment by the navy should have soured him on serving his country. Maybe because he knew he had been wronged by one man rather than the whole service, it hadn’t. He was curious in spite of himself, although he wasn’t about to let Serena know it.

She broke into his thoughts. “Turn left here and pull up beside the sentry box.”

They were at a private entrance, he saw. Recognizing Serena, the soldier on duty came to attention and saluted but also took careful note of the ID she handed to him. When she introduced Garth, the soldier checked his details against a computer screen, then signaled to another sentry. In front of them a boom gate rose slowly, allowing them to pass.

As soon as Garth drove through, the gate lowered behind them. Ahead loomed the main castle surrounded by a cluster of smaller buildings in similar architectural style. More like a walled city than a single building. Below them, the capital was strung out jewel-like along a series of bays. The view from the upper levels of the palace must be really something.

He glanced at Serena. “Your soldier friend wasn’t keen to let me pass without you vouching for me. He probably thinks I’m a suspect you’re bringing in.”

She smiled. “Your fault for not wearing your black tie.”

It was probably the truck, he thought. The soldier looked as if he was more accustomed to waving limousines through than dusty pickups.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.

Her comment startled him. He hadn’t meant to let it show. “Maybe a little.”

“Admit it, you like thumbing your nose at convention.”

He wasn’t ready to admit anything. “What makes you think so?”

“The diving gear you’re carrying around is worth a fortune, so you can obviously afford a better vehicle. My guess is, you like shocking people into accepting you as you are.”

“It’s as good a way as any to find out who your real friends are.”

Had she passed muster by agreeing to ride with him to the palace in his truck, she wondered? A glimmer of satisfaction greeted the thought. Maybe now he would stop regarding her as a hothouse flower. Not that she was going to let his opinion affect her. But like him, she disliked being judged on superficialities.

The staff had obviously been alerted to expect them. As soon as they reached the executive wing, they were shown to the prince’s office with none of the usual formalities, then left alone with him, also as apparently instructed.

Approaching the monarch’s desk, she was surprised when Garth came to attention and bent his head in deference. She was sure he didn’t bend his stiff neck to many people, so he obviously respected Prince Lorne.

She made a similar gesture. “Sir, may I present Garth Remy.”

The prince stood and offered his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting at such short notice, Garth.”

Garth shook the prince’s hand with a confidence that suggested he met reigning monarchs every day. “My pleasure, Your Highness. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m at your service.”

Lorne inclined his head in acceptance. “Greatly appreciated.” To Serena, he said, “The resemblance is indeed remarkable.”

Seeing the two men together, she had to agree. Garth was almost exactly the prince’s height. With their dark coloring and athletic build, they could be mistaken for brothers. Or be brothers. She caught her breath. Was it possible?

Garth looked as if he was absorbing the fact, as well. “You aren’t looking for a double, are you, sir?”

“You would certainly qualify, but no. Please sit down, both of you. I gather Serena hasn’t told you what this is about?”

“I’m assuming you don’t want me to take the American president diving while he’s in town, sir.”

As she seated herself beside Garth on a leather-covered couch, Serena hoped she didn’t look as stunned as she felt. Had Garth forgotten he was addressing the country’s ruler? Or had he specifically chosen not to use “Your Highness”? Lorne only chuckled. “Golf is more his game, but I might run the suggestion past his Secret Service.”

He moved to a chair set at right angles to the sofa and sat down, crossing one long leg over the other. “How much do you know about your family background, Garth?”

She felt rather than saw Garth tense as the line of questioning caught him off guard. “The usual. One mother, one father, both from Carramer, both recently deceased. No siblings.” He shot a sharp glance at Serena. “Should I know any more?”

“Perhaps.” Lorne reached across and lifted a package off his desk. Recognizing it, she braced herself as the prince offered it to Garth. “Serena intercepted this during her preparations for the president’s visit. Go ahead, take a look.”

Garth took the package and opened it. The cast of baby footprints and the birth certificate caused no reaction, until he came to the photos. Anger vibrated off him like an electrical charge. “How were these taken without my knowledge?”

“Not by anyone in royal service and not on my authority,” Lorne assured him. “More importantly, the photos and the other items clearly suggest that you could be the rightful heir to the Carramer throne.”

Not by so much as a muscle did Garth’s expression betray his shock, although his bearing became more rigid as he absorbed the monarch’s words. He looked like a man turned to stone, she thought, wishing she had been able to prepare him for this. Perhaps nothing could have done.

He exhaled heavily. “With respect, sir, that’s garbage and we both know it.”

At this Lorne’s mouth twitched, as if he understood that in any other company, Garth would have expressed himself in far more earthy terms. “I thought so, too, when Serena brought me the package. The source of the material forces me to consider the possibility.”

Hands tightening on the plaster cast as if he would like to crush it to dust, Garth said, “First I’d have to be a member of your family, your…”

“…older brother,” Lorne finished for him. “Also a possibility.”

“How?”

The prince stood up. “Come with me.”

Motioning for his guards to remain where they were, he led the way along a corridor, coming to a halt in front of an oil painting of a woman in her late twenties. Flawless of complexion, as dark of coloring as Lorne himself, her sashed gown and diamond-encrusted crown proclaimed her rank before Lorne said, “My mother, Princess Aimee.” He turned to Garth. “It seems she may have been your mother as well.”

Unable to deny the resemblance they could all see, Garth’s fists clenched. He was fighting himself, she saw. Being related to this lovely, aristocratic woman would make a mockery of the pigheaded reverse snobbery that had ruled his life.

Her pulse jumped. If Lorne was right, Garth had no reason to hold her background against her. Assuming that was really why he had rejected her all those years ago. She felt giddy with possibilities and slightly afraid.

His snarled denial brought her back to earth with a rush. “No way. I know who my mother was.”

“Can you be sure of your facts?” Lorne asked.

“Can you be sure of yours—sir?”

So this was what happened when two alpha males met head-on. They’d squared off in mirror positions of anger and challenge. As if he could no longer tolerate the portrait’s gaze upon him, Garth suddenly spun around and shouldered his way through a set of etched glass doors leading to a walled garden.

When she and Lorne caught up with him he was pacing the length of an ornamental pool. Pebbles crunched under his feet and the glasslike surface of the water reflected his set expression. “This whole notion is crazy, Your Highness,” he snapped.

Lorne’s dark brows lifted. “So you do remember who I am?”

Garth looked unfazed by the implied rebuke. He didn’t seem to care that he had walked out on the monarch, but he sounded more respectful as he said, “Your parentage isn’t in question, sir.”

Lorne nodded in recognition of Garth’s turmoil. “However, yours is.” He clasped a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “Will you at least hear me out?”

At the prince’s touch Garth flinched, but then inclined his head stiffly in agreement. When he lifted it, his gaze settled on Serena as if she was an anchor in a raging sea. She sent him a silent message of support and was gratified when she saw his expression thaw. “I guess anything else would be high treason.”

“First I require your promise of discretion. What I’m about to tell you is known only within the royal family.”

Garth’s response was immediate. “You have it.”

Lorne dragged in a deep breath. “Princess Aimee—then Lady Aimee Sewell—was my grandmother’s principal lady-in-waiting. She was being courted by Roy Keer, a nobleman’s son and former commando who loved her passionately. Unfortunately he possessed a cruel streak that made her afraid of him. She ended their relationship but he refused to accept that it was over between them. Then Crown Prince Eduard came home from the navy, and she had eyes for no other man.”

Garth frowned. “Bet that went down well with Keer.”

Lorne’s expression lightened. “As you say, he took it badly. He walked out on his job in palace security, vowing that no man would have her if he couldn’t.”

Experience made Serena say, “Such a threat could be grounds for arrest.”

“If Aimee had pressed charges. She was so in love with Eduard that she didn’t want their happiness marred by unpleasantness.”

Garth stirred restively. “This is fascinating, but…”

“You don’t see how it concerns you? Does it help to know that her son, Louis, was accidentally conceived during that emotionally charged time?”

Lorne had Garth’s attention now, Serena saw. Pieces were starting to fall into place. All but the most crucial one. “Why didn’t Eduard marry Aimee as soon as they learned she was pregnant?”

“My grandfather, Prince Guillaume, was out of the country and they needed his blessing. When he returned he was angry because he thought they were too young, but he gave his consent because of her condition. They were planning their marriage when Aimee received more threats from Keer. Prince Guillaume had the couple spirited to a royal hideaway until Keer could be apprehended.”

Garth picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the pond’s pristine surface in a smooth action that made her lick annoyingly dry lips at the fluidity of his movements. Where the pebble touched, ripples spread out like the consequences of Lorne’s mother’s actions, Serena fancied.

“A commando-trained security man wouldn’t be stopped that easily,” Garth predicted.

Lorne watched the ripples subside. “Indeed. He eluded the authorities, tracked the young couple down and broke into the royal compound, attacking Aimee before he was apprehended. The shock drove her into early labor, and Louis was born several weeks prematurely. Stillborn, or so she believed. Yet no one from the family saw the child after the birth. Aimee was so distraught that public news of the birth was suppressed to protect her. Her need for seclusion was explained as a consequence of the attack.”

Bad enough to be attacked. Devastating to lose her child as a result, Serena thought. No wonder none of this had been made public. “What happened to Keer?”

“He served a long prison term, earning a further term for killing another prisoner.”

Where was Keer now, she wondered? Still in prison if his track record was any guide. “Surely there was a funeral service, a memorial or something for the baby?” she asked.

Lorne nodded. “There was a private service and a cremation. A rose garden was planted at the estate as a memorial.”

“There’s no conclusive proof that the baby died,” Garth observed. “If the child was stolen, the perpetrators could have arranged for an empty coffin to be cremated.”

He sounded as if he was starting to believe in a living heir, she noticed. He wasn’t the only one. “The baby could have been farmed out to foster parents who may not have known whose child they had adopted,” she surmised, mentally compiling a list of suspects starting with the medical attendants and the staff at the hideaway when the baby was born. If any of them had been connected with Keer, it could make for an interesting trail.

“What makes you think this involves me?” Garth demanded. “My parents didn’t talk much about the past and I have no relatives I can ask, but surely I’d have picked up some hint that something wasn’t right?”

“Your lack of siblings could be a clue in itself.”

She voiced what she guessed Lorne was thinking. “If the Remys desperately wanted a baby and couldn’t have children of their own, they’d have been the ideal couple to approach about an illegal adoption.” She gave Garth an apologetic smile before going on. “I doubt they could have afforded to go through regular channels.”

Garth’s expression hardened. “Unfortunately, you’re right.” His relentless gaze thanked her for pointing it out. She felt his pain but silently begged him to understand that she had to do her job. At the same time she wished she could tell him how much she admired how he was handling this. If she’d had everything she’d ever believed about herself turned upside down, she doubted she could discuss it as dispassionately as Garth was doing.

He’d mastered the art of guarding his feelings at an early age, she recalled. Whether he was taunted about being the oldest boy in school, or didn’t have an answer in class because he’d been working on his parents’ boat when the subject was studied, he’d acted as if he didn’t care. She saw it carved on his face now. Sticks and stones, it proclaimed. Or a core of certainty about who and what he was that no external force could touch.

Lorne projected the same air, she realized. Was it an alpha quality they shared, or something more?

Garth folded his arms across his chest. “Being illegally adopted doesn’t make me royalty.”

“As well as the strong family resemblance, you carry a genetic trait unique to the de Marignys.”

“Coincidence.”

“Or a scheme to keep you hidden until your existence could be revealed when it would do the most harm to Carramer,” Lorne suggested. “If you consent to it, DNA testing will establish beyond doubt whether you could be my parents’ child.”

“Of course I consent.” Garth’s tone said the sooner the better.

“Assuming the test is conclusive, under Carramer law, as the eldest son you would be the heir presumptive.”

“Hell’s teeth.”

Lorne’s mouth twitched. “Precisely.”

Her mind whirled. “Carramer First must be planning to announce Garth’s existence on the eve of the American president’s visit.”

Garth shot her a sharp look. “What would that achieve?”

She suspected the reason but looked to Lorne, who answered. “The president wants to establish an American base on one of the outer islands in exchange for long-term trade and defense benefits to both our countries. Any uncertainty about my right to finalize the agreement could derail the talks.”

Garth’s breath whistled out. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want that base built.”

She chewed her lower lip. “Carramer First has a republican agenda, but they’ve never gone beyond noisy demonstrations and minor acts of sabotage. Their antics are mainly aimed at gaining publicity and supporters. Stealing the heir to the throne and announcing his existence years later is beyond their scope.”

“It isn’t beyond somebody’s scope,” Garth said. “If not Carramer First themselves, then who and why?”

“Someone could be using the group to push an agenda of their own,” Lorne suggested.

She had been thinking the same thing. “The members may not know they’re being used.”

“Also a presumption.” Lorne thrust his hands into his pockets. “Unfortunately, DNA testing takes at least two weeks to obtain a result, more time than we have before the president’s arrival.”

“Someone evidently took that into account,” Serena said. “They’re obviously not stupid, which means they won’t be easy to pin down.”

Lorne became all business. “That’s why I’m assigning you to find who’s behind this and stop them before the president’s visit. You’ll have to work quietly. If word gets out about a possible claimant to the throne, it could not only derail the summit, it could throw the whole kingdom into turmoil.”

She drew herself up. “Understood, Your Highness. However, I could be recognized by some of the Carramer First members. I’ve broken a few of their heads during demonstrations outside the palace.”

“You may have to break a few more before this is over,” Lorne said wryly. “They must know by now that the package is missing. They’ll expect us to learn of its existence. If you’re seen with Garth they’ll think you’ve been assigned to protect him until we get to the bottom of this.”

Protect Garth? She almost laughed out loud, unable to think of any man less in need of her protection.

His body language also rejected the notion outright even before he said, “Respectfully, Your Highness, if I’m going to help I’d prefer a more active assignment.”

“And if you are the true heir?”

Something knotted inside her as she thought of him putting himself at risk, not because of who he might be, but because…well because he was Garth. “In any case you don’t have a security background,” she said.

“I have my navy experience. It covers a lot of ground.” He faced Lorne. “Unless the circumstances of my discharge means you’re not willing to trust me.”

Lorne’s expression betrayed nothing. “I know only what the record shows.”

Garth’s mouth firmed. “The record is wrong.”

“Not according to Admiral McRafe.”

“Admiral McRafe is an ass—admiral, sir. He isn’t a diver. Defective equipment caused the trainee’s injury.”

She saw Lorne suppress a smile at Garth’s blunt description of the admiral, censored barely in time. She had met the admiral at a palace briefing once, and the dislike had been mutual. But would he destroy a man’s career before admitting he was wrong?

“The question of the succession is our priority right now,” Lorne said. “The court physician is out of the country, but I’ll have his deputy arrange the DNA test under the strictest secrecy. I’m told she needs to test as many members of the royal family as possible, so I’ve announced that I wish to establish a DNA data bank for historical reasons.”

“I recommend setting up a command post at the summer palace at Allora where it would be easier to keep the investigation under wraps,” Serena proposed.

Lorne inclined his head. “I concur. The two of you will go there as soon as the testing is completed.”

The two of you.

Instant heat coiled through her, disturbing in its intensity. Basing the investigation at Allora was logical and Garth had to be involved, but she hadn’t counted on Lorne sending Garth to the summer palace with her. Already her awareness of him put her senses on overdrive. Tough to function efficiently when unsettling currents ripped through her every time he looked at her.

She debated whether to claim emotional involvement as a way out, but could she honestly? Sexual awareness wasn’t the same thing, and that’s all she was prepared to acknowledge. “Isn’t Garth safer here, Your Highness?” she suggested anyway.

Before Lorne could answer, Garth snarled, “To the devil with safe. I should have some say in this. If I am the heir, I outrank both of you.”

Unperturbed, Lorne smiled. “When and if the crown is yours, you can do as you wish. Until then, I rule here. I want you out of harm’s way until we know the truth.”

Even Garth couldn’t argue with a man whose word was quite literally law. His bent head conceded the reality, although the rest of his stiff pose telegraphed defiance. “As Your Highness wishes.”

For now, she heard, although he didn’t say it. In the stubbornness stakes the two were evenly matched. Another indication of their relationship? Carramer was in for a shock if it got Garth as a monarch, but not as much as Lorne himself, she thought. He’d been born to rule. Garth ruled no one but himself, and he didn’t take kindly to following another man’s orders. How had he survived so long in the navy?

Lorne narrowed his eyes. “Serena?”

She resisted the urge to sigh. “As soon as the test is done, we’ll leave for Allora—together, sir.”

“Good. I’m putting you in charge.”

Garth looked as if he would like to strangle someone with his bare hands. If she had a problem dealing with him, he obviously had a bigger one with answering to her. Good. It might distract him from making her job harder than it already was.

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