Courting His Royal Highness (17 page)

Max was not used to being dismissed. He usually dismissed people. But it was obvious Mr. Parker was finished with him, and Chloe didn’t want to talk about what was happening between them.

Max had never been so frustrated. He felt helpless. A tide of events had been set in motion—thanks to him—and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it. He reluctantly left the room. As he did so, he was tempted to stomp from the room like a little boy, but refrained. That was not an attractive quality in a grown man.

What was he going to do? There had to be some way to stop this crazy, seemingly uncontrollable ride he was on. He was a prince. He had oodles of people at his disposal. There had to be something he could do to flip the tables in his favor.

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Weeks from hell. That was what the last three weeks had been. Chloe had hated every second of every minute of every day within those three weeks. Watching the prospective brides swarm over Max was enough to drive her insane. And watching him plaster that amazing I’m-a-prince-so-love-me smile on his handsome face made her absolutely nauseated. Sometimes she almost believed he enjoyed every moment with these complete strangers.

But what man wouldn’t have a fabulous time? After all, the fifteen women were absolutely gorgeous. And they weren’t flakes either. Of the six who remained, there were a non-profit lawyer, a pediatric doctor, a high-school history teacher, a college English instructor, a zoologist, and a motivational speaker and etiquette specialist. Just perfect.

Chloe felt inadequate compared to each one. Antonia and Lester had done a fantastic job with their selections. Each woman acted as if she could marry a prince and slip into the role of princess effortlessly. Chloe envied them. She hated that she did, but she wanted to be one of Max’s choices. She wanted it badly. And she hated helping him choose which women to keep each week. It was horribly hard sitting with him and going over attributes and flaws, of which there were very few; in fact, she was pretty sure she knew who the two finalists would be. But even that she could bear with dignity.

What she had a hard time dealing with was that it seemed as if Max was actually interested in the women. It felt like he’d completely lost interest in her. She tried not to judge him too harshly. First of all, she’d told him to forget about what they’d shared. Secondly, they hadn’t been alone since the night they’d made love. When they were together, they weren’t really together. The cameras were always rolling, and they always had an audience.

Oh, they’d been together plenty. Their days were filled with meetings and more meetings. She had meetings with makeup, hair, and wardrobe, and producers, directors, and camera operators. She was so sick of people in her business twenty-four hours a day, she was about ready to pull her hair out. She was surprised the people with the white jackets hadn’t arrived to take her away. She’d almost prefer a sanitarium to the lunacy of
Courting His Royal Highness.

She wanted out. And there was no way out.

Chloe sank deeper into the tub and closed her eyes. She tried very hard not to think of Max, but it was next to impossible. He haunted her whenever she was alone. His blue eyes, his dark hair, his wonderful dimples, his fantastic build, the way he wiggled his eyebrows when he was amused, the way his smile filled an entire room.

She missed his smile—his
real
smile. The one he’d bestowed upon her when they’d been alone together those two brief days.

Chloe brushed a tear from her cheek with shaking fingers. What she needed was a good cry, but she didn’t have time to unleash her shattered emotions. She felt alone and lost and, well, so alone. It was a horrible, terrible, miserable feeling. And her heart ached. It ached so badly.

Another tear slid down her cheek. She ignored it, deciding maybe it was best to not fight it anymore. She’d held it inside for three long, excruciating, tortuous weeks.

“Max,” she whispered softly into the stillness of the bathroom. “I miss you. I miss you more than I ever thought possible.”

Bubbles popped and crackled near her ears. She sank deeper into the water, immersing herself in the fragrant bath. She pressed the button for the jets and sighed as the water started to swirl about her emotionally and physically drained body.

“Three more weeks.” She could do this for three more weeks. And then she’d be free of Max forever. “Three more weeks.”

Chloe wasn’t normally a crier. It took a lot to bring her to tears. But she couldn’t stop the tears any longer. They cascaded down her cheeks; faster and faster they fell, dripping off her chin and nose into the water.

Chloe couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered a broken heart. It had been awhile. Her last great love had been a boy in high school. Gregory Adams. She’d been madly, deeply, totally in love with him. But he broke her heart senior year. She’d caught him cheating on her with her cousin and best friend, Daisy. That heartache propelled her to pack up her bags after graduation and move to California.

Gregory and Daisy had married a year after high school. Daisy owned a beauty salon—gossip central—in their small town, and Gregory worked as the assistant football coach to the high-school football team—his dream job. They happened to be the IT couple of the town.

And for some odd reason, at that moment, Chloe missed them dreadfully.

Weird.

Chloe sighed sadly and grabbed a mesh sponge. She only hoped the sacrifices she was making with her heart would pay off in the end. Perhaps if she gained her fame and fortune, she would forget about the Gregory’s and Max’s of the world and be able to concentrate on her career.

She smiled. She envisioned herself winning and accepting the Academy Award, placing her handprints in the cement in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater. She also wanted to use her celebrity status to help thousands of less fortunate people across the world and donate millions to arts programs in schools across the country. She always thought is so sad that the arts and music programs were usually the first to get cut when budgets were tight.

Chloe focused on her dreams. They improved her mood, minimized the ache in her heart, and stopped the tears. She needed a different focus. Focusing on Max only made her incredibly sad. And she didn’t want to be sad. Everyone wanted to be happy, and she was no different.

“Chloe?”

Her eyes snapped open. Her entire body stiffened. The good feelings and pleasant dreams drifted away. She found herself looking directly into a pair of brilliant blue eyes framed by long, black lashes. His eyes. And his dimpled smile. And his beautiful face.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, completely and totally startled by his appearance in her bathroom.

He filled the entire doorway of the room with his tall frame, looking good enough to eat in loose-fitting jeans and a red T-shirt. He was barefoot, which was incredibly sexy, and his hair was damp. The midnight tendrils of hair curled attractively against the curves of his ears and at the nape of his neck.

Chloe’s insides tingled. Her heart tripped. Her pulse quickened.

“The door was locked.”

His blue eyes caressed her face. “I have a key.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

He looked guilty, ashamedly so. “I had it made.”

“You had it made?” she asked incredulously.

“Do you forgive me?”

“I think it’s rather pompous of you to do so without asking me,” she retorted. “Give me the key and get out of my room. Now.”

“No.”

Chloe sat up so fast that water sloshed over the sides. Hot anger seared through her. She had to be angry with him—it was her only defense against his irresistible charisma, and she refused to be a victim again. Once was enough. Okay, twice. But she couldn’t afford to give in to him again. Her heart wouldn’t survive another encounter.

She realized her abrupt rise from the tub exposed her breasts. She clasped her hands over them and glared hatefully at him, sinking back into the water.

He smiled at her. His eyes twinkled. “It isn’t like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

She pointed at him, her forefinger shaking angrily. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare bring up our past history! Not ever!” She slapped the water. “Get out! Get out! Get out! Can’t I have a moment alone?”

His smile vanished, as did the twinkling of his eyes, but he didn’t leave. He walked further into the room. Chloe glared at him. All her defenses were up. She was armed for battle. She knew what her priorities were now—and he was not among them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and praying the overdose of bubbles wouldn’t vanish and expose her entire body to his view.

“I wanted to talk to you. It’s been so long since we’ve been alone.”

Chloe looked away from his searching gaze. “I don’t want you here, Your Highness.”

He stopped his approach, coming to a standstill in the middle of the room. She looked up at him, and her heart lurched. Pain darkened his eyes. She couldn’t bear it. She glanced away again and willed herself to be strong. She would not hand over her body or her heart to him. Never again. Never again. Nothing could come of it. No happily-ever-after existed for them.

“Chloe, my feelings for you haven’t changed.”

“What feelings are those?” she asked softly.

He kneeled beside the tub. “You know what feelings.”

“No.” She moved as far away as she could from him, which wasn’t much, and focused her attention on the tiled wall. “Lust? Passion?”

“I’ve missed you.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I need you.”

The feel of his hand on her skin sent warm shivers through her body. Her body betrayed her. Anger and frustration overflowed inside her.

“You seem very happy courting those women.”

Silence filled the small space between them. She wished he would leave. Oh, how she wished he would leave.

“Please look at me.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

She shrugged. “Just because.”

“I’m playing a part.”

Chloe turned sharply. Her eyes met his. “Well, then, you’re doing a very convincing job. Congratulations. Perhaps you’ll win an Emmy,” she snapped sarcastically.

“We knew this would be difficult.”

“Difficult?” She laughed. “Difficult? Is that all this is to you?”

His gaze held hers. “No. It’s worse than that.”

“Could you please get my robe?”

Max nodded. He stood, unhooked the flowered terrycloth robe from the wall, and held it out to her. She stepped out of the tub and gladly slipped into the soft robe, tying the belt tight around her waist before turning to face him.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Max. We accepted this.”

“But you’re so angry with me. I see it every day, and it tears me apart.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“Yes.”

“It took you three weeks to come talk to me. That’s how worried you are about me?”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am. They’ve had me doing—”

“I know, Max. I know.”

They stared at each other. Unspoken words and emotional tension spanned the distance between them. Chloe wanted to throw herself in his arms. She wanted to press her lips against his. She wanted to be loved and to love him. But she couldn’t. They couldn’t.

“Please leave, Max. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ve accepted that you’d rather have one of them than me.”

He grabbed her elbow as she stepped past him and pulled her against him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend as if there is nothing between us.”

“There isn’t anything, Max. There was.” She tried to be brave. She tried to smile, but she failed. Her lips trembled. Tears blurred her eyes. “We made our bed.”

“I can’t forget what we shared. How can you?” Chloe didn’t think it possible for her heart to break all over again. But she was wrong. She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I’ll treasure it always, but we can’t be together. You know that.”

“I don’t care about them,” he whispered hoarsely. He brushed his lips against her palm. “I don’t feel the same for them as I do for you.”

“Oh, Max.”

He grasped her hand and held it tenderly between both of his. He kissed her fingertips so lovingly that Chloe almost cried. “Just tell me one thing, Chloe.”

“What’s the one thing?”

“Have your feelings for me changed?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t lie to him. “No. My feelings for you haven’t changed.” He smiled down at her. She grinned up at him. “But why does that matter, Max?”

“It matters. Trust me. It matters.” He kissed each one of her fingertips. “Everything is going to work out, Chloe. Trust me.”

She did trust him. But she didn’t know how he could make this right. They were contracted to the show. And she needed the show. She’d explained that to him. She needed the job. He didn’t, but she did. And she couldn’t give it all up. She had to be sure they had a forever, and she wasn’t—he had yet to confess his love to her. He had yet to promise forever. She did love him. Her entire body and heart and mind told her so. But did he love her?

He cared deeply for her. His eyes reflected the sincerity of his feelings. But he had yet to utter the words, those wonderful three little words that meant so much to a girl like her. And it would be even better if “I love you” was followed by “Will you marry me?” Yes, that was what she wanted. She wouldn’t accept anything but marriage from Prince Max of Romalia. She deserved that commitment. She deserved happily-ever-after with Max. Anything less, and she’d be cheating herself and her heart.

“Please go. I need you to go.”

“I’ll go.” He kissed her forehead and then her nose and then the corner of her mouth. She let him because she loved him, and it felt so good to be close to him after so long being away.

“Can I trust you to not come back into my room uninvited?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “Can I trust you to believe in me when I say there is hope for us and everything will work out?”

“Max—”

He silenced her with a quick kiss. “Don’t forget who I am, Miss Chloe Tanner.”