Sarah Morgan trained as a nurse, and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman, who still makes her kneesknock, she spends most of her time trying to keepup with their two little boys, but manages to sneakoff occasionally to indulge her passion for writingromance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head isalways full of new characters and she is addicted tohappy endings.

Sarah also writes for Medical™ Romance!

Dear Reader

When my editor first asked if I’d be interested in writing a Modern™ Romance with a rugby-loving hero, I didn’t hesitate. I live my life surrounded by three generations of rugby-mad men, and consider myself admirably qualified to enliven a romance with this particular male obsession.

Creating this story, I immediately fell in love with my hero, Prince Casper. He is a strong, macho alpha male, who takes his responsibilities seriously and doesn’t allow emotion to play any part in his life. But a passionate encounter with warm-hearted waitress Holly changes everything. If their relationship is to survive then Casper is going to have to face the thing he fears most—and Holly will have to understand more about this complex man than his love of rugby.

While I was pondering the background of my deliciously sexy hero I started thinking about rugby-playing men (one of the perks of the job), and why it is that the sport is attracting an increasingly large female audience. Obviously it has nothing to do with the fact that an international rugby match is an excellent place to study the male physique at its best. And it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that on the rugby pitch men are allowed to be men and behave in the rough, tough, competitive, macho way that is often frowned on away from the pitch.

I’m sure women watch rugby because it’s an exciting spectator sport—and, yes, women play rugby too. So all that mud, muscle and machismo is of no interest to the female sex. None at all.

And now I’m off to take a cold shower. Because it’s refreshing. No other reason.

Love

Sarah xx

THE PRINCE’S
WAITRESS WIFE

BY

SARAH MORGAN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘KEEP your eyes down, serve the food and then leave. No lingering in the President’s Suite. No gazing, no engaging the prince in conversation, and no flirting. Especially no flirting—Prince Casper has a shocking reputation when it comes to women. Holly, are you listening to me?’

Holly surfaced from a whirlpool of misery long enough to nod. ‘Yes,’ she croaked. ‘I’m listening, Sylvia.’

‘Then what did I just say?’

Holly’s brain was foggy from lack of sleep and a constant roundabout of harsh self-analysis. ‘You said—you told me—’ Her voice tailed off. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

Sylvia’s mouth tightened with disapproval. ‘What is the matter with you? Usually you’re extremely efficient and reliable, that’s why I picked you for this job!’

Efficient and reliable.

Holly flinched at the description.

Another two flaws to add to the growing list of reasons why Eddie had dumped her.

Apparently oblivious to the effect her words were having, Sylvia ploughed on. ‘I shouldn’t have to remind you that today is the most important day of my career—catering for royalty at Twickenham Stadium. This is the Six Nations championship! The most important and exciting rugby tournament of the year! The eyes of the world are upon us! If we get this right, we’re made. And more work for me means more work for you. But I need you to concentrate!’

A tall, slim waitress with a defiant expression on her face stalked over to them, carrying a tray of empty champagne glasses. ‘Give her a break, will you? Her fiancé broke off their engagement last night. It’s a miracle she’s here at all. In her position, I wouldn’t even have dragged myself out of bed.’

‘He broke off the engagement?’ Sylvia glanced from one girl to the other. ‘Holly, is Nicky telling the truth? Why did he do that?’

Because she was efficient and reliable. Because her hair was the colour of a sunset rather than a sunflower. Because she was prudish and inhibited. Because her bottom was too big…

Contemplating the length of the list, Holly was swamped by a wave of despair. ‘Eddie’s been promoted to Marketing Director. I don’t fit his new image.’ So far she hadn’t actually cried and she was quite proud of that—proud and a little puzzled. Why hadn’t she cried? She loved Eddie. They’d planned a future together. ‘He’s expected to entertain clients and journalists and, well, he’s driving a Porsche now, and he needs a woman to match.’ With a wobbly smile and a shrug, she tried to make light of it. ‘I’m more of a small family-hatchback.’

‘You are much too good for him, that’s what you are.’ Nicky scowled and the glasses on the tray jangled dangerously. ‘He’s a b—’

‘Nicky!’ Sylvia gave a shocked gasp, interrupting Nicky’s insult. ‘Please remember that you are the face of my company!’

‘In that case you’d better pay for botox before I develop permanent frown-lines from serving a bunch of total losers every day.’ Nicky’s eyes flashed. ‘Holly’s ex and his trophy-blonde slut are knocking back the champagne like Eddie is Marketing Director of some Fortune 100 company, not the local branch of Pet Palace.’

‘She’s with him?’ Holly felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Then I can’t go up there. Their hospitality box is really close to the President’s Suite. It would just be too embarrassing for everyone. All his colleagues staring at me—her staring at me—what am I going to do?’

‘Replace him with someone else. The great thing about really unsuitable men is that they’re not in short supply.’ Nicky thrust the tray into the hands of her apoplectic boss and slipped her arm through Holly’s. ‘Breathe deeply. In and out—that’s it—good. Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sashay into that royal box and kiss that sexy, wicked prince. If you’re going to fall for an unsuitable man, at least make sure he’s a rich, powerful one. The king of them all. Or, in this case, the prince. Apparently he’s a world-class kisser. Go for it. Tangling tongues at Twickenham. That would shock Eddie.’

‘It would shock the prince, too.’ Giggling despite her misery, Holly withdrew her arm from her friend’s. ‘I think one major rejection is enough for one week, thanks. If I’m not thin and blonde enough for the Managing Director of Pet Palace, I’m hardly going to be thin and blonde enough to attract a playboy prince. It’s not one of your better ideas.’

‘What’s wrong with it? Straight from one palace to another.’ Nicky gave a saucy wink. ‘Undo a few buttons, go into the President’s Suite and flirt. It’s what I’d do.’

‘Fortunately she isn’t you!’ Sylvia’s cheeks flushed with outrage as she glared at Nicky. ‘And she’ll keep her buttons fastened! Quite apart from the fact I don’t pay you girls to flirt, Prince Casper’s romantic exploits are getting out of hand, and I’ve had strict instructions from the Palace—no pretty waitresses. No one likely to distract him. Especially no blondes. That’s why I picked you in the first place, Holly. Red hair and freckles—you’re perfect.’

Holly flinched. Perfect? Perfect for melting into the background.

She lifted a hand and touched her unruly red hair, dragged into submission with the liberal use of pins. Then she thought of what lay ahead and her battered confidence took another dive. The thought of walking into the President’s Suite made her shrink. ‘Sylvia—I really don’t want to do this. Not today. I just don’t feel—I’m having—’ What—a bad hair day? A fat day? Frankly it was a battle to decide which of her many deficiencies was the most pronounced. ‘They’re all going to be thin, blonde, rich and confident.’ All the things she wasn’t. Her hands shaking, Holly removed the tray of empty glasses from her boss’s hands. ‘I’ll take these back to the kitchens. Nicky can serve the royal party. I don’t think I can stand them looking at me as if I’m—’

As if I’m nothing.

‘If you’re doing your job correctly, they shouldn’t be looking at you at all.’ Unknowingly echoing Holly’s own thoughts, Sylvia removed the tray from her hands so violently that the glasses jangled again. Then she thrust the tray back at Nicky. ‘You take these glasses back to the kitchens. Holly, if you want to keep this job, you’ll get up to the President’s Suite right now. And no funny business. You wouldn’t want to attract his attention anyway—a man in his position is only going to be interested in one thing with a girl like you.’ Spotting another of the waitresses craning her neck to get a better view of the rugby players warming up on the pitch, Sylvia gave a horrified gasp. ‘No, no. You’re here to work, not gape at men’s legs—’ Abandoning Holly and Nicky, she hurried over to the other girl.

‘Of course we’re here to gape at men’s legs,’ Nicky drawled. ‘Why does she think we took the job in the first place? I don’t know the first thing about scrums and line-outs, but I do know the men are gorgeous. I mean, there are men and there are men. And these are men, if you know what I mean.’

Not listening, Holly stared into space, her confidence at an all-time low. ‘The wonder is not that Eddie dumped me,’ she muttered, ‘But that he got involved with me in the first place.’

‘Don’t talk like that. Don’t let him do this to you,’ Nicky scolded. ‘Please tell me you didn’t spend the night crying over him.’

‘Funnily enough, I didn’t. I’ve even been wondering about that.’ Holly frowned. ‘Perhaps I’m too devastated to cry.’

‘Did you eat chocolate?’

‘Of course. Well—chocolate biscuits. Do they count?’

‘Depends on how many. You need a lot of biscuits to get the same chocolate hit.’

‘I ate two.’

‘Two biscuits?’

Holly blushed. ‘Two packets.’ She muttered the words under her breath and then gave a guilty moan. ‘And I hated myself even more afterwards. But at the time I was miserable and starving! Eddie took me out to dinner to break off the engagement—I suppose he thought I might not scream at him in a public place. I knew something was wrong when he ordered a starter. He never orders a starter.’

‘Well, isn’t that typical?’ Nicky’s mouth tightened in disapproval. ‘The night he breaks up with you, he finally allows you to eat.’

‘The starter was for him, not me.’ Holly shook her head absently. ‘I can’t eat in front of Eddie anyway. The way he watches me always makes me feel like a pig. He told me it was over in between the grilled fish and dessert. Then he dropped me home, and I kept waiting, but I just couldn’t cry.’

‘I’m not surprised. You were probably too hungry to summon the energy to cry,’ Nicky said dryly. ‘But eating chocolate biscuits is good news.’

‘Tell that to my skirt. Why does Sylvia insist on this style?’ Gloomily, Holly smoothed the tight black skirt over her hips. ‘I feel as though I’m wearing a corset, and it’s so short.’

‘You look sexy as sin, as always. And eating chocolate is the first phase in the healing process, so you’ve passed that stage, which is a good sign. The next stage is to sell his ring.’

‘I was going to return it.’

‘Return it? Are you mad?’ The empty glasses rattled again as Nicky’s hands tightened on the tray. ‘Sell it. And buy a pair of gorgeous shoes with the proceeds. Then you’ll spend the rest of your life walking on his memory. And, next time, settle for sex without emotion.’

Holly smiled awkwardly, too self-conscious to confess that she hadn’t actually had sex with Eddie. And that, of course, had been her major drawback as far as he was concerned. He’d accused her of being inhibited.

She bit back a hysterical laugh.

A small family-hatchback with central locking.

Would she be less inhibited if her bottom were smaller?

Possibly, but she wasn’t likely to find out. She was always promising herself that she’d diet, but going without food just made her crabby.

Which was why her clothes always felt too tight.

At this rate she was going to die a virgin.

Depressed by that thought, Holly glanced in the direction of the President’s Suite. ‘I really don’t think I can face this.’

‘It’s worth it just to get a look at the wicked prince in the flesh.’

‘He hasn’t always been wicked. He was in love once,’ Holly murmured, momentarily distracted from her own problems. ‘With that Italian supermodel. I remember reading about them. They were the golden couple. Then she died along with his brother in that avalanche eight years ago. Horribly sad. Apparently he and his brother were really close. He lost the two people he loved most in the world. A family torn apart. I’m not surprised he’s gone a bit wild. He must have been devastated. He probably just needs someone to love him.’

Nicky grinned. ‘So go up there and love him. And don’t forget my favourite saying.’

‘What’s that?’

‘If you can’t stand the heat…’

‘Get out of the kitchen?’ Holly completed the proverb but Nicky gave a saucy wink.

‘Remove a layer of clothing.’

Casper strolled down the steps into the royal box, his handsome face expressionless as he stared across the impressive stadium. Eighty-two thousand people were gradually pouring into the stands in preparation for the breathlessly awaited match that was part of the prestigious Six Nations championship.

It was a bitterly cold February day, and his entourage was all muttering and complaining about freezing English weather.

Casper didn’t notice.

He was used to being cold.

He’d been cold for eight long years.

Emilio, his Head of Security, leaned forward and offered him a phone. ‘Savannah for you, Your Highness.’

Without turning, Casper gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and Emilio hesitated before switching off the phone.

‘Another female heart broken.’ The blonde shivering next to him gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘You’re cold as ice, Cas. Rich and handsome, admittedly, but very inaccessible emotionally. Why are you ending it? She’s crazy about you.’

‘That’s why I’m ending it.’ His voice hard, Casper watched the players warming up on the pitch, ignoring the woman gazing longingly at his profile.

‘If you’re ditching the most beautiful woman in the world, what hope is there for the rest of us?’

No hope.

No hope for them. No hope for him. The whole thing was a game, Casper thought blankly. A game he was sick of playing.

Sport was one of the few things that offered distraction. But, before the rugby started, he had to sit through the hospitality.

Two long hours of hopeful women and polite conversation.

Two long hours of feeling nothing.

His face appeared on the giant screens placed at either end of the pitch, and he watched himself with detached curiosity, surprised by how calm he looked. There was a loud female cheer from those already gathered in the stands, and Casper delivered the expected smile of acknowledgement, wondering idly whether any of them would like to come and distract him for a few hours.

Anyone would do. He really didn’t care.

As long as she didn’t expect anything from him.

He glanced behind him towards the glass windows of the President’s Suite where lunch would be served. An exceptionally pretty waitress was checking the table, her mouth moving as she recited her checklist to herself.

Casper studied her in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly as she paused in her work and lifted a hand to her mouth. He saw the rise and fall of her chest as she took a deep breath—watched as she tilted her head backwards and stared up at the ceiling. It was strange body language for someone about to serve lunch.

And then he realised that she was trying not to cry.

Over the years he’d taught himself to recognise the signs of female distress so that he could time his exit accordingly.

With cold detachment he watched her struggle to hold back the oncoming tide of tears.

She was a fool, he thought grimly, to let herself feel that deeply about anything.

And then he gave a smile of self-mockery. Hadn’t he done the same at her age—in his early twenties, when life had seemed like an endless opportunity, hadn’t he naively allowed his emotions freedom?

And then he’d learned a lesson that had proved more useful than all the hours spent studying constitutional law or international history.

He’d learned that emotions were man’s biggest weakness, and that they could destroy as effectively as the assassin’s bullet.

And so he’d ruthlessly buried all trace of his, protecting that unwanted human vulnerability under hard layers of bitter life experience. He’d buried his emotions so deep he could no longer find them.

And that was the way he wanted it.

Without looking directly at anyone, Holly carefully placed the champagne-and-raspberry torte in front of the prince. Silver cutlery and crystal glass glinted against the finest linen, but she barely noticed. She’d served the entire meal in a daze, her mind on Eddie, who was currently entertaining her replacement in the premium box along the richly carpeted corridor.

Holly hadn’t seen her, but she was sure she was pretty. Blonde, obviously. And not the sort of person whose best friend in a crisis was a packet of chocolate biscuits.

Did she have a degree? Was she clever?

Holly’s vision suddenly blurred with tears, and she blinked frantically, moving slowly around the table, barely aware of the conversation going on around her. Oh dear God, she was going to lose it. Here, in the President’s Suite, with the prince and his guests as witnesses. It was going to be the most humiliating moment of her life.

Trying to pull herself together, Holly concentrated on the dessert in her hand, but she was teetering on the brink. Nicky was right. She should have stayed in bed and hidden under the duvet until she’d recovered enough to get her emotions back under control. But she needed this job too badly to allow herself the luxury of wallowing.

A burst of laughter from the royal party somehow intensified her feelings of isolation and misery, and she placed the last dessert on the table and backed away, horrified to find that one of the tears had spilled over onto her cheek.

The release of that one tear made all the others rush forward, and suddenly her throat was full and her eyes were stinging.

Oh, please, no. Not here.

Instinct told her to turn around, but protocol forbade her from turning her back on the prince, so she stood helplessly, staring at the dusky pink carpet with its subtly intertwined pattern of roses and rugby balls, comforting herself with the fact that they wouldn’t notice her.

People never noticed her, did they? She was the invisible woman. She was the hand that poured the champagne, or the eyes that spotted an empty plate. She was a tidy room or an extra chair. But she wasn’t a person.

‘Here.’ A strong, masculine hand passed her a tissue. ‘Blow.’

With a gasp of embarrassment, Holly dragged her horrified gaze from those lean bronzed fingers and collided with eyes as dark and brooding as the night sky in the depths of winter.

And something strange happened.

Time froze.

The tears didn’t spill and her heart didn’t beat.

It was as if her brain and body separated. For a single instant, she forgot that she was about to make a giant fool of herself. She forgot about Eddie and his trophy blonde. She even forgot the royal party.

The only thing in her world was this man.

And then her knees weakened and her mouth dried because he was insanely handsome, his lean aristocratic face a breathtaking composition of bold masculine lines and perfect symmetry.

His dark gaze shifted to her mouth, and the impact of that one searing glance scorched her body like the hottest flame. She felt her lips tingle and her heart thumped against her chest.

And that warning beat was the wake-up call she needed.

Oh, God. ‘Your Highness.’ Was she supposed to curtsy? She’d been so transfixed by how impossibly good-looking he was, she’d forgotten protocol. What was she supposed to do?

The unfairness of it was like a slap across the face. The one time she absolutely did not want to be noticed, she’d been noticed.

By Prince Casper of Santallia.

Her horrified gaze slid back to the tissue in his hand. And he knew she was upset. There was no hiding.

‘Breathe,’ he instructed in a soft voice. ‘Slowly.’

Only then did she realise that he’d positioned himself right in front of her. His shoulders were wide and powerful, effectively blocking her from view, so that the rest of his party wouldn’t see that she was crying.

The problem was, she could no longer remember why she’d felt like crying. One sizzling glance from those lazy dark eyes and her mind had been wiped.

Shrinking with embarrassment, but at the same time relieved to have a moment to compose herself, Holly took the tissue and blew her nose. Despair mixed with fatalistic acceptance as she realised that she’d just given herself a whole new problem.

He was going to complain. And who could blame him? She should have smiled more. She should have paid attention when the bored-looking blonde seated to his right had asked her whether the goat’s cheese was organic.

He was going to have her fired.

‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ she mumbled, pushing the tissue into her pocket. ‘I’ll be fine. Just don’t give me sympathy.’

‘There’s absolutely no chance of that. Sympathy isn’t my thing.’ His gorgeous eyes shimmered with sardonic humour. ‘Unless it’s sympathy sex.’

Too busy holding back tears to be shocked, Holly took another deep breath, but her white shirt couldn’t stand the pressure and two of her buttons popped open. With a whimper of disbelief, she froze. As if she hadn’t already embarrassed herself enough in front of royalty, she was about to spill out of her lacy bra. Now what? Did she draw attention to herself and do up the buttons, or did she just hope he hadn’t noticed…?

‘I’m going to have to complain about you.’ His tone was gently apologetic and she felt her knees weaken.

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘A sexy waitress in sheer black stockings and lacy underwear is extremely distracting.’ His bold, confident gaze dropped to her full cleavage and lingered. ‘You make it impossible for me to concentrate on the boring blonde next to me.’

Braced for an entirely different accusation, Holly gave a choked laugh. ‘You’re joking?’

‘I never joke about fantasies,’ he drawled. ‘Especially sexual ones.’

He thought the blonde was boring?

‘You’re having sexual fantasies?’

‘Do you blame me?’ The frank appraisal in his eyes was so at odds with her own plummeting opinion of herself, that for a moment Holly just stared up at him. Then she realised that he had to be making fun of her because she knew she wasn’t remotely sexy.

‘It isn’t fair to tease me, Your Highness.’

‘You only have to call me Your Highness the first time. After that, it’s “sir”.’ Amused dark eyes slid from her breasts to her mouth. ‘And I rather think you’re the one teasing me.’ He was looking at her with the type of unapologetic masculine appreciation that men reserved for exceptionally beautiful women.

And that wasn’t her. She knew it wasn’t. ‘You haven’t eaten your dessert, sir.’

He gave a slow, dangerous smile. ‘I think I’m looking at it.’

Oh God, he was actually flirting with her.

Holly’s legs started to shake because he was so, so attractive, and the way he was looking at her made her feel like a supermodel. Her shrivelled self-esteem bloomed like a parched flower given new life by a shower of rain. This stunningly attractive, handsome guy—this gorgeous, megawealthy prince who could have had any woman in the world—found her so attractive that he wanted to flirt with her.

‘Cas.’ A spoiled female voice came from behind them. ‘Come and sit down.’

But he didn’t turn.

The fact that he didn’t appear willing or able to drag his gaze from her raised Holly’s confidence another few notches. She felt her colour mount under his intense, speculative gaze, and suddenly there was a dangerous shift in the atmosphere. Trying to work out how she’d progressed from tears to tension in such a short space of time, Holly swallowed.

It was him, she thought helplessly.

He was just gorgeous.

And way out of her league.

Flirting was one thing, but he had guests hanging on his every word—glamorous women vying for his attention.

Suddenly remembering where she was and who he was, Holly gave him an embarrassed glance. ‘They’re waiting for you, sir.’

The smooth lift of one eyebrow suggested that he didn’t understand why that was a problem, and Holly gave a weak smile. He was the ruling prince. People stood in line. They waited for his whim and his pleasure.

But surely his pleasure was one of those super-groomed, elegant women glaring impatiently at his broad back?

Her cheeks burning, she cleared her throat. ‘They’ll be wondering what you’re doing.’

‘And that matters because…?’

Envious of his indifference, she laughed. ‘Well—because generally people care what other people think.’

‘Do they?’

She gave an awkward laugh. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you care what other people think?’

‘I’m a waitress,’ Holly said dryly. ‘I have to care. If I don’t care, I don’t get tips—and then I don’t eat.’

The prince lifted one broad shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘Fine. So let’s get rid of them. What they don’t see, they can’t judge.’ Supremely confident, he cast a single glance towards one of the well-built guys standing by the door and that silent command was apparently sufficient to ensure that he was given instant privacy.

His security team sprang into action, and within minutes the rest of his party was leaving the room, knowing looks from the men and sulky glances from the women.

Ridiculously impressed by this discreet display of authority, Holly wondered how it would feel to be so powerful that you could clear a room with nothing more than a look. And how must it feel to be so secure about yourself that you didn’t care what other people thought about your actions?

Only when the door of the President’s Suite closed behind them did she suddenly realise that she was now alone with the prince.

She gave a choked laugh of disbelief.

He’d just dismissed the most glamorous, gorgeous women she’d ever seen in favour of—her?

The Prince turned back to her, his eyes glittering dark and dangerous. ‘So.’ His voice was soft. ‘Now we’re alone. How do you suggest we pass the time?’

CHAPTER TWO

HOLLY’S stomach curled with wicked excitement and desperate nerves. ‘Thank you for rescuing me from an embarrassing moment,’ she mumbled breathlessly, desperately racking her brains for something witty to say and failing. She had no idea how to entertain a prince. ‘I can’t imagine what you must think of me.’

‘I don’t understand your obsession with everyone else’s opinion,’ he drawled. ‘And at the moment I’m not capable of thinking. I’m a normal healthy guy, and every one of my brain cells is currently focused on your gorgeous body.’

Holly made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. Disbelieving, self-conscious, but hopelessly flattered, she stroked her hands over her skirt, looked at him and then looked towards the door. ‘Those women are beautiful.’

‘Those women spend eight hours a day perfecting their appearance. That’s not beauty—it’s obsession.’ Supremely sure of himself, he took possession of her hand, locking her fingers into his.

Holly’s stomach curled with excitement. ‘We’re not supposed to be doing this. They gave me this job because they thought I wasn’t your type.’

‘Major error on their part.’

‘They told me you preferred blondes.’

‘I think I’ve just had a major shift towards redheads.’ With a wicked smile, he lifted his other hand and carelessly fingered a strand of her hair. ‘Your hair is the colour of a Middle Eastern bazaar—cinnamon and gold. Tell me why you were crying.’

Caught in a spin of electrifying, exhilarating excitement, Holly’s brain was in a whirl. For a moment she’d actually forgotten about Eddie. If she told him that her boyfriend had dumped her, would it make her seem less attractive?

‘I was—’

‘On second thoughts, don’t tell me.’ Interrupting her, he lifted her hand, checking for a ring. ‘Single?’

Detecting something in his tone but too dazed to identify what, Holly nodded. ‘Oh yes, completely single,’ she murmured hastily, and then immediately wanted to snatch the words back, because she should have played it cool.

But she didn’t feel cool. She felt—relieved that she’d left the engagement ring at home.

And he was smiling, clearly aware of the effect he was having on her.

Before she could stop him, he pulled the clip out of her hair and slid his fingers through her tumbling, wayward curls. ‘That’s better.’ Very much the one in control, he closed his fingers around her wrists and hooked her arms round his neck. Then he slid his hands down her back and cupped her bottom.

‘Oh.’ Appalled that he seemed to be focusing on all her worst features, Holly gave a whimper of embarrassment and fought the impulse to wriggle away from him. But it was too late to take avoiding action. The confident exploration of his hands had ensured he was already well acquainted with the contours of her bottom.

‘Dio, you have the most fantastic body,’ he groaned, moulding her against the hard muscle of his thighs as if she were made of cling film.

He thought she was fantastic?

Brought into close contact with the physical evidence of his arousal, Holly barely had time to register the exhilarating fact that he really did find her attractive before his mouth came down on hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.

It was like being in the path of a lightning strike. Her body jerked with shock. Her head spun, her knees were shaking, and her attempt to catch her breath simply encouraged a still more intimate exploration of her mouth. Never in her life had a simple kiss made her feel like this. Her fingers dug into his shoulders for support and she gasped as she felt his hands slide under her skirt. She felt the warmth of his hands against her bare flesh above her stockings, and then he was backing her against the table, the slick, erotic invasion of his tongue in her mouth sending flames leaping around her body and a burning concentration of heat low in her pelvis.

He was kissing her as though this was their last moments on Earth—as if he couldn’t help himself—and Holly was swept away on the pure adrenaline rush that came with suddenly being made to feel irresistible.

Dimly she thought, This is fast, too fast. But, even as part of her analysed her actions with a touch of shocked disapproval, another part of her was responding with wild abandon, her normal insecurities and inhibitions dissolved in a rush of raw sexual chemistry.

Control slipped slowly from her grasp.

When Eddie had kissed her she’d often found her mind wandering—on occasions she’d guiltily caught herself planning meals and making mental shopping lists—but with the prince the only coherent thought in her head was Please don’t let him stop.

But she had to stop, didn’t she?

She didn’t do things like this.

What if someone walked in?

Struggling to regain some control, Holly gave a low moan and dragged her mouth from his, intending to take a step back and think through her actions. But her good intentions vanished as she gazed up at his lean, bronzed features, her resolve evaporating as she took in the thick, dark eyelashes guarding his impossibly sexy eyes. Oh, dear God—how could any woman say no to a man like this? And, if sheer masculine impact wasn’t enough, the way he was looking at her was the most outrageous compliment she’d ever received.

‘You’re staring at me,’ she breathed, and he gave a lopsided smile.

‘If you don’t want men to stare, stay indoors.’

Holly giggled, as much from nerves as humour. ‘I am indoors.’

‘True.’ The prince lifted one broad shoulder in an unmistakeably Latin gesture. ‘In which case, I can’t see a solution. You’ll just have to put up with me staring, tesoro.’

‘You speak Italian?’

‘I speak whichever language is going to get me the result I want,’ he purred, and she gave a choked laugh because he was so outrageously confident and he made her feel beautiful.

Basking in warmth of his bold appreciation, she suddenly felt womanly and infinitely desirable. Blinded by the sheer male beauty of his features, and by the fact that this incredible man was looking at her, her crushed heart suddenly lifted as though it had been given wings, and her confidence fluttered back to life.

All right, so she wasn’t Eddie’s type.

But this man—this incomparably handsome playboy prince who had his pick of the most beautiful women in the world—found her irresistible.

‘You’re staring at me too,’ he pointed out, his gaze amused as he slid his fingers into her hair with slow deliberation. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we both just close our eyes so that we don’t get distracted from what we’re doing.’

‘What are we doing?’ Weak with desire, Holly could barely form the words, and his smile widened as he gently cupped her face and lowered his mouth slowly towards hers.

‘I think it’s called living for the moment. And kissing you is the most fantastic moment I’ve had in a long time,’ he said huskily, his mouth a breath away from hers.

She waited in an agony of anticipation, but he didn’t seem in a rush to kiss her again, and Holly parted her lips in expectation, hoping that he’d take the hint.

Why on earth had she stopped him?

With a faint whimper of desperation, she looked into his eyes, saw the laughter there and realised that he was teasing her.

‘That isn’t very kind, Your Highness.’ But she found that she was laughing too and her body was on fire.

‘I’m not kind.’ He murmured the words against her mouth. ‘I’m definitely not kind.’

‘I couldn’t care less—please…’ She was breathless and trembling with anticipation. ‘Kiss me again.’

Flashing her a megawatt smile of male satisfaction, the prince finally lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his. He kissed her with consummate skill, his touch confident and possessive as he drew every last drop of response from her parted lips.

Her senses were swamped, her pulse accelerating out of control. Holly was aware of nothing except the overwhelming needs of her own body. Her arms tightened around his neck and she felt the sudden change in him. His kiss changed from playful to purposeful, and she realised with a lurch of exhilarating terror that this wasn’t a mild flirtation or a game of ‘boy kisses girl’. Prince Casper was a sexually experienced man who knew what he wanted and had the confidence to take it.

‘Maybe we should slow this down,’ she gasped, sinking her fingers into the hard muscle of his shoulders to give extra support to her shaking knees.

‘Slow works for me,’ he murmured, sliding his hands over the curve of her bottom. ‘I’m more than happy to savour every moment of your utterly delectable body, and the game hasn’t started yet. Why rush?’

‘I didn’t exactly mean—oh—’ her head fell back as his mouth trailed a hot, sensuous path down her throat ‘I can’t concentrate on anything when you do that—’

‘Concentrate on me,’ he advised, and then he lifted his head and his stunning dark eyes narrowed. ‘You’re shivering. Are you nervous?’

Terrified. Desperate. Weak with longing.

‘I—I haven’t actually done this before.’ Her whispered confession caused him to still.

‘Exactly what,’ he said carefully, ‘Haven’t you done before?’ He released his hold on her bottom and slid his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him, his sharply intelligent eyes suddenly searching.

Holly swallowed.

Oh God, he was going to walk away from her. If she told him the truth, this experienced, sophisticated, gorgeous man would let her go and she’d spend the rest of her life regretting it.

Was she really going to let that happen?

No longer questioning herself, she slid her arms back round his neck. She didn’t know what was going on here, she had no idea why she was feeling this way, but she knew she didn’t want it to stop. ‘I meant that I’ve never done anything like this in such a public place.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘We’re alone.’

‘But anyone could walk in.’ She wished he’d kiss her again. Would he think she was forward if she kissed him? ‘What would happen then?’

‘They’d be arrested,’ he said dryly, ‘And carted off to jail.’

‘Oh—’ Reminded of exactly with whom she was dealing, Holly felt suddenly intimidated. Please, please, let him kiss her again. When he’d kissed her she’d forgotten he was a prince. She’d forgotten everything. Feeling as though she were standing on the edge of a life-changing moment, Holly gazed up at him and he gave a low laugh.

‘You talk too much, do you know that? So—now what? Yes, or no?’ He smoothed a rebellious strand of hair away from her flushed cheeks in a slow, sensual movement, and that meaningful touch was enough to raise her temperature several degrees.

He was giving her the choice.

He was telling her that, if he kissed her again, he was going all the way.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, knowing that there would be a price to pay, but more than willing to pay it. ‘Oh, yes.’

If she’d expected her shaky encouragement to be met with a kiss, she was disappointed.

‘If you want to slow things down,’ he murmured against her throat, ‘I suppose I could always eat the dessert that’s waiting for me on the table.’

Holly gave a faint whimper of frustration, and then he lifted his head and she saw the wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘You’re teasing me again.’

‘You asked me to slow down, tesoro.’

She was finding it hard to breathe. ‘I’ve definitely changed my mind about that.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me what you want?’ He gave a sexy, knowing smile that sent her body into meltdown.

‘I want you to kiss me again.’ And not to stop.

‘Do you?’ His head lowered to hers, thick lashes partially shielding the mockery in his beautiful eyes. ‘You’re not supposed to give me orders.’

‘Are you going to arrest me?’

‘Now, there’s a thought.’ He breathed the words against her mouth. ‘I could clap you in handcuffs and chain you to my bed until I’m bored.’

Her last coherent thought was Please don’t let him ever be bored, and then he lifted her, and the demands of his hands on her thighs made it impossible for her not to wrap her legs around his waist. There was the faint rattle of fine bone-china as he positioned her on the table, and only when she felt the roughness of his zip against the soft flesh of her inner thigh did she realise that he’d somehow manoeuvred her skirt up round her waist.

With a gasp of embarrassment, she grabbed at the skirt, but she felt the hard thrust of his body against hers.

‘I love the stockings,’ he groaned, his dark eyes ablaze with sexual heat as he scanned the lacy suspender-belt transecting her milky-white thighs.

Thighs that definitely weren’t skinny.

The fragile shoots of her self-confidence withered and died under his blatant scrutiny, and Holly tugged ineffectually at the hem of her skirt, trying to cover herself. ‘Sylvia insists on stockings,’ she muttered, and then, ‘Do you think you could stop looking at me?’

‘No, I definitely couldn’t,’ he assured her, a laugh in his voice as he released his hold on her bottom, grasped her hands and anchored them firmly around his neck. ‘Take a deep breath in for me.’

‘Why?’

A wicked smile transformed his face from handsome to devastating. ‘Because I want you to undo a few more buttons without me having to move my hands again. I’m never letting go of your bottom.’

Hyper-sensitive to that particular subject, Holly tensed, only to relax again as she registered the unmistakeable relish with which he was exploring her body. ‘You like my bottom?’

‘I just want to lose myself in you. What’s your secret—exercise? Plastic surgery?’ He gave another driven groan, captured her hips and drew her hard against his powerful erection. ‘What did you do to it?’

‘I ate too many biscuits,’ Holly muttered truthfully, and he gave a laugh.

‘I love your sense of humour. And from now on you can expect to receive a box of your favourite kind of biscuits on a daily basis.’

Slightly stunned that he actually seemed to love her worst feature, and trying not to be shocked by his unashamed sexuality, Holly was about to speak when his mouth collided with hers again and sparks exploded inside her head. It was like being the centre piece at a fireworks display, and she gave a disbelieving moan that turned to a gasp as her shirt fell open and her bra slid onto her lap.

‘Are these also the result of the famous biscuit-diet?’ An appreciative gleam in his eyes, he transferred his attention from her bottom to her breasts. ‘Dio, you’re so fantastic I’m not even thinking about anything else while I’m with you.’

Something about that comment struck a slightly discordant note in her dazzled brain. Before she could dissect his words in more detail, he dragged his fingers across one nipple and shockwaves of pleasure sliced through her body. Then he lowered his dark head and flicked her nipple with his tongue.

Tortured by sensation, Holly’s head fell back. Inhibitions blown to the wind by his expert touch, driven to the point of explosion by his vastly greater experience, she knew she was completely out of control and didn’t even care. She felt like a novice rider clinging to the back of a thoroughbred stallion.

The burning ache in her pelvis grew to unbearable proportions, and she ground herself against him with a whimper of need. Desperate to relieve the almost intolerable heat that threatened to burn her up, she dug her nails into his shoulders.

‘Please—oh—please.’

‘My pleasure.’ His eyes were two narrow slits of fire, his jaw hard, streaks of colour highlighting his cheekbones as he scanned her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Then he flattened her to the table and came down over her, the muscles in his shoulders bunched as he protected her from his weight.

Feeling as though she’d been dropped naked onto a bonfire, Holly gave a low moan that he smothered with a slow, purposefully erotic kiss.

‘You are the most delicious thing that has ever been put on my table, my gorgeous waitress,’ he murmured, his desperately clever fingers reaching lower. The intimacy of his touch brought another gasp to her lips and the gasp turned to a low moan as he explored her with effortless skill and merciless disregard for modesty.

‘Are you protected?’ His husky question didn’t begin to penetrate her dazed brain, and she made an unintelligible sound, her legs tightening around his back, her body arching off the table in an attempt to ease the fearsome ache he’d created.

His mouth came down on hers again and she felt his strong hands close around her hips. He shifted his position, tilted her slightly, and then surged into her with a decisive thrust that drew a disbelieving groan from him and a shocked gasp from Holly.

An explosion of unbelievable pleasure suddenly splintered into pain, and her sharp cry caused him to still instantly.

Pain and embarrassment mingled in equal measure and for a moment Holly dug her nails hard into his shoulders, afraid to move in case moving made it worse. And then suddenly the pain was gone and there was only pleasure—dark, forbidden pleasure that beckoned her forwards into a totally new world. She moved her hips restlessly, not sure what she wanted him to do, but needing him to do something.

There was the briefest hesitation on his part while he scanned her flushed cheeks, then he surged into her again, but this time more gently, his eyes holding hers the whole time as he introduced her to an intimacy that was new to her. And it was pleasure such as she’d never imagined. Pleasure that blew her mind.

She didn’t know herself—her body at the mercy of sensual pleasure and the undeniable skill of an experienced male.

Controlled by his driving thrusts, she raced towards a peak and then was flung high into space, stars exploding in her head as he swallowed her cries of pleasure with his mouth, and reached his own peak with a triumphant groan.

Gradually Holly floated back down to earth, aware of the harshness of his breathing and the frantic beating of her own heart. He’d buried his face in her neck, and Holly focused on his glossy dark hair with glazed vision and numb disbelief.

Had that really just happened?

Swamped by an emotion that she couldn’t define, she lifted her hand and tentatively touched him, checking that he was real.

She felt an immediate surge of tension through his powerful frame and heard his sharp intake of breath. Then he lifted his head, stared down into her eyes.

To Holly it was the single most intimate moment of her life, and when he opened his mouth to speak her heart softened.

‘The match has started,’ he drawled flatly. ‘Thanks to you, I’ve missed kick-off.’

Keeping his back to the girl, Casper stared blankly through the glass of the President’s Suite down into the stadium, struggling to regain some measure of control after what had undoubtedly been the most exciting sexual encounter of his life.

On the pitch below, England had possession of the ball, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t in his seat, watching the game.

Which was something else that he didn’t understand.

What the hell was going on?

Why wasn’t he rushing to watch the game?

And since when had he been driven to have raw, uncontrolled sex on a table with an innocent woman?

Innocent.

Only now was he realising that all the signs had been there. And he’d missed them. Or had he ignored them?

Either way, he was fully aware of the irony of the situation.

He’d had relationships with some of the world’s most beautiful, experienced and sophisticated women, but none of them had made him feel the way she had.

This was possibly the first time he’d enjoyed uncomplicated, motiveless sex. Sex driven by sheer, animal lust rather than human ambition.

Yes, the girl had known he was a prince.

But he was experienced enough to know that she’d wanted him as a man.

Hearing the faint brush of clothing against flesh, he knew she was dressing. For once he was grateful for the iron self-control and self-discipline that had been drilled into him in his few years in the army, because that was the only thing currently standing between restraint and a repeat performance.

It must have been novelty value, he reflected grimly, his shoulders tensing as he heard her slide her feet into her shoes. That was the only explanation for the explosive chemistry they shared.

Which left them where, precisely?

He turned to find her watching him, and the confusion in her beautiful green eyes turned to consternation as a discreet tap on the door indicated that his presence was required.

The girl threw an embarrassed glance towards the door and frantically smoothed her skirt over her thighs. It was obvious from the uneven line of buttons on her shirt that she’d dressed in a hurry, with hands that hadn’t been quite steady. Her hair was still loose, spilling over her narrow shoulders like a fall of autumn leaves, a beacon of glorious colour that effectively announced their intimacy to everyone who saw her.

Focusing on her soft mouth, Casper felt a sudden urge to power her back against the table and lose himself in her incredible body one more time.

‘They’ll be waiting for you in the royal box.’ Her husky voice cut through his disturbingly explicit thoughts, and she hesitated for a moment and then walked over to him.

‘Y-your Highness—are you all right?’

Casper stared down into warm green eyes, saw concern there, and suddenly the urge not to let her go was almost painful. There was something hopeful and optimistic about her, and he sensed she hadn’t yet discovered that life was a cold, hard place.

Her smile faltered as she studied the grim set of his features. ‘I guess this is what you’d call a bit of an awkward moment. So—well—’ she waved a hand ‘—I have to get back to work and you—well…’ Her voice tailed off and her white teeth clamped her lower lip. Then she took a deep breath, closed the gap between them, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for what you’ve given me.’

Caught by surprise, Casper stood frozen to the spot, enveloped by a warm, soft woman. She tasted of strawberries and summer and an immediate explosion of lust gripped his body.

So he wasn’t dead, then, he thought absently, part of him removed from what was happening. Some things he could still feel.

And then he heard a massive cheer from the crowd behind him and knew instantly what had happened.

Not so innocent, he thought grimly. Not so innocent that she didn’t know how to work the press to her advantage. She was kissing him in the window, in full view of the cameras covering the game and the crowd.

Cameras that were now focusing on them.

She might have been sexually inexperienced, but clearly that hadn’t prevented her from having a plan.

Surprised that he was still capable of feeling disillusioned and furious with himself for making such an elemental mistake, Casper locked his fingers round her wrists and withdrew her arms from his neck.

‘You can stop now. If you look behind me, I think you’ll find that you’ve achieved your objective.’

Confusion flickered in her eyes and then her attention fixed on something behind him. ‘Oh my God.’ Her hand covered her mouth. ‘H—how did you know?’ Her voice was an appalled whisper and she glanced at him in desperate panic. ‘They filmed me kissing you. And it’s up on the giant screens.’ Her voice rose, her cheeks were scarlet, and her reluctant glance towards the stadium ended in a moan of disbelief. ‘They’re playing it again and again. Oh God, I can’t believe this—it looks as though I’m—and my hair is all over the place and my bottom looks huge, and—everyone is looking.’

His eyes on the pitch, Casper watched with cool detachment as his friend, the England captain, hit a post with a drop-goal attempt.

‘More importantly, you just cost England three points.’

With cold detachment, he realised that he was now going to have to brief his security team to get her out of here, but before he could speak she gave him a reproachful look and sped to the door.

‘Do not leave this room,’ Casper thundered, but she ignored him, tugged open the door, slipped between two of his security guards and sprinted out of sight.

Unaccustomed to having his orders ignored, Casper stood in stunned silence for a few precious seconds and then delivered a single command to his Head of Security. ‘Find her.’

‘Can you give me her name, Your Highness?’

Casper stared through the door. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘I can’t.’

All he knew was that she clearly wasn’t as innocent as he’d first thought.

* * *

Feeling nothing except a desperate desire to hide from the world, Holly sprinted out of the room, shrinking as she passed a television screen in time to overhear the commentator say, ‘Looks like the opening score goes to Prince Casper.’

Hurtling down the stairs, she ran straight into her boss, who was marching up the stairs towards the President’s Suite like a general leading an invading army onto enemy territory.

‘Sylvia.’ Her breath coming in pants, Holly stared at the other woman in horrified silence, noticing the blaze of fury in her eyes and the tightness of her lips.

‘How dare you?’ Sylvia’s voice shook with anger. ‘How dare you humiliate me in this way? I picked you especially because I thought you were sensible and decent. And you have destroyed the reputation of my company!’

‘No!’ Horribly guilty, overwhelmed by panic and humiliation, Holly shook her head. ‘They don’t even know who I am, and—’

‘The British tabloid press will have your name before you’re out of the stadium,’ Sylvia spat. ‘The entire nation heard the commentator say “That’s one girl who isn’t lying back thinking of England”. If you wanted sleazy notoriety, then you’ve got it.’

Holly flinched under the verbal blows, feeling as vulnerable as a little rowing boat caught in a heavy storm out at sea. What had she done? This wasn’t a little transgression that would remain her private secret. This was—this was… ‘Prince Casper has kissed lots of women,’ she muttered. ‘So it won’t be much of a story—’

‘You’re a waitress!’ Sylvia was shaking with anger. ‘Of course it’s a story!’

Holly stared at her in appalled silence, realising that she hadn’t once given any thought to the consequences of what they were doing. She hadn’t thought at all. It had been impulse, chemistry, intimacy; she bit back a hysterical laugh.

What was intimate about having your love life plastered on sixty-nine-metre screens for the amusement of a crowd of eighty-two thousand people?

She swallowed painfully. ‘Sylvia, I—’

‘You’re fired for misconduct!’

Her world crumbling around her, Holly was about to plead her case when she caught sight of Eddie striding towards them, his face like a storm cloud.

Unable to take any more, Holly gasped another apology and fled towards the kitchens. Heart pounding, cheeks flaming, she grabbed her bag and her coat, changed into her trainers and made for the door.

Nicky intercepted her. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I don’t know.’ Feeling dazed, Holly looked at her helplessly. ‘Home. Anywhere.’

‘You can’t go home. It’s the first place they’ll look.’ Brisk and businesslike, Nicky handed her a hat and a set of keys. ‘Stick the hat on and hide that gorgeous hair. Then go to my flat.’

‘No one knows who I am.’

‘By now they’ll know more about you than you do. Go to my flat, draw the curtains and don’t answer the door to anyone. Have you got the money for a cab?’

‘I’ll take the bus.’ Too shocked to argue, Holly obediently scooped her hair into a bunch and tucked it under the hat.

‘No way.’ Nicky stuffed a note in her hand. ‘Get a taxi—and hope the driver hasn’t seen the pictures on the screen. Come to think of it, sit with a hanky over your nose. Pretend you have a cold or something. Go, go, go!’

Realising that she’d set into motion a series of events that she couldn’t control, Holly started to walk towards the door when Nicky caught her arm.

‘Just tell me one thing,’ she whispered, a wicked gleam in her eyes. ‘The rumours about the prince’s talents—are they true?’

Holly blinked. ‘I—’

‘That good, huh?’ Nicky gave a slow, knowing smile. ‘I guess that answers my question. Way to go, baby.’

Ruthlessly focusing his mind on the game, Casper watched as the England winger swerved round his opponent and dived for the corner.

The bored blonde gasped in sympathy. ‘Oh no, the poor guy’s tripped. Right on the line. Why is everyone cheering? That’s so mean.’

‘He didn’t trip, he scored a try,’ Casper growled, simmering with masculine frustration at her inappropriate comment. ‘And they’re cheering because that try puts England level.’

‘This game is a total mystery to me,’ the girl muttered, her eyes wandering to a group of women at the back of the royal box. ‘Nice shoes. I wonder where she got them? Are there any decent shops in this area?’

Casper blocked out her comments, watching as the England fly-half prepared to take the kick.

A hush fell over the stadium and Saskia glanced around her in bemusement. ‘I don’t understand any of this. Why is everyone so quiet? And why does that gorgeous guy keep staring at the ball and then the post? Can’t he make up his mind whether to kick it or not?’

‘He’s about to take a very difficult conversion kick right from the touchline. He’s concentrating.’ Casper’s gaze didn’t shift from the pitch. ‘And if you open your mouth again I’ll have you removed.’

Saskia snapped her mouth shut, the ball snaked through the posts, the crowd roared its approval, and a satisfied Casper turned wearily to the fidgeting blonde next to him. ‘All right. Now you can ask me whatever you want to know.’

She gave him a hopeful look. ‘Is the game nearly over?’

Casper subdued a flash of irritation and resolved never again to invite anyone who didn’t share his passion for rugby. ‘It’s half time.’

‘So we have to sit through the whole thing again? Tell me again how you know the captain.’

‘We were in the rugby team at school together.’

Clearly determined to engage him in conversation now that there was a pause in the game, Saskia sidled a little closer. ‘It was very bad of you to kiss that waitress. You are a very naughty boy, Cas. She’ll go to the newspapers, you know. That sort always do.’

Would she?

Casper stared blankly at the crowd, trying to blot out the scent of her hair and the taste of her mouth—the softness of her deliciously rounded bottom as she’d lifted herself against him.

For a brief moment in time, she’d made him forget. And that was more than anyone else had ever done.

‘Why does your popularity never dip?’ Clearly determined to ingratiate herself, Saskia kept trying. ‘Whatever you do, however scandalous you are, the citizens of Santallia still love you.’

‘They love him because he’s turned Santallia from a sleepy, crumbling Mediterranean country into a hub of foreign investment and tourism. People are excited about what’s happening.’ It was one of Casper’s friends, Marco, who spoke, a guy in his early thirties who had studied economics with him at university and now ran a successful business. ‘Santallia is the place to be. The downhill-ski race has brought the tourists to the mountains in the winter, and the yacht race does the same for the coast in the summer. The new rugby stadium is sold out for the entire season, and everyone is talking about the Grand Prix. As a sporting venue, we’re second to none.’

Hearing his successes listed should have lifted his mood, but Casper still felt nothing.

He made no effort to take part in the conversation going on around him and was relieved when the second half started because it offered him a brief distraction.

‘What Santallia really wants from you is an heir, Cas.’ Saskia delivered what she obviously thought was an innocent smile. ‘You can’t play the field for ever. Sooner or later you’re going to have to break your supermodel habit and think about the future of your country. Oh no, fighting has broken out on the pitch. They’re all sort of locked together.’

Leaving it to an exasperated Marco to enlighten her, Casper watched as the scrum half put the ball into the scrum. ‘That was never straight,’ he murmured, a frown on his face as he glanced at the referee, waiting for him to blow the whistle.

‘Did you read that survey that put you top of the list of most eligible single men in the world? You can have any woman you want, Cas.’ Oblivious to the impact of her presence on their enjoyment, Saskia continued to pepper the entire second half with her inane comments, all of which Casper ignored.

‘A minute of play to go,’ Marco murmured, and Casper watched as England kept the ball among the forwards until the final whistle shrilled.

The crowd erupted into ecstatic cheers at the decisive England victory, and he rose to his feet, abruptly terminating Saskia’s attempts to converse with him.

Responsibility pressing in on him, he strolled over to his Head of Security. ‘Anything?’

‘No, sir,’ Emilio admitted reluctantly. ‘She’s vanished.’

‘You found out her name?’

‘Holly, sir. Holly Phillips. She’s a waitress with the contract catering company.’

‘Address?’

‘I already sent a team to her home, sir. She isn’t there.’

‘But I’m sure the photographers are,’ Cas said grimly, and Emilio nodded.

‘Two rows of them, waiting to interview her. Prince and waitress—it’s going to be tomorrow’s headlines. You want her to have protection?’

‘A woman who chooses to kiss me in full view of television cameras and paparazzi doesn’t need my protection.’ Casper spoke in a flat, toneless voice. ‘She knew exactly what she was doing. And now she’s lying low because being unavailable will make it look as though she has something to hide. And having something to hide will make her story more valuable.’

She’d used him.

Casper gave a twisted smile. And he’d used her, too, hadn’t he?

Emilio frowned. ‘You think she did it to make money, sir?’

‘Of course.’ She’d actually had the temerity to thank him for what he’d given her! At the time he’d wondered what she meant, but now it was blindingly obvious.

He’d given her media opportunities in abundance.

He searched inside himself for a feeling of disgust or disillusionment. Surely he should feel something? Apparently she’d considered the loss of her virginity to be a reasonable price to pay for her moment of fame and fortune and that attitude deserved at least a feeling of mild disappointment on his part.

But disillusionment, disgust and disappointment all required expectations and, when it came to women, he had none.

Emilio was watching him. ‘You don’t want us to find her, Your Highness?’

Ruthlessly pushing aside thoughts of her soft mouth and delicious curves, Casper glanced back towards the pitch where the crowd was going wild. ‘I think we can be sure that when she’s ready she’ll turn up. At this precise moment she’s lying low, laughing to herself and counting her money.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU have got to stop crying!’ Exasperated and concerned, Nicky put her arms round Holly. ‘And—well—it isn’t that serious, really.’

‘Nicky, I’m pregnant! And it’s the prince’s baby.’ Holly turned reddened eyes in her direction. ‘How much more serious can it get?’

Nicky winced. ‘Isn’t it too soon to do a test? It could be wrong.’

‘It isn’t too soon. It’s been over two weeks!’ Holly waved a hand towards the bathroom. ‘And it isn’t wrong. It’s probably still on the floor where I dropped it if you want to check, but it doesn’t exactly give you a million options. It’s either pregnant or not pregnant. And I’m definitely pregnant! Oh God, I don’t believe it. Once—once—I have sex and now I’m pregnant. Some people try for years.’

‘Yes, well, the prince is obviously super-fertile as well as super-good looking.’ Nicky gave a helpless shrug, searching for something to say. ‘You always said you couldn’t wait to have a baby.’

‘But with someone! Not on my own. I never, ever, wanted to be a single mother. It was the one thing I promised myself was never going to happen. It really matters to me.’ Holly pulled another tissue out of the box and blew her nose hard. ‘When I dreamed about having a baby, I dreamed about giving it everything I never had.’

‘By which I presume you mean a father. God, your dad really screwed you up.’ With that less than comforting comment, Nicky sank back against the sofa and picked at her nail varnish. ‘I mean, how could anyone have a kid like you, so kind and loving, and then basically just, well, walk out? And you were seven—old enough to know you’d been rejected. And not even coming to find you after your mum died. I mean, for goodness’ sake!’

Not wanting to be reminded of her barren childhood, Holly burrowed deeper inside the sleeping bag. ‘He didn’t know she’d died.’

‘If he’d stayed in touch he would have known.’

‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about this?’ Her voice high-pitched, Holly rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I have to decide what to do. I’ve lost my job, and I can’t go home because the press are like a pack of wolves outside my flat. And the whole world thinks I’m a giant slut.’ Dying of embarrassment, her insides twisting with regret, she buried her face in the pillow.

And she was a slut, wasn’t she?

She’d had sex with a total stranger.

And not just sex—recklessly abandoned, wild sex. Sex that had taken her breath away and wiped her mind of guilt, worry, morals.

Whenever Eddie had touched her, her first thought had always been I mustn’t get pregnant. When the prince had touched her the only thought in her head had been more, more…

What had happened to her?

Yes, she’d been upset and insecure about herself after her break up with Eddie, but that didn’t explain or excuse it.

And then she remembered the way the prince had planted himself protectively in front of her, shielding her from the rest of the group. What other man had ever shown that degree of sensitivity? He’d noticed she was upset, shielded her, and then…

Appalled with herself, she gave another moan of regret, and Nicky yanked the sleeping bag away from her.

‘Stop torturing yourself. You’re going to be a great mother.’

‘How can I be a great mother? I’m going to have to give my baby to someone else to look after while I work! Which basically means that someone else will pick my baby up when it cries.’

‘Well, if it’s a real bawler that might be an advantage.’

Holly wiped the tears from her face with a mangled damp hanky. ‘How can it be an advantage? I want to be there for my baby.’

‘Well, perhaps you’ll win the lottery.’

‘I can’t afford to play the lottery. I can’t even afford to pay you rent.’

‘I don’t want rent, and you can sleep on my sofa as long as you need to.’ Nicky shrugged. ‘You can’t exactly go home, can you? The entire British public are gagging for pictures of you. “Where’s the waitress?” is today’s headline. Yesterday it was “royal’s rugby romp”. Rumour has it that they’re offering a reward to anyone who shops you. Everyone wants to know about that kiss.’

‘For crying out loud.’ Holly blew her nose hard. ‘People in the world are starving and they want to write about the fact that I kissed a prince? Doesn’t anyone have any sense of perspective?’ Thank goodness they didn’t know the whole story.

‘Well, we all need a little light relief now and then, and people love it when royalty show they’re human.’ Nicky sprang to her feet. ‘I’m hungry and there’s no food in this flat.’

‘I don’t want anything,’ Holly said miserably, too embarrassed to admit to her friend that the real reason she was so upset was because the prince hadn’t made any attempt to get in touch.

Even though she knew it was ridiculous to expect him to contact her, a small part of her was still desperately hoping that he would. Yes, she was a waitress and he was a prince, but he’d liked her, hadn’t he? He’d thrown all the other people out of the room so that he could be with her, and he’d said all those nice things about her, and then…

Holly’s body burned in a rush of sexual excitement that shocked her. Surely after sex as mind-blowing as that, he might have been tempted to track her down?

But how could he get in touch when the press was staking out her flat? She had a mental image of the prince hiding behind a bush, waiting for the opportunity to bang on her door. ‘Do you think he’s really annoyed about the headlines?’

‘Don’t tell me you’re worrying about him!’ Nicky had her hand in a packet of cereal. ‘He just pulls up his bloody drawbridge, leaving the enemy on the outside!’

Holly bit her lip. She was the one who’d kissed him by the window. She’d had no idea. ‘I feel guilty.’

‘Oh, please! This is Prince Casper we’re talking about. He doesn’t care what the newspapers write about him. You’re the one who’s going to suffer. If you ask me, the least he could have done was give you some security or advice. But he’s left you to take the flak!’

Holly’s spirits sank further at that depressing analysis. ‘He doesn’t know where I am.’

‘He’s a prince,’ Nicky said contemptuously, flopping back down on the sofa, her mouth full of cereal. ‘He commands a whole army, complete with special forces. He could find you in an instant if he wanted to. MI5, FBI, I don’t know—one of that lot. One word from him and there’d be a satellite trained on my flat.’

Shrinking at the thought, Holly slid back into the sleeping bag. ‘Close the blinds.’ What had she done?

‘Well, you can go on hiding if that’s what you want. Or you could give those sharks outside your flat an interview.’

‘Are you mad?’

‘No, I’m practical. Thanks to His Royal Highness, you have no job and you’re trapped indoors. Sell your story to the highest bidder. “My lunchtime of love” or “sexy Santallian stud”?’

Appalled, Holly shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. I couldn’t do that.’

‘You have a baby to support.’

‘And I don’t want my child looking back at the year he was conceived and seeing that his life started with me dishing the dirt on his dad in the papers! I just want the whole thing to go away.’

It was ironic, she thought numbly, that she’d fantasised about this exact moment ever since she was a teenager. She’d longed to be a mother. Longed to have a child of her own—to be able to create the sort of family she’d always wanted.

She’d even lain awake at night, imagining what it must be like to discover that you were pregnant and to share that excitement with a partner. She’d imagined his delight and his pride. She’d imagined him pulling her into a protective hug and fiercely declaring that he would never leave his family.

Not once, ever, had she imagined that she’d be in this position, doing it on her own.

One rash moment, one transgression—just one—and her life had been blown apart. Even though she was in a state of shock, the deeper implications weren’t lost on her. Her hopes of eventually being able to melt back into her old life unobserved died. She knew that once someone spotted that she was pregnant it wouldn’t take long for them to do the maths.

This was Prince Casper of Santallia’s child.

Nicky stood up. ‘I need to buy some food. Back in a minute.’ The front door slammed behind her, and moments later Holly heard the doorbell. Assuming Nicky had forgotten something, she slid off the sofa and padded over to the door.

‘So this is where you’ve been hiding!’ Eddie stood in the doorway, holding a huge, ostentatious bunch of dark-red roses wrapped in cheap cellophane.

Holly simply stared, suddenly realising that she’d barely thought about him over the past two weeks.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Eddie.’

He gave a benign smile. ‘I expect it seems like a dream.’ Sure of himself, Eddie smiled down at her. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

‘No. You broke off our engagement, Eddie. I was devastated.’ Holly frowned to herself. Her devastation hadn’t lasted long, though, had it? It had been supplanted by bigger issues—but should that have been possible? Did broken hearts really mend that quickly?

‘I can’t talk about this on the doorstep.’ He pushed his way into the flat and thrust the flowers into her hands. Past their best, a few curling petals floated onto the floor. ‘Here. These are for you. To show that I forgive you.’

‘Forgive me?’ Holly winced as a thorn buried itself into her hand. Gingerly she put the flowers down on the hall table and sucked the blood from her finger. ‘What are you forgiving me for?’

‘For kissing the prince.’ Eddie’s face turned the same shade as the roses. ‘For making a fool of me in public.’

‘Eddie—you were the one partying in that box with your new girlfriend.’

‘She was no one special. We both need to stop hurting each other. I admit that I was furious when I saw you kissing the prince, then I realised that it must have been hard on you, watching me get that promotion and then losing me. But it seems to have loosened up something inside you. A whole new you emerged.’ He grinned like a schoolboy who had just discovered girls. ‘You’ve always been quite shy and a bit prim. And suddenly you were, well, wild. When I saw you kissing him, I couldn’t help thinking it should have been me.’

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