Chapter Three

      Annegret’s heart started to pound, and her palms felt damp, the right one throbbing under the dressing. One glass of wine didn’t justify blurting out that she was attracted to him, even if it was true.

      Trying to deny it now would only get her in deeper, so she said, “We’re not going to do anything. At least I’m not.”

      He toyed with the stem of his glass. “Why not?”

      “If it wasn’t for the Janus lily, I would be safely back at my hotel by now, and there would be nothing to discuss.”

      “You don’t feel safe here?”

      He was far too quick. “I didn’t mean safe as in safe. I meant we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

      His eyes gleamed as if he knew perfectly well that she had been referring to emotional safety. “However, we are having it and I, for one, have no regrets.”

      She had plenty. If she had known he was interested in her, she would have insisted on returning to her hotel instead of accepting his offer to stay at the palace.

      But you did know, a small inner voice insisted. She had known it the moment he set eyes on her. Her experience with the male of the species may have been limited to a few carefully chosen encounters, but she knew enough to recognize when a man found her appealing. The fact that she was now alone with Maxim in his private quarters confirmed her instinctive assessment.

      So why had she agreed? She could have spent the night in the infirmary as the doctor had recommended, or arranged to be taken back to her hotel. Yet here she was, hackles rising at hearing the prince say what she had suspected all along. She couldn’t have it both ways. “I don’t regret accepting your invitation, but that’s as far as I intend to go,” she said.

      “Because of who I am?”

      They were interrupted by a servant clearing away their plates and placing slices of featherlight lemon gâteau on fine china in front of them. When the servant had gone, Annegret toyed with her dessert. “I make it a point never to get involved with titled men.”

      “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? Attraction can also lead to friendship.”

      She felt herself flushing. As a teenager, she’d imagined her biological father saying something similar to her mother. Charming her with his aristocratic ways until Debra West was hopelessly in love. Then abandoning her without a backward glance. Annegret had no intention of letting that happen to her.

      Bad enough that she had come close with Brett Colton. His father, the owner of the network that owned her show, was the nearest thing Australia had to royalty. Her pedigree, or lack of one, was the reason his father had disapproved of her. Brett hadn’t admitted it outright, but he hadn’t denied it when she asked if that was the reason he had ended their relationship.

      Brett had known about her mother’s liaison with the prince’s equerry. Would things have been different if he had married her mother? Since he hadn’t, and since Annegret had wanted Brett to love her for herself rather than for her family background, she had accepted the situation with as much poise as possible. She had waited until she was alone to give way to tears over the injustice of being judged on a factor so far out of her control.

      In future she would think twice about becoming involved with a man—especially one so far out of her own social league. And if anyone had a problem with her background, she’d make sure to find out before her heart became involved.

      Still, she hadn’t expected to find herself enjoying a private dinner with Brett’s counterpart here. “Have you considered that I might use a friendship against you, Your Highness?” she asked the prince.

      He acknowledged her use of his title with a slight nod. “In my position, that’s always a possibility.”

      “Because you’d do the same thing yourself?” She didn’t really believe it, but she wanted to see his reaction. For her TV show, of course.

      He put his dessert fork down. “I don’t know who you’re mixing me up with, Annegret, but that’s not the way I operate.”

      “Yet you admit to being attracted to me, knowing that the terms of the Champagne Pact mean nothing can come of it.”

      “It doesn’t stop me from having friends, or feelings.”

      “Only from doing anything about them unless the woman has blue blood.” Abandoning any pretense to herself that the show was the reason she wanted Maxim to know where she stood, she decided to put all her cards on the table. See how fast Maxim lost his desire for her friendship then. “You may as well know that my biological father was merely a courtier to the prince of Ehrenberg.” She stretched her arm out on the pristine tablecloth, the delicate veins appearing close to the surface in the glow of candlelight. “See? Not a trace of blue blood.”

      Maxim slid his index finger over her upturned wrist, resting it a moment on her fluttering pulse. He suspected his own was just as fast. He told himself it was due to her confession that she hadn’t a trace of royal blood. Not that he had any intention of taking his interest in her further than friendship, he thought, before his hormones could kick in full strength. He suspected there was something else she wasn’t telling him.

      “It’s a myth that royal blood is blue,” he said, far more calmly than he felt.

      “So I’m told,” she stated flatly, withdrawing her arm. “It hardly matters, since my father never acknowledged my existence. He was equerry to Prince Frederick, Ehrenberg’s ambassador to Australia. My mother met my father when she worked at the embassy as a member of the diplomatic service. Soon after, she learned that she was pregnant, the prince was recalled to his country and my father went with him. She never heard from him again.”

      Annegret’s matter-of-fact tone couldn’t quite conceal the hurt he heard in her voice. She might like to be seen as tough, but she wasn’t, Maxim would bet on it. The hurt sounded raw enough to be on her own account, as well as her mother’s. Had some man left Annegret herself in the lurch, awakening echoes of her mother’s bitter experience?

      It hardly mattered to him, Maxim assured himself. He was attracted to her, but it didn’t mean he had to do anything about it beyond spending this evening in her company. For her sake and his own, he couldn’t afford to. The evening was probably a mistake, too, although he couldn’t make himself believe it.

      “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

      Her finger traced patterns on the linen tablecloth. “If we’re going to work together, you’re entitled to know something of my background.”

      She expected him to reject her because of what had happened between her mother and father, he saw with sudden insight.

      “You’d be surprised how much I already know,” he admitted, earning a raised eyebrow and a sudden wariness in her gaze. “You must have expected my security people to check out everyone on today’s guest list?”

      He could almost hear her thoughts whirring, hear her thinking, You’re attracted to me, knowing who and what I am?