high, she marched up the cobblestone path so afraid he was following her that her neck hurt from fighting the urge to look behind her.
When she reached her quarters, she breathed a sigh of relief, though her hands shook and her knees still wobbled.
Her mother awaited her on the sofa. “So how did it go?”
How did it go? In twenty seconds, he’d reduced her limbs to jelly, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get her heart to stop thumping.
“He doesn’t want to marry me. He says if we both say we want to step away from the marriage, that section of the treaty will be nullified.”
Her mother gasped. “Oh, no! Our family has disgraced our country enough! You have to do something to prove you’re still loyal enough to the crown to do your duty!”
She fell to the sofa beside her mom. “I know. I told him that.”
But convincing him of her duty was only part of her problem. One twenty-second kiss had thrown her for a loop. Made her feel hot and cold. Changed her breathing. Given her chill bumps. When she’d pictured marrying Dominic, the images were warm and sweet. When she thought of marrying Alex, the images became hot and steamy.
And, oh, dear God, she was not a hot and steamy girl.
“Our family has been respected as leaders of Grennady for centuries. But your father has put us in a precarious position. You cannot look weak or wishy-washy. You cannot walk away from a treaty mere weeks before you become queen. The press will crucify you. Your entire reign will be tainted.”
Eva’s brain tried to pay attention to her mom but couldn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about how experienced Alex was and how little she knew. How did a virgin please a playboy?
Her mother grabbed her hands. “You’ve got to marry Alex.”
Her chest filled with anxiety. There was no good option here. If she returned to her country without marrying Alex, it would appear she had no respect for treaties. If she married Alex, she was so far out of her depth she’d most likely make both of them miserable.
“I don’t think he’s going to give up on trying to get me to bow out.”
“Then you have to make him like you.”
Right. Leave it to her mom to reduce this to something that sounded simple but really wasn’t.
She took a breath. “How exactly do I do that?”
“Flirt. Compliment him. Women have been doing it for centuries.”
Every woman but Eva. In high school, she’d only dated boys who were friends. As an adult, she gone out with men who knew she was promised to a prince and would have thought it odd if she flirted. Worse, Alex had probably been flirted with by the best. If she got it wrong, or was clumsy, she’d make a fool of herself.
Still, she didn’t have options. She had to go through with this marriage. Plus, it would be months before the actual wedding. There was time to fix this. Time for him to get to know her. Time for her to learn to flirt.
She just had to stop being smart with him and treat him with respect—
And Google flirting.
* * *
The next morning at six, Alex’s phone rang. He groaned and rolled over, but when it rang again he recognized the ringtone as his father’s. He sat up, ran his hand down his face and snatched his cell from the bedside table.
“Yes, Father.”
“It’s me, sweet pea,” his stepmother Rose said cheerfully. “Your dad just realized that we never actually talked about the date for the wedding last night, and I thought it would be a good idea for all of us to have breakfast while we chat. So we can keep it light and friendly.”
“Great.”
“Great as in you will be there?” Without giving him a chance to reply, she said, “Thanks. You’re a love.”
She hung up the phone and Alex groaned again. The last thing he wanted to do was set a wedding date when he didn’t want to get married. But marrying a woman who would be a queen? Somebody who’d keep him in the papers for real reasons, not just his winning streaks at the casinos or his escapades with women? Oh, man. That sucked.
Marrying somebody he didn’t know because of a treaty was antiquated. Stupid. And he wouldn’t do it. It was crazy to even consider marrying Eva. No matter how pretty she was.
He rose from the bed trying not to think about how her cheeks turned pink when he teased her or how hot that one quick kiss had been.
Because it had been hot. Ridiculously hot. Kissing someone who clearly hadn’t been expecting to be kissed had been exciting. Challenging—
Hot. The hottest kiss he’d had in forever.
How long had it been since he’d had to woo a woman—
Damn it! He was thinking about her again. And he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her. He was supposed to be hatching a plan to get her to ditch this wedding.
He headed for the shower determined to get Eva out of his head, but what replaced her almost stopped his heart. The shadowy memory of his mom’s death. His father falling apart. An entire palace full of servants weeping silently as they went about their duties.
He sucked in a breath, banishing the images, but in their place came other, more difficult visions. Memories of being told that his girlfriend, the first woman he’d really loved, had been killed in a boating accident. Vivid recollections of the soul-crushing grief that consumed him for nearly two years.
The loss had been so difficult that as the memories hit, he rubbed his chest to salve the ache always came when he thought of Nina.
Five years had passed, and he had gotten beyond Nina’s death, so he told the images to go away. If his subconscious was reminding him of his mom and his first love because it was worried he could get feelings for Eva, it needn’t have bothered. There was no way in hell he’d fall for a woman just because a treaty said he should. His subconscious could rest easy.
But he knew a royal summons when he got one. He couldn’t refuse his father about this marriage. As a prince who’d very publicly enjoyed his royal lifestyle, he did not have the option of refusing. Eva had to refuse. Then he could tell his dad she was a virgin, and say he didn’t want to force an innocent young woman to marry him. He’d look like the good guy. And his dad would agree.
That was the plan that would work, and that was the plan he was sticking to.
He dressed in lightweight slacks, a pale blue dress shirt—no tie—and navy sport coat, and headed for his father’s elaborate quarters. He entered through the gold-trimmed doors into a foyer with high ceilings and Monet on the wall, and walked to the smaller dining room, the one his father used for informal breakfasts and lunches.
Rose immediately stood, raced to him and hugged him. After being without a mom since he was a boy, having her around was equal parts sweet and disruptive. Up until Ginny had gotten pregnant, this palace had been the home
