Mistress to the Prince (2 page)

“Hmm..not very interesting, huh?”

Tara
turned
and smiled, her dimples appearing as if by magic.  “Lacy
Margaret
isn’t interesting?”

Max shook his head
, enjoying the smile on her face
.  “Never met her.  She’s another one of my mother’s setups.”

“Well, be nice to this one,” she laughed.  “From what you told me about yesterday’s fiasco, you were bordering on rude.”

Max wasn’t immune to her dimples.  His body always reacted to her laughter because of those alluring dimples so he had to cough slightly to come up with a response. 
“If you’re referring to the Countess Sophia, I was being incredibly nice.  I warned her in advance of her annoying habits and I couldn’t help it when she ignored my warnings.”

“Yes, well, signing her up for nose surgery was really not gentlemanly.” 
Tara
shook her head, remembering Max telling her the next day about the conversation he’d had to have with his date who snorted when she laughed. 

“I’ll bet she does it though,” Max teased. 

Tara
tried to maintain her frown, but he was just too charming.  “I’ll bet she does too,” she said
grinning
, knowing that just about any woman would do anything to stay in the good graces of Prince Maximillian.  It could be nauseating at times, the lengths some women would go through to get his attention.

Tara
watched him flip through the notes she’d made on the report, admiring his long, slender fingers, his muscular forearms.  She knew that the immaculately tailored suit hid the body of an Adonis.  Max worked out in the gym
either
with trainers
, his military leaders, usually Sam Montrose who was the Minister of Defense and an expert at martial arts, or by himself
each morning for two hours and his body was packed with muscles.  The shoulders of his suit were not
padded by his tailor
.  In fact, his tailor probably had trouble finding enough cloth to cover those broad shoulders. 

Tara
’s eyes continued to travel up his face, admiring his square jaw and firm lips that could quote the most beautiful poetry or slice a man to shreds in a meeting if Max didn’t think the project
or information
had been up to
his exacting
standards. 
Tara
never wanted to be on the receiving side of one of those tongue lashings.  She liked her skin on her body, not shredded. 

Her eyes moved higher, noting the long lashes she had always been jealous of.  No man had the right to keep those lashes, she thought.  They belonged on a
girl. 

She realized too late that he was staring at her and quickly looked down at her computer, her cheeks warming under his gaze. 

“What did your father want to discuss with you?” she asked
quickly
, busily straightening her already perfectly neat desk. 

“My sex life,” Max teased, wanting to see her cheeks turn red again. 
He was curious about her long perusal and her reaction to him.  Interesting!

It worked. Her eyes widened and her face turned even redder.  “I’m sorry?” she
choked
. 

He grinned at her flustered response. 
“Well, more specifically, my lack of an heir but they all go together, in my mind at least.”

“Ah,” she whispered
, trying to banish the images his words produced in her head. 
Tara
knew he would have the most beautiful children.  How could he not?  He was definitely the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life
.  “And did you explain how actively you’re working on that project?”

“No.  I can’t lie to my father.”

Tara
didn’t understand.  “I thought you had a good time with Ms. Michaels last week.  She seemed very nice.”

Max shrugged his extremely large shoulders in indifference. 
“She was nice enough.  But not really my type.”

Tara
raised her eyebrows at his response. 
“I thought your type was female,” she laughed.  “What was Ms. Michaels lacking?”

“Personality.”

“She wasn’t nice?”

“Oh, she was very nice.  Pathetically nice.”

“Pathetically nice?  Is that possible?”

“Yes.  I’d like my wife to have a spine and o
pinions of her own.  I have my own
, she won’t need to adopt them to make me happy.”

Tara
sat down in her chair and pulled it closer to her computer, still chuckling at his answer. 
“Hmm…publish that in the paper and you’re likely to get a riot outside the palace,” she laughed. 

“I’m sure my mother would pick several out of the crowd and bring them in for a date with me,” he grimaced.

“I’m sure she would.”  They were interrupted by the phone ringing. 
Tara
picked it up and answered it professionally.  After only a moment, she nodded and then hung up the phone.  “You’re lunch meeting is waiting for you in the dining room.”

Max sighed and
pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against
.  Just once, he wished she’d slam down the phone
after
tell
ing
the caller that he was unavailable.  But then, he also wanted to kiss he
r until she cou
ldn’t answer the phone coherently.  Since he didn’t dare do that for fear of offending her
and risk losing her
,
he simply
nodded.  “I’ll be there shortly,” he said. 

“Have fun,” she called out to his retreating back.

“Who is it with?” he asked.

She glanced down at her
computer screen, still showing his calendar
. 
“The
Director of Security, Mike Daniels
.  You’re discussing
security and
environmental concerns over the
proposed coastal highway.”

Max eyed her sharply.  “You set this up, didn’t you?” he asked, knowing she had a soft spot for endangered species and pristine beaches. 

Tara
shook her head
, but couldn’t hide her grin
.  “No, but I didn’t turn him down when he called to request the appointment,” she said cheekily.  “At least it is over lunch and I made sure it was your favorite today,” she called. 

Max raised his eyebrows hopefully. 
“Steak and a beer?”

“Liver and onions,” she called out as he stepped out of the office.

Max poked his head back in at her words, “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, genuinely worried.

“Would I tease you?” she asked, her face serious.  “I thought you loved liver and onions.”

Max watched her for another long moment, not sure if she was kidding.  He hated liver and onions but he’d have to eat it if that was being served.  He couldn’t offend his guests by not eating
whatever was served
. 

He left, considering the idea of stopping in the kitchen to make sure it wasn’t liver and onions but several people caught him along the way and he was running late.  Max didn’t want to keep the
director
waiting.

Max let out a breath of anticipation when the lunch was served.  Seafood salad and rice pilaf allowed him to concentrate on the minister’s words.  But only to a point. He was slowly concocting ways to get back at his
saucy
secretary as soon as he got back to the office.  He’d make her sit through the union meetings, he decided.  That would be punishment enough for anyone, he smiled. 

The
security
minister must have thought Max was agreeing with him because he launched into a more detailed discussion on other issues and Max groaned inwardly.  Oh, yes. 
Tara
was definitely going to pay for this one. 

The meal finally ended and Max excused himself and headed back to his office.  Upon entering, he saw
Tara
’s hands hesitate on the keys before she continued to type. 

He walked up
to her desk
and leaned down so he was looking into her eyes.  “You’re going to pay for that one.  You understand that, don’t you?”

Tara
’s eyes widened in feigned innocence but when his stern expression didn’t alter, she burst into laughter. 

Max shook his head, trying to keep from laughing himself. 
“I don’t think you have the proper respect for my title, Ms. Jacobs,” he said, continuing with his stern expression.  “I have the perfect remedy for that though.”

Tara
finally gained control of her laughter, but just barely. 
“Oh, I’m sorry,
Your Highness
.  And you’re wrong.  I have just enough respect for you and your title.  And I’m willing to prove it,” she said, standing up and bowing carefully.
`

Max
stood up, crossing
his arms over his chest and watched her mock him.  He also received a delightful glimpse of the upper curves of her breasts when she bowed low and her silk shirt fluttered open slightly. 

“A female curtsies,” he explained and rolled his eyes.  “A man bows.  So again, how are you going to prove your respect?”

Tara
sat back down in her chair and shook her head.  “Sorry, no curtsies.  I’m not that coordinated.  What would satisfy you?” she asked and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with merriment. 

Several ideas came to mind on how she could satisfy him but none were appropriate at the moment.  He cleared his throat and focused on his previous idea for punishment.  “You’re going to sit through these afternoon meetings with me.  And you’ll take notes and keep these men in line.  They’d never get rowdy when a lady is present.”

Tara
was shaking her head at his first mention of the interminably long meetings with the union representatives. 
“Oh,
Your Highness
, please.  Not those meetings.  They are scheduled for the rest of the afternoon!”

Max just shook his head, showing he wasn’t going to relent this time. 
“Sorry, you’re punishment,” he said and walked away.
  He didn’t mention that he would
enjoy
staring at her legs for the afternoon, which would help him get through the boring and probably hostile meetings.  The thought perked him up instantly. 

The phone rang and their small period of levity was over for the rest of the day.  It was usually extremely busy in his office but
Max trusted that all the important information was filtering up to him. 
T
ara
had a wonderful way of
controlling the chaos
and managing the problems so only the most important
issues
reached his desk.  She was usually able to resolve most issues before they became a problem and he loved that about her.  Her
predecessor
would bring everything to him and Max sometimes became frustrated trying to delegate issues to others. 

Max left the meeting with the union representatives and headed straight into the negotiations with the mechanics. 
He realized a little too late that it might have been an error to have
Tara
sit in on the meetings all afternoon.  His gaze kept straying to her long legs that were crossed demurely as she sat in the chair next to him.  Each time she moved, his focus was distracted from the discussions to her legs and he had to force himself to concentrate on the conversation again. 
He was sure he missed several pertinent topics during those periods.