The Prince's Waitress Wife. Sarah Morgan

      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.