Affairs of State. Jennifer Lewis

      “Maybe I would tell all if I knew anything to tell.” She laughed. How could a foreign prince be so easy to talk to? She felt more relaxed discussing this whole mess with Simon than with her actual friends. “The situation surprised me as much as anyone. I always knew I was adopted but I never had the slightest interest in finding my biological parents.”

      “How do your adoptive parents feel about all this?” He leaned forward.

      Her chest contracted. “They died four years ago. A plane crash on their way to a friend’s anniversary party.” She still couldn’t really talk about it without getting emotional.

      “I’m so sorry.” Concern filled his handsome face. “Do you think they would have wanted you to get to know your birth parents?”

      She frowned and stared at him. “You know what? I think they would.” She sighed. “If only they were still here I could ask them for advice. My mom was a genius at knowing the right thing to do in a tricky situation. Whenever I run into a snarl at work I always ask myself what she would do.”

      “It sounds like a great opportunity to welcome two new parents into your life. Not to replace the ones who raised you, of course, no one could ever do that, but to help fill the gap they left behind.”

      His compassion touched her. And she knew his own mother had died suddenly and tragically, when he was only a boy, so he wasn’t just making this stuff up. “You’re sweet to think of that, but so far neither of them seems to want a relationship with me.”

      “You haven’t met them?” He looked shocked.

      She shook her head quietly. “The president’s office hasn’t even made an official statement about me, though they’ve stopped denying that I could be his daughter since the DNA test results became public.” She let out a heavy sigh. “And my mother…Can I swear you to secrecy?”

      “Of course.” His serious expression reassured her.

      “My real mother refuses to come out of hiding. She wrote to me privately, which I appreciate, but mostly to say that she wants to keep quiet about the whole situation. Weirdly enough, she lives in Ireland now.”

      “Does she?” He brightened. “You’ll have to come to our side of the Atlantic for a visit.”

      “She certainly didn’t invite me.” Her freshly baked scone was cooling in her fingers. Her appetite seemed to have shriveled. “And I can’t say I blame her. Who’d want to be plunged into this whole mess?”

      “She can hardly bow out now when she’s the one who had the affair with the president in the first place. Though I suppose he wasn’t the president, then.”

      “No, he was just a tall handsome high school senior in a letter jacket. I’ve seen the photos on the news like everyone else.” She smiled sadly. “She told me in her letter that she kept quiet about her pregnancy because he was going off to college and she didn’t want to spoil what she knew would be a brilliant career.”

      “She was right about his prospects, that’s for sure.” He poured her some fragrant coffee. “And maybe she needs time to get used to the situation. I bet she’s secretly dying to meet you.”

      “I’m quickly learning not to have expectations about people. They’re likely to be turned on their head just when I least expect it.”

      “You can’t get paranoid, though. That doesn’t help. I try to assume that everyone has the best intentions until they prove otherwise.” His expression made her laugh. It suggested they often proved otherwise but he wasn’t losing sleep over it.

      She didn’t know what to think about Simon’s intentions. She had a strong feeling that he didn’t invite her here to plan a party, but there was no way she could come out and ask him. Maybe he really did just want to give her a pep talk on how to deal with her unwelcome celebrity.

      “So I should try to approach everyone as a potential new friend, even if they’re trying to take a picture of me buying bagels in the supermarket?”

      “If you can. At the very least they won’t get a really bad picture of you and you won’t get in trouble for smashing their camera.” He managed to be mischievous and deeply serious at the same time, which was doing something strange to her insides.

      “Ever since your older brother got married the papers keep speculating about your love life, but I haven’t seen any stories about it. How do you keep your personal life out of the papers?” Uh-oh, now she was asking him about his love life, in a roundabout way. She regretted the question, but also burned with curiosity to see how he’d answer. Was he involved with anyone?

      “I have privacy.” He gestured at their elegant surroundings. “I just have to be cunning to get it.” His eyes shone. They were the color of neat whiskey, and were starting to have a similarly intoxicating effect on her. He had a light stubble on his cheeks, not dark, but enough to add texture under his cheekbones and she wondered what it would feel like to touch it. This was the private Simon the public didn’t see, and he’d invited her into his exclusive world.

      Her breathing had quickened and she realized she was still holding her uneaten scone in her hand. She put it down and had a sip of orange juice instead. That had the bracing effect she needed. “I guess I need to get more cunning, too. It must help to have friends with large estates.” She smiled. “It looks like it has a beautiful garden.”

      “Do you want to see it? I can tell you’re not exactly ravenous.”

      “I’d love a walk.” Adrenaline and relief surged through her. Anything to dissipate the nervous tension building in her muscles. “Maybe I’ll be hungrier after some fresh air.”

      “I already went for a run this morning. Just me and two Secret Service agents pounding the picturesque streets.” He stood and helped pull out her chair as she stood. Again she was touched by his thoughtfulness. She’d expect a prince to be more…supercilious.

      “Where are the agents now?”

      “Outside, checking the perimeter. They’ll keep a discreet distance from us.”

      “Oh.” She glanced around, half expecting to see one lurking in the corner. Simon opened a pair of French doors and they stepped out onto a slate patio with a view over a formal rose garden. The heady scent of rose petals filled the air. “You picked the perfect time to invite me here. They’re all in bloom.”

      “It’s June. The magic moment.”

      He smiled and they walked down some wide steps to the borders of roses. They were the fragrant heirloom roses, with soft white, delicate yellow and big fluffy pale pink heads, so different from the gaudy unscented blooms she sometimes dealt with for parties. She drank in their scent and felt her blood pressure drop. “How gorgeous. It must take an army of gardeners to keep them so perfect.”

      “No doubt.”

      She glanced up at him, instantly reminded of how tall he was. Six-two, at least. His broad shoulders strained against the cloth of his shirt as he bent over a spray of double pink blossoms. He pulled something from his pocket and snipped off a stem, then stripped the thorns.

      “You carry a knife?”

      “Boy Scout training.” He offered her the posy. Their fingers brushed and she felt a sizzle of energy pass between them before she accepted it and buried her nose in it. How could she be attracted to a British prince, of all people? Wasn’t her life crazy and embarrassing enough already? Surely she could at least develop a crush on a prince from some obscure and far-flung nation that no one had heard of, not one of her nation’s closest allies.

      “You’re very quiet.” His soft voice tickled her ear.

      “Thinking too much, as usual.” She looked up. The morning sun played on the hard planes of his face and illuminated the golden sparkle of her eyes.

      “That’s not always a good idea.” A smile