Affairs of State. Jennifer Lewis

she know that only made him more eager and determined? He walked slowly, knowing that to stalk any creature you need calm and patience, so you don’t spook it and lose your chance altogether. “My loss. I quite understand, though. I’m sure we can plan the fund-raiser over lunches and dinners here in D.C. Speaking of which, perhaps we can get back to breakfast? I suspect those brioche are holding up well and we can fumble a fresh pot of coffee together.”

      “That sounds perfect.”

      “Where have you been? I was trying to reach you all morning.” Scarlet’s voice exploded out of Ariella’s phone as she collapsed onto her living room sofa. She’d only just arrived home from her morning with Simon and felt very topsy-turvy. “We have to make a decision on the courses for the DiVosta dinner by four this afternoon so they can source the lobster and crab.”

      Ariella drew in a silent breath, glad her friend and business partner couldn’t see her right now. She was flushed and her eyes were glassy with overexcitement. “I’m sorry. I got…swept away.” That was the truth, at least. “I thought they decided on the stone crab.”

      “They want you to make the final choice.”

      “Then I’ve just made it.” She sat up. Gosh, she had so much to do. “Did the tablecloths arrive from Bali yet? I keep phoning DHL and they never seem to know what I’m talking about.”

      “Yup, they’re here. And worth the wait, as they’re absolutely stunning. Maybe I’ll have one turned into a dress afterward. I ordered the cases of Dom Perignon to be delivered to the venue. Their butler swears he’ll lock it all up for me so it won’t be drunk before the event. Hey, are you still there?”

      “Um, yeah. I’m here.” Her thoughts wouldn’t seem to cooperate. They kept filling up with visions of Simon’s handsome and deliciously determined face. Could she really not tell the person she saw every day about her royal adventure? “I just had breakfast with Simon Worth.”

      “Breakfast? It’s nearly three.” Trust Scarlet to breeze right over the part about the prince. Raised in D.C.’s most elite circles, she was hard to impress.

      “We had a lot to talk about.”

      “Francesca told me he approached you at last night’s event.” She sounded intrigued. “And you do have a lot in common. Both descended from heads of state, both lost their mother tragically young and both lamentably still single. Quick, tell me everything and I’ll still have time to call about the stone crabs by four.”

      She laughed. “There isn’t that much to tell. You pretty much summed it up. Except the single part. We didn’t talk about that.”

      “But you did kiss.”

      “Not even a peck.” She was a little disappointed about that. She’d braced herself for a decorous kiss when his driver dropped her off—the prince had accompanied her in the backseat, where they were hidden by tinted windows—but he’d simply held her hands for a moment, looked into her eyes and said goodbye. “He wanted to give me a pep talk. I think he’s going back to England later this week. He was in D.C. to sign some international pact to stop journalists from using illegal means to dig into our business.”

      “He must be madly in love with you.”

      “Are you nuts?” The idea of Simon even lusting after her did something strange to her stomach. At first she hadn’t been sure, but by the time he dropped her home she was feeling some pretty heady chemistry. Unless it was all in her head. “Why would he be interested in me?”

      “Because you’re brilliant, beautiful and fascinating. And now that your daddy is a head of state you’re eligible to be a royal bride. Wow. Just think, DC Affairs’ first royal wedding! Can we have it on the White House lawn? I think everything should be silver and ivory, with little royal crests engraved on the glasses.”

      “Your imagination is really running away with you. Being madly in love must be messing with your mind as none of that is even the slightest bit likely to happen.”

      “You’re right. I’d imagine Simon would need to get married in England. A royal procession in the mall down to Buckingham Palace. You in yards of lace and tulle…”

      “Stop! Now. I command you.” Part of her wanted to laugh. The rest was horrified by how easily Scarlet’s crazy vision came to life in her head. She must be losing her mind from all the stress she was under lately.

      “Regally imperious already, I see.”

      “I think I have enough problems in my life without starting an affair with a prince.”

      “I don’t know.” Scarlet sighed. “That’s the kind of problem most women would be happy to have.”

      “I don’t think so. Sure, the idea of living in a castle and dressing in designer clothes and eating banquets all day might sound nice….”

      “Don’t forget the pet unicorn.”

      “But the reality of being a modern royal is very different. It’s all smiling at opening ceremonies and photographers trying to get an unflattering picture of you in a bikini.”

      “Sad but true. And the queen is rather forbidding. I’m not sure I’d want her as my in-law.”

      “See? Being a royal bride is too much hassle. At the end of the president’s time in office he’ll go off to monitor elections in Turkmenistan and I’ll slip quietly back into obscurity and maybe get myself a friendly cat for company.” She realized she was pacing around her small apartment like a caged lion. She forced herself to sit on the sofa again.

      “Only eight years to go.” She laughed suddenly. “You’re not going to believe this. Or maybe you are. This headline just popped up on my screen: Prince Simon to extend fund-raising trip in D.C. I told you he’s besotted.”

      Ariella realized she’d sprung to her feet again. “He totally is not. He wants to plan a fund-raiser for his charity, World Connect.”

      “Fabulous! I can’t wait to add his name to our client list.”

      “I knew you’d say that.” She smiled. Then frowned. “I mentioned doing an outdoor concert, and soon, so it’ll be a lot of work.”

      “Work? We love work.” Scarlet sounded pleased. “Did you talk about dates?”

      “He’s flexible, so we can pick a date when the perfect venue is available. The more publicity, the better.” It was so odd to be courting publicity at work and shrinking from it at home. “I need to go to the gym.”

      “Why? You’re already perfect.”

      To work off some adrenaline so I don’t burst into flames. “It helps give me energy. And the way business is booming I need all the energy I can get.”

      “Well, congratulations on roping the prince into a party. Go pump some iron, lady, and I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

      In the old days, oh, six months ago, before her life exploded, she would have gone for a quiet jog around leafy Georgetown and maybe down to the Capitol. Now that reporters sniffed around her heels, she had to work up a sweat in the privacy of a high-security gym next to welltoned congresswomen and senators, just to preserve some privacy. Wearing headphones and focused on their fitness goals, they left her in peace. Something she’d had very little of lately.

      And now Simon Worth had decided to stay in D.C.

      Three

      How did a prince ask a girl on a date? The question kept Ariella awake late that night. The days of messengers delivering quill-penned invitations were over. Did His Majesty email it? Or was a discreet phone call possible in this age of rampant wiretapping?

      She cursed herself for wondering. If Simon called her again it would be a simple business meeting to plan his party. If he even still intended to do the fund-raiser. He probably wouldn’t want to see her again