Prince Joe. Suzanne Brockmann

      “Two days is a breeze, Ronnie,” he said. “And I’ve decided if I’m the prince I can call you whatever I want, and I want to call you Ronnie.”

      “No, you most certainly will not!”

      “Why the hell not? I’m the prince,” Joe said. “It’s your choice—Ronnie or Honey. I don’t care.”

      “My Lord, you’re almost as incorrigible as Tedric,” Veronica sputtered.

      “‘My Lord,”’ Joe mused. “Yeah, you can call me that. Although I prefer ‘Your All-Powerful Mightiness.’ Hey, while I’m making royal decrees, why don’t you go ahead and give the serfs a day off.”

      He was laughing at her. He was teasing her, and enjoying watching her squirm.

      “You know, this is going to be a vacation for me, Ron,” he added. “Two days of prep is a cakewalk.”

      Veronica laughed in disbelief. How dare he…? “Two days,” she said. “You’re going to have to completely relearn how to walk and talk and stand and sit and eat. Not to mention memorizing all the names and faces of the aides and ambassadors and government officials that the prince is acquainted with. And don’t forget all the rules and protocols you’ll have to learn, all of the Ustanzian customs and traditions…”

      Joe spread his hands and shrugged. “How hard could it be? Give me a videotape of Tedric and half an hour, and you’ll think I’m the same guy,” he said. “I’ve gone on far tougher missions with way less prep time. Two days—forty-eight hours—is a luxury, sweetheart.”

      How could he think that? Veronica was so stressed out by the rapidly approaching deadline she could barely breathe.

      “Less than forty-eight hours,” she told him sharply. “You have to sleep some of that time.”

      “Sleep?” Joe smiled. “I just did.”