How to Catch a Prince. Leanne Banks

help laughing. “You think?”

      Max frowned.

      “I’ll be all better tomorrow, so it won’t be an issue.”

      “Okay,” he said and his gaze held hers.

      With his outward expression of worry for her, she could almost think she was emotionally important to him. Could that be possible?

      Then he stepped away, and she immediately felt his absence.

      The nurse entered the room. “All ready?” the woman asked.

      Seconds later, a palace assistant appeared. “We’re ready to escort Miss Taylor away.”

      “Here are the instructions,” the nurse said, lifting them.

      Max snatched the sheet of paper. “Can you make an extra copy?”

      The nurse lifted her eyebrows. “Of course, sir.”

      Just a few moments later, Sophie was driven away from the hospital toward the palace with Max by her side. Sophie leaned her head back against the seat. “Those Devereauxes lead a different life.”

      She felt Max’s gaze on her. “What?” she asked, not opening her eyes.

      “Are you saying you would like to live like a royal?” he asked.

      She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I wouldn’t mind living like a royal every once in a while,” she said. “But not all the time. How’s that royal thing working out for you?”

      He frowned. “So far, no one is all that interested in me.”

      “That bothers you?” she asked.

      “Hell, no,” he said. “I think I understand my role with the Devereauxes. They’re happy to use my resources to improve their island, and they’re relieved I don’t want anything from them.”

      “You may be partly right, but after meeting the Devereaux sisters, they seem like caring people. If you gave them half a chance, you might enjoy a nice relationship with them,” she said.

      “I’m giving them a good road. I’m sure they’ll value that far more than being buddies with me.”

      “I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn about this,” she said.

      “Just because you wish you had brothers and sisters doesn’t mean I do,” he told her gently.

      “Deny, deny,” she retorted. “You’ll realize it eventually.”

      “My darling analyst/assistant, stop thinking about me, and focus on yourself.”

      The car entered the palace gates and stopped outside the side door of the palace.

      Sophie drew in a quick breath. “I think we’re here.”

      “Yeah, I guess we are,” Max said. “I think I should go inside with you.”

      Surprise rushed through Sophie. “Why? Do you really think they’re going to mistreat me?”

      Max frowned. “No, but—”

      “Didn’t you say I needed to start relaxing?” she asked, wishing she didn’t feel like she needed a nap.

      “I guess so,” he muttered.

      “Then that’s what I plan to do,” she said and accepted the driver’s hand as he helped her from the car.

      “I’ll walk you in,” he said.

      “Not necessary,” she said and shut the car door.

      Sophie awakened in the middle of the night and took a potty break. She returned to her bed, but a female staff member was waiting.

      “Can I help you with anything, Miss Taylor?”

      Startled, she nodded. “I’m fine, thank you.”

      “Very well. If you need anything, please call,” the woman said.

      Sophie nodded and climbed into bed. She didn’t know if she would ever adjust to palace staff. So far, they both surprised and alarmed her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She needed to rest so she could get back to her own apartment.

      She awakened the next morning, or afternoon … Sophie wasn’t sure which. Squinting her eyes, she glanced at her clock. Ten o’clock in the morning. How embarrassing. She couldn’t recall when she’d slept this late when it wasn’t due to a time-zone change.

      She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Standing in the spray, she absorbed the comfort and invigoration of the water. After several moments, she stepped out of the shower and rubbed a towel over herself.

      Pulling on a robe, she walked into her bedroom and found Pippa waiting for her at a small breakfast table. “Good morning,” the princess with the wild, wiry hair said. “I have a semi-American breakfast for you. Coffee, tea, eggs, prosciutto, croissants and marmalade. Does that sound good?”

      “Perfect,” Sophie said as she joined Pippa at the table. “It’s perfect. How did you know?”

      “I have an American husband,” Pippa said, lifting her cup of tea. “He considers our breakfasts quite wimpy. He requires meat or eggs. Or both. I swear, the man would eat steak for breakfast.”

      Sophie laughed. “Steak and eggs is a popular breakfast combo in the States, but I have to tell you that I’ve never eaten steak in the morning.”

      “So, it’s not all that usual?” Pippa asked. “Nic acts as if it’s an everyday occurrence for everyone.”

      “He’s definitely pulling your leg,” Sophie said and took a bite of scrambled eggs.

      “Pulling my leg?” Pippa repeated, clearly confused.

      “Fooling you,” Sophie said.

      Pippa frowned. “Is that so? Then I shall give him something horrid for breakfast. What do you suggest?”

      Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. Liver?”

      Pippa’s mouth lifted from a frown to a smile. “Excellent. Liver. Is there anything worse to your American taste?”

      Sophie searched her culinary memory. “Um, chitlins?”

      “What’s that?” Pippa asked.

      “Look it up on Google.”

      Pippa nodded while she clicked away on her cell phone’s keyboard. “That bad,” she said with a smile. “Let’s change conversation. How are you feeling this morning?”

      “Better,” Sophie said and took another bite of eggs followed by toast.

      “Dizzy at all?” Pippa asked, and took a bite of a crumpet.

      “No, thank goodness,” Sophie said.

      Pippa nodded. “That’s wonderful news. But we would be happy for you to stay here an extra night.”

      Sophie shook her head. “Not necessary.”

      Pippa sighed. “We’re always glad to have someone new and interesting at the palace. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

      “I may be new, but I’m not sure about interesting. Thanks for the invite, though. How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at Pippa’s pregnant belly.

      “Excited,” Pippa said, then frowned. “And uncomfortable. I’ve been told the baby has dropped. There’s no comfortable position.”

      “Sorry,” Sophie said. “How far along are you?”

      “Thirty eight weeks and two days,” she said.

      Sophie wondered if she was also recording the hours and minutes. “Hopefully, it won’t be much longer.”

      “Hopefully,” Pippa said