Tall, Dark & Royal. Leanne Banks

the most critical matters. Welcome to the Windy City.” At her puzzled look, he clarified, “Welcome to Chicago.”

      “Thank you, sir.”

      “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”

      His insistent hospitality disconcerted her. “Quite sure, sir. Thank you.”

      He nodded and picked up a phone. “Then I’ll tell security to get you a cab.”

      “Oh, that’s not necessary, sir. I can do that.”

      “I’m sure you can, but my protocol won’t allow me to send a young lady visitor out into the streets of Chicago without transportation to her destination.”

      A gentleman? A secret warmth slid through her. She’d been surrounded by so many men more concerned with their own self-importance that she almost didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured as he gave instructions to the security attendant.

      Daniel led her to the door and opened it for her. “Why does your accent sound British?” he asked.

      “Although I attended Swiss boarding schools, the headmistresses were British.”

      “Your bearing is similar to my mother’s,” he said.

      “I take that as high praise, sir,” she said. “I attended the same boarding school she did years earlier. Princess Emma has always been much beloved and admired by the people of Altaria.”

      “Even though she gave up her title to marry a rough American upstart?” he asked with a sly, yet appealing grin.

      “She may have officially given up her title as princess, sir, but she is always a princess in the hearts of Altarians.”

      He chuckled. “You’re very good. Are you sure you’re not a public relations specialist?”

      “Knowledge of public relations is required for my position, sir. As I told you, however, part of my job is to learn what pleases you so you will feel at home in Altaria.”

      “I’m not hard to please. A Bulls game and a Chicago hot dog, and I’m happy.”

      Erin blinked, trying to imagine the palace chef preparing a Chicago hot dog. Whatever it was. “I’ll make note of it, sir.”

      “I’m sure you will. Good night.”

      Daniel winced as he listened to his voice mail messages two days later. Three of them were from Erin Lawrence. He remembered what a prim but curvy little package she’d been. She was so proper, his contrary mind couldn’t resist visualizing her stripped of her perfect manners and clothes. Daniel had also noticed, however, that while Miss Lawrence was a babe, she also gave the impression of innocence, forbidden fruit.

      He hadn’t deliberately pushed her aside, but his transition from Vice President of Marketing at Connelly Corporation to King of Altaria had him swamped. To ensure continuity of succession, the successor to a monarch was normally required to be present immediately, so it seemed odd that the foreign minister had told Daniel they weren’t quite ready for him yet. Daniel decided to bide his time with his questions. He had plenty to do with the loose ends he had to tie up in Chicago and the preparations he needed to make for Altaria.

      Glancing at his packed-to-the-brim schedule on his electronic organizer, he saw that dinner was clear and punched out the telephone number for Erin’s hotel. “Daniel Connelly here,” he said when she answered the phone.

      “Thank you for calling, Your Majesty,” she said in a proper, but well-modulated tone. Daniel wondered what it would take to ruffle her perfect poise. He wondered what kind of underwear she wore, but pushed the thought aside.

      “Sorry it took so long. I’ve been swamped, and today’s not much better. Can you join me for dinner? I’ll order pizza and we can meet at my place.”

      A long paused followed.

      “Problem?”

      “No, sir,” she said, her voice clearly reluctant.

      “I hear ‘problem’ in your voice, Miss Lawrence,” he said, feeling a twitch of impatience.

      “What is it?”

      “I’m just trying to determine the propriety of my giving you a protocol lesson in your private quarters, sir,” she replied.

      “Didn’t you tell me earlier that you wanted privacy?” he asked.

      “Yes, sir, but—”

      “Do you need a chaperone or something?”

      “Absolutely not, sir,” she said with a trace of defiance in her voice. “I’ll meet you for dinner. What time?”

      “Make it late,” he said. “Seven-thirty.”

      “Very good sir. I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”

      Daniel hung up the phone and groaned aloud just as the door to his office pushed open to reveal his brother, Brett.

      “How’s it going, YM?” Brett asked and cracked a half-grin. “The king stuff getting to you already?”

      Daniel threw his brother a dark look. “YM?”

      “Short for Your Majesty,” Brett said. “The press is sniffing around big-time. They all want an interview, but I should be able to hold them off a little longer.”

      Born with a silver tongue, Brett had been the perfect choice for Vice President of Public Relations for Connelly Corporation. He not only reveled in the ability to work the press to the advantage of Connelly Corporation, he also enjoyed his single playboy status to the max—something Daniel had grown weary of during the past couple of years.

      “You think Justin is ready for the world of marketing?” Brett asked.

      Their straitlaced brother Justin was steady and responsible and more than willing to climb the Connelly Corporation corporate ladder. “Justin will do a great job replacing me or he’ll die trying,” he said.

      “All of us will miss you, but—”

      “—but don’t let the door hit me on my way out,” Daniel said with a wry chuckle. Whether the game was sports or business, there’d always been a friendly combination of camaraderie and competition among the Connelly males.

      “You’ve done a terrific job,” Brett said. “Don’t get me wrong. But I always got the impression you wanted something different. You think this is it?”

      Surprised at his brother’s insight, Daniel nodded. “It’s got to be. I have to believe fate is at work here. I always wanted to make a difference, not necessarily in the textile world.”

      “Those Altarians are damn lucky to get you,” Brett said.

      “I don’t know about that. I get the feeling the foreign minister isn’t dying for me to move in. He’s been slow to send information I’ve requested, but he did send his daughter,” Daniel said, unable to mask a slight grimace.

      “Daughter? What for?”

      “Royal protocol.”

      Brett blinked, then barked with laughter. “She’s going to try to teach you everything you tried not to learn from Mom.”

      “And more, I’m sure,” Daniel said, and waved his hand. “I really don’t have time for this right now, but I don’t want to be rude.”

      “What’s she like?”

      “Prim and proper,” Daniel said, then added, “with killer curves.”

      Brett’s mouth lifted in a wolfish grin. “Then maybe there will be some fringe benefits with the lessons, after all.”

      Although the prospect of intimately exploring Erin’s curves tempted the hell out of him, Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve never