Heiress's Royal Baby Bombshell. Jennifer Faye

you don’t want to be photographed with a prince?”

      She glanced away and shrugged. The ramifications of the photo would be catastrophic once her pregnancy became known. Until she had a plan for this baby, she didn’t want to make any more mistakes, especially where the public was concerned.

      He laughed. “Do you know how refreshing you are?”

      He was amused? Her lips pressed together into a firm line. She didn’t know what there was to be smiling about, but then again, he didn’t know about the baby.

      She lifted her chin. “I don’t care to be laughed at.”

      “I’m not laughing at you.” His amusement faded. “I think you’re amazing.” As though her lack of response went unnoticed, he said, “Most women I’ve met would fall over themselves to have dinner with me. But not you. Which makes me that much more determined to see you again. In fact, I’m not leaving here until you agree to have dinner—no strings attached.”

      “Not tonight.” She wanted to clear her head—and do an internet search.

      He arched a dark brow. “I have the feeling if I let you get away tonight that there won’t be another chance for us to get together. You’ll always have an excuse. And I can’t stay here forever—no matter how tempting that may be.”

      “I promise we’ll do it another time.”

      “Must I beg, ma chérie?”

      “You speak French?”

      He nodded. “French and Italian as well as English. Ostania is situated near France, Italy and Switzerland. We speak French but it’s heavily influenced by the surrounding countries. I could tell you more about my country over dinner.”

      It wasn’t his country that she was interested in learning more about. And they did have much to discuss. Her hand instinctively moved in the direction of her tiny baby bump, but she caught herself in time and lowered her arm to her side.

      “If you’re worried about privacy, we can have dinner at my condo.” A hopeful look reflected in his eyes.

      “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

      He nodded. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

      She didn’t miss the part of a wealthy, devastatingly handsome prince begging her to have dinner with him. But as much as she wanted to spend more time with him, there was another part of her that worried about what would happen when he learned of the baby. Would he reject her? Would he reject his own flesh and blood? Or would he try to take the baby from her? The thought of it sent a chill through her.

       Proceed with caution.

      The only way she would find the answer to any of these questions was if she were to do as he asked and dine with him. Not sure if it was the right decision or not, she said, “Okay. I’ll have dinner with you.”

      He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll send a car for you at seven.”

      She shook her head. “I can drive.” And then she recalled that she’d left her car back in the village. “Except my car is still in the village.”

      “I’ll send my car. And if you give me your keys, I’ll make sure your car is picked up and waiting for you at my condo.”

      That would be convenient, but it would also make her an easy target for the paparazzi. And she wasn’t ready to be a headline on every gossip site.

      She checked the time on her phone. “You may send your car for me at...seven fifteen.” That should give her just enough time to sort through her purchases to find something appropriate to wear and do an internet search. “Does that work for you?”

      Both his brows rose. She wasn’t sure if he was surprised that she hadn’t fallen all over herself to do as he wanted. If that’s what he expected of her, he was in for a surprise. With a baby on the way, she had to stand firm and speak up when necessary.

      Max gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you then.” He turned for his vehicle. A few steps later, he paused and turned back. “Is there anything specific you would like for dinner? Perhaps something you’ve been craving?”

      Craving? Did he know about her pregnancy? She sucked in her stomach. As he continued to stare at her with an expectant look on his face with no hint of suspicion, she realized he’d meant nothing by his choice of word.

      She shook her head. “Anything is fine. I’m not a picky eater.”

      That response rewarded her with another surprised look on his face. Apparently the prince wasn’t used to women who weren’t picky. She wondered just what sort of women he normally dated, but she resisted the urge to ask.

      “I’ll pick something special.” He turned and walked away.

      The desire to run in the house and head straight to her computer was overwhelming, but she restrained herself. She waited until he was inside his vehicle before she let herself in the chalet. With the door shut, her movements became rushed. She threw off her hat and coat before kicking off her snowy boots. And then she took the steps two at a time.

      She grabbed her laptop from the desk and threw herself down on the bed. Her fingertips moved rapidly over the keyboard. Maybe it wasn’t right snooping on the internet, but now that she knew her baby’s daddy was a famous royal, she had to learn more. From her own dealings with the paparazzi, she knew most of the articles would be fiction or wildly exaggerated. But that didn’t stop her from looking—

      Noemi’s breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of headlines splashed across the screen that were worse than she’d allowed herself to imagine. In fact, with photos to back up the headlines, she wondered if she’d been wrong about Max.

       “Twin Blonde Bombshells for the Prince!”

       “Prince Maximilian with Woman Number Five in as Many Evenings!”

       “The Playboy Prince Strikes Again!”

       “Prince Max and His Harem!”

      Disheartened, Noemi closed her laptop. She’d thought the night their baby was conceived that they’d shared something special. She never imagined that she was just one more notch on his bedpost. The thought hurt—a lot.

      She placed her hand upon her midsection. “What have I gotten us into?”

       CHAPTER THREE

      MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T have pushed. After all, he wasn’t a man to beg for a woman’s company—until now. What was it about Noemi that had him acting out of character? Was it her dazzling smile? Her bewitching eyes? Or her sweet, sweet kiss?

      As Max sat at the desk in his bedroom suite, he gave himself a mental shake and tried to concentrate on the plethora of emails awaiting his attention. He checked the clock for what must be the hundredth time. It still wasn’t even close to when Noemi was due to arrive. He sighed.

      He may not be at the palace, but that didn’t mean his responsibilities ceased to exist. In fact, he was beginning to think his parents gave him more than his fair share of work to make sure he didn’t stray too far from the business of governing Ostania.

      He still had two hundred and seventy-nine unopened emails. He groaned. How was that possible? He’d checked his email last night because he knew he’d be traveling most of today. He’d had it semi under control, but not any longer.

      He wished his email was like other people’s and full of spam that he could readily dismiss. However, his email was directed through the palace, where it went through stringent screenings. That meant all two hundred and seventy-nine emails would need to be dealt with personally or would require forwarding to someone else with directions.