Falling for the Princess by Sandra Hyatt

“How much longer will this go on?”
    â€œIt’ll get faster now. The next few speakers aren’t quite so fond of the sound of their own voices.”
    He stifled a yawn. “That woman in the front row, the one with the enormous hat.”
    Rebecca knew instantly who he was referring to. Her hat, smothered in apricot silk roses, was possibly the largest sun hat she had ever seen. And she’d seen a lot of hats. The two people seated on either side of her were leaning subtly outward to avoid hitting it. “Mrs. Smythe-Robinson. She loves all things royal, knows more about us than I do even, and her second love is gardening.”
    â€œI thought maybe she was planning on making a run for it, that the hat was camouflage. You know, crouch down amongst the bushes and tiptoe for the exit.”
    Rebecca stifled her smile at the thought of the portly Mrs. Smythe-Robinson, a stickler for protocol, doing any such thing.
    â€œBut if she’s not going to use it, I say we do. I’ll create a diversion, you get the hat, it’s big enough for both of us, and we make a run for it.”
    Laughter hiccupped within her. She oughtn’t to be laughing. These things were not supposed to be funny. But it was such a change to be sitting with someone who didn’t take them seriously and didn’t even pretend to.
    â€œI thought you needed to be seen with my father.”
    â€œPhotographers snapped us arriving together. Your father’s here. The right connections will be made.” A slide show, set to orchestral music, began playing on the screen to the side. “What do you say? On three?” he asked.
    She focused on her duties, her responsibilities—now was not the time to let him distract her. “There’s a ribbon to cut.”
    He sagged back into his seat. “The ribbon cutting is your job, I take it?”
    She nodded. “It’s a hereditary role.” And she didn’t need to ask how insignificant that would look to someone who ran a multinational corporation he’d founded after dropping out of college. “I took over after my mother died.” The mother whose grace and warmth had added elegance to whatever she did. The mother who’d died when Rebecca was a child.
    His hand closed around hers. Was that sympathy? “Soyou’re pretty handy with knives and scissors,” he said half a minute later.
    â€œJust some of my many talents. Timing is very important.”
    â€œDon’t belittle your skills or responsibilities. I know you work with schools and hospitals and that both the local fashion and tourist industries credit you with their recent upsurges in business, and that The Princess Foundation has raised a huge amount of money to benefit many charities.”
    â€œI do my job.”
    â€œYou do. And you do it well. And I owe you an apology.”
    â€œAn apology?” She smiled. “That’s not a word I’d have thought would often pass your lips.”
    He matched that smile, his own wry. “It’s not. Because I try never to be in the wrong. And generally I’m successful. But I came here with preconceived notions of royalty and I let them color my opinion of you. I even said as much to you. Which you took with remarkably good grace. Which made it all the worse as I came to realize how wrong I was. So, yes, I apologize.”
    â€œThank you.” What else could she say?
    â€œThere’s that good grace again. The one that almost makes me feel worse. You could try gloating?”
    â€œGloating’s not really my style.”
    â€œI’ve noticed. It’s one of the many things I admire about you.”
    â€œAre you up to something? Is there an agenda here I’m not seeing?”
    Logan laughed. “Not at all. It’s just…you’re different from any other woman I’ve known. And I have to admit I like those differences. The whole serenity thing you