Arne hit the ground running the second his jet landed. His jaunt to London was the calm before the storm that was the Royal Announcement Concert, as the press had dubbed it.

“Someone is going to have to define ‘technical difficulties’ a lot more precisely for me if we’re going to solve these problems by Friday,” he said on the phone to Sven at the arena as his bodyguard escorted him across the tarmac to the royal family’s private waiting room.

“No one is defining it because it’s more than one thing,” Sven said, though with all the noise from the airport, Arne could barely hear him,

“Well, put together a short list for me, and we’ll deal with one thing at a time. This concert has to be right. My family is depending on it, and they mean everything to me.”

“Yes, Your Highness, of course,” his contact said.

“Thank you, Sven,” Arne added quickly. “You’re doing a good job under trying circumstances.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Sven answered, sounding appeased.

Arne ended the call as the representative from the airport rushed him through the door and into the relative quiet of the royal waiting room. He shook his head as he mounted the stairs to the heart of the lounge, where his mother, Dr. Hayes, Cassandra Hayes, his Aunt Marina, and most of his brothers were already assembled. The problems at the arena didn’t sit right with him. They’d never had problems putting on a concert before. The mystery of it all was as irritating as the troubles themselves.

And yet, with all that on his mind, he’d spent his entire time in the air thinking of the woman at the bar at Heathrow. He’d made more than a few massive mistakes with her. Massive mistake number one was that he hadn’t asked her name. At any point during their conversation. It was an amateur mistake. Massive mistake number two was that he hadn’t asked for her phone number. His mystery woman was part of Fuchsia’s entourage, which meant she’d be landing in Aegiria any moment now, but without her phone number, it would be that much harder to reconnect with her. He was determined to do it, though.

“You look as put out as I feel,” his Aunt Marina greeted him with a kiss on each cheek as he blended into the waiting crowd of his family.

“It’s nothing,” Arne answered, kissing her back. “Just that there’s something going on with the concert venue, some kind of technical problems, but no one seems to know what exactly they are, so I can’t solve them.”

Marina made a frustrated noise. “If you ask me, the arena probably just lost the will to go on, considering the act it has to put up with.” She sneered and shook her head, then shot a sideways look to where Cassandra and Dr. Hayes were having an animated chat with the queen. “You really couldn’t convince them to abandon this ridiculous plan to let a gaudy American perform in favor of our own national talent?”

“We do have our own national talent performing before Fuchsia,” Arne argued, watching as a bright pink jet made its approach in the clear, blue sky. It was enough to leave him gaping at American audacity.

“The Solrighavn Children’s Choir is nothing more than a token,” Marina went on. She saw the jet and groaned.

“We also have that tenor, John Larson,” Arne pointed out, crossing his arms, his eyes fixed on the jet. “And the groups that won the television contest.”

Marina made a scoffing sound. “They’re nothing compared to the Aegirian Royal Orchestra.”

Across the room, Dr. Hayes nudged his daughter and said, “There she is, sweetheart! She’s landing. Fuchsia will be here any minute now.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes and laughed. “Dad, calm down. I only ever said I liked Fuchsia’s music. You’re acting like I’m some teenage fangirl.”

Dr. Hayes laughed with her. “I know, I know, but you’ll always be my little girl, my little sweet pea.”

“Dad.” Cassandra’s cheeks went pink, but the affection between the pair was obvious.

“My pumpkin angel?”

“Dad, stop.”

Dr. Hayes chuckled. The queen gazed at him in adoration.

Marina rolled her eyes.

“If our mother and father could see the kind of cretins my sister is letting into this family, they’d roll over in their graves,” she murmured.

“I was under the impression that Great-Grandpa Gustav liked Americans,” Arne said.

Marina snorted.

“If my memory of history serves, he worked with them during the Second World War to set up a haven for American spies, even though Hitler’s forces occupied the island.”

Marina sent him a sidelong look. “Those were different times. They did what they could back then.”

“Isn’t that what Mother is doing?”

“By marrying a cartoon character?” Marina arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s hardly working to defeat a hostile enemy.”

“You’re just jealous because that thing you had with Herman Lindqvist last year fell apart,” Arne teased her.

Marina’s face pinked, and she snapped her eyes forward, watching as Fuchsia’s plane taxied across the tarmac. “There was no thing, as you put it,” she insisted. “Herman and I were only ever friends. You know I have too many royal duties to attend to for love.”

Arne grinned at her, not believing a word his aunt said. Marina had never married, but since her eighteenth birthday, she’d been burning up the scandal sheets in Aegirian newspapers with her affairs. And while she’d slowed down once she passed fifty, Arne didn’t believe for a second that she’d taken herself permanently off the market. In fact, he wasn’t even sure the fling with Lindqvist was over or whether his aunt had taken it underground after a streak of bad press coverage.

“Should we go down now?” Dr. Hayes asked at the other end of the room as Fuchsia’s plane came to a stop, not far from where the royal jet was parked. “I can’t wait to meet her. I mean, for Cassie to meet her. Do I look okay? I didn’t cut myself shaving today, did I?”

“You look lovely, dear,” Viktoria said, resting a hand on his arm.

“Ugh.” Marina made a face. “I know you’re just going to call me a snob, but I can’t stand to see the way my sister fawns all over that man and his daughter. I mean, that girl is a nobody. She’s just a masseuse.”

Arne chuckled. “I am going to call you a snob, but I’m not going to blame you for it.” Women of Marina’s age, who’d grown up at the end of the old school of European royalty and nobility, had a way of clinging to the past. “Although I wish you’d rethink the whole thing.”

Marina turned to him with a look of shock. “A masseuse!” She sniffed. “Really. I thought you, more than any of your brothers, had better taste than that.”

“I would never marry her,” Arne said. “But it’s not up to me who Mother marries.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t do more to dissuade her.” Marina crossed her arms.

Outside, the ground crew and royal security were gathering around the jet, readying for Fuchsia’s arrival. A bus full of journalists and photographers pulled up as well.

“Do you think Mother would have listened to a thing I said in regards to her marriage?” Arne asked. “I made my opinion as clear as I could.”

Marina pursed her lips. “You could have tried harder.”

“Should we go down now?” Cassandra broke away from the window, heading for the stairs, where half a dozen bodyguards and members of security waited.

“As soon as the ground crew tells us it’s safe,” Viktoria said, taking Dr. Hayes’s arm and following her.

Marina let out one more frustrated growl and rolled her eyes as she and Arne joined the family. Arne offered his arm, and when Marina took it, he patted her hand consolingly. “You’ll never do anything so foolish as to get involved with an American, will you?”

Arne nearly missed a step. His thoughts flew back to his mystery woman from Heathrow. She was American, and she was about to get off the jet in front of him. He was determined to ask her name this time, get her phone number, and invite her out for supper. Although, if he were wise, he’d do it without Marina knowing about it.

Emma took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back into her Fuchsia posture, chest out, everything on display, and stepped into the jet’s doorway. She’d made an entrance a thousand times before, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from raging in her stomach. She raised one gloved and glittered hand and waved to the small bank of reporters and photographers who’d come to greet her, and to the even smaller group that must have been the Aegirian royal family. Her wide, beaming smile was exactly the opposite of the anxiety knotting her stomach.

“Hello, Aegiria!” she called, her voice half an octave higher than her usual speaking voice.

She started down the stairs that had been rolled up to the side of the jet, clutching the railing and praying that she wouldn’t take a tumble in her stupidly high heels. As soon as she reached the tarmac, she let out a breath of relief.

Three seconds later, she sucked that breath back in again. The royal contingent that had come to greet her was elegant and distinctive. The queen was tall and beautiful. The man holding her arm was decidedly less so, and the younger woman bouncing up and down beside him was everything that Emma had come to expect from Fuchsia’s die-hard fans. There was a handsome assortment of men flanking the queen—her sons, the princes, if everything she’d read to prepare for her concert was right. But what could have knocked Emma over with a feather was that her mystery man, the hot guy from Heathrow, was right there with the rest of him.

He was the only one not looking at her. Everyone else smiled at her and watched her with expectation as she moved cautiously forward, but her handsome stranger was busy watching the door of the jet. Emma had half a mind to glance over her shoulder to see what he was looking for, but in her heart, she knew. He was looking for her. The other her. The real her.

“You guys the royal family?” Hoss burst into the scene, rhinestones flashing in the sunlight, dousing both the butterflies in Emma’s stomach and any hope she had that the encounter would go well.

The other, older woman in the group—who bore a distinct resemblance to the queen—groaned.

Hoss singled her out with a glare in no time flat. “You got a problem, missy?”

The woman snapped straighter, gaping. “I…I don’t know how to begin to answer that.”

“Allow me to introduce everyone,” one of the princes stepped forward, voice raised, to stop the situation from blowing up any harder. He assumed a supremely formal stance, then said, “May I introduce Her Majesty, Queen Viktoria II of Aegiria.” He gestured to the queen, whose smile was full of kindness and magnanimity.

“Your majesty,” Emma said, taking a step forward, her hand outstretched to greet the queen. “How do you—”

She only managed a few words before one of her ridiculous heels caught on the hem of her long, shimmery, mermaid-like dress. She spilled forward. It was her luck that she’d tripped on her costumes so many times she’d become an expert at recovering, but before she could get her balance, she grabbed the queen’s arm and pulled her off-balance.

In an instant, four different bodyguards rushed her. As soon as the royal bodyguards moved in on her, her own bodyguards advanced on them. The net result was that within seconds, what had started out being a simple royal greeting turned into what looked like the beginnings of an international incident.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” Emma laughed, more out of pure, freakish nerves than because she thought the situation was remotely funny. “Looks like I don’t have my land legs again yet.”

Hoss roared with way more laughter than the situation warranted. The woman who must have been the queen’s sister made a miserable sound.

The young woman standing on the other side of the queen laughed as well and said, “It’s all right. You’re wonderful.”

“You’re too kind,” Emma told her, then turned to the queen. She had what felt like twenty layers of make-up, glitter, and rhinestones on her face, but she was certain everyone could see her blushing all the same. “I am genuinely sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” the queen said, gracious, but with a hint of distaste. “I think we’ve all worn gowns that don’t get along with our shoes from time to time. Isn’t that right, Marina?” She glanced to her sister.

Emma’s embarrassment grew. The queen had noticed why she tripped. Which meant she might be able to see through the glitz and the glamor to tell that Emma was completely out of her depth every time she put on Fuchsia. But it was her mystery man’s reaction she worried about the most.

Only, he didn’t appear to have noticed the flub at all. He was still studying the jet and the members of Fuchsia’s entourage as they deplaned.

The man who had introduced the queen cleared his throat and continued. “I am Crown Prince Aleksander, this is my aunt, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marina.”

“How do you do?” Emma tried to drop into a curtsy, which must have looked painfully clumsy.

“My brothers, Prince Arne, Prince Kristoff, Prince Mikael, Prince Viggo, and Prince Johannes.”

Emma barely heard any of the names after Arne. That was him, the man she’d passed the time with at Heathrow. Prince Arne of Aegiria. No wonder he hadn’t gone out of his way to figure out who she was, if he even had a clue to begin with. As a prince, he must have been the sort who was thrilled when he wasn’t recognized. Just like she was.

But no sooner did she take his hand in greeting than she was forced to move on and shake Prince Kristoff’s hand, and then the others. There wasn’t so much as a flash of recognition in Prince Arne’s eyes as he took her hand, and as soon as she’d moved on, he’d gone back to staring at the jet.

Well, she thought to herself, trying to force her attention back to the meetings at hand, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about breaking her contract and revealing who she was.

“And these very special people over here,” Prince Alek continued, “are Dr. William Hayes and his daughter, Cassandra.”

Emma did her best to stay in character as she moved to meet the man she wasn’t supposed to know was engaged to the queen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted Dr. Hayes and his daughter with her widest Fuchsia smile. “It’s always nice to meet other Americans abroad.”

“Yeah,” Hoss interrupted behind her. “We’re the only folks that make any sense over here in this crazy place.” He followed his comment with a raucous belly laugh.

Emma wanted to sink into the tarmac with embarrassment, but she had to soldier on. “You’ve got a beautiful country here. I was mesmerized looking at it from the air.”

“It’s even better from the ground,” Prince Alek said.

“Surely we can arrange for you to take a tour at some point,” Queen Viktoria said. “Before our very special concert on Friday.” She sent a fond look to Dr. Hayes, who gazed back at her as though the sun rose and set by her command.

Emma’s heart squeezed in her chest. She loved seeing love stories like that. It reminded her of her parents, although her Mom and Dad were about as far from European royalty as anyone could get. All the same, watching Queen Viktoria and Dr. Hayes exchange looks gave her hope that the trip wouldn’t be as much of a disaster as the first meeting had been.

Those hopes teetered when Hoss clapped his hands together and said, “Right. Let’s get this royal show on the road. Where’s Fuchsia’s fans? We signed on for a photo opportunity, and we plan to get everything we deserve out of the whole thing.”

“Right this way, ma’am.” One of the black-suited men who had been hovering at the edge of the gathering stepped forward, gesturing for Fuchsia to follow him.

As Emma let herself be led off toward the cluster of reporters who had been snapping pictures since she appeared in the jet door, she glanced over her shoulder at Prince Arne. He was still watching the jet’s door, only now he wore a puzzled frown. Deep down inside, Emma wanted to stop everything to go back to him and have a private word. She wasn’t allowed to reveal who she was, but if Prince Arne figured it out, and if he kept his mouth shut about it, that was a whole other kettle of fish.

“Let’s get a pic with Fuchsia and the royal family,” one of the reporters called out.

The rest agreed, and Emma was redirected back toward the royal family. She felt like an empty bottle tossed on stormy seas, but she went along with it, all the while sneaking peeks Prince Arne.

They all posed for pictures for what felt like forever. Things like that were tedious at the best of times, but when it was suggested that Fuchsia pose with each of the princes individually, Emma saw her chance.

She smiled and waved her way through most of the pictures, but as soon as she was standing next to Prince Arne, she said, “I hear you met my…assistant, Emma, at Heathrow.”

“Emma,” Prince Arne said as though finally discovering the answer to a crossword-puzzle clue. They both faced forward, smiling for the clicking cameras, but Prince Arne went on to say, “Where is she? Didn’t she come with you?”

Emma’s picture-perfect smile turned into something of a wince. “She, uh, has a bunch of stuff to organize on the jet.” She hated lying. Especially to a prince. Especially to the first man she’d felt something for in ages. She turned to face him.

Prince Arne was a second behind her, but turned her way eventually. For the barest fraction of a second, a spark of familiarity filled his eyes.

“Actually,” she whispered, “I’m—”

“Fuchsia! Sweetheart!” Hoss came stomping toward her, his grin as fake as his rhinestones. “We need to hurry things up here.”

Blast the man. Emma wasn’t sure how he did it. Maybe her posture changed or maybe he just watched her with an eagle eye, but Hoss always knew when she was tempted to break character.

“Everybody stand back,” he said. “My star here is tired. She needs her beauty rest.” He laughed as obnoxiously as possible, but there was nothing but deadly seriousness in his eyes.

“Um,” Emma turned back to Prince Arne, fully in character again, but blushing on the inside, “Emma wanted me to give you her phone number. Do you have a pen?”

“I’ve got my phone,” Prince Arne answered eagerly, taking the sleek, black phone she’d seen him using at Heathrow out of his back pocket. “Ready.”

Emma rattled off her number to him as fast as she could. “I’ll let her know you have it,” she added as Hoss gestured for her to move on.

By the time they finished up with the photos, a limo had pulled onto the tarmac. As soon as the last shutter had clicked, Hoss whisked Emma away from the reporters and the royal family. That caused more of a fuss as Emma tried to give the royal family the goodbyes they deserved. She barely managed to save face before Hoss practically tossed her over his shoulder and carted her to the limo.

“I don’t like the way you were looking at them,” he said once he had her safely ensconced in the luxurious limo.

“Relax, Hoss. I’m not going to do anything that would jeopardize my contract. I know better than that,” she said.

“Yeah, you do,” Hoss replied with a wink that was as condescending as it was clueless. He backed away, making space for Tracy, Beth, and two bodyguards to climb into the limo with her, then stuck his head in once more. “This gig will boost our European profile,” he reminded her. “We don’t want to see that messed up with any big revelations that might lead to litigation.”

“Hoss,” Emma sighed. “I said I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“I know you’re tired,” he said in reply. “Why don’t you take this week to relax a little.”

“Sure, Hoss.”

He smiled at her one last time before shutting the limo door and motioning for the driver to head out.

No sooner had the limo rolled forward when Tracy said, “Emma, your phone is ringing.”

“Hello?” she answered it in her normal voice, her heart thudding against her ribs.

“Emma? It is Emma, isn’t it?”

The thudding turned into a burst of joy. “Is this Prince Arne?” She glanced to Tracy, who’s brow shot up.

“It is,” Prince Arne said. “But you can just all me Arne.”

“Okay, then.”

“Are you still at the airport? In the jet maybe?”

A twist of anxiety took some of the excitement out of Emma’s joy. “No, I left while you all were taking photos,” she lied, hating every word.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I was hoping to see you again.”

“Me too,” she admitted.

He paused, then said. “Do you think you’d be free for dinner tonight?”

Emma’s brow shot up. “Yes,” she answered before she could think better of it.

“Great. Are you staying at the same hotel as Fuchsia? I could come pick you up later if you are.”

“I am,” Emma said, her mind already racing for ways to make the whole thing work.

“How does eight o’clock sound?”

She pulled her phone away from her ear to look at the time. It was already past six. She’d have to haul ass if she wanted to pull this off.

“Eight is fine,” she said.

“Fantastic. I’ll see you then.”

“See you,” she said, her head spinning, and ended the call.

“How soon until we get to the hotel?” she asked Tracy.

“Um, not more than fifteen minutes, I think.”

“Good,” Emma breathed, then whispered, “Because I’ve got a date with a prince.”