Debbie

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Debbie surreptitiously pinched herself, just in case she was dreaming.

Ouch!

It looked like it was 100% real life that a probably-for-real prince and definitely-for-real hot foreigner was taking her out for lunch.

And had asked her to marry him.

What had that been about? He’d sworn it wasn’t a joke. But how could it be real? They’d only just met!

Debbie rummaged through every possible explanation she could imagine.

She’d misheard him and he’d actually said something totally different.

He wanted to immigrate to America and needed a green card.

He was a psychology student and she was part of an experiment.

He was a reality TV show host and she was secretly being filmed.

“Marry me” was actually a Rodican phrase, spelled something like “mehri mi,” which meant “Mail me a box of Snickers when you get back to America, I’m addicted to them and they’re totally unavailable here.”

Prince Victor stopped in front of an adorable café and opened the door for her.

A chorus of “Good afternoon, Prince Victor! Good afternoon, Princess Eugenia!” arose from the waiters and customers.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Prince Victor replied courteously.

Debbie was too distracted by wondering what the hell was going on to inform them that she was not Princess Eugenia. By the time it occurred to her to correct them, they’d already been whisked upstairs and into a lovely private table on a shaded balcony.

“Would you like a menu?” asked the waiter. “Or shall I provide a selection of our finest specialties?”

“The specialties,” replied Prince Victor. To Debbie, he said, “Unless you’d prefer to order from a menu...?”

“No, that’s fine,” she replied.

“And we’d like to start with some coffee, please,” he added.

She was still in a daze of confusion when the waiter left, leaving them alone. She wanted it all to be real. Victor was so handsome, sexy, and charming. But it seemed too good to be true. And what was that marriage thing about, anyway?

She waited nervously for him to explain. But instead, he said, “How did you come to Rodica? We get very few American visitors.”

“You’re not the first to say that.” Debbie explained how the plane had been forced to land in Rodica. She’d meant to just give him the bare bones, but he seemed so interested that she ended up telling him the entire story, complete with how she’d comforted little Chloe.

“That was very kind of you,” said Prince Victor. “And brave.”

“Brave?” She was flattered, but baffled. “What do you mean?”

“You stood up and made your way to her while the plane was dropping, when you easily could have lost your balance and broken your leg,” he said. “And you defied the flight attendant who shouted at you and threatened you.”

“Well...” It was hard to deny when he phrased it like that. “I didn’t feel brave. I was just thinking of that little girl.”

Prince Victor gave her a warm smile. “I know. I like children too.”

That made her like him even more. Most of the men she knew wouldn’t admit they liked kids, even if they did. Even half the fathers she knew left all the childcare to their wives. “Do you have any nieces or nephews? Or little brothers or sisters?”

He shook his head. “No, alas. My family is extremely small. But the people who work in the palace sometimes bring their children. I have been known to give them rides for their birthdays, even.”

“Rides? You mean on horseback?” Debbie was enchanted by the idea. She could imagine Prince Victor riding some noble stallion, its mane and tail flying in the wind, holding an adorable child safely in front of him. She had to forcibly push the image out of her mind before her ovaries exploded.

He gave her an odd look, then said, “Ah... Yes. Yes, on horseback. What about you? Are there children in your family?”

A wave of sadness came over her. Before she could reply, he said, “I’m sorry. I seem to have touched upon a painful subject.”

Ugh, she thought. He must think I’m such a sad sack.

“Oh no,” she said, trying to force brightness into her tone and face. “Not at all.”

“Debbie,” he said gently. “If you do not wish to speak of it, you need not. But if you are worried that I would think less of you for feeling sorrow and having troubles, I am a human being with feelings, not a heartless monster.”

His sincerity shone from his clear amber eyes. She had to take a breath.

Where have you been all my life?

“I... Uh... Wow.” She shook her head with amazement. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a man say it’s all right to have feelings, let alone admit to having them himself.”

“What is wrong with the men of your country?!” Prince Victor burst out.

“Oh, I wouldn’t blame my entire country. It’s probably only Boonville, Tennessee. As for what’s wrong with them, I guess they just suck.”

“Yes, they do.” Prince Victor still sounded angry—angry on her behalf. That was another first. It made his eyes seem to glow and deepen to a hot golden shade.

“Anyway, I don’t have kids in my family.” Debbie didn’t want to get into how much she wanted children of her own, or how she was starting to wonder if she’d ever have any. Talk about TMI! “But I like them, so I babysit for my co-workers.”

To her relief, instead of asking more questions, he simply said, “I expect children like you, too.” Then he indicated the coffee and tea pots on the table. “Do you like coffee? Or tea?”

“Coffee, please.”

With a flourish, he poured out coffee from a china pot beautifully hand-painted with twining roses into a matching cup of the thinnest, finest porcelain. Debbie couldn’t believe she was actually going to drink from something that pretty and delicate. As she used a dainty pair of silver tongs to pick up a lump of sugar, Prince Victor asked, “Cream?”

She nodded, and he poured rich cream into her coffee from the cutest little china pitcher. When she lifted the cup to her lips, she was sure it would be a letdown after all that build-up. Surely it looked and smelled better than it would taste.

It was the best, smoothest, most delicious coffee she’d ever had.

“I’ve come a long way from the 7-11,” Debbie breathed, inhaling its aroma.

“The... pardon?” Prince Victor asked. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about.

“You’ve never been to America, have you?”

He looked apologetic as he shook his head. “I would like to, some day.”

“Well, if you do, don’t make 7-11 your first stop. It’s the chain store I work at. Sells coffee that you drink out of styrofoam containers, usually after it’s been sitting around all day.”

“And there you worked hard to purchase your ticket to Paris?”

“No, I’d never have made that much money. I won a sweepstakes. A weekend in Paris, all expenses paid! I’m sure it’ll be...” She trailed off, no longer certain that it would be the greatest two days of her life. Paris, however wonderful, wouldn’t have Prince Victor in it.

“Paris is charming,” Prince Victor said. “I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, but I’m liking Rodica. I don’t want to leave so soon.” It was true, and she certainly couldn’t admit that she didn’t want to leave Prince Victor so soon.

“You could stay longer.”

She shook her head. “I really can’t, Prince Victor. I can only afford the hotel here because the airline paid for it, and they’re only paying until they can put me on the next flight out. Which is tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Many things could happen tomorrow. And please, just call me Victor.”

“All right... Victor.” Just saying his name felt strangely intimate.

A waiter arrived with food and wine.

“No matter,” Victor said. “Please, eat. You must be hungry. And I’d like you to try some Rodican delicacies.”

Just enjoy the moment, Debbie told herself as Victor himself served her juicy roast venison in a tangy wildberry sauce, wild mushrooms with garlic and parsley, and bread so fresh that steam wafted out when he broke open the loaf.

But delicious as the food was, she barely tasted it after the first few bites. She was distracted partly by how hot Victor was—those broad shoulders, that velvety voice, those striking amber eyes—and partly because she was caught up in the conversation. She kept forgetting that he was a prince and she was nothing but a 7-11 clerk. It was so easy to talk to him, as if she’d known him all her life.

The waiters came to remove their crumb-laden plates and give them clean ones, and they stopped talking until the servers were gone. In the brief pause that created, she saw Victor take a deep breath and square his shoulders, as if preparing for a dangerous and difficult task for which he was determined to give his all.

“I know you want me to explain myself,” Victor said. “And it seems unfair to you to keep you in suspense. You see—”

“Stop,” Debbie blurted out.

She no longer wanted him to explain exactly what he wanted from her and what he’d meant by his bizarre proposal. Once she learned those things, their sweet little moment in time would undoubtedly vanish like a popped soap bubble. Until then, she had him to talk to and laugh with and enjoy the hell out of looking at. She wanted to keep that going for as long as she could. Or at least until they’d had dessert.

Victor was staring at her, his elegant eyebrows arched in surprise and confusion.

“I mean, not yet,” she amended. “Let’s have dessert first. Then you can drop your bomb on me.”

“It’s not a—” he began to protest, then broke off. “Well, perhaps it is. I can’t predict how you’ll react. In any case, I agree. Dessert should always take precedence over, well, everything.”

“A man after my own heart,” she said with a grin.

The waiter arrived with a pair of dessert bowls. He placed them on the table with a flourish. “A rare delicacy: preserved forbidden fruits.”

She examined the fruit curiously. It was shaped like a peach, but was a glimmering, jewel-like red, almost too pretty to eat. “What did he say it was?”

“A forbidden fruit,” said Victor. “It grows in Rodica and the nearby countries. It’s only ripe for a few weeks in summer.”

“Why are they forbidden?”

“It’s a joke, of sorts. They’re so good, they shouldn’t be allowed. They’re quite delicious even preserved, but ripe, they’re absolutely magical. You must try them fresh when you get the chance.”

“It’s January,” Debbie pointed out.

He smiled. “Perhaps you will be here in July. You never know.”

She knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t. Once she left Rodica, she’d never return, unless she won a sweepstakes again.

Fat chance.

To distract herself from the depressing knowledge that after this one meeting, she’d never see Victor again, she snatched up her beautiful silver spoon and dug into the forbidden fruit.

As she lifted the spoonful to her mouth, ruby juice dripped down. The scent was like peaches and brandy; the taste was sweet and tangy, intoxicating as wine. Neither she nor Victor spoke as they ate their forbidden fruits, but just as the flavor of the fruit filled her mouth, the heat of his body and warmth of his presence filled her senses. Debbie felt as if she was in a beautiful dream.

I wish I didn’t have to wake up.

Every bite melted in her mouth. All too soon, nothing was left but droplets of crimson juice and a lingering scent of summer.

Victor looked up at her, then reached out and laid his hand over hers.

The skin to skin contact jolted her like she’d touched a live wire. She’d thought she’d been attracted and turned on before, but that was nothing to the rush of raw desire that filled her at the touch of his bare skin. Heat gathered in her belly and between her legs, and she could actually feel herself beginning to get wet. She couldn’t believe it. She’d never responded like that to a man before.

But what amazed her was that he seemed to be having the same reaction to her. To her, the 7-11 virgin! She could hardly believe it, but they were so close that she could see his chest heave and hear his breath catch in his throat. And his fine skin was pale enough that she could see his slight flush.

Whatever’s going on, it’s not a joke or a game or an experiment, she realized. He really, truly wants me.

That realization gave her courage and confidence.

“Go ahead and tell me,” she said. “I’m ready. And I’m not going to run away.”

“Oh?” The relief on Victor’s face was all the confirmation she needed to know that he sincerely cared about how she’d react, because he sincerely cared about her.

“Very well,” he went on. “Let me explain. My father was the king of Rodica, but he and my mother both died when I was a very young child.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s hard.”

Victor looked slightly embarrassed. “No need for sympathy. I honestly don’t remember them.”

“That’s what I meant,” replied Debbie. “I’m in the same boat, Victor. I’m an orphan too. I was raised by a bunch of foster families. They were nice, but I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to know my original family. It sounds weird to say I miss people I never knew. But I kind of do.”

He squeezed her hand. “You do understand. We have so much in common. No wonder we’re—Well, anyway, I was raised by my Aunt Agatha. She’s currently ruling the country as the Queen Regent. Not the Queen. She’s the temporary ruler until I can take over. But I can only be confirmed as the heir when I produce an heir of my own.”

A mad and wild hope flared up in Debbie’s heart that he was about to ask if he could father that heir on her.

“But the mother needs to also be of royal blood,” he went on. “So I was promised in an arranged marriage to Princess Eugenia of Doru.”

“Oh,” Debbie managed, ruthlessly crushing her disappointment. What the hell had she expected? Of course he wasn’t going to get her pregnant! He was already engaged.

“But there turned out to be some problems with that.” He ticked them off on his long, strong, elegant fingers as he listed them. “One. I don’t love her. Two. She doesn’t love me. Three. She vanished without a trace yesterday, and I’m pretty sure she ran off because she doesn’t want to marry me. Four. The wedding is tomorrow, and it will be a political disaster if it’s canceled.”

“Yikes. Can you find another princess?”

“Well...” A wicked smile began as a twinkle in his astonishing amber eyes, then floated downward to curve his sensual lips. “I was thinking you could be the princess.”

“What?!” Debbie couldn’t believe her ears. But she could tell that he was absolutely sincere.

“You look just like her,” Victor pointed out. “I mistook you for her. So did everyone else who’s seen both her and you. If you married me as Princess Eugenia, no one would ever know the difference.”

With all her heart, she longed to say, “Yes please!” Marry a prince! Marry Prince Victor! It sounded like a dream come true.

But she made her practical instincts take the lead. She knew herself well enough to know that if she got any closer to Victor, she’d just get heartbroken when he dropped her like a hot potato. It wasn’t as if he was asking to make a real marriage with her. He was only asking her to impersonate his actual bride.

“Let me get this straight,” Debbie said, once she was sure she could trust her voice not to tremble. “You’re asking me to impersonate Princess Eugenia in a fake marriage to avoid the political disaster, and then once she turns up, you switch us out.”

Victor slowly shook his head. “No. As I said, I don’t believe she will ever return.”

To her astonishment, he pushed his chair back, stood up, and then knelt at her feet. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. When he took her hand, a shock of heartstopping desire burned through her.

“I am not asking for a false marriage,” Victor said in his deep, dark voice. “I am asking for a true marriage with you. I am asking you to live with me and bear my children. I am asking you to bind your life to mine. The only falsehood will be your name.”

He raised her hand to his lips, so she felt the heat of his breath. It made her shiver with longing. “Debbie, will you marry me?”

She longed to simply say yes. Oh, sure, it was crazy. But it was the best kind of crazy—the kind that was better than reality.

Debbie felt her lips part to accept his offer. Then the part of her that didn’t believe in fairytales spoke instead. “I don’t understand. All you need is a fake princess. Why are you asking for a real marriage?”

“Because I love you!”

She stared at him. He sounded so passionate and sincere. Longing was written on every inch of his body. Longing for her, just as strong as her longing for him.

Could this fairytale really be true?

“I know it’s soon,” Victor said softly. “I know people who aren’t—” He broke off, seemed to mentally fish for a word, and finally said, “—Rodicans usually have a much longer courtship. And I am happy to give you that courtship, Debbie. We will not exchange more than the single wedding kiss until you feel ready. If you aren’t ready on our wedding night, I will place my sword between us in the bed that we share, to ensure that I do not so much as touch you in the night until you want me to.”

“Oh, I’ll want you to!” Debbie blurted out, then felt a hot tide of blood rise to her face.

“Well, then. Will you take my offer? Will you take me?”

A voice spoke within her. It was a voice that she’d only rarely heard, but couldn’t help believing. It felt like the voice of her deepest heart and soul. And it said, Marry him.

“I will,” Debbie said. “Yes, Victor, I’ll marry you.”