Renee Brown ordered a pepperoni pizza on her phone app, her attention snagged by the brilliant orange and red hues outside the kitchen window and over the parking lot. Where was Kristin? Her roommate was late, and Renee wanted to hear all about the sexy prince and Kristin’s job interview.

If Kristin landed the secretarial position, Renee would be one step closer to meeting actual royalty. Would the pictures of Marco Aussa, the youngest prince of Avce, turn out to be tricks of the light? There was no possible way a man that handsome existed. And a prince!

Renee taught history for a living—and never had her blood stirred at a photo in a book as it had perusing Marco Aussa online.

With one last look out at the parking lot, still no Kristin, Renee went to the kitchen and gathered lettuce, spinach, cucumbers, and tomatoes. If she met a prince on her summer vacation from work, she'd have the best story to share with her coworkers.

She glanced out the window again and saw her neighbor, Greg, working on his car. He was the kind of guy she could bring home to meet her brother and parents. Good-looking, an accountant with a decent job—better than average pay but nothing flashy—handy around the building, and polite. If he asked her out, she'd have said yes simply because he was everything she’d put on her list. He wasn't the kind her parents would dismiss. However, he never noticed her, so that wasn't going to happen.

The salad needed something else…Renee found some celery behind a tub of cottage cheese and chopped it in thin slices.

The lock to the apartment clicked. Renee looked up from salad making and greeted her best friend in the world, the dark-haired and fabulous Kristin. "Where were you? I already ordered the pizza."

Kristin put her pocketbook on the lamp table by the door and kicked off the black heels she’d borrowed from Renee, then joined her at the counter. "You know I had my job interview with the Royal Prince Antonio Aussa from Avce this afternoon."

Renee studied Kristin, who wouldn’t meet her eye. Had she gotten the job? Renee's pulse zipped to find out if she'd get a shot at seeing the youngest playboy prince in person. She put the salad tongs down. "That was at three. You're late."

Kristin went to the refrigerator and took out the orange juice, pouring a small glass. "I was driving around aimlessly."

Yes, something important must’ve happened—Kristin always had a plan. Renee’s chances of meeting Marco were about as good as winning the Powerball but she wanted to know. She picked up the salad tongs and tossed the vegetables in a blue plastic bowl to mix the ingredients. "Why? Did you get the position?"

Kristin put the juice on the counter and hugged her waist. Oh, no. Renee turned toward her friend. What if she’d been driving because she was upset about not getting the job?

A few weeks ago, when Kristin had first applied, they’d joked about marrying two of the prince brothers. Kristin's white face made Renee's memory seem sad now. "I’m…" sorry.

Finally, Kristin looked up with a dazed expression. "He asked me to marry him."

No way. Was she kidding? Her heart beat faster. Renee dropped the salad tongs on top of the romaine. "Shut the door."

Kristin turned her head toward the front door. "I did."

"Slang. You have got to enter the 21st century." Renee reached out and took her hand. Joking aside, her only big plans this summer were book-related as she prepped to teach her history class and she could do that anywhere. Now she had a reason to buy a plane ticket and go to Europe. "When do you start? Will it be in Europe?"

Kristin seemed confused.

Renee slowly realized that she wasn’t joking. "Seriously? He asked you to marry him?" Crazy.

"Yes." Kristin's gaze lowered. "And I’m tempted to agree."

Renee's heart hammered. "I saw your application for secretary...did he take one look at you and fall in love?"

Kristin shook her head. "Not love. That doesn't happen and never lasts anyhow."

"Well, nothing is ever a sure thing." She’d thought her ex, Tom, had been solid but he’d left her high and dry, something her family never let her forget.

As if reading her mind, Kristin said, "To be fair to your parents, I never liked Tom. He always seemed like he was up to something." "Don’t agree with them on anything." Renee gave Kristin a warning look.

One day a man like Greg would ask Renee to marry him and she'd bring him home. This time, she'd make the smart choice and her family would be excited to see her get married in their country club. But Kristin didn't have any of that responsibility. She was free and now she could marry a prince, for real.

"Your break-up with Tom is another reason why I think love is a sick joke we play on children and teenagers. It’s a lie bigger than Santa Claus."

Her friend might not believe in love, but she deserved a fairy tale.

"That's cynical and untrue—love can last a lifetime." Renee squeezed Kristin’s hands. Her parents claimed to love each other, so at least Renee had a basis for understanding. "So what did you say?"

Kristin stepped back but kept her head down. "I told him that I needed time to think. Part of me was so mesmerized by him that I almost said yes, but my parents warned me all my life that work and security would bring me happiness more than romance. Marrying a prince I just met isn't exactly practical."

Renee laughed. Seriously, work was nice, but it was family that made every day worthwhile. One day she'd have her own, but first she needed to find the right guy. She nudged her best friend. "If a prince with billions of dollars knocked on my door and asked me to marry him, I'd say yes."

"Tell me that’s not why you said yes to Tom."

"Tom was nice. I don’t know what happened." Renee's phone beeped. The text read that the pizza would be there in fifteen minutes.

"So you say I should say yes," Kristin perched on the kitchen stool next to the island and drank her juice. "Just like that?"

"Absolutely." Renee finished with the salad and kept the rest of her comments to herself. In reality, a prince would never be approved by her parents, who had strict ideas for happiness. Not a big deal since she wasn’t the one who’d been asked.

With a sigh Kristin stood, left her phone on the counter in the kitchen and went to the cabinet to get cups and plates. "No. No, you wouldn't. You'd see through the BS, and wonder if there were any cameras taping you."

True. Renee walked out of the kitchen and put the salad bowl in the middle of the dining room table. "Oh, were you bamboozled in some awful prank I'll get to see on TV?"

"No." Kristin followed her out with the plates, centering each on a placemat. "He asked me, for real. I just feel like I was being played, like maybe I'm missing something."

Renee leaned against the table and crossed her arms. "Why does he want to marry you? Did you ask that?"

"Yes." Kristin went to the wine cooler. "He listed off my resume and personal information. It seems like I would benefit from the deal. I should have insisted that a secretary application wasn't a prescription for finding a wife. I feel so foolish now."

"Pour some wine for both of us and we'll talk all about how you should be a princess." Being best friends with royalty who'd interact with the hot playboy prince would give Renee a shot at a dream—these days, Marco figured prominently. "And I can be a princess's best friend." Daydreams like this often made the boring reality of her day-to-day more palatable.

Once Kristin was done pouring, she brought the bottle to the table. "Yeah, I've not been anyone's princess since my father walked out on my mother when I was eight. When he returned home six months later, neither of them was happy. They never really conversed again. You have no idea what it's like to grow up knowing your parents hate each other while they sit right next to you and speak through you."

No, she had no idea. Kristin handed her a glass of wine. Her parents were like those people on TV who live and love living in the suburbs. They hadn't understood when she’d moved to the city, and they'd not know what to do if she brought home a prince.

Renee clicked her glass with her friend and sipped. "Well, that was depressing. So let's lighten up, and you can tell me if he's as hot in real life as he is in your photos."

Kristin took a small drink and sat with her elbow on the table. "Renee, he's hotter. TV and photos...I don't know...make him somehow blander. He's sexy in such a raw powerful way that I was shaken up. I wasn't kidding—I almost said yes to his marriage proposal on the spot."

Antonio was the serious family member that Kristin dug. If Marco's dimples were even hotter in person, she might just offer to throw her clothes off and let him have her. And yes her fantasy was out of control today. "What exactly made you say 'you'd think about it?'"

Kristin swallowed her wine, emptying her glass. "Self-preservation kicked in."

"What are you talking about?"

Kristin lifted her chin. "Despite how attractive he is, I want love to be at least part of why I get married which is utterly stupid as I don’t believe the emotion even exists."

Renee scoffed. "Then marry Greg in our building. He's clearly in love with you, if that's what you want."

"No, I'm not into him at all."

Just then the doorbell rang. She put the glass down. Tonight was Renee's turn to pay. "That's the pizza! Can you get the door while I go find my pocketbook for the tip?"

"It's my turn to pay," Kristin insisted.

Renee stopped. Perhaps she'd bought last night. Kristin raced into the kitchen.

Renee walked to the door, swung it open and stared into deep brown eyes. Wow. This was the prince that made her friend's heart stir. If he’d seriously asked Kristin to marry him, then she needed to say yes. Now. Renee crossed her arms. "Nice to meet you, Your Highness."

"I'm looking for Kristin Wells." He took a small step closer, trying not to be obvious as he peered in.

Renee held the door wider and said, "I'm hoping she says yes."

Antonio Aussa, the older brother of her celebrity crush, raised his eyebrows, but followed her inside.

A moment later, Kristin walked out and stared at Prince Antonio.

"You didn't tell me that the prince was..." Renee began but realized neither one of them were listening.

"What?" Kristin asked and blinked though she never turned away from staring at Antonio.

"...coming." Renee finished and wondered how it would be to meet this man's younger, sexier brother. If only. For this one summer, she was free and it would be nice to see someone like Marco before she settled into the suburbs and raised children for a man her parents would go golfing with.

Kristin asked, "Your Highness, what are you doing here?"

Why hadn't her best friend dragged her almost fiancé into her bedroom? If their roles were switched, and it was Marco at the door, Renee would have, just for fun.

Her future required settling down to please her parents, if she wanted to be included in their circle, just as surely as her brother would marry a perfectly acceptable country club girl.

Antonio went toward her friend. "Kristin, I hope I'm not intruding."

Right, if her friend didn't want to take him to her room, it was Renee's turn to leave. She eyed her bedroom door. "I'll give you a few minutes and head to my room."

Renee closed the door behind her. What would the prince think of their simple apartment? The same boring cream paint was on all of the walls. She’d framed movie pictures for art but the décor was definitely teacher on a budget. Her phone dinged—the pizza was delayed, according to the app. Trying to give Kristin and the prince privacy in the small apartment, she turned her attention to Greg and sent him a text. He might not notice her, but perhaps one of his friends might be good enough to take home for the holidays or something. 'Greg, saw you at your car engine. Everything okay?'

'Yeah, I'm just changing the oil.' He texted back. 'I saw you and Kristin have a guy over.'

'Kristin has the guy, else I'd not be texting you at the moment.'

'Hope he's good enough for her.'

The zap of jealousy shouldn't exist. This was why she needed to keep her distance from Greg. 'I hope Kristin likes this one. She deserves to be happy. If you need anything, text.'

'Thanks.'

She’d covered plastic bins that she used as a dresser with scarves and now peered into the small mirror on top to fix her hair. Brown eyes stared back, the beginnings of fine lines at the corners.

Renee wasn't getting any younger, as her mother would say. And that voice echoed in her mind. One day she'd find her suburban husband who fixed her car and not think about Greg or anyone else.

She checked on the pizza and the driver was on their small street. She went toward the door and overheard Antonio tell her friend, "I was hoping you might accompany me. I'll give you a tour, take you to my favorite restaurant to get dinner. Show you my country."

Without a second thought, Renee twisted the knob and opened her door. Kristin would need her friend at her side.

"Can I come?" Renee's voice echoed through the apartment. Both of them stared at her in surprise.

Kristin called over his shoulder. "Renee, I thought you were giving us some privacy?"

Renee waved her phone in the air, reminding Kristin that they’d ordered pizza. But just in case Kristin didn’t want to divulge their plans, she gestured to the counter. "I was looking for my headphones."

Her phone beeped, a sixty second warning to go get the pizza, which would also give Kristin more time alone. Renee walked into the foyer area and grabbed her purse. "Your Highness, my friend Kristin gets scared of good things happening in her life. Her parents taught her to always look for security first. It robs her of spontaneity sometimes."

Kristin placed her hand on her chest. "No I don't."

Antonio stroked his chin. "Kristin, if it would make you happy, you and your friend, Renee, are welcome to join me in my private jet."

Yes! Renee opened the front door and backed out of the apartment. "Okay. Can we get ten minutes to pack? I’ll be right back…"

She closed the door on Antonio’s confused face and met the delivery guy at the curb. The pizza wasn't necessary anymore. She tipped anyhow and held the box in her hand.

Now what? Greg. She raced downstairs and knocked on Greg's door. He opened it without his shirt on. His slim figure would make whoever he married happy, but she had no time to gawk. She offered him the pizza. "We can't eat this and I thought you might be hungry."

"Really? Let me pay you for it."

"No. I have to go. We're leaving for a few days. Can you watch our door and check the mail?"

"No problem." Greg balanced the box on one palm. "Glad we're friends, Renee."

Friends. Right.

She rushed up the stairs and back inside the apartment. Antonio said, "Remember, the royal palace has everything you might possibly need."

Renee gave the thumbs up sign. "I'll be back in ten. I've never ridden in a private jet to Europe."

What would she pack? She was about to meet her celebrity crush. She found her bag and slipped in all her sexy underwear. Just in case. If Marco couldn’t be tempted, then she'd see the countryside, take pictures and do something completely unplanned: she wouldn’t think about her parents, or their expectations. This summer, she'd stay in a palace, encourage Kristin to be happy and build up a store of memories to keep her warm on a far off cold night as she lay next to some anonymous man like Greg.