Considering Maureen’s breakneck pace as she clomped up the museum steps, one would never guess that Tess had practically had to drag her to the Emerald Ball Gala. She almost did break her neck when, in classic Mo-fashion, she tripped over her own feet.

Tess was right behind her to catch her and keep her from tumbling head-over-heels down the concrete stairs.

“Thanks, hon,” Mo turned back and grinned at her best friend. “You’re always there for me.”

Tess returned the smile, “And I always will be.”

Mo didn’t even bother to gripe about the sappy response because her attention was diverted to the other side of the stairs. “Hey, I think that’s your brothers.” She pointed to a group of people dressed to the nines, with the exception of a woman in skin-tight leather pants.

Tess squinted in their direction. She had been too vain to wear her glasses tonight, but her contacts had felt particularly scratchy and irritating when she tried to put them in, so she was flying practically blind. Mo had promised to steer her straight towards the prince, if his rumored attendance turned out to be true.

She couldn’t be sure from this distance if the men were her billionaire brothers. Deciding it might be them, she started to turn in their direction. When the group in question started belting out a Grease song, complete with dancing, she turned back to Mo. “Umm, nope, definitely not my brothers. They wouldn’t be caught dead doing a performance like that out here for the entire world to see.”

Mo raised her shoulders. It was obvious that she still believed it to be the Donovan brothers, but she was happy to take their baby sister’s word that it wasn’t the handsome billionaires.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the women paused so Tess could fluff her hair. “Does everything look good?” she asked her best friend, suddenly feeling nervous about potentially meeting the prince.

“Doesn’t it always?” Mo grinned down at her.

Tess beamed up at her best friend. The other woman was several inches taller than Tess’s five-foot-four-inch delicate frame, but it was more than just her height that made Mo seem larger than life. Her mass of flaming red hair, her bodacious personality, and her tendency to talk a bit too loud made the gregarious woman stand out in just about any situation.

It had been that contrast to Tess’s quiet and calm demeanor that had made the two fast friends in kindergarten. They were polar opposites in every way, yet they complemented each other beautifully. Where one was weak, the other was strong, and vice versa.

Even though she noticed the smudge of lipstick on Mo’s front tooth, Tess didn’t bother to point it out. She knew her friend honestly didn’t care about such things. Besides, Mo was only here and wearing lipstick at all because Tess had insisted that she accompany her. Being a classic tomboy, Mo had whined for a bit about getting all gussied up and going to the fancy party, but Tess promised her friend that she could sneak out just as soon as Tess found her prince.

“We’d better get inside or we’ll be more than fashionably late.” Tess decided, before adding, “I don’t want anyone else to swoop in on the prince before I’ve had a chance to dazzle him.”

The two women linked arms as they entered the museum. The connection felt nice, but Tess had instigated it mostly as a way to keep Mo from faltering in her heels. Her friend wasn’t used to walking in anything other than tennis shoes or work boots, so the risk of her falling was real, and Tess wanted to do anything in her power to keep that from happening.

They both gaped at the astonishing transformation inside the museum. The glittering twinkle lights dangling from the tall ceiling and glowing floating candles on the tables gave the ballroom a warm, inviting ambiance. Colorful fresh-cut wildflowers in Ball jars perked up each table and emitted a lovely wafting fragrance into the air. The setting was ideal. Now all Tess needed was her prince.

Forcing her way through the crowd, with Tess scrambling behind her, Mo bellied-up to the bar. Once their white wine spritzers arrived, both women turned to scan the ballroom and determine their next move.

Tess almost choked on her wine when the prince of Isle de Monsail himself, His Royal Highness Pierce Huntington Astor III, walked up to them. He was even more gorgeous in person than he appeared to be in magazines and on television. There was a regal air about him that extended beyond the navy, scarlet, and gold finery he was wearing or his dark swoop of Ken doll-worthy hair. His smile stretched into his sparkling blue eyes, making him seem almost impossibly handsome.

He reached out to bring first Tess’s hand, and then Mo’s up to his lips. His white gloves would have normally been off-putting, but Tess assumed it was a necessary part of his royal garb.

Unsure exactly how she was supposed to greet a man with his imperial status, Tess bent at the knees and did what she hoped was a graceful and appropriate curtsy. He nodded to acknowledge her, making her preen.

When his gaze travelled to Mo, she nodded and said, “Hey.”

Tess’s mouth fell open at her friend’s garish and wildly inappropriate royal greeting. Just as she was getting ready to apologize for Mo’s faux pas, she noticed the look on the prince’s face. He was gazing at Mo, and he appeared to be utterly charmed!

“Mademoiselle,” he said to Mo before gracing the woman with a dashing smile.

She looked at Tess, seeming uncertain how to respond. Tess quickly jumped in to save her. “This is Maureen,” she filled in before adding, “and I’m Tess.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” the prince said graciously, his eyes never leaving Mo. “Maureen, may I have this dance?”

Mo bugged her eyes out at Tess. Not only did she have two left feet, but this was not at all how their introduction to the prince was supposed to be going. Unsure what to say, she said awkwardly, “Oh, you can call me Mo. Everyone does.”

Smiling and looking completely enamored, the prince responded. “Okay, Mo.” The way her nickname rolled off his tongue made it sound somehow distinguished. “How about that dance?”

“Oh, umm… okay?” Mo’s voice lifted at the end as if she was the one asking a question.

“Have fun,” Tess gave them a brittle smile, doing her best to reassure her friend.

Once the two were on the dance floor, Tess flinched as she watched Mo step on the prince’s feet as he tried to lead her. Mo had always joked that she couldn’t dance because she was meant to lead rather than follow, but this awkward travesty was utterly cringe worthy.

Even the prince’s fluid, graceful, and obviously much-practiced movements weren’t enough to cover Mo’s wooden, uncoordinated steps. Tess was surprised the man didn’t put them both out of their misery by ending the dance early. Proving that he was a gentleman with impeccable manners, he stuck it out until the end.

As the song finally finished, Tess squared her shoulders, fully expecting the prince to return with Mo before asking Tess for a spin around the dance floor. Her years of taking dance lessons were finally going to pay off because she was much better equipped to deal with the expectations of dancing with a royal than her gawky friend.

Silence permeated the large hall, and the prince bowed formally before Mo. Completely out of her element, Mo’s eyes shot to Tess in a silent plea for advice. Tess tried to show her how to curtsy from her place near the bar, but Mo ignored the charade, opting instead to merely bug her large green eyes out and nod at the man.

Tess could see the prince’s gleaming white teeth from across the room as he grinned at her friend. As the music restarted, he leaned in to whisper in Mo’s ear, the woman’s eyes once again darted to Tess.

Rather than responding to whatever he said, Mo lifted her shoulders as if she had no idea what to say. Apparently taking that as a ‘yes,’ the prince replaced his hand at her waist, used his other hand to grasp hers, and began guiding her around the parquet dance floor once more.

Tess couldn’t do anything but stare at them. This was like her worst nightmare coming true. Except it wasn’t a nightmare because even in her wildest imagination, she never would have thought that Mo’s presence would foil her one chance with the prince.

Turning back to the shiny mahogany bar, she lifted her empty glass in the bartender’s direction and snapped, “I need another, and this time skip the spritzer.”