скачать книгу бесплатно
“Yes, I’m Emily Parks. And you must be Prince Lazhar.” And you, she thought, are a dangerous man. Not only was he handsome, with hair as black and glossy as a crow’s wing, olive skin stretched taut over the planes of high cheekbones, black lashes so long and thick that it seemed a crime to waste them on a man, and a powerful body that was six feet four inches of toned muscle and hard angles, but he fairly oozed testosterone and radiated sex appeal. She wasn’t sure what protocol required when greeting a royal prince, but held out her hand and managed a polite smile.
“Please, call me Lazhar.” He smiled and took her hand in his. His fingers and palm were slightly rough against her own smooth skin.
“Very well…Lazhar.” Realizing that her hand was still enclosed in his warm, much larger one, she took a step back, the small, evasive movement slipping her hand from his. She gestured to the archway leading to the hall and the offices that opened off it. “Won’t you come into my office?” She glanced at Natalie and found her pretending to read a file while slanting sideways, fascinated looks at the prince. “Natalie, will you bring us coffee, please.”
“Right away.”
Emily’s skin prickled with awareness as Lazhar walking behind her out of the reception area and down the short hallway to her office. Something about him had set all of Emily’s female instincts shrieking a warning. This was no tame, civilized male. Lazhar Eban threatened her feminine independence on a very basic level. It took all her composure to keep from canceling their appointment and finding an excuse to ask him to leave. Relieved that she could put some distance between them, she gestured to the two damask-covered armchairs arranged before her desk.
“Won’t you have a seat.” She rounded her desk and dropped into her chair, upholstered in a soft blue that echoed the damask of the armchairs, and folded her hands together atop the desk. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
Emily had handpicked the chairs facing her desk specifically because they were large enough to accommodate husbands-to-be and small enough not to overwhelm the more slender forms of their brides. But Lazhar made the chair he sat in seem small and his muscled, broad-shouldered body, combined with the sheer force of his presence, seemed to dominate the room.
“I’m getting married,” he said, his gaze fastened on hers. “And I want you to organize the wedding.”
Emily was speechless. She’d wondered whether this might be the reason for his appointment, but his statement still staggered her. She gathered her composure and nodded. “Very well.” She flipped open her notebook and picked up her gold pen. “I’ll need some parameters. What date have you scheduled for the wedding?” Pen poised, she looked at him, waiting.
“As soon as possible.”
“You and your fiancée haven’t picked a date?”
“No. Is that a problem?”
Carefully Emily placed her pen on the gleaming cherrywood desktop. “Perhaps not a ‘problem,’ exactly, but certainly a concern since it’s impossible to begin planning without a time frame in mind. And I’m afraid our calendar is booked several months, sometimes more than a year, in advance.”
“What’s the earliest date that you’re available?”
Emily wondered briefly if he was thinking of a small, private wedding. Surely a royal affair would be scheduled by the palace and the date set in stone? “Before I look at dates, perhaps we should discuss what sort of a wedding you wish to have. Depending on the preparations needed, we may be able to schedule your event sooner, rather than later.”
Lazhar shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of latitude in the wedding ceremony. Royal weddings in Daniz are ruled by tradition and our customs require that the celebration is a week-long affair.”
Emily blinked, startled. “So,” she said slowly, “you’re asking me to plan a week-long celebration, including a royal ceremony, within as little time as possible?”
“The palace has event coordinators that will assist you. What I need is someone to plan, organize and delegate. And I’m willing to pay whatever is necessary to have you devote your time exclusively to the event in order to speed the process.”
Emily was stunned. A royal wedding on her resume would open doors in Europe and the Middle East and had the potential to gain worldwide recognition for Creative Weddings. But it would mean working with the prince, and she wasn’t sure that was wise. On the other hand, in her experience the groom rarely spent a great deal of time with the wedding consultant. The husbands-to-be were always more than happy to leave the details to their prospective brides. “I assume that the wedding will be held in Daniz?”
“Yes.”
She toyed with her pen, stalling for time while she tried to absorb what he was saying. She glanced up at him through her lashes and found his dark gaze fastened on her, a slight air of tension surrounding him. “May I ask why you chose my firm?”
“You were highly recommended by the Radissons,” he said smoothly. “Their daughter Angela is a good friend of my sister, who was a member of the wedding party.”
“Ah, of course.” Emily instantly made the connection. Angela Radisson was a San Francisco society deb, several years younger than Emily, and wonderfully unspoiled. The wedding party had included several of Angela’s college friends, one of whom had been a beautiful dark-haired young woman named Jenna. Gazing at Lazhar, sprawled casually across from her, she immediately saw the family resemblance. “I wasn’t aware that Jenna Eban was a princess.”
The grin that curved his mouth was wickedly charming. “My sister likes to shed the ‘princess’ title on occasion and pretend she’s not royal. I’m not surprised that she didn’t tell you, but I’m a little surprised that you didn’t suspect.”
“Why is that?” Emily absorbed the impact of the effect the smile had on his already handsome face.
“Because Jenna tends to be a magnet for the tabloids. It’s good to know that they didn’t spoil her fun.”
“Ah. I see.” Emily forced her attention back to the wedding. “Well.” She picked up her pen and flipped the pages on her calendar, swiftly scanning appointments and calculating. “Depending on the expertise of your palace staff—and I assume they’re accustomed to planning grand functions—?” She glanced up. Lazhar’s nod of agreement reassured her. “Good. Then it may be possible to have the ceremony in six months.” She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “But that’s a very tight timetable. And I’ll need to do an on-site inspection…” she murmured. Once again, she consulted her calendar before glancing up at Lazhar. “I’m afraid I’m fully booked for the next two weeks but I can carve out a four-day-weekend after that to fly to Daniz and meet with your people.”
“That won’t work.”
Emily blinked. “What won’t work?”
“I don’t want to wait two weeks. I want you to start immediately. Preferably, this afternoon.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said coolly. “I have prior commitments that I can’t reschedule.”
For a moment he was silent, his enigmatic gaze meeting hers with an oddly assessing light. “So it’s a question of your workload and timing, not of your willingness to begin the wedding preparations immediately?”
“Yes.”
Emily’s agreement seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded abruptly. “Very well. Then we’re agreed that you will come to Daniz as soon as your calendar is cleared?”
“I believe that’s mutually agreeable. I won’t be able to give you a projected cost for our services until I’ve been to Daniz, however.”
“That won’t be a problem.” He shot back the cuff of his shirt, frowned at his watch and stood. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to discuss further details as I have another appointment this afternoon. Perhaps we can resolve the issue over dinner tonight.”
“Oh, but I—” Emily broke off. Despite her instinct to distance herself from him, she couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity. It’s just business, she reminded herself. “Very well, dinner would be good. Where would you like to meet?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I can meet you at the restaurant—I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“It’s not a problem.” He smiled at her, a slow, wicked grin that curled her toes and shortened her ability to draw a breath. “I look forward to it.”
He turned and left the room. Emily wilted in her chair and stared at the doorway where his elegantly clad, broad-shouldered body had just disappeared.
“Well?” Natalie and Jane interrupted her, their faces alive with curiosity. “What did he say?”
“He wants us to handle the arrangements for his wedding.”
They shrieked; Natalie did a quick dance while Jane clapped her hands with delight.
“This is excellent, Emily. What a coup! When do we start?”
“Not for at least two weeks—that’s the earliest I can fly to Daniz.”
“What date is the wedding?” Jane asked.
“There isn’t a date, not yet. The prince wants it scheduled as soon as possible but I told him I doubted it could be done in less than six months.”
“Six months? That’s all?” Jane’s eyes rounded behind her wire-frame glasses. “For a royal wedding? You’re joking, right?”
“No. He insisted that he wants the ceremony scheduled as soon as possible and that the palace staff will assist.”
Jane looked doubtful. Natalie fairly bounced with excitement.
“I want to apply for a promotion to Jane’s assistant—even if it only lasts through the wedding. I’ll never have another chance to attend a royal wedding.”
Emily smiled at the younger woman’s enthusiasm. “If we really do plan this wedding, Natalie, I promise you can go with us.”
Natalie beamed with delight.
“So,” Jane said, “who’s the lucky woman? Who is he marrying? She’ll be a princess, and someday, the queen, right?”
“I don’t know who he’s marrying.” Emily suddenly realized that Lazhar hadn’t offered the information and she’d failed to ask. It wasn’t like her to miss such a vital piece of data. “I’m having dinner with him tonight…I’ll ask him the name of his fiancée, among other things.”
“You’re having dinner with him?” Natalie’s eyes widened.
“It’s strictly business, Natalie,” Emily said firmly. “He had an appointment and had to cut our discussion short so I…”
“Hello? Hello, is anyone here?”
The rich, throaty tones floated into the office.
“Yikes.” Natalie hurried for the doorway. “That must be Katherine Powell!”
Jane and Emily exchanged a wry glance.
“She does love celebrities, doesn’t she?” Jane said.
“Yes, she does,” Emily chuckled with affection. “I think that’s ninety percent of the reason that she works here.”
“I can’t wait to hear all the details—call me after you talk to the prince tonight, okay?”
“I will,” Emily promised, then stood as Natalie ushered a stunningly beautiful woman into the room. “Good afternoon, Katherine.”
Lazhar didn’t have another appointment. But he wanted Emily to join him that evening and finishing their discussion seemed the easiest way to convince her. After meeting her, he was even more determined to marry her. He needed a wife; she wanted a husband and children. They’d both get what they wanted.
After talking with Emily in person, however, he was even more sure that she wouldn’t marry him to further her father’s business plans. Emily Parks was beautiful, with golden-brown hair, bright green eyes, smooth tanned skin that his fingers itched to touch, and dimples that flashed when she smiled. The fitted scarlet suit and high heels made the most of her slim figure and long legs and conveyed the image of an upwardly mobile businesswoman. But Lazhar saw a well-concealed vulnerability and wariness beneath her smooth, sophisticated exterior. If he hadn’t overheard her conversation with the housekeeper at the Parks’s estate, he might have missed it and accepted the surface image. But the yearning in her voice when she spoke with the housekeeper about a family and children made it impossible for him to see only her sleek, lovely exterior.
After meeting Emily, he was convinced she was the woman he wanted for his bride. Now, all he had to do was convince Emily.
Chapter Two
This is just a business dinner, Emily told herself that evening as she turned in front of the mirror to check the back of her dress. There’s no reason for me to be nervous. The simple cocktail dress was a Vera Wang design, the off-the-shoulder black silk tasteful and perfect for a business dinner with royalty. Not that she’d ever had dinner with a prince before, she thought, refusing to consider that the butterflies fluttering in her midsection might be caused by Lazhar’s handsome face and charming smile and not by his royal status.
She smoothed a hand over her hair, noting absentmindedly that it brushed against her shoulders; she made a mental note to call her hairdresser and schedule an appointment to have the thick fall trimmed a quarter of an inch. One last inspecting glance assured her that she was as ready as she’d ever be. She turned away from the mirror, picked up a tiny black handbag and left the bedroom.
The doorbell rang just as she entered the living room and she glanced at the antique French clock on the mantelpiece.
Seven o’clock. Not only is he royal, he’s also punctual.
She pulled open the door and although she’d thought she was prepared to see him, still her breath hitched and she found herself staring helplessly at the man outside her entry. He took her breath away. In the hours since she’d seen him at the office, she’d managed to convince herself that he couldn’t have been as heart-stoppingly handsome as she’d first thought. But she’d lied to herself, she realized as she met his gaze. He really was as sinfully sexy as she’d remembered.
“Good evening.”
His gaze swept her from the crown of her head to her toes, making the return journey just as swiftly, his mouth curving in a smile. “Good evening. Ready to go?”
“Yes.” Emily stepped across the threshold and pulled the door closed behind her.
He moved back, falling into step beside her as she walked toward the elevators.
“Do you like living here?” he asked, his tone curious as he surveyed the hallway while they waited for the lift.
“Yes, very much.” Emily’s gaze followed his, moving over the red and cream floral carpet, the pale green walls with their gold-framed prints, and the matching discreet name and numbers beside the six doors that opened off the short hallway. “I love living in the center of the city and though the building is older, it’s well-maintained and secure.”
“Ah. And security is important in San Francisco,” he commented as the elevator pinged and the doors opened.
“I suppose it’s important everywhere, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” His voice turned grim. “Very important.”
He took her arm and ushered her into the lift, his body briefly brushing hers as he leaned past her to push the button for the lobby floor. The faint scent of soap and aftershave reached her, the slightly rough texture of his suit jacket teasing the bare skin of her arm. Although he was impeccably polite and made no overt moves, she felt crowded by him and too aware of his much bigger body. He was so blatantly male that he made her feel overwhelmingly feminine. She couldn’t recall any other man of her acquaintance eliciting such a strong response.
“Does Daniz have a crime problem?” Emily asked, determined to conceal her reaction. She vividly remembered the photos she’d seen in a travel brochure of the small kingdom on the Mediterranean Sea. Tucked between the eastern border of Spain on one side and France’s southern edge on the other, Daniz’s sun-drenched beaches were adored by tourists and its fabled Jewel Market was equally revered by the gem industry. Crime didn’t seem a part of that fairy tale picture.
“I suspect every country in the world has a problem with crime, some more so than others.” Lazhar’s deep voice sent a slow shiver up Emily’s spine. “Daniz’s crime rate has never been high when compared to many countries but there’s always room for improvement. We’ve increased the police force and taken an aggressive proactive approach over the last few years and the result has been a decrease in all types of crime.”
“Is this part of your plan for national security?” He raised an eyebrow in inquiry and Emily smiled. “I confess I did some online research this afternoon in an effort to learn a bit more about your country before we talked this evening. Part of what I learned is that you were appointed to lead the Daniz National Security Forces five years ago.”
“Ah.” His mouth quirked. “I hope you only visited the official Daniz Web site and not the sites featuring gossip from the tabloids.”
Emily laughed. “I did visit the Daniz government site, but I also read a few very interesting tidbits at a site called Secrets of the Royal Families of Europe.”
Lazhar groaned and shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask what you learned there. I hope you didn’t believe anything you read.”
“Most of it sounded like pure fiction. Unless—” she looked at him with interest “—you really did fly across the Mediterranean on a hangglider to spend the night with a harem dancer?” The swift expression of horror that flitted across his face made her laugh. “No?”
“Absolutely not.” His deep voice held disgust.
“Pity.” Emily sighed, watching him through the screen of her lashes. “I thought perhaps she was your fiancée.”
“No, definitely not.”
The elevator reached the lobby, the doors opening with silent efficiency. Two muscular men in dark suits stood sentry at the door to the street; they snapped to attention, one of them speaking into a small two-way radio as Lazhar took Emily’s arm and they exited the elevator. They crossed the black and white marble floor and one of the guards opened the door while the other fell discreetly into step behind them. Outside, another black-clad, burly man held the door of a long black limousine open wide. Emily was about to enter the limo when someone called her name.
She paused and glanced down the street. “Hello.” A smile lit her face. Her brother Cade was striding toward them along the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m picking up Stacy—she’s visiting Anabeth.”
“Oh, I wish I’d known she was near, I would have stopped in for a hug.” Emily adored Cade’s five-year-old daughter; the precocious little girl shared Emily’s love of shopping and they’d formed a mutual admiration society of two. Stacy’s friend Anabeth lived in the next apartment building and the two often shared playdates.
“I’ll call you the next time I bring her over, I promise.” Cade nodded at Lazhar and held out his hand. “Lazhar, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”
