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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.”

“I’ve just arrived—the trip wasn’t on my schedule and my aides didn’t have time to contact you.”

Emily glanced from her brother to Lazhar. “You two know each other?”

“Yes. Of course.” Cade grinned at her. “But I didn’t know you and Lazhar were acquainted.”

“We just met today,” she said calmly. Cade was her fraternal twin and loved to tease her as if they were still twelve-year-olds. When his eyes twinkled, she knew he’d jumped to the conclusion that she was dating the handsome prince and was going to comment. “But I’m looking forward to doing business with him,” she said smoothly, before he could speak.

Cade blinked at her and she could almost see his brain shift gears.

“Business? What kind of business?”

“Wedding planning, of course,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss on his cheek. “Give my love to Stacy and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Cade nodded at Lazhar as the prince handed Emily into the limousine. He bent to peer into the interior, his hazel gaze intent. “You’re in good hands with Lazhar, Emily.”

Emily barely had time to wonder what he meant by the cryptic comment before the bodyguard closed the door and the limo pulled smoothly away from the curb. She glanced back to see Cade standing on the sidewalk, watching them drive away.

“How is it that you know my brother?” she asked Lazhar as the car eased into traffic.

“We met some months ago when he came to Daniz to visit the Jewel Market.”

“Ah,” Emily replied. Cade was an attorney and he handled much of their father’s contracts for the Parks jewelry store; he was being trained as the heir apparent to succeed when Walter retired. Not that anyone who knew Walter thought he would ever retire, in fact, it was generally agreed that he’d probably die at his desk, working on a new deal. But nevertheless, Walter considered Cade his heir and demanded that his son spend a large amount of time on Parks Empire business interests. “So you’re in the gem industry, like my father?”

“Not quite like your father, I suspect,” he corrected gently. “For centuries, the Daniz Jewel Market has been a center for international jewel dealers and gem trading is important to my country. Because my family rules Daniz, I’m involved by necessity with the Market, but gems aren’t my sole business.”

“So you’re not obsessed with jewels?”

His dark eyes were grave. “No, Emily, I’m not obsessed with jewels. I have neither the time nor the inclination. I’m deeply committed to the people of Daniz and to my family and I find they require all my attention.” He shrugged. “I suppose some might call the depth of that commitment obsessive, but I choose to believe otherwise.”

“I find it admirable that you choose people over business interests,” Emily commented, unable to look away from his warm gaze. “In my experience, such a choice is very unusual. My father’s primary commitment is to his business…he’s driven by the next negotiation and making each new contract bigger than the last, with more money, more perfect gems, higher profile clients. The men in his circle that I’ve met, no matter how old or young, all seem to feel the same. It’s refreshing to meet someone who’s involved in the gem industry but whose life is apparently not owned by it.”

Lazhar laughed, white teeth flashing against tanned skin, his dark eyes amused. “I confess that I’ve met traders at the Jewel Market who were willing to sell their soul for the price of a rare diamond, ruby, or sapphire. But I’m not one of them.”

“I’d love to visit the Jewel Market,” Emily said. “I’ve heard it’s a fascinating place.”

“I think so,” Lazhar agreed. “We’ve preserved the building and the interior much as it was when it was first built, three hundred years ago, by the King of Daniz and the Prince of Persia. The mosaic tiles on the floors and walls, the handmade carpets and wall hangings, the gold minarets…all are well worth seeing.” He smiled at Emily. “I’ll give you a tour when you visit my country.”

“I’d like that very much.” He really is charming, Emily thought. The limousine slowed and she realized that she’d been engrossed in their conversation and hadn’t noticed their route. She glanced out the window and then back at the prince, puzzled. “This looks like the airport.”

“It is.” He agreed.

“We’re having dinner at the airport?” She wasn’t aware of a five-star restaurant located at the San Francisco International Airport. Certainly not a restaurant that a man of Lazhar’s caliber would choose, she thought.

“Not at the airport.”

The car slowed and parked beside a sleek jet. The bodyguard seated next to the driver leapt out and opened the door for Lazhar. He exited, turning to hold out a hand to Emily, and she followed him out onto the tarmac. The evening was warm and balmy; a slight breeze lifted her hair, skeining it across her face. She brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear.

They were standing a few feet from the steps leading up to the main cabin of a private jet. The logo on the tail spelled out Daniz in vivid blue and gold. Beside her, Lazhar spoke to one of the bodyguards in what Emily thought was French. Finished, the man nodded, bowed and reentered the car, which pulled away.

“This is your plane?” Curious, she glanced from the jet to Lazhar.

“Yes.” He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her toward the steps. “I think you’ll find it comfortable.”

Emily abruptly stopped walking, her movement halting Lazhar as well. “I’m sure I would,” she said carefully. “If I were traveling on it, but I’m not.”

“Actually we are.” Lazhar’s smile flashed, his dark eyes teasing. “And our destination is a surprise. I think you’ll find the food well worth the trip.”

“We’re flying out of town for dinner?”

“Yes.”

Uncertain, Emily hesitated. She didn’t know Lazhar well enough to get aboard a plane with him headed for an unknown destination. On the other hand, Cade did know him well and had assured her that he was trustworthy. Her brother’s recommendation overcame her innate wariness and she gave in.

“Very well—if you promise the food is worth the flight.”

“I promise.” Lazhar led her up the steps to the cabin.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” The whitecoated steward greeted them with a bow.

“Good evening, Carlos.” Lazhar seated Emily in one of the high-backed, upholstered seats next to the window with a small table between them. Both chairs and table were bolted securely to the floor and the chairs had seat belts. Behind him, the steward closed the outer door as the powerful jet engines rumbled to life, vibrating the cabin floor beneath Emily’s feet.

“I need to talk to the captain for a moment, please make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long.”

Emily murmured an assent, her gaze following Lazhar until he disappeared through the door at the end of the cabin. The summerweight, pale gray suit he wore was beautifully made and clearly custom tailored to fit his long legs and broad shoulders.

She sighed and shook her head at her own foolishness. Lazhar Eban was engaged to be married—already taken and off-limits. And even if he were available, he wasn’t her type of man at all. He was much too high profile, too powerful and too rich—all qualities that her father also possessed. Emily had intimate knowledge of just how difficult it could be to live with such a man.

On the other hand, Lazhar Eban was quite possibly the handsomest, sexiest man she’d ever met.

“If you’ll fasten your seat belt, ma’am, we’re about to take off.” The steward advised.

“Of course.”

He nodded his thanks when Emily clipped the latch and tugged the belt snugly across her abdomen. He left the cabin, Emily assumed to take his own seat elsewhere, and in moments, the sleek jet taxied down a runway and lifted smoothly into the air. She glanced out the window to see the Golden Gate Bridge appear off the wingtip before fluffy white clouds obscured her view.

Lazhar must have had to remain in the cockpit with a seat belt on, until we’re airborne, she thought as she gazed curiously around the luxurious cabin. The interior of the Daniz royal family’s jet was unlike any private plane she’d ever been on. There wasn’t a utilitarian piece of furniture in sight, even the sturdy chair she sat in was upholstered in a glorious deep blue fabric that felt like rough silk. Her feet rested on a thick carpet with jewel tones of scarlet-red, cobalt-blue, antique-gold and pearl-white that complemented the cabin fittings. The walls were a discreet, smooth pearlywhite, the wooden doors a deep mahogany set into arched doorjambs that reminded her of Spanish architecture. A collection of small French Impressionist paintings were clustered on one wall, their muted colors glowing against gold frames. Emily’s gaze lingered on the unique furnishings that made the plane’s interior as comfortable as a lavish hotel suite, and she was reminded that Daniz bordered Spain, France and the Mediterranean. Clearly the royal family enjoyed the best of all their cultures.

The plane climbed steeply and it wasn’t until it finally leveled out that Lazhar rejoined her, the steward following closely on his heels with a tray holding a chilled bottle of wine and two stemmed glasses.

Lazhar took the two filled glasses from Carlos’s tray and handed one to Emily. “To your health—and to our successful business enterprise.”

“To a beautifully organized wedding ceremony,” Emily responded, tilting her glass in salute before tasting the wine. “Mmm, delicious.”

“It’s a Spanish vintage from the Penedes region.” Lazhar dropped into the chair next to her and lifted his glass to eye the golden liquid. “And a favorite of my father’s.”

“And of yours?”

“And of mine,” he agreed.

“Would you like to have it served at your wedding?” Emily set the exquisitely cut wineglass on the parquet table that separated her chair from Lazhar’s and took a small notebook and gold pen from her bag.

Lazhar shrugged. “Yes, of course. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“I think it’s an excellent choice. I’ll make a note to request that the caterer use it. What is it called?” He told her, his deep voice smoothly switching to Spanish. She wrote down the name, vintage and year, then closed her notebook and placed it on the table, her pen next to it, before picking up her wineglass once more. She took a sip and observed him over the rim of her glass. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going for dinner and if the menu will be Spanish to match the wine? Or must I wait until we get there.”

“We’re having dinner aboard the plane.”

“Aboard the plane?” Confused, Emily stared at him.

“But tomorrow,” he continued, “we’ll have lunch in Daniz. I’ll have the palace chef uncork another favorite vintage for you to taste.”

“I beg your pardon?” Emily was certain she’d misunderstood him. Daniz was at least a ten-hour flight away from San Francisco.

“By lunchtime tomorrow, we’ll be in Daniz.”

Emily was speechless. His gaze didn’t flinch from hers, he seemed to be waiting for her to react to his blunt statement. Her surprise quickly gave way to anger and she returned her wineglass to the table with a snap.

“Are you telling me that this plane is flying to Daniz?”

“Yes.”

“With me on it?”

“Yes.”

“Without your asking me if I were willing to go to Daniz?”

“You told me this afternoon that you’re willing to go to Daniz. It was only a question of the timing.”

“I also told you that it would take at least two weeks to clear my calendar.”

“Which is why I discussed the situation with your assistant, Jane, and why the staff from my embassy in San Francisco will be reporting to your office tomorrow. They’ll do whatever your assistant requires of them until you return. They’ll also install the necessary equipment to link your office to the palace media room so you can be in touch with your staff at any hour of the day or night, whenever you feel it necessary.”

Emily was furious. “How kind of you. But that doesn’t change the fact that you failed to ask for my permission to do any of those things. Nor did you bother telling me about your plans when you lured me aboard this plane.”

“I can only apologize. When I spoke with Jane she assured me that she would be happy to take your appointments over the next couple of weeks. She also told me that the chance to combine a holiday in Daniz with work was something that she firmly believed would be good for you.” Lazhar paused, eyeing her. “She seemed quite taken with the idea, in fact, she volunteered to go to your apartment to pack your bag and get your passport this evening.”

“Jane helped you with this conspiracy?”

“She assisted with the arrangements, yes.”

Emily fumed, silently wondering what on earth Jane could have been thinking.

“I know you might not like my method of getting you to come to Daniz, Emily, but I’m sincere about the limited time frame. I don’t know how familiar you are with Daniz politics, but the news reports about my father’s health are true. He’s not well. We don’t know how much time he has left and he wants to see me married as soon as possible. I want your firm to handle the wedding plans but I can’t wait two weeks—not because I’m being difficult and high-handed, but because I don’t know how long my father will be with us. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to give him what he wants,” he added grimly.

His words defused Emily’s anger as little else could. She didn’t have a good relationship with her own father, but she could understand a son’s wish to please a dying father. “Very well,” she said. “When you put it that way, there’s little I can say. However,” she added when she saw relief ease the tense lines of his face, “I want to talk to Jane about the office arrangements before I agree.”

“I thought you might.” He lifted the tabletop between them, revealing a telephone in the cabinet beneath. “While you’re talking with her, I’ll check with the pilot about our flight time.”

Her temper still simmering, Emily pointedly waited until the door closed behind him before lifting the receiver and dialing, tapping her nails impatiently against the arm of her chair while she waited for Jane to pick up.

“Hello?”

“I’m going to fire you for this, Jane.”

“Hi, Emily.” Jane’s voice held a smile, despite Emily’s grim tones.

“I can’t believe you did this—what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that a) You’ve got a genuine shot at planning a royal wedding that would send Creative Wedding’s status through the roof; b) You’re so conscientious that you would never want the Benedicts or Katherine Powell, or any of your other clients, to feel that you gave royal wedding arrangements priority over theirs; and c) You can’t miss this opportunity. It’s just too good.”

“I know all of this, Jane. I took it into consideration when I told Prince Lazhar that I could fly to Daniz in two weeks, after I cleared my calendar.”

“But the prince made it very clear that he can’t wait two weeks,” Jane said. “And although I know you want to be there for each and every detail for your clients, Emily, I looked at your schedule for the next two weeks and I really can handle your appointments till you come home.”

“What about your own work?”

“Most of what I’ve booked as priority for the next few weeks is glorified errand-running and double-checking details for the Andersen and Heaton weddings next month.”

“Hmm.” Emily sighed, still not totally convinced.

“Emily,” Jane’s voice coaxed. “We’ve known each other since high school. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“Then trust me, going to Daniz is the best opportunity you’ve ever had to build your business. It’s like found money. This could make Creative Weddings the most important bridal consultant firm in the U.S. Not to mention,” Jane added persuasively. “That you’re going to spend a week or more in one of the most beautiful countries on the Mediterranean. And you’ll be staying in the palace. You haven’t had a vacation since we left high school—this is the perfect chance.”

“You’re sure you won’t be buried under at the office?”

“Positive. Besides, your prince said he’s sending over staff from the Daniz Embassy. They’re accustomed to dealing with diplomatic receptions and galas and they can do all the errand-running on my calendar while I’m free to deal with your appointments.”

“All right,” Emily said reluctantly. “You’ve convinced me. But I’m still not happy with the fact that neither you nor the prince asked me if I was willing.”