Free Courting His Royal Highness by Amy Hahn Page A

asked. When Julia didn’t answer, still staring in awe at Max, she turned to Max and apologized. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea she would act this way.”
    Max chuckled.
    Chloe elbowed her astonished friend. “Knock it off, Jules. He’s just a guy.”
    Max gaped at her in pleased surprise. No one had ever referred to him as “just a guy.” That was all he’d ever wanted to be—just an average guy who could fall in love with an average gal and have a normal, average life. But that was impossible. He knew that. He would always be a prince; therefore, his life would never be normal. He’d searched the world over for a woman who loved him as a man and not as a prince. But he had failed.
    He had failed until now. And now it was too late.
    Chloe elbowed Julia again, rolling her eyes when she received no response. “I guess I’ll have to apologize for my friend.”
    “No need.”
    “Used to it?”
    He nodded. “Very.”
    Chloe leaned close and whispered, “Is this how they always react to you?”
    He could hardly concentrate. Her cinnamon and apple fragrance sent his senses into a tailspin. “You mean women?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yeah.”
    Chloe wrinkled her nose and pulled back. “How awful for you.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. It’s not such a bad thing having that effect on women.”
    One eyebrow jutted upwards. “Oh?”
    He smiled sheepishly. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t flattering.”
    The other eyebrow arched delicately. “I guess so.” She gave a low whistle. “Wow.”
    “Wow what?”
    “I just can’t imagine.”
    “I’ve been putting up with it for years. All part of the job.”
    “Amazing.” She shook her head, and her glossy hair fluttered about her shoulders. Max fought the temptation to reach out and entwine his fingers in the flowing mass. He remembered the soft texture, the feel of the coffee tresses fanned across his chest, the caress of the curls against his face.
    “You better get used to it.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Because you’re going to be famous, Chloe. This show is going to turn you into a star.”
    Chloe glanced back at Julia. Her friend still stood in flabbergasted silence. She shook her head and snapped her fingers in front of Julia’s eyes. There was no response, no indication Julia even noticed her. Chloe turned back to Max. “Let’s hope not.”
    Max glanced at his watch. “We should go.”
    “Agreed.” Chloe reached behind her and pulled out another suitcase.
    “Let me.” Max grabbed the suitcase from her. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand, and heat charged through him at the contact. His eyes caught hers, held her gaze. He didn’t move. Neither did she. They simply stared into each other’s eyes, their hands touching.
    “Thanks, but I can manage,” she finally said, her voice barely an octave above a whisper. “Really. I can carry it.”
    He could tell it was heavy, too heavy for her. Why did women always insist on taking their entire closet with them when they traveled? Of course, he owned many pieces of luggage because his station in life required him to dress appropriately. However, he had an entire entourage of employees to organize and pack for him and deliver the luggage wherever it needed to be. Personally, he preferred one duffel bag. It was the only way to travel.
    “It’s no trouble.”
    She jutted her chin out and tugged the bag from under his grasp. Her fingers slid from his, and Max immediately missed the feeling of her skin against his.
    “I can manage. Don’t you know about American girls, Prince Max?”
    He took a step back and watched her struggle with the suitcases. “I have a feeling you’re about to enlighten me on the matter.”
    “Ever heard of women’s lib?”
    “Of course. I’m a firm believer in equality.”
    “Good.” She tried lifting the pieces of luggage and failed. They slammed back down to the ground. “We American girls like to do things ourselves.”
    Max