Wedded For His Royal Duty. SUSAN MEIER

      She stole a glance at him, running the situation through her brain again. He was so sexy in his scruffy jeans and white shirt that she had to admit she sort of liked the idea of marrying him. Even if his being nice to her was an act for the press, this was her shot. Her chance. She should not be overanalyzing this. She should be using it, engaging him in normal conversation to soften him up for when she experimented with flirting.

      “What was it like growing up in such a warm climate?”

      He took another quick look at her. “You mean as opposed to being required to wear a parka ninety percent of the year?”

      She laughed at his perceptiveness. “Yes.”

      “Nice.” He thought for a second. “I loved the beach, but I didn’t like the private area behind the palace. I wanted to be on the real beach, the public beach, with kids my own age. It wasn’t easy, and my bodyguards would groan when I was home from boarding school, but they generally found a way for me to be a normal kid.”

      “That’s why I fell in love with America. Most Europeans knew who I was. And if they didn’t, they knew I was ‘famous’ for some reason, so they’d Google me and that would be the end of any casual relationships. But in America, even knowing I was a princess, they’d shrug and say, ‘that’s cool,’ but otherwise, I was just a person to them.”

      “Interesting.”

      “I’m surprised you never encountered that.”

      He sneaked another peek at her. His brown eyes softened when he thought. His lips tilted up just slightly, as if something he remembered made him want to smile.

      Tingly warmth filled her. Oh, boy. It would be so flipping easy to fall for that smile. But it wasn’t real. And even though his behavior could only be an act for the press, something felt wrong. Off. Really, really off.

      “Stop the car.”

      “What?”

      She huffed out a breath. “Stop the car. Go back to the palace.”

      “We can’t. We’re supposed to be seen in public.”