A Royal Temptation. Charlene Sands

television. And she’d fallen for him. He was funny and charming and kind. It was like a regular Cinderella story, the poor broke comedian hooks up with a real live princess. Travis was far from poor now, although he’d come from humble beginnings and the press loved their story and ate it up.

      A new American fairy tale, they’d called it.

      Travis had been on top of the world when they were together. Everyone loved him and thought he was worthy of a princess from an obscure little country. Only dating a supermodel would have given him more credibility.

      And here she was, doing the same thing. Another American fairy tale, only this time with a real king.

      Stupid of her.

      Her nerves were jumpy and by the time eight-thirty rolled around, she was royally pissed.

      Juan Carlos had twisted her arm to accept this dinner date, the way charming men did. He’d trapped her and then kissed her until every brain cell was lulled into capitulation. God, she’d been looking forward to being alone with him again. That kiss was good. Better than good. It was the best kiss she’d ever had. Not even Travis could kiss like that, and he’d been plenty experienced in that department.

      “Sorry, so sorry, Portia.”

      She jumped. “Oh!” Juan Carlos entered the room, looking dashing in a dark buttoned-up suit but no tie. Another growl emitted from her stomach, this time not due to hunger.

      “Did Alicia explain what happened? It was my fault. This is the first chance I’ve had to—”

      “It’s been over ninety minutes,” was all she could think to say.

      “I would’ve cancelled with you and sent you home, but this is your last night in Alma. Selfishly, I wanted to see you again.”

      Guilt rose like bile in her throat. She remained silent.

      He glanced at the feast of food that had been put before her. “You didn’t touch anything Chef prepared. You must be famished.”

      “I’m not hungry anymore, Your Majesty.”

      His lips pursed in disapproval.

      She still couldn’t bring herself to call him by his given name.

      “You’ve been so patient. There’s just one more meeting I have to get through. Will you wait?”

      She shook her head. “Actually, I think I’d like to go.”

      “You’re angry.”

      “No, I’m tired and, and...”

      “Angry.”

      She didn’t respond. “Will you have your driver take me back to the hotel?”

      Juan Carlos closed his eyes briefly. “Yes, of course. I just assumed after we kissed, you’d... Never mind. You’re right. I shouldn’t have made you wait.”

      A man who admitted when he was wrong? How rare.

      “Duty called. I’m afraid it always will.”

      That’s how it had worked with Travis. The difference? Travis had been building his own personal dynasty, while Juan Carlos was trying to build one for his country. But that still left Portia with the same end result. She’d never be a top priority and while she liked Juan Carlos, she had vowed, after many disappointments with Travis, to never get herself in that situation again.

      With that, she wished Juan Carlos a good evening, assured him she wasn’t angry and put enough distance between them that he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t plant his delicious lips on hers again and make her change her mind.