Read [Montacroix Royal Family Series 01] - Guarded Moments for Free Online Page B

said dryly.
    "Is that a fact?" The director exchanged a look with Caine. "I do hope Caine hasn't offended you, Princess."
    Chantal decided to apply a little diplomacy herself by not bringing up Caine's earlier snide remarks. "Certainly not. Mr. O'Bannion has been the soul of discretion," she said sweetly. "It is simply that he's unlike any other diplomat I've ever met."
    "I remind the princess of one of her father's palace guards," Caine offered.
    James Sebring's jaw began to twitch. "Is that right?"
    "There is a decided resemblance," Chantal replied. "Perhaps if Mr. O'Bannion ever tires of the State Department, he could come to work for you in the Presidential Security."
    "Now there's an idea," the director said with forced enthusiasm. "By the way, Princess, my wife and I were discussing the photographs of your paintings in the gallery catalog earlier this evening. She was particularly curious about the inspiration for your most recent work."
    As the director deftly steered the conversation onto a safer track, Caine took the opportunity to drift back into the crowd, remaining, as always, only an arm's length from Chantal.
    A palace guard, he mused. As he watched her carrying on an obviously stimulating conversation with Sebring, a senior senator from Illinois and a newly appointed Supreme Court justice, Caine wondered if Chantal had any idea how close she'd come to hitting the bull's-eye.
    There was a light rain falling when they left the reception. For the first time since they'd entered the lofty, dignified reception hall of the embassy, Chantal allowed herself to relax. Leaning her head back against the leather seat of the limousine, she closed her eyes.
    She was so silent and so still that Caine thought she'd fallen asleep until she said, "I'm famished."
    "You should have eaten something at the reception."
    "Impossible. Royal etiquette decrees that a princess never eats in front of her public."
    "You are kidding."
    "Only slightly." Opening her eyes, she met his incredulous look. "Whenever I'm on public display, especially in such a formal setting such as tonight, it's safer to refrain from eating. Think what a disaster it would be if the princess of Montacroix spilled cocktail sauce down the front of her dress. Or worse yet, someone else's gown."
    "Probably change the free world as we know it today," Caine agreed dryly. "The dining room is probably closed at the hotel, but there's always room service."
    "I'm not certain the room service menu has what I'm hungry for."
    Her sultry scent surrounded them in the warm air of the limousine, filling his head. "Don't be ridiculous," Caine countered, reminding himself that she was merely an assignment—an assignment he didn't want. "You're a princess. The chef will undoubtedly be thrilled to whip up anything your royal little heart desires."
    Since the scorn seemed to be missing from his tone this time, Chantal decided not to challenge his renewed reference to her royal status. "Do you think he'd be all that eager to grill a cheeseburger?"
    "A cheeseburger?"
    "With French fries. And lots of catsup. I do believe that cheeseburgers and French fries are one of the best things about America."
    Her light laughter made Caine think of silver wind chimes touched by a summer breeze.
    "I've tried for years to teach Bernard, our family chef, the way to grill a proper cheeseburger, but he can't seem to manage such a simple task. Although I can't prove it, I believe he refuses to learn out of spite."
    "Spite?"
    "I'm afraid he's not much of a fan of America," she said on a slight sigh. "Actually, as far as Bernard is concerned, Montacroix is the cradle of civilization. Anyone who is not a citizen of our small country is obviously a barbarian, guilty of all sorts of primitive behavior."
    "Such as eating cheeseburgers and French fries."
    Chantal nodded. "Exactly." She caught a glimpse of a blue-and-green neon sign flashing outside the limousine window. "The sign says Open 24 Hours," she exclaimed