“If they meet me here, they’re already going to know I’m the king’s daughter.”
Zara fingered a cracker, but found she couldn’t actually eat. Nerves were doing tai chi in her stomach. Between her passionate encounter with Rafe, her trepidation about meeting the rest of her potential family, the formal dinner and Sabrina’s cold shoulder, she found herself wanting to head back to the States and pretend that this had never happened.
“Maybe your run of back luck in the man department is about to change,” Cleo said cheerfully. “It couldn’t get worse.”
“Don’t tempt fate by saying that.” Zara nibbled on the cracker. “I can’t believe how complicated this all is. Rafe also told me that men were going to be interested in me because of my position as Hassan’s daughter.”
“Well, duh.” Cleo shook her head. “You are so unprepared to handle this.”
Zara knew that her sister meant the comment kindly, but it still stung. Sometimes she really hated that Cleo was so “man” experienced. No doubt tonight she would create a sensation. What would it be like to be so incredibly attractive to men? Just once Zara would like to think that someone could find her irresistible, too.
“I’ll have to be careful,” Zara said. “It’s going to be strange not knowing if a man is interested in me for myself or for my connections.” She grimaced. “Actually, I already have that answer. I’ll know exactly what he’s interested in.”
Cleo scooted close and touched her arm. “Zara, you’re too hard on yourself. Just because you’ve picked stupid men in the past doesn’t mean there aren’t dozens of wonderful guys who would think you’re incredible. Because you are. Someday you’re going to meet the right guy and he’s going to knock your socks off and you’re going to make him not care about getting his head chopped off.”
Zara laughed. “Oh, sure. Who would risk death to sleep with me? I couldn’t get anyone to do it before.”
“It’ll happen. You’ll see.”
Zara appreciated Cleo’s support, but didn’t believe a word of it. As for someone knocking off her socks, Rafe had done a darn good job. She’d also aroused him. But apparently not enough. He’d practically left skid marks in his haste to warn her off.
Someone knocked at their door precisely on time. Zara smoothed down the front of the bronze-colored dress she’d slipped into and headed for the door. Marie and her staff had worked magic, nipping and tucking the fabric until the soft folds created the illusion of curves. A strapless padded bra gave her a couple of inches on top.
Nearly an hour and a half before, Renee had arrived with a suitcase full of cosmetics, followed by Eric who did hair. Between the two of them, Zara had been transformed. Her long hair had been piled high on her head in an elaborate style that swept up and around. A servant had brought a diamond tiara, along with several jewelry choices. Cleo had nearly drooled in delight. The sparkling diamonds and sapphires made Zara nervous and as she reached for the door handle, she rubbed her fingers against the diamond drop earrings she’d chosen.
Rafe stood in the hall. He’d changed into a tuxedo, which fitted him perfectly. No doubt his association with a royal family required formal wear.
Her gaze lingered on his handsome face, most especially his mouth. She could instantly recall how his lips felt on hers and the way she’d trembled in his embrace.
Rafe smiled. “You look good.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
She winced as soon as the words passed her lips. Could that have sounded more stupid? But Rafe didn’t say anything to make her feel bad. Instead he stepped into the living room and glanced at his watch.
“We have to be at the reception anteroom in ten minutes.”
“If that’s a comment about me being late, you can forget it,” Cleo said breezily. “I’m hardly the kind of girl to be late for her first chance to meet real, live handsome princes.”
Cleo glided into the room, her eyes bright with humor and anticipation. Zara had been caught up in wondering if anyone she knew had ever actually been in an “anteroom” when she registered her sister’s appearance.