Once Upon a Princess

“Arranged marriages haven’t been in vogue for a century or more, and I don’t think I’m the one to bring them back into style,” she said, trying to joke. Her father didn’t respond, so she added, “I’m sorry, Papa, but I can’t marry him. I’m happy here. I even have a job.”

“It’s beneath your station to work as a waitress.”

“Hey, I’ve worked as a clerk for Cara over in the bookstore. Is that better?”

“No,” her father assured her. “It isn’t better at all. You don’t need to work. You’re needed at home.”

“Yes, I do need to work. Mom had all kinds of jobs when she was in school, before you met her. And I’m a good waitress.” Parker crossed her fingers as she said the words. She was working at being adequate, and that was good enough.

Though she’d better get better…fast. Her father’s cutting off access to her funds meant not only was she broke but the partnership wasn’t as financially solvent as it should be. According to her projections, they should be operating in the black sometime in the next few months, but without an occasional influx of cash, the stores were walking a narrow financial line. Working as a waitress not only gave Parker an income but meant the store didn’t have to pay benefits to a full-time employee, and so it saved them money, as well.

It was a win-win situation in Parker’s eyes.

“As for working,” she continued, “it’s a necessity. You see, someone froze my accounts and canceled my charge cards. I have bills to pay, just like everyone else.”

“I cut off your money so you would come home, not so you would get a job,” he explained.

Parker could hear the exasperation in his voice and felt another stab of sorrow that she was the one putting it there.

“Papa, we’ve been over this a dozen times. Neither of us is going to give an inch, so we might as well drop it. I’m not marrying Tanner. I’m not coming home. And surprisingly, I like working.”

She thought of the tray she’d almost spilled today and the dark-haired man who’d rescued her. She smiled. “Some days I like it better than others, but no matter what, it’s satisfying.”

Her father didn’t say anything.

“Did you want anything new?” she finally asked.

“Tanner will come to America and get you, since you’re being stubborn and won’t come home.”

“No,” Parker insisted. “No. It would be a waste of time. Don’t you send him here, Papa. I’m not marrying him. I can’t believe you thought arranging some archaic betrothal to a virtual stranger would be a way to entice me back.”

“Your grandparents had an arranged marriage. My father used to swear it was love at first sight. That’s how our family falls—hard and fast.”

“You found Mother on your own, and I plan to find my future husband—if I ever marry—on my own, as well. Don’t send Tanner.”

“He’s already on his way. He should arrive tomorrow. He’s on flight 1129, arriving at the airport at eight-thirty in the evening. Make sure you’re on time.”

“On time for what?” Parker asked.

“On time to pick him up, of course.”

“I am not picking him up.”

“Young lady, it would be rude to make your fiancé take a cab from the airport. You might not want to be a princess, but I know that even someone who is not royalty has to have better manners than that. You will meet your fiancé at the airport.”

“I don’t have a fiancé,” she said for the umpteenth time.

And for the umpteenth time her father refused to acknowledge the comment. “Marie Anna, I expect you at that airport at eight-thirty tomorrow evening.”

Her father was right. She couldn’t leave poor Tanner stranded at the airport.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see to it that he has a ride. But that doesn’t mean I’m engaged to him.”

Her father sighed. “You didn’t used to be so difficult.”

“Neither did you.” The memory of sitting on his lap and feeling as if nothing in the world could harm her was back, practically choking her with unshed tears. “But no matter how difficult we both are, I love you, Papa.”

“And I you, Marie Anna. And I you.”

He disconnected.

Parker sat staring at the phone in her hand.

Tanner was coming to Erie.

The boy she used to know was a man now…a man who thought he was coming to meet his fiancée and bring her home in order to plan a wedding, say “I do” and settle down into wedded royal bliss.

Poor Prince Eduardo Matthew Tanner Ericson of Amar.

Her father had misled him and now it was up to Parker to set him straight.

Call your father, Shey had said. This was all Shey’s fault.

So maybe Shey should be the one to pick up the prince?

Chapter Two

Parker was a basket of nerves by the next evening. She might not have been willing to tell her mother about having her access to her trust fund cut off, but she had no compunction about hoping her mother could talk her father out of Tanner coming to the U.S.

“Your father won’t budge. But I’m sure you can handle Tanner, honey,” her mother said. “I know how strong you are.”

“You don’t think I’m running away, like Papa does?” Parker had asked.

“Not running away, running to. Looking for a life that works for you.”

“And if that life is away from Eliason?”

“I hope that you’ll find a way to include Eliason, even if you don’t live here. But regardless, we’re your family, no matter what.”

Talking to her mother had centered her. It always did. Her mother had been thrust into the spotlight when she’d married. She understood the costs that type of scrutiny entailed and she understood that Parker wasn’t willing to pay the price.

If only Parker could make her father understand.

Even if she couldn’t convince him, she was going to have to convince Tanner that she wasn’t going back.

Shey had agreed to pick up the prince, but that meant someone had to watch the shop. And by process of elimination, Parker was elected.

It was the first time she’d been left in charge of Monarch’s. She hadn’t wanted the responsibility but had said yes because her other option was picking up Tanner.

Watching the shop was the lesser of two evils. But being left in charge of the small coffeehouse wasn’t all that was making her nervous. She’d actually gotten through the whole evening without a major accident or problem.

No, the idea of Tanner coming to Erie—that was what had butterflies dancing around in her stomach.

He’d probably be as difficult as her father.

It wasn’t just a royalty thing. It was a man thing.

Parker most certainly did not agree with her father and she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t agree with any of Tanner’s ideas either.

“Miss?” a woman, the last customer in the shop, asked.

That shook Parker from her dark thoughts. The dark-haired woman looked upset.

“Sorry,” Parker said. “I was thinking. Can I help you?”

“Is there anyone who could walk me to my car? There’s a man lurking in the park. He’s watching us through the window and he looks sort of…” She paused and turned a little pink. “Well, this sounds a bit much, but he looks sort of ominous. He’s dressed all in black and just standing behind that tree, looking in here.”

All in black?

Parker was hit with a sneaking suspicion that she knew who it was. A premonition of sorts.

She wasn’t sure why she was so certain. There had to be a lot of men who liked wearing dark colors. And she’d never been prone to second sight, although rumor had it that her great-aunt Margaret on her father’s side had been the type of woman who had all kinds of hunches and premonitions.

Maybe Parker had inherited a touch of the gift.

In between worrying about Tanner and her father, she’d found time to think about her dark customer on more than one occasion since yesterday.

Actually a lot more than one occasion.

He’d featured prominently in her dreams last night, to boot.

That had to be why the first thing that came into her head when the woman mentioned a man in black was Jace.

But what if she wasn’t just being a bit much? What if he was watching the store? Did it have anything to do with the fact that she was sure she’d seen him before?

Parker knew she wasn’t going to find the answers if she continued to ponder over it.

“Let me lock the register and I’ll walk you out,” she said.

When the woman didn’t look convinced, Parker added, “I can protect us. I have pepper spray.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, her hesitation obvious.

“Have you ever gotten a face full of pepper spray? We’ll be safe enough. Just give me one minute.” Parker went to the small doorway that separated Monarch’s and the bookstore, Titles. “Hey, Cara?”

“Yes?” the small brunette said as she hurried toward Parker.

“I’m walking a customer to her car. No one’s in the store and I’ve locked the register, but keep an eye on the coffeehouse a moment, would you?”

“Sure,” Cara said. “Is there a problem?”

“No. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a jumpy customer.”

“Okay. But if you’re not back here in ten minutes, I’m dialing 911.”

“Thanks.”

Parker returned to the woman. “I’ve got my pepper spray and someone to watch the store. We’re good to go.”

“You’re sure?” the woman asked again.

“Positive.”

“I’m just across the street,” she said.

They walked out onto the sidewalk.

Parker squinted her eyes, trying to see across the street and behind the tree bordering the Perry Square park that the woman had mentioned.

She spotted a shadow.

“Straight ahead?” she asked.

“Yes. Behind that big tree,” the woman whispered. “My car’s just in front of it—the little Tracker.”

“Let’s go.”

They walked across the street to the car. Parker waited patiently while the woman unlocked the Tracker’s door and climbed in.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem. Hope to see you at Monarch’s again soon.”

The woman shut the door, and Parker stepped back so she could pull out.

Rather than go directly back into the store, she walked into the park.

The paths were lit, but the tree where she thought she’d seen a shadow was far enough away that it was hard to make out if anyone was behind it.

Something moved. Just a flicker.

She was pretty sure it was a man.

As she neared, he tried to fade farther into the night.

She stopped on the path.

Parker had always thought the women in horror films were dolts. She’d sit on her couch watching and thinking, Don’t go down to the basement, you idiot.

She didn’t need someone telling her not to stray off the path. She knew she should go back into the store. But her curiosity won over common sense. She felt a spurt of empathy for those horror-flick chicks who always needed to know what was at the bottom of the stairs, even if it meant they were the next to get axed.

The man was almost invisible in the shadows, but she knew he was there. And she was pretty sure she was right about who he was.

Gripping the pepper spray in case she was wrong, she said, “Uncle Jace?”

There was a slight rustling, as if he was trying to sink into the shadows.

“I know you’re there, Uncle Jace. Coffee, black. A niece and nephew. You’re fond of dark clothes and dark looks.”

A bit more rustling.

“If you don’t come out, I’m going to call 911 on my cell, then stand here and point you out to the cops. It’s handy having a police station as a neighbor. They all come into Monarch’s for their coffee, so I’m pretty sure they’ll believe me when I swear you’re stalking me. And I suspect I know why you’re stalking me. He put you up to it, didn’t he?”

It was a stab in the dark, but Parker knew she was right. That same feeling was deep in her gut. Her father had hired someone to watch her…again.

That’s why Uncle Jace had looked familiar.

That’s why he was out here in the dark, watching her in the store.

He was her father’s paid flunky.

Maybe she did have a touch of second sight, because she was certain she was right. For the last few weeks she’d occasionally had that old feeling that someone was watching her. She’d tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination spurred on by her father’s renewed efforts to get her to come home. But maybe she’d been right after all.

“Okay, I’m getting out my phone,” she called.

He didn’t just step out of the shadows, he sort of materialized.

“What are you babbling about?” he asked.

Despite the fact she’d been expecting him, Parker jumped.

She tried to hide her nervousness by going on the offensive. “Babbling? I don’t babble. Ever. What does he have you looking for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said.

There was enough light on the edge of the path for her to be reminded of how knee-weakeningly good-looking the man was. Dark and—here in the park at night—dangerous even. He was every woman’s fantasy.

Every woman but Parker Dillon.

If Uncle Jace was working for her father, he wasn’t her fantasy—he was her nightmare.

“Sure you do, Uncle Jace. My father. You’re one of his thugs. Don’t deny it. It’s an insult to my intelligence. The reason you looked familiar to me yesterday was because I have seen you. I just figured out where. At the hockey game last week. You and the kids were there. Are they really your niece and nephew or just kids my father hired to give you cover?”

“They’re real, all right. And I would never use them for cover. They’re getting their summertime kicks out of following me around. I doubt you’d have spotted me if it wasn’t for them.”

Parker looked at the intense man. Even in the dark, he was a sight to behold. “I don’t think you’re the kind of man who fades into the woodwork real well.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” he asked, a devilish smile on his face.

“Take it however you want, then tell me why you’re following me.”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Fine, then I’m calling the cops and telling them I have a stalker.”

“Hey, whatever makes you happy.” He shrugged and looked rather nonchalant about the idea.

“Nothing about this makes me happy,” she stated as she marched back up the path to the street.

She could hear her stalker behind her.

Not that she cared.

Let him follow her all he wanted.

He might not have admitted it, but Parker was sure that her father was behind this.

She was going back to the coffeehouse and calling home. She’d tell her father to call his watchdog off or else she’d disappear, go into hiding somewhere he’d never find her.

She hated to threaten her father, but he’d gone too far this time.

Sending Tanner—her unwanted supposed fiancé—after her was one thing, but siccing a spy on her was another thing entirely.

Stalker Boy took a couple quick steps and was next to her. “Just what are you up to now?”

“Don’t you worry about it. Just know you’re about to be out of a job.”

“I’m not worried about my job.”

“Aha! You just admitted it.”

“I didn’t admit it was your father.”

“You don’t have to admit it was him, I know it was him. I won’t be followed. I had enough of that growing up.”

That old feeling of panic threaded through her system and Parker fought to tamp it back down. This was just a flunky, not the press. He didn’t have a camera, just a great deal of dark looks.

“Princess—”

Whatever else he planned to say was lost as Parker stopped dead in her tracks and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Don’t ever, ever, call me that again. I’m no princess here. I’m Parker. Just Parker Dillon. An ordinary girl who’s just trying to get by.”

“Even if you weren’t a princess, there would be nothing ordinary about you, Parker,” he said, his voice a caress.

For one moment, Parker felt the urge to touch him, just lightly run a finger down his stubbled chin. But that was insane.

She didn’t know anything about Uncle Jace other than he was her father’s watchdog and he was good to his niece and nephew.

And despite the fact he was following her, he didn’t know her or else he’d know she was ordinary. That’s all she ever wanted to be.

Normal.

Everyday.

The type of person no one noticed. Someone who warranted no headlines or tabloid attention.

She turned and hurried back into the shop, flipped the sign to Closed and started to slam the door, but Jace walked in and took a seat in one of the booths before she managed it.

She gave him her best withering look, then shut the door.

“Can I get a coffee?” he asked.

“No.”

Cara poked her head through the door. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Parker practically growled.

Cara looked concerned. “Problems?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

After all, she’d been handling her father and his overbearing protectiveness for years. She’d handle this new tactic.

“Who is he?” Cara asked.

“Uncle Jace,” Parker scoffed.

When Cara looked confused, Parker added, “Not my uncle. He’s a henchman my father hired to watch me.”

“Oh, no. I thought your father had learned his lesson after what happened to the last man he hired to trail you. Poor Hoffman.”

“He obviously didn’t learn enough.” But he was going to.

“But Hoffman certainly did,” Cara said with a giggle.

“What happened to Hoffman?” Jace asked.

Cara’s giggles escalated. “You don’t want to know. You’re probably next, and it wouldn’t be kind to make you worry needlessly, because worry or not, she’d get you.”

His eyes narrowed and he studied Parker a moment, then turned back to Cara. “Get me how?”

Cara looked at Parker, then back at Jace. “Sorry.”

Obviously deciding Cara wasn’t going to tell him, he switched to Parker.

“Hey, Princ—Parker, just what did you do to this Hoffman?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said, then realized how juvenile the statement had sounded. “Just sit there and be quiet.”

She picked up the phone and started dialing her father’s private number.

“What time is it there?” Jace asked. “Are you going to wake him?”

“I wouldn’t care if I did. He deserves to be woken up. But I’m pretty safe calling whenever. He doesn’t sleep much.”

She didn’t add that in that respect she was her father’s daughter. The rest of the world needed seven or eight hours of sleep a night. Like her father, she existed on three or four hours at the most.

Those extra hours of not sleeping left her a lot of time for thinking and scheming, which is how she’d thought of the great get-Hoffman plan.

Tonight she’d be thinking of a new get-Jace plan.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” her father said.

Without any warning, Parker lobbed her initial volley. “How could you?”

“I told you Tanner was coming.”

She groaned. She was so caught up with Jace that she’d forgotten her no-way-fiancé was coming to Erie.

She glanced at the clock. Shey would probably be here with him soon.

The night was going to be a long one—and the length had nothing to do with the few hours she spent sleeping.

“Not Tanner,” she said. “Jace. Your flunky.”

“I’d never hire just a flunky to watch over my baby girl,” her father assured her. “Jason O’Donnell is a very well-respected private investigator. The mayor himself recommended him.”

“And what’s he supposed to be investigating?”

“You. He’s supposed to find out what’s keeping you there in Erie. Or rather, who.”

“I’ve told you over and over again, there’s no one in my life other than my friends, Shey and Cara. I just can’t go back to being a princess. You know what my last year there was like. Stalked by reporters, every move I made exploited and exaggerated. I like my life here. I like being just Parker. I like the anonymity, the ordinariness of it all.

“Papa, all fathers think that their daughters are special. You’re biased. And despite the fact that I love you, I’m annoyed. Very annoyed. Call off your watchdog.”

“No. He’ll stay until Tanner brings you home. I’ve missed you, so please make it sooner rather than later.”

Her father hung up.

Parker stared at the phone in her hand a moment, then turned to Uncle Jace.

Jason O’Donnell, private detective.

“It looks like I’m stuck with you,” she said.

“Oh, no. Another Hoffman?” Cara whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” Parker said, glaring at her new nemesis. “Maybe even worse.”

Cara shot Jace a sympathetic look, then said, “I think I’ll leave you two to duke it out. I don’t enjoy all this drama.”

Parker smiled. “Go ahead. I’m fine. I can handle anything he dishes out.”

“I know you can,” Cara said as she started back to the bookstore. “That’s what scares me.”

Jace looked from the small brunette who gave him a sympathetic wave before she left to the tall blonde who was glaring in his direction.

He wasn’t sure who Hoffman was, but first thing tomorrow he was going to find the man and see just what the princess—Parker, he corrected himself—had done to the guy.

Knowledge was the best protection. And with the way Parker was glaring at him, he was pretty sure he needed all the protection he could get.

“When I get through with you—” she started, but Jace didn’t get to hear just what she had planned for him because at that moment the door to the coffeehouse opened.

He’d been watching Parker for two weeks and knew that the woman with the short red hair was Shey Carlson, her friend and the owner of Monarch’s. It wasn’t Shey who caught his attention. It was the man who walked in next to her.

The guy looked to be about the same height as Parker, so he couldn’t be more than five-ten. But he seemed to have a larger-than-life sort of aura that gave the illusion of being taller. But Jace wasn’t fooled. He was in the business of seeing beyond illusions.

He had dark brown hair that was impeccably styled and a suit that Jace was sure had some designer label attached to it.

“Princess Marie Anna,” the guy said in a deep, sophisticated voice.

“It’s Parker,” she practically growled.

Parker obviously wasn’t overly impressed with the GQ looks of the man.

“It’s been a long time, Tanner,” she said in more of a normal tone.

“Too long.” He shot her a thousand-watt smile that had probably melted the hearts of women all over the globe.

“Not long enough,” she muttered.

Tanner.

Jace knew the name from the files Parker’s father had sent. Prince Eduardo Matthew Tanner Ericson of Amar.

Parker’s fiancé.

“Your father sent me to bring you home.”

“I am home.”

The man’s perfection was marred by his sudden frown. “Back to Eliason.”

“You’re welcome to go back to Eliason or Amar on the very next plane out of Erie. But I’m staying here.”

“That’s it? I flew all this way to see my fiancée—”

“I am not your fiancée,” Parker interrupted.

“—and all you have to say to me is leave?”

“That’s about the shape of things. And speaking of leaving, I’m on my way out. You don’t mind closing up, Shey?”

“Of course not,” her friend assured her. She nodded toward the prince. “What about him?”

“Would you give him a ride to whatever hotel he’s staying at?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, watchdog, are you coming?” Parker asked.

“Uh.”

Jace wasn’t sure what to do. He was supposed to be trailing her, not escorting her. But even though she seemed totally in control, he knew she was upset.

“Sure thing,” he said. “How about I drive?”

“Sounds good to me, since I took the bus.”

“The bus?” the prince exclaimed. “My fiancée is riding public transportation?”

“You don’t have a fiancée, but if you were referring to me, then yes, I take public transportation. My father shut off access to my trust and I’m broke. So I sold my car.”