He whispered it, making it more of a caress than a title. Soft, sweet and maybe, just maybe, a little hot.

“Good night, Jace,” Parker murmured.

As he walked down the stairs, she wanted to call him back, wanted to stay with him just a little longer.

Or maybe a whole lot longer.

And because she didn’t want to let him go, she held herself silent and simply watched him leave.

She was safe.

Alone.

Locked in her apartment.

Like some princess of old, locked away from everyone in a lonely tower….

Dear Reader,

May has to be one of the most beautiful months of the year. Having been trapped indoors for the cold, dark winter, I love taking long walks and discovering new shops and restaurants that have opened in New York. And everywhere I turn, multicolored flowers line street medians; the sidewalks are flooded with baby carriages and the bridal salons lining Madison Avenue feature gowns that would make any woman feel like a princess.

As our special tribute to May, we’ve gathered romances from some of your favorite writers and from some pretty stellar new voices. Raye Morgan’s BOARDROOM BRIDES continues with The Boss’s Special Delivery (SR #1766). In this classic romance, a pregnant heroine finds love with her sworn enemy. Part of the FAIRYTALE BRIDES continuity, Beauty and the Big Bad Wolf (SR #1767) by Carol Grace shows how an ambitious career woman falls for a handsome recluse. The next installment in Holly Jacobs’s PERRY SQUARE miniseries, Once Upon a Princess (SR #1768), features a private investigator who’s decided it’s time a runaway princess came home…to him! Finally, two single parents get a second chance at love, in Lissa Manley’s endearing romance In a Cowboy’s Arms (SR #1769).

And be sure to come back next month when Patricia Thayer and Lilian Darcy return to the line.

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

Silhouette Romance

*Do You Hear What I Hear? #1557

*A Day Late and a Bride Short #1653

*Dad Today, Groom Tomorrow #1683

*Be My Baby #1733

†Once Upon a Princess #1768

can’t remember a time when she didn’t read…and read a lot. Writing her own stories just seemed a natural outgrowth of that love. Reading, writing, chauffeuring kids to and from activities, makes for a busy life. But it’s one she wouldn’t trade for any other.

Holly lives in Erie, Pennsylvania, with her husband, four children and a 180 pound Old English Mastiff. In her “spare” time, Holly loves hearing from her fans. You can write to her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102 or visit her Web site at www.HollysBooks.com.

Dear Reader,

In Once Upon a Princess I’m introducing Parker, Shey and Cara. They’re friends. The kind of friends who would drop everything, do anything, for each other. They were born to different families, to different circumstances, but they find a kinship together. More than just friends…they’re sisters of the heart. Recently our family suffered a devastating loss. So many of my friends supported me and lent me strength. One of my oldest friends, who’d just flown from Alaska to Virginia, jumped in her car and drove for eight hours to be with me. I can’t tell you how much all these ladies mean to me. How much I value and treasure their friendship. That’s what I hope I capture with Parker, Shey and Cara’s relationship…that special sort of friendship women share. A true sisterhood.

I hope you enjoy my Perry Square trilogy. Things on the square are hopping, and it’s not just Parker, Shey and Cara who are finding that love is in the air!

Holly

P.S. I love hearing from readers. You can find me at www.HollysBooks.com or snail-mail me at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

“I need a job.”

Just one week before, when Parker Dillon had uttered those words to her two best friends, Shey Carlson and Cara Phillips, she hadn’t known what she was letting herself in for. And now here she was a working woman—a waitress extraordinaire.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite extraordinary yet.

Most shifts she wasn’t even totally competent, but it had only been seven days and her business degree hadn’t exactly prepared her for a waitressing career path. But Parker frequently reminded herself that all she’d ever wanted was to be ordinary, so maybe being a less-than-extraordinary waitress was okay.

“Hi, may I take your order?” she asked the people at her newest table at Monarch’s, her friend Shey’s small coffeehouse on Perry Square in Erie, Pennsylvania.

A man and two children looked up.

A man and two children who looked rather familiar.

The man wore a black turtleneck sweater and black jeans all topped by a black leather jacket. His hair was black, as well. Not some dark brown bordering on black, but a true black. Despite the dark color, it looked soft.

Inviting even.

Not that Parker wanted to be invited.

She didn’t have time for men.

Not even darkly handsome ones.

So she concentrated on the two youngsters and smiled. “Who’s first?”

The girl grinned and said, “I’d like a hot chocolate and one of those blueberry muffins, please.”

Parker wrote the order down, then turned to the boy. “And you?”

“Hot chocolate and a chocolate donut.”

The man cleared his throat.

“Sorry, Uncle Jace.” The boy looked at Parker and added, “Please.”

Uncle.

The man wasn’t their dad.

For some reason, Parker’s heart did a queer little double beat.

He—Uncle Jace—turned from the children and looked right at her.

Parker noted that his eyes were as dark as his hair. Deep and penetrating eyes. They looked at her as if they could see more than her well-worn jeans and ponytailed blond hair.

He peered at her as if he knew things about her, things that she’d rather no one know.

“Coffee,” was all he said in a low voice that sounded as if someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal chords.

Something within her stirred at the sound.

“Cream and sugar?” she asked, her voice oddly breathy.

“Black.”

It figured, she thought with a small smile. Of course Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome took his coffee black.

“Be right back.”

She headed over to retrieve their food, but couldn’t help one quick glance over her shoulder. Uncle Jace appeared to be scolding the kids, who were both wearing guilty looks.

“Hey, that’s some hunk,” Shey said as Parker came behind the counter. “Too bad about the kids. Like they say, all the good ones are taken.”

“They’re not his kids. They called him uncle.”

“Not too bad, then. I don’t see a ring.” She was looking past Parker toward the table. “Do you know him? He’s watching you.”

Parker turned, and sure enough he was. He shifted his gaze back to the kids, but he’d been studying her. “I can’t quite place him, but he looks familiar, like I should know him.”

“So ask him,” Shey said.

That was Shey in a nutshell.

She was the kind of person who always cut to the chase. She didn’t have the time or the patience to pussyfoot around issues.

Shey only had one speed: full-steam ahead.

She’d been the one to spearhead Parker and Cara into forming a partnership and opening the two stores. Parker had her degree in international business. And although Perry Square wasn’t exactly international, it felt good to use some of her education to put together a business plan. She’d been the stores’ financial backer and business manager. Having a healthy trust fund had made things much easier.

Full-steam-ahead Shey had taken responsibility for Monarch’s Coffeehouse. And Cara, who was the quietest of the trio, had surprised them all by not only managing Titles, the adjoining bookstore, but really enjoying it.

Each of their positions had played to each of their strengths. It had been perfect.

The stores weren’t generating a huge profit yet, and that hadn’t been a problem until her father cut off her access to her trust fund. That’s why she’d taken the vacant waitressing position to help make ends meet.

Both her friends had argued against it, but most of the time Parker was enjoying it. Eyeing Uncle Jace, she had to admit she was enjoying today, and this particular table, more than most.

“Go on. Ask him if you two know each other,” Shey prompted again.

“That’s okay. It’s not important,” Parker said as she poured the hot chocolate into a cup.

“Come on now, Parker, he’s a hunk. You should just go for it. You’re on a roll lately,” she said with a chuckle. “So why don’t you roll his way? Nothing can be as hard as standing up to your father. By the way, he called again…or rather, his secretary did. You’re supposed to call him back. He said it’s important.”

“I don’t think so.” Parker topped the hot chocolates off with whipped cream and got a coffee cup.

“You should call your father,” Shey scolded. “After all, what’s he going to do? You’ve said no. You’re an adult, free to make your own decisions. And just because you’ve decided not to go home, not to give in to his demands, that doesn’t mean you should cut yourself off from your family. Family is important.”

Parker felt a stab of guilt. She knew she should appreciate her family more.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love them.

She did.

Her mother was the sweetest, most easygoing woman Parker had ever known.

Unfortunately Parker hadn’t inherited any of those qualities from her mom.

She tried to recognize her own virtues…and laid-back wasn’t one of them. Parker knew she was as hard-headed and sure of herself as her father and brother.

She smiled as she thought of them all.

She adored them, even her bossy father. And to be honest, she missed them terribly.

But loving her family and living with them were two distinctly different things. There were so many burdens associated with her family name.

Parker wasn’t shy, but being the focus of so much public scrutiny was trying. Endless appearances that were little more than photo ops. And press who found even the most private details of her life to be fair game, as well. Being followed, hounded… A claustrophobic feeling pressed on her chest, making her pulse start to race.

Parker forced herself to draw in a long, slow breath and release it as she pushed unpleasant memories aside.

No, she wasn’t going back to that life, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss her family. Despite everything, she knew she was lucky to have them all.

Look at Shey.

Shey didn’t have anyone except for her and Cara. The three of them were truly sisters of the heart. But Parker knew that Shey longed for more. That her friend would give anything for a real family, even if they came with unwanted baggage.

“I’ll call tonight,” she promised. “But right now, I’m off to work on my waitressing skills.”

“Ask Mr. Tall, Dark and Yummy if the two of you have met.”

“Maybe,” Parker said, hefting the tray and trying to balance it. “Maybe I will.”

“Maybe I won’t tell if you promise not to follow me again,” Jace O’Donnell told his niece and nephew.

The twins looked stubborn.

“You know your mother will ground you, right? Your mom is tough.”

Jace knew that was stretching the truth more than a little. His sister liked to pretend she was tough, but to be honest, she had a soft heart.

It’s what made her special.

It’s also what had caused her so much pain recently.

“We eat, then you leave,” Jace continued. “And maybe, just maybe, I won’t tell.”

“Come on, Uncle Jace,” Amanda whined. She reminded him of her mother. Shelly had the same brown hair with streaks of blond, the same inquisitive blue eyes as the twins…she’d also been a huge pain when they were growing up. Her kids were carrying on the tradition.

Chalk one up for genetics.

Part of Jace wanted to hug his pretty little niece. The other part knew that if he didn’t come down on them hard now, he’d spend the rest of the twins’ summer vacation checking over his shoulder to see if they were tailing him.

“You know better,” he said sternly. “You could have blown this case.”

“We wouldn’t,” Bobby assured him. “We’re practicing. Next year we’re in high school. Four years after that and we can come work for you full-time as P.I.s.”

Jace stifled a groan and reminded himself that he was flattered the twins wanted to work for him. They wanted to be like him because they looked up to him.

But occasionally their admiration was too much.

This was one of those times.

“This is an important case,” he said. “I can’t afford to lose it.”

“Tell us all about it,” Amanda said, clearly intrigued. “We can help you.”

“No.”

“Four years, Uncle Jace,” Bobby said. “That’s only forty-eight months. We need to train now.”

“Not four years.” The kids’ faces fell and Jace felt like a heel. They’d been through so much lately, and now he’d made them feel worse.

“Eight,” he corrected. “You each get your college degree first. Then, if you still want, you can have a job.”

“We don’t need college,” Bobby said. “We want to work for you. You can teach us everything we need to know. Starting now with this case. Who are we spying on?”

Jace ignored their questions about the case and focused on their reluctance to attend college. “Unfortunately I only hire college graduates. As for my case—”

Parker Dillon was heading their way, a tray balanced precariously on one hand.

“Shh,” Jace said, not wanting their waitress to hear the conversation about his case—mainly because she was the case. Not that he was telling the kids that.

Her tray wobbled as she approached their table and the huge puddle of water their very wet feet had made.

Visions of coffee and hot chocolates falling prompted Jace to jump to his feet and grab the tray just as she skidded through the puddle.

“My hero,” she said with a grin as she righted herself. “That could have been a mess.”

She took the tray back.

“No problem,” Jace said as he slid back into the booth.

“It would have been a problem if it had spilled, so as a thanks for saving me from certain disaster, your order’s on me.”

He frowned. He knew from his report that Parker Dillon didn’t have money to spend on their breakfast. Last week her father had cut off her trust fund, and Parker didn’t have two plug nickels to rub together. She’d be scrambling to make this month’s rent and to pay the stores’ monthly bills if she hadn’t sold her car.

He wondered if her father knew. He’d have to include the information in his next report.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace said.

“It’s my pleasure. It’s not every day a girl meets a hero.”

“I’m no hero,” he felt compelled to warn her.

The way she was looking at him, her very naked admiration, made him feel guilty.

And there was no way he should feel guilty. He wasn’t here to harm her. As a matter of fact, he was here to make sure she didn’t come to any harm.

“You’re a hero,” she said again.

“I’m—”

Before he could protest further, his helpful niece and nephew jumped in.

“Sure you are, Uncle Jace,” Amanda said. “Why, just last week Mom said you were her hero when you took us to Cedar Point for the day.”

“And how about the time you caught that guy who stole the lady’s purse?” Bobby added. “The paper said you were a hero.”

Parker smiled at the twins, then turned to Jace. “See, I was right, you’re a hero. I can always spot one. So, your breakfast, such as it is, is on me since you saved it from being on me.”

She laughed at her own play on words.

Jace just frowned. He knew that Parker had no experience with being broke. He could give her lessons, but not without blowing his cover.

This was the first time in her life that she had to work for her money. And if her almost mishap was any indication, she hadn’t quite settled into a blue-collar existence yet.

And why should she?

Parker Dillon was no real waitress.

Parker Dillon was a princess.

A true, blue-blooded, wear-a-crown-to-royal-functions sort of princess. And it was his job to find out why she wouldn’t go home and assume her royal duties. Until he did, he was to ensure the safety of Princess Marie Anna Parker Mickovich Dillonetti of Eliason.

“Really, we can’t allow you to pay for our breakfast. I know how tight it can be to live on a budget.”

There, he’d reminded her that she was on a budget now. She had to watch her money and couldn’t go spending it on just anything or anyone.

“Really, it’s my pleasure. Like I said, it’s not every day a girl meets a real hero. Speaking of meeting, have we met before? You look familiar.”

“No.”

She looked taken aback by his monosyllabic, more-than-a-little-brusque response. But when he didn’t say anything else, she took the hint.

“Well, all right, then. Just holler if you need anything else.”

“We’re fine,” Jace said.

When Bobby appeared as if he was going to say something, Jace gave him a look of warning, and for once his nephew heeded it and sank back in his seat, silent.

Without another word, Parker Dillon left them.

Jace watched her go.

The princess went back to the counter, ready to wait on someone else.

And while she was waiting on tables, her father, Antonio Paul Capelli Mickovich Dillonetti, the king of Eliason, was waiting for Jace to find out why she wouldn’t go home.

What a mess.

“Hi, Mom.” Parker was taking a break in the small back office later that afternoon. “It’s me. Father called and wanted to speak to me.”

“Are you two fighting again?” There was motherly concern in the former Erie resident’s voice. Back then her mom had been plain Anna Parker. A small-town girl. Now she was a queen. More than that, she was a woman who liked her family to be happy and get along.

Since Parker’s father and brother were both stubborn and autocratic, the family dynamics were frequently less than tranquil. But all three of them tried to keep their squabbles to themselves. By an unspoken agreement, they didn’t run tattling to Parker’s mom. Which is why Parker said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom. I just called to talk to him. Can’t a daughter call her father just because she misses him?”

There was a decidedly less-than-queenly snort from the other end of the line.

“So, how are you?” she asked before her mother could phrase a more wordy retort.

“Fine. How are you?”

They made small talk for a while. Regular homey talk. Her mother chatted about her charities and Parker’s father. She mentioned that Parker’s brother, Michael, was on a short diplomatic tour. “He’ll be in the States and is hoping to visit. He misses you.” There was a slight pause, then her mother added softly, “We all do.”

Parker suspected that Michael wasn’t coming just to visit. He sided with her father and considered Parker’s decision to abdicate her royal duties a childish whim she’d eventually outgrow. His visit would consist of a lot of Parker-it’s-time-to-grow-up lectures.

She’d have groaned at the thought, but she was stuck on her mother’s comment. “I miss you, as well.”

“Even if you don’t want to live in Eliason, there’s nothing that says you can’t visit, is there?”

“I will. Soon. I promise.”

“Good. Let me get your father for you.”

For a moment Parker thought her mother was gone, but then she said, “And, Parker, remember I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

She waited on the line, trying to psych herself up for another conversation with her father. It wasn’t going to be as easy as her conversation with her mother had been.

Once upon a time, her father had known her every thought, her every dream. He’d hold her on his lap and they’d really talk.

Parker felt a stab of regret that those days were long since gone. Now they barely spoke. And when they did, her father spent his time issuing ultimatums, and she spent her time ignoring every one of them.

“I’m going to put you through to him. Try not to fight.”

“Mom, how can you think we’d fight?”

Again, her mother snorted.

These days, despite any good intentions not to, whenever she and her father spoke, fighting was inevitable.

The situation broke her heart, but she didn’t know what to do to make her father accept that she would never be able to be what he wanted.

To be who he wanted.

Parker just wasn’t princess material, no matter how much her father desired it.

“Marie Anna,” he said in his rich, cultured voice as he came onto the line.

When she’d been little she’d loved to listen to him talk. It didn’t matter what he’d said, she’d just loved the way his voice rumbled in his chest.

“Parker, Papa. I’m Parker now.”

She’d stopped being Princess Marie Anna when she escaped Eliason. She’d come to her mother’s home in the United States looking to leave her royal life behind.

Erie was a small city on the shore of Lake Erie, and there she went to college as Parker.

Just Parker.

At first that name had been a cloak of anonymity, but now it more aptly fit who she really was.

Parker Dillon.

A waitress at Monarch’s.

A normal, everyday sort of woman.

Ordinary.

“You’ll always be my little Marie Anna,” her father assured her. “My princess.”

Parker sighed. Fighting with her father was as if pounding her head into a brick wall. The wall couldn’t give, and she ended up with a headache.

“What did you need, Papa?” she asked.

“I need my daughter to come home.”

Tenacious. Her father was the most tenacious, single-minded man she’d ever met. That ability to set a goal and not lose sight of it made him a great leader. But it sometimes made him a difficult parent because once he had an idea, he couldn’t let it go.

Of course, her mother claimed Parker was just like him in that respect.

She smiled at the thought.

“I love you, Papa,” she said softly before she added, “but I’m not coming home.”

“Your fiancé is waiting for you. He misses you.”

“He doesn’t know me to miss me.”

“Tanner is anxious to start planning your wedding.”

“And if he doesn’t know me enough to miss me, he certainly doesn’t know me well enough to marry me—which is a good thing since I’m not marrying him.”

She hadn’t seen Tanner in years. What she remembered about him was a gap-toothed smiling boy who liked to torment her. Tanner, though he teased her, also made her smile.

A joker.

He’d been a sort of sweet boy.

But he wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a stranger. He was a prince. She wasn’t sure of anything about him any longer except for the fact that he wasn’t her fiancé, no matter what her father decreed.

“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?

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.”

“But, but…” the prince sputtered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jace said. “I’ll see that she gets home all right.”

“Home,” she said to the prince. “I’m home and you need to go home. Go back to Amar. There’s nothing for you here in Erie—especially not a fiancée.”

With that she turned and walked out the door.

Jace felt some sympathy for the guy.

Tanner might be the suave, smooth sort of man that generally set Jace’s teeth on edge, but he’d just been totally shot down in front of witnesses. Jace could empathize with that.

He wondered who was going to empathize with his plight, because he was sure that Princess Parker was going to do her best to make him more miserable than the prince looked.

Maybe more miserable than the mysterious Hoffman.

Jace sighed as he chased after the princess.

It was going to be a long, hot summer.

“I didn’t really take the bus this morning. I walked. It’s only a few blocks,” the princess—Parker—admitted.

Jace had known that. He’d been trailing her as she’d left her house that morning and walked the few blocks to Monarch’s.

She’d obviously forgotten she was his assignment, which meant she forgot that he knew where her house was. He didn’t remind her as she gave him directions. He preferred that Tanner be the focus of her ire, not him.

As they turned onto Front Street, she said, “That’s it,” and pointed.

Jace eased into the driveway of the neat, two-story brick home. It wasn’t quite a castle, but it was a beautiful house.

“It’s nice,” he murmured.

“Uh,” she said, “not the house. The garage.”

He knew that, as well, of course.

He knew the house belonged to a local manicurist who worked at a small beauty store across from Monarch’s. And that Parker had moved into the garage apartment three years ago.

What he didn’t know and hadn’t been able to figure out is why a princess, a woman who could buy and sell half of Erie, chose to live in a garage apartment.

Her father had prevented her access to her money, and Jace could have understood if she’d moved in recently. But she’d moved in right after college.

“Why?” he murmured.

“Why what?” Parker asked.

He hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud. But since she’d overheard, he figured what the heck and asked, “Why do you live in a garage?”

“Over the garage. There’s an apartment.”

“But you’re a princess. Why would you live over a garage? You could live anywhere.”

“Where should a princess live?” she countered.

“Never mind,” he muttered.

He wasn’t going to say that a princess should live in a castle. It was too cliché.

“Come on,” she pressed.

“Forget I asked.”

“I know you’re thinking it. You know you’re thinking it. Go ahead, tell me. You might as well.”

“You’re going to make me say it out loud, aren’t you?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

Parker was the kind of woman who was going to make him say it, who would keep pushing and prodding until he actually spoke the words and embarrassed himself in the process.

“Yep.”

“Fine,” he blurted out. “A castle. A princess should live in a castle. I bet your family has one. A big one like Windsor Castle, right?”

“Yes, we have a castle. Europe’s full of them. They’re practically a dime a dozen. People there don’t get as excited about them as Americans do. Ours isn’t as big as Windsor, but it’s big enough that we’ve never run out of guest rooms. Not that it matters to me anymore. You see, I don’t live in Eliason, I live in Erie. And I have an apartment over a garage. Do you want to make something of it?”

Jace knew that Parker was raring for a fight. And as annoyed as she was that he’d been hired to watch her, he suspected that she was more annoyed about her fiancé showing up in town.

Jace prided himself on being a wise man who knew how to pick his battles. And this wasn’t a battle he wanted to fight. So he simply said, “No, I’m not going to make anything of it.”

“Good.” She opened the door and got out of the car.

Jace followed suit.

“What now?” she asked.

“You going to invite me up?”

“Why would I do something like that? We’re not friends. You’re my stalker.”

“I am not,” he said. “Your father hired me to make sure you were okay.”

“My father hired you to spy on me.”

“No. He’s just worried about you. He cares about you. And maybe I want you to invite me in so I can check out your place and feel better knowing I was doing my job.”

“That’s what I am—a job. Well, you can report to your boss that you watched me go in the door. I’m going to assume that’s enough for him.”

“Hey, far be it from me to get in between whatever problems you’re having with your father, but—”

“Don’t you see, you’re right in the middle. You’re being all chummy in the car, all let-me-make-sure-you’re-safe, as if you care about me, as if you know me. But you don’t. You said it before—I’m a job. I’m just a file in your cabinet and a paycheck for a job well done. We’re not friends. You don’t know me.”

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