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heartbroken. Dad could turn people against you.”
    â€œI remember. But our breakup will be mutual. You’ll assure him of that. And I’ll be just as heartbroken as you,” he said lightly. “Though of course I’ll hide it better.”
    Â 
    She sat in the Ferrari’s passenger seat. “I usually have a royal car take me to formal engagements like this one.”
    â€œAnd I prefer to drive. I like the control.”
    â€œFigures.”
    His lips twitched.
    What it meant for Rebecca was that rather than being the width of a broad seat away from him she was the width of a gear stick away. And dependent on him. On the plus side it meant that, with his hands occupied with the steering wheel and gearshift, he couldn’t slide his hand behind her neck as he’d done yesterday in the car. Couldn’t disconcert her that way.
    He pulled to a stop in front of the royal theater house.A valet opened her door and Rebecca got out. It was also harder to exit a low-slung Ferrari with the appropriate royal dignity than it was a limousine. But she managed.
    Logan tossed his keys to the valet and approached, his gaze narrowed intently on her, seeming to focus on her lips, and a smile played about his eyes.
    â€œDon’t even think about it,” she whispered as he stopped in front of her.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œYou were going to kiss me.”
    Dark eyebrows lifted. “Actually, no, but if it’s what you want.”
    Had he not been intending to kiss her? Was that her imagination? “It’s not what I want,” she insisted. “We’ve already kissed enough.”
    â€œWas that in the Royal Kissing Rules, frequency as well as duration? I’m sure I don’t remember.”
    â€œYou remember.”
    He reached for her hand, and interlaced his fingers with hers. An intimate joining, his larger fingers stretching hers apart. “A curious question, Princess. So if I understand it—” they began walking the stairs to the grand, arched building “—in your world, lovers kiss for no more than five seconds and no more than once a day?”
    â€œNo, but…we’re not lovers.”
    â€œIt’s what we want people to think, isn’t it?”
    â€œNo,” she said more abruptly than she’d intended, something like fear making her blurt the word out.
    He stopped walking and turned to her. “No?”
    â€œThey can…wonder, they can perhaps guess or assume but…”
    He leaned closer. “So they can wonder if when I get you home—” his words were low, barely more than a whisper “—I’ll be peeling this beautiful dress off your exquisitebody, baring your pale skin to the moonlight and touching my hands, my lips—”
    â€œStop it.”
    Behind a cordoned-off area flashes were popping wildly as they stood halfway up the stairs having a conversation in which she was completely out of her depth.
    â€œWhat is it that frightens you, ma chérie? ” As if sensing her desire to run, his hand tightened around hers. “No one is close enough to hear.”
    Out of her depth and getting deeper. “Nothing frightens me,” she lied.
    â€œNothing? Oh, to be you.”
    â€œLogan.” She tugged at his hand. “Now isn’t the time or the place.”
    â€œPerhaps not.”
    Slowly he turned and Rebecca used the opportunity to disengage her hand. Which only meant that as they reached the top of the stairs and approached the door he could lift his hand to her back, rest warm, blunt fingers along her spine. The images that she’d conjured in her mind—Logan peeling off her dress, touching her skin with those large calloused hands—returned, sending a bolt of unwanted yearning through her.
    The ballet was… Rebecca couldn’t say what it was. She barely knew which ballet was being performed, and she couldn’t say whether it was being performed