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

palace. Yet, for some reason, the way he insisted on pointing out her position was beginning to grate on her nerves.
    "You do know," she said evenly, "that my mother was— and still technically is—an American citizen."
    "Of course." Despite all his warnings to himself to keep his distance, Caine smiled. "I remember that no matter where my father was stationed in the world, he never missed a Jessica Thorne film. My mother always accused him of having a crush on her."
    "Really." Although she couldn't begin to count the times she'd heard similar declarations, Chantal found herself responding to his sudden grin. He should smile more often, she decided. It made him look warmer. Nicer. More human.
    "I can't remember the name of his favorite, but it was the one where she played a mermaid caught in the net of a fisherman in the Greek isles."
    "Siren Song."
    "That's it. Mom told me about one night when it popped up on the late show and Dad became so enthralled with those scenes of your mother perching atop her rock that Mom threatened to divorce him."
    "Surely she wouldn't have done that?"
    "Of course not. But the next night, to make up for his perceived indiscretions, he took her out dancing." Caine didn't mention that that was his father's last night stateside before his death.
    " Siren Song was Mother's last picture. It is also my father's favorite. They met while she was filming it on Mykonos and fell in love at first sight. Rumor has it that the censors didn't know which to be more upset about— her amazingly scanty wardrobe or her heated, off-screen romance with a married prince."
    Chantal smiled as she thought about the fairy-tale story of her parents' love affair. A love affair that scandalized European society for five years. "Everyone said it would never last, but they're as much in love today as they were thirty years ago. Perhaps even more." Her eyes turned dreamy. "Papa still calls her his siren. Isn't that amazing?"
    Caine realized he was being given a glimpse of yet another Chantal, this one an unabashed romantic. Her open smile enticed him nearer, even as he knew he'd drown in the swirling depths of those mysterious dark eyes. She exuded sensual heat from every pore, making him want to reach out and touch her skin, to discover if it was really as warm as it looked.
    "Not so amazing," he said gruffly, "if she's anything like her daughter."
    As their eyes met and held, Chantal couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. Just when she was certain that her heart had stopped beating, a sudden knock on the door shattered the expectant mood.
    "That'll be the bellman with your luggage," Caine said.
    Chantal wondered if his frown was due to the untimely interruption or the fact that for one suspended moment he'd allowed himself to be as drawn to her as she was to him.
    She glanced down at her slender gold wristwatch, but her numbed mind was unable to decipher the Roman numerals. "I hope I still have time to send tonight's evening dress down to be pressed," she murmured, seeking something, anything, to say.
    She was obviously flustered and trying not to show it. Her cheekbones were splashed with scarlet and her eyes— those amazing, sultry eyes—were still wide with an enticing blend of confusion and passion. Dragging his gaze from her exquisite face, Caine went to open the door.
    "I'm sure you won't have any problem getting someone to press your gown," he said once the bellman had left with a generous tip. "After all, according to the fairy tales, whenever a princess snaps her fingers, her minions immediately scurry to do her bidding."
    Well, Chantal considered, sinking onto a gold-brocade-covered Louis XIV chair, the moment, as intriguing and unsettling as it had been, had definitely passed. The old Caine O'Bannion was back. In spades.
    It was early morning in Montacroix. The streets were silent save for a sleepy shopkeeper taking the shutters from his windows while his wife hosed down their section of cobblestone pavement. A