How to Catch a Prince. Leanne Banks

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      In contrast, shopping was definitely in her future today. She could not think of one thing in her wardrobe appropriate for a tea. She grabbed a bite to eat then focused on finding a new dress and planned to charge Max for the purchase. He should have given her more notice, the jerk.

      After zipping through several stores, she found a blue dress that fit and flattered. The price tag made her wince, but was soon forgotten as she headed to a hair salon. It had been over a month since her curly hair had been shaped.

      After her hair appointment, Sophie was exhausted and dragged herself back to her apartment. Washing her face and brushing her teeth, she pulled on a nightgown, cursing Max until she fell asleep.

      Sophie slept in the next morning, but when she awakened, she immediately felt panicky. She showered and fussed with her hair and makeup. Too soon, however, her cell rang with the news that a driver would pick her up to bring her to the palace.

      Sophie’s stomach dipped again. She tried to recall everything Max had said about his half sisters, the princesses, but it all jumbled with her facts and figures about the road project. She leaned her head against the seat back and tried to relax as the driver took her inside the palace gates.

      Seconds later, however, the driver let her out at the palace entrance. A man met her and guided her inside. “Miss Taylor?”

      “Yes, thank you,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

      “Thank you,” he said. “We think so, too. I’ll take you to the room where you will share tea with the princesses of Devereaux.”

      “Thank you,” she said, but wasn’t so sure about all this. “So, how do you like living in Chantaine?” she asked nervously.

      The man glanced at her. “I like it very much,” he said.

      Of course, she thought. What else was he going to say? It sucks dirtwater? She nodded, trying to calm her nerves.

      He led her into a beautifully decorated parlor with a table readied for formal tea.

      “Ma’am, are you all right?” a man asked from behind her.

      Sophie whipped around to face the man at the door. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I’m Sophie. And you are?”

      “Walter Deneuve,” the man said. “You looked a bit pale.”

      Sophie bit her lip. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never had tea with a bunch of royals.”

      Walter smiled. “The Devereauxes are quite welcoming. I think you’ll enjoy them.”

      “Thank you,” she said, but still wasn’t sure. “The pastries look delicious,” she said and wandered around the table.

      A half moment later Walter stood at attention, the door opened, and three women entered the room, two of which were waddling in late pregnancy.

      “Her Highness, Princess Eve, wife of Crown Prince Stefan,” Walter announced.

      Sophie dipped her head.

      “Her Highnesses Bridget and Phillipa,” he continued.

      “Yes, yes, enough of that,” Eve said in a Texas drawl as she extended her hand. “I’m Eve and at least thirteen months pregnant. Very pleased to meet you. I’m sorry Maxwell didn’t bring you around sooner.”

      Sophie smiled and shook Eve’s hand. “Thank you. And I hope your delivery is quick and smooth.”

      “Me, too,” Eve said in a grumbly voice.

      “I’m Bridget and I’m not pregnant,” the dark-haired woman wearing high heels said cheerfully. “But I’ve also adopted twin toddler boys.”

      “You’re brave,” Sophie couldn’t help saying.

      Bridget laughed. “I like you already. This is Phillipa, but we call her Pippa. Her delivery date is right behind Eve’s.”

      Sophie met the kind gaze of the youngest princess. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope you, too, have a quick and smooth delivery.”

      Pippa beamed. “Thank you. I’m hoping for the same.”

      “Shall we sit?” Eve asked. “These days, I’m always happy to sit.”

      “Of course,” Bridget said and led the way to the table.

      Eve glanced at Sophie. “I don’t really like hot tea. Would you like iced tea?”

      Sophie felt an easing inside her. “I would love some iced tea.”

      Soon enough, sandwiches and pastries were served.

      “What is it like working with Maxwell? He seems very intense,” Bridget said, taking a bite of a pastry.

      He’s a pain in the butt, Sophie thought, but bit her tongue. “You’re right. He’s very intense. Type A.”

      “Yes, he’s mentioned you several times, and it occurred to me that you might enjoy some female companionship. I hear there aren’t many women on the construction site,” Eve said, then smiled. “Then again, maybe you enjoy being surrounded by all those men.”

      Sophie laughed at the thought. “Perhaps I would in a different situation, but there’s no flirting. It’s all about getting the job done.”

      “Well, that’s a shame,” Bridget said, pursing her lips. “Perhaps we can help find someone to amuse Sophie during her off-hours.”

      Pippa groaned. “Oh, no. You’re not going to start matchmaking again.”

      “I’m determined to succeed one of these days,” Bridget said.

      The resolve in Bridget’s voice made Sophie a little uneasy. “Not necessary. I can amuse myself. Besides, it’s not as if I’ll have that much free time.”

      “Well, everyone needs a break now and then. So I’ve been told repeatedly,” Eve said with a sigh.

      Bridget nodded. “Eve hasn’t had the easiest pregnancy, so we’ve all had to help her accept that she can’t keep going at breakneck speed. Coco was especially helpful getting through to Eve.”

      At the mention of Max’s full-blood sister, Sophie felt a twist of curiosity. “Max hasn’t discussed her much, but she sounds like a very sweet person.”

      “Oh, she is,” Pippa said. “We would kidnap her and make her live in Chantaine if possible.”

      “I would have liked to have met her,” Sophie said.

      “Perhaps you will,” Pippa said. “Once Eve and I have our babies, I know she’ll be dying to see them.”

      “In the meantime, you’ll have to come visit my ranch,” Bridget said with a sly sense of pride.

      “Ranch?” Sophie echoed.

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