Max smiled, knowing his father wanted exactly the same thing his mother wanted. “Are you saying you wouldn’t like a few grandkids to spoil? Don’t even try to convince me that you’re only interested in ensuring succession of the crown,” Max laughed. “I’ve seen you around Mindy, Lucas and Angelica. You love those kids,” he said, referring to his nieces and nephew.
The king smiled fondly at the thought of his three grandchildren. “Yes, but they don’t live here. And none will take over the throne. That’s up to you. So what are you going to do about it?”
An image of a sultry, efficient brunette popped into his head. He quickly banished the idea. Tara didn’t even know he was male, he reminded himself. If it didn’t have a computer or budget attached to it, she wouldn’t notice it. “I’ll get right on it,” Max said. “Was there anything else?”
King Stephan sighed heavily. “No. That’s all. We’ll catch up on the rest later.”
Max stood up and walked over to his father’s chair. “Sorry I can’t speed things up, father,” he said and patted his father’s shoulder.
“Well, see what you can do about trying,” Stephan said gruffly as his son walked to his office door.
“Will do,” Max said before closing the door behind him. He walked back to his offices and found the meeting he’d left just letting out. Tara was still writing down notes on a notebook.
She looked up and noticed him, then quickly straightened, “I’ll get these notes typed up for you immediately,” she said and efficiently walked over to her computer.
“That’s fine,” Max said, stopping a short distance away so he could admire her legs in the shorter than normal skirt. “What’s next on the agenda?” he asked, sitting down on the corner of her desk.
He watched as Tara pressed a few keys on her keyboard and his daily agenda popped up. “You have lunch with security, then afternoon meetings with the machinists union. That runs until five o’clock, and a charity ball tonight with Lady Margaret.”
“Hmm..not very interesting, huh?”
Tara turned and smiled, her dimples appearing as if by magic. “Lacy Margaret isn’t interesting?”
Max shook his head, enjoying the smile on her face. “Never met her. She’s another one of my mother’s setups.”
“Well, be nice to this one,” she laughed. “From what you told me about yesterday’s fiasco, you were bordering on rude.”
Max wasn’t immune to her dimples. His body always reacted to her laughter because of those alluring dimples so he had to cough slightly to come up with a response. “If you’re referring to the Countess Sophia, I was being incredibly nice. I warned her in advance of her annoying habits and I couldn’t help it when she ignored my warnings.”
“Yes, well, signing her up for nose surgery was really not gentlemanly.” Tara shook her head, remembering Max telling her the next day about the conversation he’d had to have with his date who snorted when she laughed.
“I’ll bet she does it though,” Max teased.
Tara tried to maintain her frown, but he was just too charming. “I’ll bet she does too,” she said grinning, knowing that just about any woman would do anything to stay in the good graces of Prince Maximillian. It could be nauseating at times, the lengths some women would go through to get his attention.
Tara watched him flip through the notes she’d made on the report, admiring his long, slender fingers, his muscular forearms. She knew that the immaculately tailored suit hid the body of an Adonis. Max worked out in the gym either with trainers, his military leaders, usually Sam Montrose who was the Minister of Defense and an expert at martial arts, or by himself each morning for two hours and his body was packed with muscles. The shoulders of his suit were not padded by his tailor. In fact, his tailor probably had trouble finding enough cloth to cover those broad shoulders.
Tara’s eyes continued to travel up his face, admiring his square jaw and firm lips that could quote the most beautiful poetry or slice a man to shreds in a meeting if Max didn’t think the project or information had been up to his exacting standards. Tara never wanted to be on the receiving side of one of those tongue lashings. She liked her skin on her body, not shredded.
Her eyes moved higher, noting the long lashes she had always been jealous of. No man had the right to keep those lashes, she thought. They belonged on a girl.
She realized too late that he was staring at her and quickly looked down at her computer, her cheeks warming under his gaze.
“What did your father want to discuss with you?” she asked quickly, busily straightening her already perfectly neat desk.
“My sex life,” Max teased, wanting to see her cheeks turn red again. He was curious about her long perusal and her reaction to him. Interesting!
It worked. Her eyes widened and her face turned even redder. “I’m sorry?” she choked.
He grinned at her flustered response. “Well, more specifically, my lack of an heir but they all go together, in my mind at least.”
“Ah,” she whispered, trying to banish the images his words produced in her head. Tara knew he would have the most beautiful children. How could he not? He was definitely the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life. “And did you explain how actively you’re working on that project?”
“No. I can’t lie to my father.”
Tara didn’t understand. “I thought you had a good time with Ms. Michaels last week. She seemed very nice.”
Max shrugged his extremely large shoulders in indifference. “She was nice enough. But not really my type.”
Tara raised her eyebrows at his response. “I thought your type was female,” she laughed. “What was Ms. Michaels lacking?”
“Personality.”
“She wasn’t nice?”
“Oh, she was very nice. Pathetically nice.”
“Pathetically nice? Is that possible?”
“Yes. I’d like my wife to have a spine and opinions of her own. I have my own, she won’t need to adopt them to make me happy.”
Tara sat down in her chair and pulled it closer to her computer, still chuckling at his answer. “Hmm…publish that in the paper and you’re likely to get a riot outside the palace,” she laughed.