Princess Australia

Princess Australia
Nicola Marsh

Natasha Telford is an everyday, hardworking Australian girl.Dante Andretti is gorgeous, charmingand a prince! They couldn't be more different. But Dante needs Natasha's help. For a little while he wants to be Dante the man - not Dante the prince.Natasha is just the ordinary girl to show him around town. And maybe she has what it takes to be his extraordinary princess?

Princess Australia

Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For the real princesses in my life.

Thanks for your warmth, your friendship

and the many laughs we share.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘I WANT a crate of soda, a monster bowl of hot chips and a triple layered choc-fudge banana-split sundae. Got that? And make it snappy!’

Natasha Telford glared at the back of Australia’s youngest pop star as he strutted towards the lift after snapping his order at her. She surreptitiously squeezed a stress ball under the concierge’s desk while wishing she could rip a few more slashes into the upstart’s trendy torn T-shirt.

How old Harvey did this job on a daily basis she’d never know.

As a kid growing up in Telford Towers, she’d thought the concierge had the most glamorous job in the world. Until this week, when she’d had to fill in while Harvey had his hip replacement. Giving polite tourists directions to Melbourne’s famous sites she could handle. It was the sulky, rude, demanding famous—especially young punks barely out of school—she could politely strangle.

Speaking of famous, the Prince of Calida was due any second, and she cast a quick, assessing look around the lobby, ensuring everything was in place. The demanding little snot of a pop star could wait for his sundae. She had a bigger guy to impress, namely Dante Andretti, soon to be crowned monarch of a tiny principality off Italy’s west coast, if the info she’d gleaned off the Net was accurate.

The lobby looked perfect, from its polished marble floor to gleaming brass-trimmed check-in desk, its plush chocolate-brown sofas and muted antique lamps with the stunning floral bouquets ordered on a daily basis arranged strategically throughout.

Natasha smiled, infused with the same pride she experienced every day she entered the Towers. She loved this place. Every last square inch of it. And she’d do anything to make sure it stayed in the family. Anything.

‘So when’s His Uptightness due?’

Natasha’s smile broadened as she whirled around and came face to face with Ella Worchester, her best friend.

‘Don’t call him that. He’s probably a really nice guy,’ she said, rearranging a pile of maps, a box of theatre tickets and a credenza of tourist flyers for the umpteenth time. Her nerves were working overtime, and if the prince didn’t arrive soon she’d go into serious meltdown.

Ella rolled her eyes and stuck her ink-stained hands in the pockets of her low-slung denim hipsters. ‘Yeah, I bet he’s a real prince.’

Natasha ignored Ella’s cynicism as she usually did. Right now, a prince was exactly what she needed—or, more accurately, what the Towers needed.

‘Do you know much about him?’

Not enough. And that was what had her worried.

Usually, she knew everything about the VIPs staying at the hotel. It was her job. In this case, even more vital than usual. Telford Towers needed the prince’s presence, like, yesterday.

Natasha shrugged. ‘Only what I’ve gleaned off the Net, which isn’t much. There was a whole heap of geographical stuff about Calida, a tiny bit about the royal family and that’s about it.’

‘Is he cute?’ Ella stuck out a slender hip in a provocative pose, and Natasha laughed.

‘Couldn’t tell much from the pic on the website. Too small.’

‘You wouldn’t be holding out on me by any chance?’ Ella’s teasing tone elicited more laughter and Natasha held up her hands in surrender.

‘Give me a break. From what I could see, the guy was trussed up like a turkey in some fancy-schmancy uniform, had his hair slicked back in army fashion and looked like he couldn’t crack a smile if his life depended on it. There, satisfied?’

Though there was one thing that had stood out in the prince’s picture.

His eyes.

Beautiful, clear blue eyes that had leapt off her computer screen and imprinted on her brain.

She’d always had a thing for guys’ eyes, believing in the whole ‘windows to the soul’thing. Pity she hadn’t read the real motivation behind Clay’s eyes. It would’ve saved her a lot of heartache, and would’ve avoided putting her family in the invidious position of losing the one thing that meant everything, courtesy of her greedy ex.

‘Well, don’t let him boss you around, okay? You’re only filling in for Harvey; doesn’t mean you have to take anything from anyone, prince or not.’