LITMIR.BIZ

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      Carrie nodded and bit back a smile. People got such a chuckle out of her royal status. Carrie, who had lived as much out of the castle’s shadow as she could, found the whole thing amusing.

      The woman yanked on her husband’s arm. “See, I told you she was here in Winter Haven. A real, honest-to-goodness princess.”

      The little girl with Daniel stared up at Carrie, her blue eyes wide and curious. “You’re a princess? A real one?”

      Carrie bent down slightly. “I am.”

      The little girl’s mouth opened into a tiny O. “Wow.” She tilted her head and gave Carrie a curious look. “Where’s your crown?”

      “Back home in Uccelli, where I come from.”

      “But don’t princesses always have to wear a crown so everybody knows they’re special?”

      “Princesses are special every day, Annabelle.” Carrie gave the girl a smile, then turned to her customer. “It’s nice to see you again.”

      “You, too.” The woman beamed. “We come to Winter Haven every summer for vacation. Have been for more than twenty years. I meant to tell you that I met your mother years ago.”

      “You did?”

      “Uh-huh. She was telling people she was just an ordinary vacationer, but we knew better, didn’t we?” She elbowed her husband, who grunted a yes. “She loved this place.”

      “She did, indeed,” Carrie said.

      “I don’t blame her.” The woman let out a little chuckle and winked. “Maybe you’ll have the same amount of fun.”

      Carrie smiled. “Maybe.” She exchanged a little bit of small talk before the woman and her husband left, promising to stop at By the Glass again before their vacation ended.

      “Well, well,” Daniel said after the couple left the room. “Seems the princess angle is good for sales.”

      She bristled. “That isn’t why I told people who I am.”

      He arched a brow. “It isn’t?”

      “Of course not.” She glared at him. “You always see the worst in people, don’t you?”

      “Why would you say that?”

      “Because you people are jaded and bitter and think everyone is lying.”

      His face hardened and she knew she’d struck a nerve. “Well, perhaps if people didn’t tell us lies all the time, reporters wouldn’t be so jaded.”

      “I’m not—”

      “Here, read this one.” The little girl thrust a book between them. Then she leaned in closer to her father and lowered her voice. “And Daddy, you’re not supposed to fight with a princess.”

      The lines in Daniel’s face softened, and the hard edge disappeared. He bent down to his daughter’s level and took the book from her hands. “You’re right, Belle.”

      She beamed, then spun on those plastic pink shoes and thrust out a hand toward Carrie. “I’m Annabelle. I’m not a princess, but I wanna be one really bad.”

      Carrie laughed and shook the little girl’s hand. Five fingers, so delicate, so soft and so reminiscent of herself and her sisters. “I’m Carlita Santaro, but you can call me Carrie.”

      “Princess Carrie.” Annabelle glanced up at Carrie, all smiles and apple cheeks. “I like that name.”

      “Me, too.” Carrie glanced at Daniel. He’d tamed his go-for-the-jugular reporter side for now. But how long would that last? In the end, she knew where his type gravitated—to the story. Regardless of the consequences or fallout. But a part of her wanted to know if a guy who could look at his daughter with such love in his eyes could be different. Still, her instincts told her to keep her distance. “I should go.”

      “Stay,” Annabelle said. “’Cuz, Daddy’s going to read a story and he’s really good at reading stories.”

      “Oh, I don’t think I should—”

      But the little girl had already grabbed Carrie’s hand and was tugging her in Daniel’s direction. “You can sit over there. I can sit over here. And Daddy—” the girl stopped in front of her father, propped one fist on her hip, and gave him a stern look “—you can read.”

      Daniel let out a laugh, then sent Carrie an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Annabelle can be … demanding.”

      “Daddy! I’m not ‘manding. I’m nice.”

      He chuckled again. “Yes, Belle, you are nice. The nicest little girl in the world.”

      Annabelle beamed and the love between father and daughter seemed to fill the small colorful space. This other side of Daniel Reynolds surprised Carrie, but she refused to soften her stance on an interview about herself. She’d seen a hundred times how trusting someone from the media could turn around and bite her. Hadn’t they been painting her as the “extra” princess for years? As if the royal family could discard her because she’d never be queen.

      How did she know this guy wouldn’t do the same? Or worse, just make something up?

      No, if she allowed him into her world, it would be to talk about Uccelli’s wines. And nothing more. And all the while she’d be wary, and not trust him.

      But as she watched him interact with his daughter, a part of her wanted to believe he was different. That she could trust him.

      “Come on,” Annabelle said, tugging on Carrie’s hand again. “You gotta sit down or Daddy won’t read. It’s a …” She glanced at her father for the word.

      “Rule,” Daniel supplied. Then he shrugged and smiled again. “Sorry, but it is.”

      Carrie thought of leaving. Then she caught Daniel’s smile again, and something about it hit her square in the gut. He had a lopsided smile, the kind that gave his face character and depth, and had her following Annabelle to the square of carpet on Daniel’s right. As soon as Carrie lowered herself onto the small space, Annabelle scrambled over to his opposite side, plunked down on her bottom and plopped her chin into her hands. “Read my story, Daddy.”

      He arched a brow.

      “Please.”

      “Okay.” He turned the cover of the book and then shot Carrie a glance. “Seems Belle has picked The Princess and the Pea. You know, the fairy tale about the woman they suspect is masquerading as a princess.”

      “I love that story,” Annabelle said, completely oblivious to the hidden conversation between the adults. “’Cuz it’s got a princess in it. I love princesses.”

      “Then by all means, I think you should read it,” Carrie said to Daniel.

      “I think I should, too. Refresh my memory.” He leaned back against a beanbag chair, and Annabelle curled up next to him, laying her blond head on his chest so she could see the pictures as he read.

      The father-daughter picture before her filled Carrie with a rush of sentiment. On the rare occasions when her mother had been home at night and around at bedtime, she’d made it a rule to read the girls at least one story, sometimes two. Always a fairy tale, because she said those were the kind of stories that taught you to dream. Carrie leaned against the bookcase, as enthralled as the little girl in Daniel’s arms.

      She’d stay just a minute, no more, and only because Annabelle had asked her. She didn’t want to intrude. Or get any closer to this man.

      “’Then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on top of the pea,’” Daniel read, his quiet voice seeming to spin a magical web, “’and then twenty eiderdown beds on top of the mattresses.’“

      “Twenty?” Annabelle asked and

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