Mistress to the Prince by Elizabeth Lennox Page B

“But I don’t think he’ll mind if I pull you along for another dance,” he said and did just that.
     
    At this point, Tara didn’t mind.  She followed and secretly delighted in being in his arms again.  They danced and talked with others for the rest of the evening and Tara enjoyed herself more than she thought she ever could.  Max was witty and charming to everyone he spoke to or was introduced, regardless of the title or lack of one.  He made everyone feel like they were part of a club, special and exclusive even though he included anyone who approached. 
     
    At several points during the evening, she spoke to Greg but each time, he pushed her back into Max’s arms.  “Don’t let me hold you up.  You’re great at charming the man.  I’ll use you for a reference,” he joked and pushed her back toward Max’s group. 
     
    Tara didn’t like the fact that he basically considered her a personal “ in ” for future contracts with the government because of her friendliness to the royal family. But since he pushed her away, then immediately moved off to further his acquaintance with yet another blond, she should feel fine about stepping back into Max’s circle.  But when she looked up toward midnight and saw him leaving through security with the luscious blond on his arm, she was frantic. 
     
    Max chose that exact moment to turn and see what she was looking at and chuckled.  “Looks like I get to see you home tonight,” he said and didn’t appear to be upset at the idea.
     
    Tara shook her head.  “I can’t believe he’s leaving with her!”  Tara grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.  She hadn’t had much to drink all evening because she’d been too nervous around Max and unsure of what she might do or say.  But with her date leaving with his arm around the waist of another woman, she didn’t care about decorum or professionalism anymore.  How humiliating!  She couldn’t even keep a blind date interested. 
     
    “I can’t either,” Max replied, watching her drain the glass.  “What’s wrong, Tara ?”
     
    “Nothing,” she said and wave d over the waiter who was standing a few feet away with another tray of champagne.  Max handed her a new glass and watched as she drained that one as well.
     
    “Have you eaten anything tonight?” he asked, smiling at her anger.  He’d never seen her show much emotion before so this was interesting. 
     
    Tara shrugged her shoulders, warmed by both the champagne and the feeling that Max might care a little bit about her since this was the second time he’d asked her about food in two days.  “No ,” she admitted .  “ I was too nervous about running into you,” she said without thinking and looked around for another waiter.
     
    Max controlled a chuckle at her admission.  It was just one more piece of evidence he could use to justify keeping her near him during the evening.  “Me?  Why were you nervous about running into me?”
     
    Her empty stomach now filled up with alcohol loosened her tongue.  “You terrify me,” she said and smiled gratefully at the new waiter.  “And this isn’t the most professional dress I’ve worn,” she said and pulled the spaghetti strap back up onto her shoulder after it slipped down her arm. 
     
    “I like the dress,” he chuckled.  “I think we should get you some food,” he said and took her third empty glass.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink more than half a glass of champagne in one night.”
     
    “Well, you’ve never seen my date leave me by myself before, have you?” she said and rolled her eyes. 
     
    “Were you really interested in him?” he asked , wondering if he’d completely misread the signs her body was giving him earlier in the evening .  “He doesn’t really seem like your type.”
     
    Tara laughed but there was sarcasm in her tone.  “What’s my type?” she asked, walking beside him as he led her through to the dining