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Could she win his love? Was it possible? She’d never been able to win her father’s love, but now she knew it was because he had no love to give—his love had died with her mother. But Trace wasn’t like that. There was love in him to be won...by the right woman. And if she was worthy of being loved, why not try?
Determination grew in Mara, the same determination she’d once dedicated only to riding and mathematics. Yes, she told herself with a new confidence. Keira had understood—Mara had earned the title of Dr. Marianescu by dedication and hard, grueling work. She could earn Trace’s love the same way.
Starting tomorrow she would map out a plan of campaign. Starting tomorrow she would put that campaign into action. But now...just for tonight...she would let herself dream of him. She would let herself imagine what it would be like to be loved by him in every way a man could love a woman.
She needed to visualize the goal in order to achieve it, just as she’d done when she’d learned to ride. Just as she’d done when she achieved her PhD. And she desperately wanted to achieve this new goal of earning Trace’s love...because she was fast falling for him.
* * *
The next morning Mara woke early. She propped herself up against the pillows and set her mind to work planning her campaign. She briefly considered getting a complete makeover—turning herself into the glamorous woman her mother had been. She could probably do it. She knew she resembled her mother closely enough that it was possible to achieve that polished, beautiful veneer, but she discarded the idea almost immediately. If she changed herself in obvious ways, not only would she be uncomfortable with herself, she might draw unwelcome attention from others, especially the paparazzi. And besides, Trace would see it for the ploy it was. A man with a face and body like his probably had all kinds of women angling for his attention.
No, it had to be something subtle, something that would make him look at her in a new light, but in a way that wouldn’t push him behind that impenetrable barrier. Surprise is the essence of attack. Where had she heard that before? She needed to take Trace by surprise, to make him see her as something other than the princess he was guarding.
Mara ran a finger along her bottom lip. What was that English expression? Come up on his blind side? That was all well and good so long as she didn’t do it literally—she’d seen how fast he was at drawing his gun, and she didn’t want him to shoot her.
She chuckled, wishing she could share the joke with someone. Wishing she could share the joke with Trace. But that was out of the question. Then an idea occurred to her. Perfect, she thought. Andre had taught her the basics years ago, but no one—no one meaning Trace—knew it. Trace would be the ideal teacher. And he wouldn’t be able to say no. Not under the circumstances.
* * *
Trace stared at the princess in disbelief. “You want me to teach you how to what?”
“Shoot,” she said composedly. “I wish to learn how to protect myself.”
“That’s not necessary,” he told her bluntly. “You’ve got three federal bodyguards dancing attendance on you, not to mention the security team you brought from Zakhar.”
“Yes, but I wish to be like Keira,” she told him.
“You’re planning on walking into a bullet?”
The princess was distracted for a minute. “Is that what she did?”
“Yeah,” Trace growled. “Two years ago. No,” he corrected himself, “more than that now. Took her almost a year before she recovered full use of her right arm.”
She looked at Trace with curiosity. “But you were her partner. How is that possible?”
Trace felt himself flushing under his tan. He’d asked himself that same question at the time. And numerous times ever since. Never mind that Keira, Walker, Ryan Callahan and he had been operating as a team, and Callahan had been closest to her at the moment it had all gone down. Never mind that Keira had deliberately stepped in front of Callahan to take a bullet meant for him. She’d still been Trace’s partner then, and he’d blamed himself for not keeping a closer eye on her.
But he couldn’t tell any of that to the princess. That operation was still a closely guarded secret—and there were still trials pending. Not to mention the princess was a foreign national who did not have a need to know. “Long story” was all he said.
She considered him for a minute, and he was afraid she was going to ask more questions, but all she said was, “I do not wish to ‘walk into a bullet’ as you say, but I would still like to learn. If you do not think you can teach me...” she added so artlessly that Trace shot her a sharp, narrow-eyed look, suspecting she had something up her sleeve. But she met his look with one of such innocent inquiry he figured he had to be mistaken...until he got her on the shooting range.
