Regan blushed harder.
‘Don’t answer that.’ Penny sighed. ‘One day I want great sex like that. Even if it is just for one night.’
‘You don’t,’ Regan returned. ‘Believe me, I’ve been practising getting over him and...’ Her voice choked up. ‘I’m getting there.’
Regan knew from losing her parents that time healed all wounds. And when it didn’t it at least dulled the pain to a manageable level. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to be happening yet.
‘I suppose in hindsight agreeing to pose as his fiancée was really naive,’ Regan admitted. ‘I thought there would be less fallout from that but there’s been more.’
‘That’s because it’s a romance story for the ages. Everyone wants it to be true.’ She took a long sip of coffee. ‘Whatever happened to the press release you said you signed?’
‘I don’t know.’ Regan frowned; the lack of a press release had continued to perturb her. ‘He must have only put it out locally.’
‘It wouldn’t matter if he’d put it out in the palace toilets...the world would still know about it by now.’
Regan gave Penny a faint smile. Having her by her side the past week had been a godsend. Penny had taken one look at her face the first day back at work and shuffled her into the staffroom and closed the door behind them, giving her a hug. Having been through heartache herself, she understood the signs.
The other teachers at the school hadn’t been so understanding, some asking her intimate questions about what the King was like, obviously looking for some insider’s scoop, and others upset because she had brought a cavalcade of media to the school gates and it just wasn’t done.
‘Have you had another look online?’ Penny asked.
Regan didn’t want to look online. When she did she was bombarded with photo after photo of herself and the King. It was too painful to look at.
‘At least if you called the palace you could ask about it,’ Penny persisted. ‘Regan, you have a right to live your life without being harassed.’ She slapped her mug on the counter. ‘Give me the number. If you’re not going to call, I will. It’s not as if they’ll put me through to the King or anything.’
‘Penny, I love you for wanting to help but I don’t think it will. I—’
A hard rap at the door brought both their heads around. ‘How did they get up here? You have a security door downstairs.’
‘Maybe one of the neighbours accidentally let them through,’ Regan whispered.
Penny went to the window again and peered outside. ‘Well, don’t answer the door whatever you do—I can’t see a single photographer outside, which means that they’re all piled up against your front door.’
Regan groaned. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Regan! I know you’re in there. Open the door.’
Regan froze, her eyes flying to Penny’s.
‘Damn, but whoever that is they have a yummy voice,’ Penny said. ‘Pity they’re probably scum as well.’
‘It’s him.’
Penny frowned. ‘Who?’
Regan had to swallow before she could get the words out. ‘The King,’ she whispered.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Regan!’
Regan nodded. ‘I’d know his voice anywhere.’
‘Good lord...what do you think he wants?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Regan, please open the door.’