Jameson flashed Prandi a slightly disappointed smile. “I’m not a prince, more a bundle of nerves, really. What’s going on in there, anyway?”

“Well, Paul is comforting her, but I think he’s more interested in copping a feel – as you Americans say. She’s laying it on awfully thick, but she doesn’t realize all the drama is useless if you aren’t there to see it.”

Jameson ignored her slightly barbed comment, thinking aloud, “How many times do we have to dance this dance before we get it right?”

“I have to admit I don’t understand all these games you play. If you like her, why don’t you just tell her? Maybe I’m better off with an arranged marriage, at least I can avoid all this madness.”

Jameson reflected upon her statement, wondering if anything he’d dealt with in the past week was worthwhile. All he knew was Becca was gorgeous and slightly crazy. He wondered when she would quit playing games.

Would he have anything left?

“Well, we better get back inside before they burn the place down,” Jameson said.