by Mindy Neff
“Aw, Momma.”
“You know the rules. Now scoot.”
Chairs scraped as they dutifully pushed away from the table and took their cereal bowls to the sink to be rinsed. Thank goodness for plastic. Sophie could barely reach the counter. As it was the bowl teetered on the edge of the tile before bouncing into the sink.
Once they were out of the room, Antonio gathered up his own dishes and tray. When he stood so close, naked beneath the flowery kimono, Chelsa’s quivering insides went on high spin. And not from fear, this time.
“You are homeschooling Emily?”
“Yes. And Sophie, too, though she’s not quite ready to start kindergarten.”
“You are a teacher?”
“Was. My credentials are current, though. I got them through night school soon after Emily was born.” Self-preservation, a means of something to fall back on. Rick had a tendency to gamble away his paycheck. When he was working that was.
“Now that I consider the matter, I realize the school term is not over yet for the summer. I had assumed you were on holiday.”
She hedged, not wanting to air the ugly details. The less said, the safer she was. However, his family did own the island of San Alegra. If he chose to dig, he could find out the whole story. “We needed a change of scenery. I’m lucky that my writing and illustrating can be done from any location.”
“And that you have the qualifications to homeschool your children should you decide to flee the country on a whim.”
“I rarely do anything on a whim.” She got the feeling that his eyes saw way too much. And why had he said “flee” that way? For a moment, it looked as though he was going to press.
Then he reached past her, turning on the tap to rinse his dishes. His arm brushed her waist and she jumped aside as though she’d been goosed.
“You don’t need to do the dishes.”
“I am capable. And you do not need to leap like a startled rabbit.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. Believe me, bella, when I make a move, you will know it.”
Her heart gave a slow, deep thud. “Oh, please.”
He grinned, deliberately misunderstanding her mock sarcastic tone. “It will be my pleasure. However, I find I must take a rain check. There are certain aches making themselves known in my body that would impede my concentration.” He touched a finger to her lips. “And I imagine you are a woman who requires total concentration.”
She shouldn’t be standing here, allowing him to flirt, to touch her, to awaken her dormant hormones. But she couldn’t seem to make herself move.
His gaze was fastened on her mouth.
“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, querida,” he said softly, seriously. “Someone should pamper you.” His lips brushed hers, a butterfly caress.
Warmth seeped through her, melting her heart, yet the fleeting touch was gone before it had ever really begun. He smelled like the sea and looked like a dream. The bruise on his forehead gave him a rakish air—much like a pirate—as did the dark hair that fell over his brow.
It took one hell of a man to look so incredibly virile while wearing a silky, feminine kimono sporting orange and fuchsia hibiscus.
But she suspected that Antonio Castillo was one hell of a man.
“Why did you do that?”
“Kiss you? Because you have a mouth made for loving. And it felt good.”
Oh, this man could easily play with her heart.
And break it, if she wasn’t careful.
“Just because something feels good, doesn’t mean you should indulge. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do it again.”
“Ah, querida, I am thinking that I will do it again.” He reached for a dish towel, dried his utensils and stacked the dishes neatly on the sideboard. “However, I will gallantly await an invitation.”
“You’ll have a long wait.”
The light of challenge sparked in his dark, velvety eyes. “Patience is one of my finest virtues.”
* * *
When Antonio opened his eyes, it took him a minute to bring his recall into focus. The private stretch of beach had indeed been littered with debris. What remained of his yacht that hadn’t ended up on shore had been washed out to sea, reduced to expensive floats for the gulls.
He’d found the slat inscribed with Diablo Plata, Silver Devil, intact and hauled it back to the screened-in porch of the bungalow. It was pitiful how that small amount of exercise had depleted his energy. Nausea welled and his head throbbed. Probably a concussion. Not his first, and more than likely, not his last. A life-style of courting danger ensured that.
Determined to restore his energy, he’d taken Chelsa’s advice and returned to bed.
Now, with the late-afternoon sun slanting through the window, he was restless. Dios, he couldn’t believe he’d slept around the clock. A first.
The bungalow was small, and he wondered who’d given up their sleeping quarters for him.
Chelsa, probably. There were traces of her here. Not many, but enough to recognize. Her citrus scent, for one, and a bottle of lotion on the dresser along with some hairpins and colored pencils. Since she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, he assumed the latter was for illustrating her water babies series rather than painting her face. The other clue was the fact that her robe had been hanging on the door.
He heard childish whispers and looked toward the hallway. Raking his hair back off his forehead, he smiled and scooted up in the bed, testing his body parts. Still a little sore, but at least he no longer felt like a gored matador in a Barcelona bullring.
“Do not hide in the doorway, lovelies. Come in and keep me company.”
The invitation caused a flurry of chatter and flying limbs and bouncing curls. He’d forgotten that children didn’t walk or sit like normal people. They landed.
“Did you finish your lessons?”
“That was yesterday,” Emily said.
“What a layabout I have become.”
“No. Hurt people need rest to fix their bodies.”
“Well, I feel properly fixed.” He frowned when Sophie inched the covers off his chest. He wasn’t too alarmed. He’d donned his jeans when they’d come out of the dryer and had fallen asleep with them on. “Have you lost something, little mermaid?”
“You didn’t bleed.”
She didn’t have to sound so unhappy about it. “I am like a cat with many lives. I rarely bleed.”
“I bleeded when Jimmy pushed me on the slide.” She searched her knee, looking for evidence.
Emily rolled her eyes. “That was a long time ago, stupid.”
Sophie sucked in a breath. “Ah-mmm. You’re not s’posed to say ’tupid. Momma said. And it was so only millions and millions of days.” This apparently meant fairly recent to a four-year-old.
Antonio figured he ought to intervene before there was mutiny and real bloodshed. Dutifully he ran his thumb over Sophie’s baby-soft knee. Other than a few bruises here and there, there was no evidence of the dastardly slide incident.
“That was not at all charming of this Jimmy person to push you. Shall I go sock him in the nose for you?”
Emily giggled, good humor restored. Ah, the resilience of kids.
But Sophie simply looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, contemplating. “Nope. Two wrongs doesn’t make it right.”
“Of course not. I lost my head for a moment.”
“My grandpa lost his teeth.”
He wasn’t sure what one thing had to do with the other, but... “Did he find them?”
“Yep. They was in the glass. And they snapped like a mean old crocodile.”
“Did not,” Emily argued.
“Uh-huh! I seed it.”
Highly entertained, Antonio laughed.
“How come grandpas get to take out their teeth?”
“Uh...” He searched for a plausible explanation. Kids asked the strangest questions. “I would say that’s because they are special. When you live
many years, you learn fun tricks.”
“Can you take yours out?”
Insulted, charmed, he chuckled. “I am not quite that old.”
“How old are you?” Emily asked.
Keeping up with these little girls was like watching a fast and furious tennis match. “Twenty-nine.” Vanity wouldn’t let him admit that he’d be thirty in a matter of months—the expected age of marriage according to his mother, the queen. He shuddered.
“Momma’s twenty-seven,” Sophie volunteered. “She had a birfday. But it was spoiled when the policeman comed. ’Cept then we got to come here. Momma said it was a late birfday party, a bee-u-te-ful vacation in Val—Vall...”
“Valldoria,” he supplied.
“Yep.”
The urge to pump these girls for information was strong. Antonio controlled the impulse, especially when he noticed how quiet Emily had become. Automatically he reached out and cupped her thin shoulder.
“You are lucky to have traveled to my country. It is indeed beautiful and I would be honored to act as your tour guide should you want to explore.”
“We’re not supposed to wander,” Emily said quietly, shooting her sister a look that suggested she’d like to gag the four-year-old. Like her mother, this one took too many responsibilities on her slim shoulders.
“I gots seashells,” Sophie announced, obviously unaware and uncaring that she’d switched subjects no less than six times in as many minutes. Without a care for his convalescence, she scrambled off the bed and charged out of the room, returning moments later to dump her cache on the quilt. Antonio only winced slightly when her foot landed on his sore stomach.
Not one to be outdone by her sister, Emily scooted closer. “If you don’t be quiet, Momma’s gonna come in,” she scolded. Sophie slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced toward the door.
Antonio looked, too. He’d thought a lot about Chelsa Lawrence and was surprised by how much he wanted to see her, to drink in her scent, to touch her, to let her soft southern drawl wrap around him.
“Where is your mother?”
“Working. Even on vacations she gots deadlines.”
“Her next installment of The Adventures of Water Babies, hum?”
“Uh-huh. Do your eyes hurt?”
Dios, he could hardly keep up. “No.”
Sophie looked terribly disappointed.
“Why do you ask?”
“If your eyes hurted, I could tell you a story so you wouldn’t have to read it.”
He’d rather their mother tell him a story. One about policemen and vacations that were not as they seemed. The irregular pieces of this particular puzzle were beginning to worry him. After all, she was on Castillo land. If there was a possibility of danger, he should know about it.
However, at the moment, two little girls were waiting expectantly for his answer.
“Come to think of it, maybe they do hurt a bit. By all means, tell me a story.”
“Well,” Sophie brushed her hair out of her eyes and settled in. “There’s this frog—”
“Naturally,” Emily interrupted. “Because the water babies live in a pond and travel on the lily pads. Everybody knows frogs live by the pond, too.”
Antonio nodded dutifully. Sophie, her wide round eyes that probably saw much more than anyone realized, suddenly inched up his chest and she poked a shy finger at his dimple.
“Did you used to be a frog and somebody kissed you and made you a prince?”
He grinned and held up a hand as if he were taking an oath. “I swear, I am only the spare. But the real prince—Joseph is his name—was most definitely an ugly old frog until beautiful Briana kissed him and laughed at him and yelled at him and he soon became a genuine prince.”
“Really?” both girls sang.
“Really.”
“Who’s Briana?”
“A lovely American who is the newest princess of my country.”
“And Joseph is your brother?”
“Yes. And he looks much more handsome being a happy prince rather than a sour old frog.”
Emily giggled. Sophie, however, seemed troubled.
She cupped her little hand over his jaw. “I’m jus’ a mermaid. But my momma is very, very beautiful. I bet she could kiss you and make you into a real-life prince.”
The sound of Chelsa Lawrence’s shocked gasp interrupted the offer.
Chapter 3
Chelsa was more than a little horrified. The thing about children was that you never knew what would come out of their mouths.
Antonio Castillo, bare-chested, with a huge, sexy-as-sin grin, was staring at her, the challenge in his dark eyes unmistakable.
Dear heaven, she couldn’t wait for the phone lines to be fixed, couldn’t wait out the week for the scheduled return of the ferry—the only way off the island.
She simply wouldn’t make it.
“How about it, querida. Shall we conduct a test to see if your kiss is really magic?”
Oh, he thought he was so irresistible. Well, he was, but she certainly wasn’t going to let on. She couldn’t risk emotional involvement right now. Perhaps never.
“With the luck you’ve had recently, it’d probably backfire and you’d revert to a tadpole.”
He shouted with laughter, and didn’t even wince or hold his head.
“I see you’re feeling better. Girls, go wash up so you can help me with dinner.”
“Can we have hot dogs?”
“I hardly think that’s a meal for company.” For royalty.
“Don’t bet on it,” Antonio said. “That is the main staple at baseball games. We will simply pretend.”
Chelsa was still hung up on those three words. Bet on it. Lord, she’d had her fill of that kind of talk.
“We’re not at a game, and I’ve planned a civilized meal of barbecued chicken.”
The girls grumbled.
“Ah, a picnic,” Antonio inserted, changing the mood in an instant. The girls pounced.
“We could eat on a blanket!”
“And have a campfire!”
The conversation was fast getting out of control. She knew she couldn’t keep her daughters sheltered inside the house forever. Perhaps if it were dark...
Antonio, studying her with shrewd eyes that continually astonished her—given that he was a carefree daredevil Casanova—saved her by intervening.
“Actually, mi bellas, I am still feeling a little weak from that unfortunate shipwreck and my foolish scavenger hunt across the beach when I was clearly not up to such activity. Perhaps we will save the blankets and sand for another time? The kitchen table is about as far as I can make it.”
The girls went into instant sympathy mode. Chelsa felt grateful. And a little resentful. She’d had sole responsibility for these girls all their lives. Rick had never shown any interest. Now here was a rogue prince running interference, preventing squabbles and getting her daughters to fall right in line with barely a skirmish.
And to be honest, those squabbles were beginning to worry her. Emily and Sophie had taken to snipping at one another more lately than seemed normal. It tried her patience and played on her guilt.
Although she’d made every attempt to shield them as best she could, it was becoming heartbreakingly apparent that her best wasn’t good enough.
“We could help you get to the table if you want,” Emily said. “I have big muscles.”
“Thank you, diosa, but I believe I can manage the distance.”
Both girls nodded solemnly and filed out to do Chelsa’s bidding.
Resentment faded, and in its place was something much more dangerous. If a woman wasn’t scrupulously careful, she’d be hard-pressed not to fall for his charm and his looks—and his gentle way with her children.
Antonio Castillo got right down on their level, making them come alive in a way she hadn’t seen since this whole ordeal with Rick had upended their lives.
He made Chelsa come alive, too, and that was even more terrifying. She’d ma
de a big mistake in judgment once, and she was determined not to repeat it. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, especially with someone as high-profile as Antonio Castillo—not that she was in the least suitable for the consort of a prince.
Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized he’d gotten out of bed. His warmth invaded her senses first, then his scent, masculine, clean, like the allure of a seductive ocean breeze. The gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder, then softly in her hair caused her to whirl around with a jerk.
“Easy, querida.”
“Sorry.”
“For what? A mother’s worry? They are wonderful children. And resilient. They will be fine.”
“How do you know? You know nothing about us.”
“This may be so. But I would like to. I cannot help but respond when I see distress.”
“I’m not distressed.”
“And you are also not a very good liar.”
She closed her eyes against the weight pressing in on her. She’d yearned for only a few things in life—family, commitment, honesty.
Safety.
She had the family. The rest had fallen apart.
“Talk to me,” he said softly. “Perhaps I can help.”
Oh, she wished that he could. Like a fairy tale, he could sweep her up, turn her world into a magical place of stardust and moonbeams, where happily-ever-after was a given.
But her life wasn’t a fairy tale. And this particular prince would only cause more harm. Inadvertently, to be sure, but a fact nonetheless.
“Thank you for your concern, but we’re fine.” She turned to go.
“Chelsa?”
“Yes?”
“If it makes a difference, the queen places high importance on my ability to impart advice. It is fairly ridiculous in my opinion, but who am I to question a queen?”
“Or your mother?”
“That, too.”
She smiled. “I like you, Antonio Castillo.”
“That is an excellent start. And soon, I believe, you will like me so much, you will begin to call me Tony.”
