Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  He probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. Her ability with them was so natural that if he hadn’t pointed it out to her, she would have used it without thought. But he liked talking to her and he liked it when they were getting along. Their natural connection would be what would make the charade work.

  Then they’d had that moment of looking into each other’s eyes, and for twenty seconds he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing her. But he had. He’d remembered his dad, the weakness that plagued him after Dom’s mother’s death. He knew he couldn’t afford a marriage with real emotion. And when he kissed her, he felt things he couldn’t define or describe. So he stepped back, away from a kiss he wanted, to prove he didn’t need it.

  That should have made her happy. God knew it made him happy to see he could resist her. She should be happy, too. Instead, she was distant.

  He left her after lunch and spent four grueling hours in parliament. Tired and somewhat disgusted, he returned to his palace apartment to find Sally and Joshua, the clothier, sitting on one sofa with Ginny alone on the sofa across from them. Though Sally was frustrated, Joshua looked to be the picture of patience as he ran down the benefits of a list of designers.

  Ginny frowned. “I know what I like. I know what I look good in. It just seems so sterile to be picking a gown this way. I always imagined myself trying things on.”

  Joshua smiled patiently. “Most women would kill for the chance to choose a designer to make a unique gown.”

  Ginny only sighed and glanced at the photo array of designers and their creations.

  Sally shook her head. “What difference does it make? For Pete’s sake. This wedding is just for show. It’s not real. The gown doesn’t have to reflect you. It just has to be beautiful. Something fit for a princess.”

  Ginny finally noticed Dom standing in the foyer by the door, but she quickly looked away. Still, he’d seen the naked misery in her eyes.

  She straightened her shoulders, as if seeing him reminded her of her duty to him, and she pointed at one of the photo arrays. “This one. I’d like this designer.”

  Sally sighed with relief and rose. “We’ll contact him.”

  Joshua rose, too. He bowed. “I am at your service.”

  Sally said, “Good because she still has a wardrobe to choose. Two pair of jeans and a green dress with cardigan won’t be enough clothes for two days let alone over two years.”

  Joshua on her heels, Sally headed for the white double doors. “You’ll be required to meet with Joshua again tomorrow afternoon, Ginny.”

  “That’s Ms. Jones,” Dominic said, suddenly annoyed. “She may not be a princess yet. But she will be. And when she is she will be your boss.”

  Sally quietly gasped and stepped back, but she quickly recovered. Bowing to Dominic, she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Joshua all but quivered with fear. New to the palace, because the king and the two princes rarely required help in choosing suits or having them made, he glanced from Dom to Sally, wide-eyed.

  Sally opened the door and left. Joshua scampered after her.

  Ginny blew her breath out on a long sigh. “You shouldn’t have yelled at her. It wasn’t her fault that I’m having trouble choosing. And our time is running out. She’s right to be annoyed with me.”

  He walked to the bar and poured himself a Scotch. “Oh, sweetie. You have so much to learn about being a princess.”

  “I’m not going to be vapid and spoiled.”

  “Of course, you’re not. But you can’t let staff belittle you.”

  “As I said, she was right to be annoyed with me.”

  “Again. No. You are the member of the royal family here. If you want to take until the day before the wedding to choose your dress, that’s what you do. Then they scramble.”

  She laughed.

  He sat beside her on the sofa. “So, are you really happy with the designer you chose?”

  She shrugged. “He’s as good as any.”

  He caught her chin and nudged her to face him. “As good as any isn’t good enough. I want you to be happy the day you get married. It may not be forever, but it’s your first wedding.”

  “That’s what I keep thinking.”

  “So what would you do if you were getting married for keeps?”

  “I’d have a lot of pink roses.”

  “What else?”

  “My two friends would be bridesmaids.”

  “You can have that.” He sipped his Scotch. “What else?”

  “I don’t know. I always imagined my mom and me picking things out.” She peeked up at him. “She has great taste.”

  He laughed. “Really?”

  “Well, actually, we have about the same taste. But picking a gown is just something a girl wants to do with her mom. You know. Second opinion and all that.” She took a deep breath, blew it out, then looked Dom in the eye. “My picture is going to go around the world. I’d like for it to be a good one.”

  He nodded. “That’s something I’m so accustomed to I forget that others aren’t.” He rose from the sofa. “I have a dinner meeting tonight that’s going to segue into a bigger meeting with several members of parliament. Why don’t you call your friends on Skype and invite them to be your bridesmaids?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes round and blue and honest. She was one of the most naturally beautiful women he’d ever met. She was also being a much better sport about this marriage than a lot of women would be. She hadn’t asked for anything. She just did as she was told. And if she didn’t talk to him, maybe that was his fault? He’d told her not to expect a long, happy marriage. If she held herself back, maybe that’s what she felt she needed to do.

  “Really? I can have bridesmaids?”

  “As many as you want.” On impulse he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Would a wedding without bridesmaids really look authentic?”

  She shook her head.

  “So call them.”

  * * *

  Ginny watched Dom leave the sitting room and head for his bedroom suite, fighting that feeling again. Except this time, she named it. She wasn’t worried about liking him or even being attracted to him. What she was feeling—or maybe recognizing—was that he was a nice guy. A good person. She thanked God he’d reminded her that the wedding needed to “look” authentic to serve his purpose. Otherwise, she might have melted right there at his feet.

  She could resist the solemn guy, the one who would be king someday, who wanted everything to be perfect. The other guy, the sweet one who tried to make her happy? That was the guy who had been staring at her in the elevator. The one she’d wanted to kiss. He was the one she had to watch out for.

  She returned to her room, found her laptop and connected with her two best friends on Skype. They knew she was pregnant, of course. She’d gone to them for guidance. She’d also called them the day she’d fainted, when she’d agreed to marry Dom. They were not surprised to be receiving invitations to be bridesmaids.

  That little piece of normalcy lifted her spirits. It wasn’t going to be a real marriage but it was going to be a real wedding, and she was going to look pretty and have her friends with her. They would keep her occupied the week before the big day. And, in a good mood, she’d be better able to look happy for the ceremony.

  The next morning at breakfast, she showed her appreciation to Dominic by asking him how his meetings had gone the night before.

  He winced. “There are one or two people who fear we are making an alliance with the United States by bringing you into the royal family.”

  She laughed. When he didn’t, she said, “Really? Seriously? They think marrying a commoner from the United States is a lead-in to a treaty?”

  “My brother will be marrying a woman as part of a treaty. Why would you be surprised our government is questioning my marriage?”

  She shook her head and went back to her oatmeal. “I forget that your country looks at marriage differently.”

  “It’s not really my country
that looks at marriage differently. It’s the royal family and what’s expected of us. I’ll be spending weeks alleviating the fears of several members of parliament, assuring them that our marriage is not part of a big master plan.”

  Taking a bite of oatmeal, she nodded. “I get it. It’s something you shouldn’t think you have to do, but you will. Just like I’ll be spending two hours with Sally’s staff today, learning how to curtsy.”

  “I thought curtsying was out. Old school. Something nobody did anymore.”

  “According to Sally’s morning memo, there are some small eastern European countries that still believe in it. I just hope we don’t run into any of those royal families when I’m big-as-a-house pregnant. I can’t imagine curtsying and balancing twenty-five pounds of stomach.”

  He laughed. “You’re going to make an interesting princess.”

  “Lucky for you, it’s only for a little over two years.”

  He said, “Uh-huh,” and went back to reading his newspaper.

  Ginny didn’t care. Their conversation proved that she could talk to the “nice” Dominic and not get carried away. They did not have to be best friends. But they did have to get along. They had to look good together in public. They needed to know enough about each other that their charade appeared to be real. And this morning it was clear they were succeeding.

  If there was a little rumble in her heart about wasting her wedding, a beautiful wedding, on a fake marriage, she silenced it. She’d never imagined herself getting married. Living with her dad had scared her off that. She’d never allow herself to let her guard down with a man enough to get serious enough to get married. So this was her wedding. Her one shot at being a bride. She’d be a fool not to make it as perfect as she could.

  At four o’clock that afternoon, Dom unexpectedly returned to the apartment. As they had the day before, Joshua and Sally sat on the sofa across from her. The photo arrays and designer lists were with them.

  She faced the door with a smile. “I thought you had more glad-handing to do.”

  He walked in and said, “I do. But I was the one who told Sally and Joshua to bring the designer lists up to you again. I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.”

  “They told me you said I wasn’t sure about the designer.” She bit her lip, not happy that something she’d told him had become an issue.

  He caught her gaze. “I want you to be sure.”

  The feeling whooshed through her again. The one that told her he was looking out for her because he was a nice guy. He might not love her. He might not even know her well enough to like her. But he was a nice enough guy that he wanted her to be happy.

  “Okay.”

  Even as she said that, the big double doors of Dominic’s apartment opened. “Ginny?”

  Ginny’s head snapped up. “Mom?”

  She blinked as she saw her tall, slim mother race into the sitting room from the echoing foyer. Wearing a tan pantsuit that the king probably would have loved for its dignity, she ran over to Ginny.

  Ginny rose and was enfolded into her mom’s hug. After a long squeeze, she said, “Let me look at you!”

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Dom called. He said you needed help with your gown.”

  Her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes. This act of Dominic’s was a little more difficult to call the actions of a nice guy trying to keep her happy. Having her mother flown to Xaviera was so kind it made her chest tight.

  “I don’t exactly need help. I just love your opinions.”

  Her mom said, “Even better.” Then she faced Joshua and Sally, both of whom had risen. “And you must be Sally and Joshua.”

  Sally bowed slightly. Joshua said, “She’s actually very clear about what she wants. I think she just needs your reassurance.”

  “Joshua, Sally, this is my mother, Rose Jones.”

  Ginny’s mom smiled broadly. Her pretty blond hair had a hint of pink in it, because—well, she was a Texas girl, who’d grown up dancing to the Beach Boys and riding horses, and that crazy part of her had no intention of dying. “Let me see the designers and the dresses.”

  Joshua immediately handed over the photo array panels, but Ginny stepped away and slid around to the back of the couch where Dom stood.

  He raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”

  “You told my mom I needed help?”

  He shook his head. “No, I called her and said I wanted you to be happy planning this wedding.”

  The sweetness of the gesture filled her heart. “I would have been okay.”

  “And the wedding would have looked fake.”

  This time the reminder that he didn’t want the wedding to look fake didn’t go through her like a knife. It was their deal. He’d always been up-front about their deal.

  The crazy feeling she got around nice Dom morphed into something soft and happy. “We’re going to have a beautiful wedding.”

  He smiled. “Yes, we are.”

  The air between them changed. For a few seconds, she debated springing to her tiptoes and hugging him, but that wasn’t really acceptable, either.

  Holding his gaze, she took a step back, then another, suddenly realizing why she kept getting odd nudges. After decades of surface relationships that she’d ended before she even knew the guy she was involved with, she’d managed to never really know anyone, never get beyond platitudes. But planning a fake wedding? Living in the same apartment with Dom? Coconspirators to protect their child? She was getting to know him. And she liked him. A lot more than she’d ever liked any man.

  And he’d warned her not to spin a fairy-tale fantasy because he didn’t want a marriage with emotion.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TWO DAYS LATER, Dom strode down the marble-floored hall to the double doors of his apartment. Since Rose had arrived, his home had become like a beehive. Where Ginny might be shy about creating a wardrobe, Rose had taken to the task as if she was born to it. Designers had been called in. Dresses and pants arrived for fittings. Two styles of wedding dresses had been chosen and Alfredo Larenzo, an Italian designer, had been hired to create them.

  With a wince, he partially opened one of the two double doors, sticking his head in far enough to see into the living room. Which was, mercifully, empty. For a second, he hoped that Ginny and her mom had gone out for lunch, but his chest pinched. Since Rose had arrived, he’d also barely seen Ginny.

  Not that he missed her. He didn’t really know her. They were in a fake situation. There was nothing to miss. The thing was, he liked seeing her. Usually, she was funny. After four-hour sessions in parliament, funny was welcome. So he didn’t miss her. He missed her silliness.

  Comfortable with that assessment, he walked past the double sofas, over to the bar. When he turned to pour his Scotch, he saw the door to Ginny’s suite door was open. And there she stood, in little pink panties and a pink lace bra. A short man wearing spectacles and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows had a tape measure around her hips. Her mom stood with her back to the door, obviously supervising.

  Dom stared. He’d forgotten how perfect she was. With full breasts, a sweet dip for a waist and hips that flared just enough for a man to run his hand along, she had what most men would consider a perfect figure.

  The short, dark-haired guy raised the tape measure to her waist and Dom followed every movement of the man’s hands, remembering the smoothness of her shape, the silkiness of her skin. The tailor whipped the tape around and snapped the two ends together in the middle, right above her belly button and Dominic’s head tilted.

  Right there...

  Right below that perfect belly button...

  Was his child.

  His child.

  His hand went limp and the glass he was holding fell to the bar with a thump.

  Ginny’s head snapped up and she turned to see him standing there, staring. Their eyes met. And it hit him for the very first time, not that she was pregnant, but that the baby
she carried was his.

  His baby.

  He’d created a life.

  Rose turned, saw him and walked to the door. “Sorry, Dom. Didn’t realize you were home.”

  And she closed the door.

  Dominic stared at it. The whole thing about the baby didn’t floor him as much as the realization that the baby was in Ginny’s stomach. In a few weeks that flat tummy of hers would be round. She’d gain weight. Be miserable. Probably grouchy. Her feet would swell. She’d be clumsy—in front of millions. And then she’d spend God knew how long in labor.

  Because of his baby.

  Ginny’s suite door opened and she walked out, tying the belt of a pink satin robe around her.

  “Was there something you wanted?”

  He stared at her, his chest tight, his mind numb. Up until that very moment he hadn’t really considered how much Ginny was doing for him. Oh, he understood the loss of her job, but he suddenly saw the other things—losing her friends, living away from her mom, stretching her tummy to unknown limits, changing everything.

  For his baby.

  “Dom?”

  He shook his head to clear it. “Sorry. I’m taking a break and thought I’d come up and see if you’re ready for the formal dinner tonight with the ambassador.”

  She angled her thumb behind her, pointing at her suite door. “That’s what the little guy with the moustache is doing. Final fitting for a dress Sally tells me your dad is going to have a fit over.”

  A laugh bubbled up, but he squelched it. “You can’t always push my dad’s buttons.”

  She shrugged. “I’m bored.”

  His laughter died. “Really?”

  “No! Absolutely not. I’m getting fitted for a billion dresses and three-point-five-million pair of jeans. I never realized how many clothes a princess was expected to have.”

  “So you’re not bored?”

  “No. I just have a style.” She shrugged and the pretty, shiny pink robe shifted over her sun-kissed shoulders.

  He remembered biting those shoulders, nibbling her neck, rubbing his entire body over the length of her entire body.