Beside him, Ilsa relaxed into one of the cushioned benches that skirted the Grandspire’s rooftop deck, tilting her head back for a better view as the fireworks display reached its crescendo. Five giant bursts of gold opened like flowers, then separated to fall to the sea in a rain shower of glitter. Then, as a finale, a series of giant, spiraling fireworks were launched from barges at sea, their twisting shape mimicking the spires of La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona’s famous Gaudi-designed cathedral that served as the inspiration for the Grandspire Hotel’s name. The booming, original finish drew raucous cheers from the crowd.
As the last burst faded to smoke, Ilsa said, “No offense, Stef, but I believe this outshines the fireworks your father arranged for your last birthday party. I hope you’re circumspect when you report back to King Carlo.”
“No offense taken, because I agree.” He glanced sideways at her. “We’ve been up here quite a while. You’re warm enough, I hope?”
He’d fallen into the role of her protector soon after his arrival at the hotel. Stefano caught sight of Ilsa’s familiar face across the lobby and waved in greeting only to witness her date, a renowned art expert who’d acquired the pieces on exhibit in the hotel lobby, drunkenly attempt to slide a hand under the rear straps of Ilsa’s dress. Though Ilsa remained calm despite her date’s increasingly aggressive behavior, Stefano immediately came to her aid, escorting her to the safety of the lounge where he could position himself between her and anyone entering the area.
It had dissuaded her date from continuing his misguided attempts at seduction during the cocktail hour, but only Stefano’s watchful eye kept the pompous lout from humiliating Ilsa again during dinner. He’d kept her close ever since.
She laughed now. “You know I am. Much as you’d like to pretend I’m wearing your dinner jacket to stay warm, you know it’s because you wanted to hide me.”
“Not you. That dress. Or lack thereof.”
She rolled her eyes in a manner reminiscent of his younger sister. “You’re terrible.”
“No, I’m male. And some males, as you discovered earlier tonight, are not gentlemen.”
“Wish I could say that I discovered that only tonight.”
“Wish I could say I didn’t hear you say that,” he retorted.
“Fine, fine,” she muttered. “I should never have accompanied Raoul to this party. But I desperately wanted to see the art exhibit, so perhaps I’m as guilty of poor judgment as he is.” Ilsa plucked a strawberry from the dessert tray set on the coffee table in front of them. After savoring a bite, she arched an eyebrow and said, “She doesn’t like it when I talk to you. And she definitely doesn’t like that you let me borrow your jacket.”
Stefano frowned at the change of topic. “What are you talking about? Who?”
Ilsa tipped her head briefly in Megan’s direction while keeping her eyes locked on his. “The blonde in the gold dress. The one you told Mahmoud you met in South America.”
“Megan?”
Ilsa elbowed him. “Yes, Megan.”
“I doubt she concerns herself with who speaks to me,” Stefano said, giving his drink a lazy swirl. “If she does, it’s only because she’s working the crowd and hasn’t had the chance to speak with me yet herself. It’s her job to ensure I have a good time so I’ll bring King Carlo’s business to the hotel.”
“That’s not it.” Ilsa shifted on the long bench, her casual gaze sweeping the crowd, which was beginning to dissipate now that the fireworks concluded. “She glances this way every so often. At first I thought it’s because you’re you and everyone is fascinated by royalty. But the longer the evening goes on, the more I doubt that’s it. She’s not in awe. She’s curious about you and me.”
Stefano bit back a smile. So he hadn’t mistaken the frisson of sexual tension between them in the lounge earlier, despite the formal attitude Megan displayed on the surface. Good. To Ilsa, he said, “You’re imagining things.”
“I don’t think so. And frankly, I believe you’re interested in her, too. Don’t pretend you’re not.” She stood and eased his jacket off her shoulders. “Take this back. I’m safe now—I haven’t seen my so-called ‘date’ in nearly an hour, which means he’s likely passed out in a potted plant somewhere—so I’m going to call it a night and ring a car service to take me home.”
Stefano stood as well. “I’ll escort you.”
“And hand tomorrow’s gossip headline to the paparazzi on a silver platter? I don’t think so. You stay here. Conduct your business, make your father happy. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be so overprotective.”
He accepted the jacket she proffered without further argument, knowing she was likely right about the paparazzi—he’d seen the cameras outside the hotel when he arrived—then kissed her on both cheeks before promising to give her regards to the rest of his family.
Less than thirty seconds after Ilsa stepped into the elevator, Stefano reached his target. He smiled politely at the well-dressed man by Megan’s side, a local politician wishing to thank her and the rest of the Grandspire management for preservation work the hotel completed on their stretch of Barcelona’s beachfront, but in doing so Stefano made it clear he wanted to speak with Megan. Alone.
For ten long years he’d dreamed of this woman. Dreamed of how she’d look, how she’d sound. How she’d smell if he took her in his arms again. Now that she stood before him looking more luminous and sensual than in his wildest fantasies, he would not be denied.
Behind them, more guests meandered toward the elevators and stairwells, ready to call it a night. The politician cleared his throat, then excused himself to locate his wife. Stefano’s hand instantly went to Megan’s waist, claiming her before anyone else could approach.
“Hello again.” He moved his hand up her back, leaving a healthy distance between their bodies so the action appeared more like a greeting between longtime friends than an attempt at seduction. He gazed straight into her eyes, then exerted enough pressure with his fingertips at the spot where the zipper of her dress met her bare back to ensure Megan understood his true intent.
He thrilled at her sharp intake of breath. Oh, yes. This would be a night to remember.
“You promised you’d look for me,” he said. “You did not try very hard.”
Chapter Three
If he only knew how long she’d looked for him last time they’d parted. Weeks.
Yet he could have found her anytime, both then and tonight. If he’d wanted to, he would have. Even with romantic music filling the air and candles flickering atop each of the rooftop tables, Stefano hadn’t sought her out tonight until the gorgeous woman with the cut-to-there red dress departed.
It wasn’t so different than last time she and Stefano had been together; the moment another woman captured his attention, Megan had been forgotten.
“I apologize, Your Highness.” Megan forced her breathing to remain calm despite the fact her lungs felt squeezed by an invisible force. She offered Prince Stefano the same polite smile she’d given every other guest that evening. “Unfortunately, I’ve been busy. It’s a big night for the hotel.”
“I noticed.” His fingertips brushed her zipper as he spoke. Whether it was intentional or not, she couldn’t tell. “Everyone is clamoring for your attention. Still, I wanted to be certain you hadn’t forgotten me.”
Oh, most definitely intentional.
She paused, fumbling for the perfect response. For months she’d worked to eliminate anything that might throw a monkey wrench into tonight’s event. Week after week had been spent poring over lists, holding staff meetings, making phone calls, and inspecting every inch of the hotel property to ensure that everything would go as planned. In the end, even those aspects of the evening Megan couldn’t control, such as the pleasantly warm Mediterranean breeze and clear night sky, fell exactly into place. She’d been overwhelmed by the enthusiasm guests showed for the refurbished hotel and its conference facilities, and she knew Ramon would be thrilled with the resulting in
crease in business.
Then there’d been Stefano.
Despite her best efforts, Megan’s attention had remained fixed on the prince the entire night. While engaging in witty banter with the crème de la crème of European society, she’d privately simmered over the fact he’d spent the evening at one end of the rooftop deck in what appeared to be a rather intimate conversation with the dark-haired woman from the lounge, the one with the model-perfect body clad in a skin-tight, plunging red designer gown.
She’d told herself to consider his behavior one more checkmark on the list of things that were going according to plan, as Stefano’s preoccupation with the woman kept him from seeking her out, but Megan’s heart didn’t want to follow her brain. She might not have seen Stefano in the flesh in a decade, but for the first time in her life she found herself jealous of another woman. Her heart took her right back to Venezuela, to the feeling of his strong, capable hands pulling her to him on that beach, holding her as if he never wanted to touch another woman in his life.
Which is why she couldn’t bring herself to step away from Stefano’s possessive arm now, even as the last of the guests wished each other good night and entered the elevator. Only a few waiters and the manager remained on the roof, clearing up the last of the glassware and double-checking the padded benches for forgotten items.
“As I recall, you made the same promise, Your Highness,” Megan finally replied. “Yet you were also quite busy. I imagine there were many guests who wanted to meet you tonight.”
In a voice low enough only she could hear, he said, “I realize it has been a long time, but you can call me Stefano, as you once did. ‘Your Highness’ feels rather formal, don’t you think?”
“Prince Stefano!” A male voice boomed behind them. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the Grandspire before now, Your Highness, but I see that you are in good hands.”
At the greeting, Megan shifted to see Ramon approaching. Stefano’s hand dropped from her back as he turned to exchange the necessary pleasantries with the hotel manager, commenting on the building’s modern decor and welcoming atmosphere. Behind them, two waiters quietly rolled a cart with used linens and glassware toward service elevator.
Megan kept her expression as professional as possible while the men spoke, in spite of her inner tumult. As much as she missed Stefano’s warm touch at her back—craved it, even—she took the manager’s timing as a sign. If she wanted to protect her daughter, let alone her own heart, she needed to keep her distance from Stefano. She might spend much of her day catering to the elite, but she wasn’t one of them and didn’t care to be. Her life with Anna was idyllic in every way that counted.
She’d be an idiot to linger alone under the stars with him, pretending to be something she wasn’t, simply to satisfy a passing desire.
“Mahmoud Said assures me that your conference facilities are as well-designed as the Gaudi Ballroom,” the prince said. “If that is the case, I imagine he and my father will be your guests again very soon.”
“I’d be pleased to give you a private tour,” Ramon said. “I realize it’s late, so if you’d prefer another time, let me know what fits your schedule and I shall be at your disposal. I can provide you with an information package outlining our standard rates and array of services, but of course we’re always happy to accommodate special requests.”
Stefano shifted, his arm brushing against Megan’s to send a jolt of awareness through her. “That’s very kind of you. However, Ms. Hallberg—Megan—here is so efficient she’s already made the same offer. We were just about to get started with the walk-through.” His tone was relaxed as he added, “I know you must be anxious to get back to your family after such a long evening. Perhaps you’d be available tomorrow morning? I’m not due to fly home until noon. I’d be happy to pick up the information and pass it along to my father and his staff.”
It was a polite response on the surface, but there was no mistaking the royal dismissal. Megan assumed Stefano and the rest of his family were skilled at such social maneuvering. It was the attitude of a man used to getting his way. Ramon’s quick nod of acceptance only reinforced it. “I’m afraid I am already engaged through the lunch hour, but if you’re agreeable, Megan could meet with you.”
“A breakfast meeting would be perfect.” Stefano glanced at Megan. “Could you make it at nine?”
“I’ll hold a window table for you at the Jardín Alba,” Ramon replied before Megan could respond. “It’s on the mezzanine level and very quiet at that hour, so you won’t be interrupted.”
Megan scrambled for a means to protest, but the manager had already extended his business card. “Here’s my contact information. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call me day or night. The Grandspire would be honored to host the Barrali family.”
Stefano slid the card into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket. “I’m sure my breakfast meeting with Megan will be quite informative. Thank you.”
Stefano turned, but instead of brushing against Megan as he had before, he placed his hand on her lower back, then gestured toward the elevator with a flourish. “After you. I’m very much looking forward to the tour.”
Megan nodded politely, more for the sake of her boss than for Stefano, then crossed the roof deck with Stefano’s hand warming her skin through her thin dress. He didn’t break contact until he punched the button to call the elevator.
“How kind of you to offer the tour, Megan,” he said as they stood in front of the doors.
Megan glanced over her shoulder, only then realizing that Ramon wasn’t with them, but had moved across the deck to rescue a forgotten wineglass from a planter ledge adjacent to the service elevator. She was about to suggest they invite Ramon to join them when the elevator doors opened. Stefano put one arm against the door to hold it while waving her inside with the other.
“I realize it’s poor etiquette to contradict royalty, but I made no such offer,” Megan said after the elevator doors closed. He stood within arm’s reach of her in the enclosed space. The breadth of his shoulders and the way he held himself reminded her of a large, well-muscled cat waiting to pounce upon a mouse that’d mistakenly wandered into its lair. Instinct told her to keep to the far side of the elevator so she wouldn’t fall prey to him, but would he read that retreat as fear?
And if he did, given that they’d parted in Venezuela on such casual terms, would he ask what caused her trepidation now?
She thought better of taking him to the now-empty business center with its rabbit warren of computer stations and instead punched the button for the floor just below the roof deck. It contained most of the hotel’s larger conference rooms, including one with huge windows that faced both the beachfront and an adjacent high-rise condominium complex. If she took him there for his tour, Stefano might think twice before doing anything he wouldn’t want to be seen in public. With the lights on in the conference rooms, anyone awake in the condominiums could see them.
“It is your job, isn’t it?” he asked, making no effort to hide the desire lacing his tone. “To entice guests into staying?”
“For business, Your Highness.”
He raised an eyebrow at her use of his title and took a step toward her. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest, but instead of touching her, he reached past her hip to tap a small sign beside the elevator buttons. “But the hotel is also geared toward pleasure travelers, is it not? This, for instance, says there is a pool, spa, and outdoor patio.”
“Yes, of course.” No matter what, she would not take him there. Not if there was a wisp of a chance her parents could still be on that level with Anna. “Most luxury hotels do have those types of facilities.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened to an empty hallway. Megan stepped out ahead of Stefano, quickly making a left turn to lead him to the largest of the conference rooms. “All of our meeting rooms are on this floor. I’m taking you to the one we use for groups of a hundred or more, since it offers bo
th a lovely view of the sea and all the latest audio visual—”
“I don’t know what to make of you, Megan Hallberg.”
Stefano stopped walking and leaned against the wall. When Megan stopped walking as well, he made a show of looking her up and down. The slow smile that spread across his face sent a wave of fire through her abdomen. And lower.
He was making this very, very difficult. “What do you mean?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but did we or did we not make wild, passionate love to each other once upon a time?”
The words were so unexpected she couldn’t form a response. He reached out and grabbed her left wrist, pulling her toward him in the quiet hall. “I know you remember. I could see it in your eyes when you shook my hand in the lobby. You remember it all, don’t you? How close we became that summer?”
Unable to trust her voice, she gave him a small nod. Wow, but the man was direct. More so at thirty-two than he’d been at twenty-two.
His tone softened. “Then why so formal? I meant it earlier when I said I wanted to catch up. Last I knew, you were going back to Minnesota to finish your graduate degree. I assumed you’d be happily married and settled in a nine-to-five job, living a busy life with a slew of children running through your kitchen on a daily basis. Never in a million years did I expect to see you here.”
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