by Cat Schield
“Well, yes.” He cocked his head and searched her expression. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
The heel of her hand collided with his chest and she levered herself off his lap. “It’s what I wanted. Not what you wanted.”
“I want you to be happy.” And all he’d done lately was upset her. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
“How can an intelligent man like you be so dense?”
Easily, the blood had evacuated his brain and settled in his groin. Even now with her indigo eyes flashing danger signals at him and her unconfined breasts moving with distracting enticement beneath her blouse, his craving for her increased.
“Come sit down.” He patted his thighs. “And I’ll explain it to you.”
Her eyes widened as her gaze trailed up his thighs and found him fully aroused. Her cheek color deepened, but when he held out his hand to her, she backed up.
“You aren’t listening.” She pointed at her stomach. “You’re going to be a father.”
His entire life he’d dreaded those six words. And now that he’d heard them? Now that the six words had turned his world upside down? The freedom he cherished: in jeopardy. The career he lived for: too dangerous. The woman he loved: bound to him forever. Life had never been more perfect.
She hadn’t moved far enough away to escape his reach. All Roark had to do was lean forward and catch her wrist. Before the gasp passed her lips she was back on his lap, imprisoned by his arms.
Roark eyed her solemnly. “Are you okay about this?”
“Am I okay?” She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you okay?”
“Very okay.”
Before he could demonstrate exactly how okay he was, she stopped his lips from reaching hers by turning her head. “You have to know I don’t expect anything from you.”
“Oh, surely you have some expectations.” He seized her earlobe between his teeth to distract her from the fact that he was steadily unbuttoning her blouse.
She shook her head. “I planned from the start to be a single mom. Nothing has changed.”
“You have no job.” The last button gave way. Pushing the edges of her blouse aside, he spanned her flat stomach with his hand and marveled at the life growing beneath. “No money.”
“Sonya Fremont offered me the gala.” She covered his hand with hers. “Other projects will come up.”
“And how will you live in the meantime?”
“I’ll do kids’ birthday parties.” She grimaced. “Weddings if I have to. Whatever it takes.”
“And run yourself ragged in the process. You have more than yourself to worry about now. There’s the baby to consider.”
She scowled at him. “You don’t think I know that?”
“Have you thought about what’s going to happen after the baby’s born? Are you going to take time off? Your apartment is barely big enough for you. What happens when the baby comes along?”
“Everything will work out fine.” Her eyes glinted with confidence. “I’m not worried.”
“Well, I am. For the last two days I’ve been sitting in this empty apartment, thinking about your situation and remembering how it once was filled with laughter and love. It’s a waste of real estate, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” She caught her lip between her teeth and eyed him from beneath her long lashes. “Are you thinking it’s time to sell?”
“I promised Mrs. Myott I wouldn’t do that.”
“So, what are you going to do with it?”
“I thought maybe you’d like to live here.”
Her jaw dropped. “I couldn’t. This place is too much. You don’t even live here.”
“Maybe that’s something else that needs to change.”
“You said you could never live here. That all the memories of your mother reminded you why she died.”
“Maybe it’s time some new memories were made here. Memories that wouldn’t replace the ones I have of my mother, but that would blunt the guilt I feel for how I left.”
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
Had she figured out what he’d just offered her? Roark hadn’t meant to present his proposal in such a roundabout fashion, but teasing Elizabeth was something he enjoyed.
“Then you’ll live here with me?”
“With you?” She leaned back and gazed at him in confusion. “But you’re not staying in New York.”
“As soon as I’ve cleaned up the situation with the Gold Heart statue, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “For how long?”
“For however long you want me.”
“Do you mean that?” She sounded breathless. Unsure.
“When I headed to Cairo on Wednesday, it was the first time I didn’t want to leave New York. And the entire time I was gone, I was miserable. All because of you.”
“You missed me?” Hope sparked in her eyes. Roark was glad to be the one who put it there.
“Terribly.”
“I’m really glad you want to be a part of your child’s life.”
“More than just a part of it.” Roark watched her smile fade as his statement sank in. “Marry me and I swear I’ll be there for you and our children as long as I live.”
“Oh, Roark. That’s the most perfect thing anyone has ever said to me.” She hugged him hard and kissed him softly. Her tears dampened his cheeks. “But I can’t ask you to do that. You’re an adventurer. Seeking artifacts, finding treasure no one has seen for hundreds of years, that’s your passion. It’s what makes you happy.”
“You make me happy. The rest is stuff I did while waiting for you to come into my life and make me complete.”
“I love you,” she told him, her voice fierce. Her joy was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I didn’t realize how empty my life was until you came along. I guess what I needed was a little adventure.” She kissed him sweetly on the lips. “Are you sure you won’t miss all the excitement of chasing artifacts and tangling with bad guys?”
Roark chuckled as he recalled those three miserable months he’d spent in the Amazon. “Lately I’ve discovered that living on the edge has lost its appeal. I will continue to do the research and let others take all the risks.” It was time to tackle a whole new set of challenges. “From now on, you and our baby are all the excitement I need.”
Thirteen
Elizabeth leaned against the veranda railing, her attention riveted on the gorgeous male emerging from the azure water. Morning sunlight sparkled off his wet torso, highlighting the chiseled perfection of his abs and dazzling her already overstimulated hormones. This was their third morning on the island. The third time she’d enjoyed the spectacle of her magnificent husband returning to her from the sea.
“The water is wonderful,” he announced, mounting the steps to the porch that surrounded their quaint beach cottage. “Why don’t you join me?”
“And miss the view?”
“It’s better close up.” He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her against his wet body.
Heedless of the damage the saltwater was doing to her silk nightgown, Elizabeth lifted on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “So it is.”
Being married to Roark had far exceeded her expectations. From the second he’d found out she was carrying his child, the walls he’d erected around his heart had tumbled down. No shadows darkened his gray-green eyes. His smiles had become broader, less lopsided. He made love to her with the same single-minded passion, but the reverence in his caresses brought tears to her eyes.
Following the pattern of the past three mornings, Elizabeth joined Roark in the shower. As her hands stroked over his soap-slick body, she reveled in the joy of her fortune. What if her moratorium against bad boys had led her to refuse to act as Roark’s fiancée? She never would have had the chance to discover that there was so much more to him than he let the world see.
With Roark sated b
y their second passionate encounter of the morning, Elizabeth knew this was the best time to approach him about yesterday’s unsettled argument. While he lay sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, she lifted his phone off the nightstand and rolled back toward him. His eyes were closed, but the corners of his lips drifted upward as her breasts made contact with his chest.
“You’ve got to call Ann and tell her what you’re up to.”
His palm coasted over her naked butt and up her spine in a possessive caress. “I really don’t think she’ll want to hear how I’ve spent my last three days.”
Elizabeth ignored the delight tickling over her skin and forced herself to be firm. “Call her back. She’s left three messages.”
Roark opened one eye. “How do you know that?”
“I might have spoken with Kendra about the pre-auction exhibit for the Gold Heart collection.”
He exhaled harshly. “We both agreed no Waverly’s trouble, Gold Heart statue, or event planning emergencies while we’re on our honeymoon.”
“I know what I promised, but I haven’t been unavailable for more than five hours in the last three years.”
“Very well, I’ll listen to the messages, but unless it’s life or death, I’m not calling her back.”
Elizabeth had to be content with that. She kissed him on the cheek and curled up beside him as they both listened to the messages on Roark’s phone. Several offered congratulations. Roark had given Vance a heads-up on their plans as they’d headed to the airport. Vance must have passed the word along to Roark’s friends.
Roark cut off one message from a deep-voiced man named Smith. Elizabeth figured that was the man who was helping Roark with his elusive thief. Ann Richardson’s messages progressed from irritation to acute displeasure. Elizabeth winced as Roark deleted the third one.
Ann was heading to Rayas and was pretty upset with Roark for taking off without giving her the statue. She was worried that the negative publicity coming out of Rayas about the missing Gold Heart statue would cause the board to vote to sell the company to Dalton Rothschild. Or worse, with the way the company’s stock was plummeting, he might be able to acquire enough stock for a hostile takeover.
The final message had been sent only a few minutes earlier.
“I was at the airport waiting for my flight to Rayas this morning when Interpol stopped me from getting on the plane. They detained me for questioning because your mysterious sheikh’s shipment arrived and the Gold Heart statue wasn’t part of the cargo. I explained to them that because of all the controversy he’d decided not to sell the statue, but they wouldn’t let me leave the country until I produce some sort of proof that his statue isn’t the one missing from Rayas. Somehow a reporter caught wind that I was being questioned by Interpol and wrote an article speculating about our recent troubles. Waverly’s stock has dropped even further. I need you back in New York and I need that statue. Call me.”
Roark’s features were set in grim lines as he deleted the message.
“What are you going to do?” Elizabeth asked.
“The same thing I was going to do before her call. I have to get the documents back from Masler before he can give them to Rothschild. It’s the only way Rashid will let anyone see his statue and the only way to prove once and for all that it’s not the one missing from Rayas’s palace.”
He tossed the phone onto a nearby chair and rolled Elizabeth onto her back. He threaded his fingers through her damp hair and dusted kisses over her nose, cheeks and eyes.
“But first,” he murmured. “I’m going to make love to my wife.”
With a heart bursting with love and a broad smile, Elizabeth teased, “I’ll bet you never thought you’d hear yourself say those words.”
“I think I knew the moment I set eyes on you.”
“Really?” Seeing he meant every word, she snuggled closer. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment you took my hand and asked me if I like to play with new ideas.”
He turned her palm up and traced her love line. “The way this curves means you’re romantic and passionate.”
She chuckled. “Don’t you mean foolish when it comes to love?”
“Not at all. See how your head line and your life line start at the same point but separate right away? That means a decisive and determined personality. Someone who can handle adventurous and erratic situations.”
“Meaning marriage to you?”
“I promise you’ll never be bored.”
As Roark’s hands skimmed down her sides, Elizabeth reached up to pull his lips to hers. “I never doubted that for a second.”
* * * * *
Turn the page for a special bonus story by USA TODAY bestselling author Barbara Dunlop. Then look for the thrilling conclusion of THE HIGHEST BIDDER, A Golden Betrayal, also by Barbara Dunlop. Wherever Harlequin Books are sold.
THE GOLD HEART, PART 5
Barbara Dunlop
Crown Prince Raif Khouri watched his father’s chest rise and fall beneath the light blanket in the master chamber of Valhan Palace. The king was battling Partang fever again, the third bout this year. He’d contracted the disease thirty years ago in Eastern Africa. It came and went, but lately it seemed to be taking a greater toll. The king had lost ten pounds in the past month, weight he could ill afford to give up.
“My son.” His voice was raspy.
“Yes, Father?” Raif shifted his chair closer, leaning down to listen to his father’s faint voice.
“Alber is aligning with the Brazilians.”
“I know.” Raif nodded. He knew very well the risk the alliance presented to Rayas.
“Kalila must marry the son without delay.”
Raif knew that, as well. Every day that passed without a formal betrothal of his cousin to Ari Alber increased their risk of significant financial loss to Rayas. But his headstrong, young cousin, second in line to the throne, had returned from a year of school in Britain with an attitude and the claim of a British boyfriend. Raif could deal with the attitude, but the boyfriend was going to be history. Nothing could interfere with Kalila’s duty to the royal family.
“She is stubborn,” Raif told the King.
“This is no time for defiance.”
“I understand.” And Raif was doing everything in his power to bring her into line.
“If we don’t act now, Algerian oil will power Moroccan smelters, feeding Indian factories, all financed by Brazilian equity funds and shipped by Greece. We’ll be cut out of the deal.” The king wasn’t saying anything Raif didn’t already know.
The thing Raif didn’t know was what to do about it. A hundred years ago—hell, fifty years ago—they’d have married Kalila off to Ari Alber, willing or not. Rayas was a shipping nation, a powerhouse in the region. And that meant they had a massive fleet to keep under contract. Kalila’s marriage would cement their relationship with the Alber dynasty, which would keep open the doors to Algeria and India.
“The girl must do her duty,” said the king.
“I’ll talk to her,” Raif promised.
“Do more than talk if necessary.”
“You would have me beat my own cousin?”
“I would have you threaten to beat her.”
Based on his last conversation with Kalila, Raif knew it was going to take more than a simple threat to make her see reason.
“What of Jacx?” the king asked, his spurt of anger-fueled energy clearly flagging.
Raif understood what his father meant by the question. But it was another place where Raif had thus far failed. He chose his words carefully. “When we need Jacx, I will promote him.”
“It is not yet done?”
“I offered to make him an admiral.” Raif sat back in his chair. It would have been nice if one thing in his life had gone smoothly.
“And?”
“And he prefers to remain a captain.”
“What?” The king tried to sit up, but started coughing, racking his chest and turning his face ruddy.<
br />
Raif rose to get the doctor, but the king waved him off.
“I am not dying yet,” the king wheezed, dropping back down.
“Jacx wants to earn his commission. He doesn’t want it handed to him because he married Aimee.”
Though Jacx’s stance on the matter didn’t suit Raif’s current purpose, he had to admire the man for taking it.
“He did his duty,” the king noted with conviction. “He will be rewarded.”
“He wanted to marry Aimee.” Raif had seen the determination in Jacx’s eyes.
Adhering to ancient tradition, Jacx had stepped into the breach five months ago and married Raif’s cousin Aimee when the groom had left her at the altar. Jacx had saved the king, Aimee and the royal family from intense embarrassment.
“That proves he’s intelligent. Aimee is the best of the lot. Make him an admiral.” The king’s eyes closed.
“You should sleep, Father.”
“What of the Gold Heart?” The king’s voice grew fainter, and his puffy eyes remained closed.
“We’re still looking.” Raif felt his tension rise to new heights as he answered the question.
“Find it,” the king ordered. “Find it, and Kalila will cease this nonsense. It’s the curse. You know it’s the curse.”
“Father,” Raif sighed.
“You can’t deny your history,” said the king.
“Folklore is not history.” Raif didn’t believe for one moment that luck or a cursed statue had anything to do with their current troubles.
“Then explain Salima’s death? The demise of that branch of the Bajal dynasty?”
“War, disease and poor judgment,” Raif countered.
“Bah,” the king scoffed, bringing on another coughing fit.
“Sleep,” Raif told him again.
But the king’s eyes opened, revealing the determination and intelligence that had allowed him to stay on the throne of a volatile country for nearly thirty years. “I shall not rest until the Gold Heart is home. I dare not.”
