The Spanish Millionaire's Runaway Bride

by Susan Meier

  She sat, giving him a smile over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He took the chair beside her. “You’re welcome.”

  With so much family, one big conversation wasn’t convenient. The discussion split in half. Nanna, Mitch’s parents and Riccardo’s parents talked about past harvests. Alonzo, Julia, Mitch and Lila talked about Greece, one of the places Mitch and Lila had visited on their honeymoon. Morgan easily slid into that discussion and Riccardo soon followed suit.

  After dinner was eaten, Alonzo rose and tapped his spoon against his wineglass. “Everyone,” he said, calling everyone’s attention to him. “I...” He glanced at Julia. “We have an announcement.”

  Julia’s face reddened sweetly, endearingly, and Riccardo knew what was coming.

  “I’m pregnant!”

  Marguerite put her hand on her chest. “I’m going to be a grandmother?”

  Santiago pulled in a sharp breath. “Our next generation begins,” he said reverently, then he rose, picking up his wineglass for a toast. “Salude!”

  Riccardo glanced at Morgan. Tears filled her eyes, but they were happy tears. He suddenly, unexpectedly pictured her with her own kids and his breath caught.

  He could see her with a little blonde girl and a dark-haired boy.

  He shook his head to clear it. He didn’t want to think about her that way.

  Because it would mean she was happy with another man.

  He might be able to let her go, but he wasn’t a saint. He did not want to see her future.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FROM THAT POINT on Riccardo kept himself away from her as much as possible. Imagining her with children was too painful to contemplate. He couldn’t handle any more goodbyes at doors, or conversations that only reminded him how perfect she was. Nothing could change the fact that she wasn’t even two weeks out of a relationship, that she would go home to a new life, with a new attitude, and want her freedom to enjoy it all.

  The night of the ball, he walked out of his condo, dressed in his tux. No one had told him to escort Morgan, but it was simply common sense that he should.

  Preparing himself to see her looking wonderful in her gown, he knocked on her door and waited. When there was no answer, he knocked again and waited again. It was too late for her to be in the shower, too late for the noise of a hair dryer to be drowning him out.

  She had to have already left for the ball.

  Misery invaded his chest. He tried to deny it but he’d been looking forward to escorting her tonight. She’d be leaving the next day. He’d probably never see her again, and he’d missed the chance to walk her over.

  After a short ride in the elevator, he stepped out into the warm evening. He looked up the cobblestone path thinking she might only be a little ahead of him.

  And she was...on the arm of his cousin Lorenzo.

  Fury shuddered through him before he could stop it. He couldn’t believe his mother had called her sister to get an escort for Morgan. The insult of it rattled along his bones, ignited his blood.

  Entering the mansion through the front door, so he could go through the receiving line, he first greeted Mitch’s parents, then Mitch and Lila.

  After hugging Mitch and kissing Lila’s cheek, he said, “You look radiant.”

  Always the kidder, Mitch said, “Thank you.”

  “Even on your best day, you’re not radiant,” Riccardo said, then he turned to Lila. “This is when we officially say welcome to the family.”

  “Thanks,” Lila said through the soft laugh she’d only found once she and Mitch had become serious. Her face glowed with happiness. So did Mitch’s, if Riccardo allowed himself to be honest.

  Longing rippled through him. Not for marriage or kids, but for that connection. Since Cicely he’d believed it trite, or maybe something for other men, but getting to know Morgan had awakened all those yearnings again.

  He turned to leave the receiving line and saw Morgan laughing with Lorenzo. Stealing his night. But he knew the anger that shuffled through him was wrong.

  He walked directly to the bar. “Whiskey.”

  He named a brand that cost enough to make most people’s heads spin. But he didn’t care. He’d helped Morgan get through her problems, brought her to Spain, and he wouldn’t even get twenty minutes with her tonight before she boarded a plane tomorrow.

  “She’s over there.”

  The sound of his grandmother’s voice almost made him drop his drink. When he realized Nanna was talking about Morgan, he wanted to pour his very expensive whiskey over her head.

  “Why would you be pointing out Morgan to me when the family invited someone else to be her escort?”

  Nanna looked confused. “You were just mumbling about someone getting on a plane tomorrow, I assumed you were talking about Morgan.”

  Damn it! Now his craziness was spilling over into reality.

  “She looks pretty in that dress, doesn’t she?”

  He glanced over and saw the front view of gorgeous Morgan Monroe in a tight yellow gown. Though he’d followed her up the cobblestone walk to the ballroom, he’d only seen the full train in the back. He hadn’t realized the dress beneath was formfitting.

  “Yellow’s her color.”

  “I like her in blue.” He mumbled that, so his grandmother wouldn’t hear it. Louder, he said, “I should go say hello to Lorenzo.”

  Nanna grabbed his arm before he could move. “No. We’re getting ready to eat. And you’re at the main family table, so you can escort me over.”

  He said, “Okay,” then wondered where Morgan would be sitting. But even as the question popped into his head, he realized that’s why his mother had called Lorenzo. Morgan wasn’t family—or even extended family, as Lila’s mom was—so she wouldn’t be sitting at the family table.

  Lorenzo had been called upon to entertain her.

  The relief that poured through him made him laugh. No one was keeping them apart. No one had seen him falling for Morgan. His thoughts had been nothing but his own imaginings. He’d been foolish to get so worked up.

  The dinner sped by amid toasts to Lila and Mitch. When the dancing started, he had every intention of asking Morgan to dance, just to show himself he was fine—making mountains out of molehills because of stupid feelings he shouldn’t have. He also wanted a minute to talk to her about her arrangements for the next day, when she went home.

  But when he finally found a chance to slide in and ask her, she looked at him with her earnest blue eyes and his heart stumbled in his chest.

  No matter how much he told himself he didn’t want the feelings he had for her, he had them. He wouldn’t do anything about them. She was only two weeks out of a bad relationship. And he didn’t want to end up with a broken heart.

  Still...

  Was it wrong to want to have a few hours with her? Was it wrong to want another kiss? Just one more kiss? He’d paid the price of rescuing her from her dad, flying her to Spain, connecting her to women who could help her move on...

  Didn’t he deserve this night?

  One measly kiss?

  He swore to himself that he wouldn’t hurt her or let himself get hurt. He wouldn’t touch her beyond a kiss, but they deserved a night—one night, one kiss—before she left.

  An ache built inside him, not just to touch her, but also for the innocence Cicely had stolen from him. What he wouldn’t give to see only Morgan’s goodness, the fun they could have together, the life they could create, and not the myriad consequences that could rain down on him when the whole damn thing imploded.

  Because it would. She couldn’t have real feelings for him. She would go home and soon forget everything that happened between them.

  But he wouldn’t. He’d remember her forever.

  * * *

  Morgan had spent the entire night watching Riccardo over Lore
nzo’s shoulder. She didn’t know why he seemed to be spending the majority of his time at the bar, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw him walking toward her and Lorenzo. And suddenly he was there.

  He nodded to her. “Morgan.”

  She said, “Good evening,” but told her heart to settle down. If there was one thing she’d learned about the Ochoa family, it was that they were steeped in tradition, polite to a fault. Coming over to say hello, Riccardo was only being courteous. He’d made his feelings about her very clear. And stayed away from her for days to prove he meant it. She would not make a fool of herself.

  He shook Lorenzo’s hand. “And it’s good to see you, too, cousin.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “My pleasure.”

  “I wonder if you would mind if I had a few dances with your date.”

  Her heart did the funny, shivery thing again. She told it to stop. This was nothing but a duty to Riccardo.

  Lorenzo all but bowed. “Of course.”

  “Actually, because we’re in side-by-side condos, it makes sense for me to walk her home, too.”

  Lorenzo said, “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, but it’s my pleasure.” Riccardo laughed. “I’m releasing you of your duty. Go,” he said, motioning around the room at the elegant crowd, which included eligible women. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Though he didn’t look pleased, Lorenzo walked away.

  Riccardo faced her. “I’d love a dance.”

  She’d love an explanation. But she wasn’t about to ask him for one and embarrass herself. If he wanted to dance with her and walk her home, it wasn’t to enjoy her company. It was only out of respect for his family’s sense of honor.

  She curtsied, the way she’d been taught by her mother when she was very, very young, and the gesture was mannerly. “The pleasure is mine.”

  The band began playing a waltz and she smiled politely as he took her into his arms. As the smooth material of his tux slid across her hands, her breath stuttered in and fluttered out. Every man in attendance wore a tuxedo, yet not one of them looked as casually elegant, as sex-on-a-spoon gorgeous as Riccardo.

  “Are you enjoying the evening?” Damn! She sounded like a hostess at one of her dad’s stuffy parties.

  His head tilted. “I think the better question is are you enjoying it?”

  “Yes.” Her voice came out as a nervous squeak and she had to fight not to squeeze her eyes shut in misery. In that second, part of her was glad her dad had sheltered her from this. The other part was still miffed. If she’d had the normal teenage girl experiences with boys, she wouldn’t be making a fool of herself right now. “You’re an excellent dancer.”

  “Part of my training.”

  She smiled. “Mine, too.”

  As he expertly swirled her around the room, her nervousness seemed to float away.

  Just when she thought she would be okay, he caught her gaze. “You look amazing tonight. Do you know you’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met?”

  That made her laugh. “Really? You’re going to use lines on me?” But part of her wanted to believe it. He was the most handsome man she’d ever met. He’d totally redefined sexy for her. No, actually, what he’d done was introduce her to sexy. In a world where everybody wore Oxford cloth shirts and chinos he was silk and swagger.

  He swung her around. “I would never use a line on you.”

  “Oh, now, I think you’re just lying.”

  “Okay, say I didn’t mind falling back on a line or two every once in a while. In this instance, it’s not a line. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  The song ended and they stopped dancing, but their gazes clung. The whole world shifted. Just as he had introduced her to sexy, he was changing something else in her world. Not the way she saw herself, but how she saw relationships. What it was supposed to be like between a man and a woman.

  There was a closeness, almost an arc of electricity connecting them. Capturing them. Making her feel linked to him, open to anything he wanted, as the world—a world she never knew existed—came to quivering life.

  The music began again. This time it was a slow song. He pulled her close, nestled her against him and her eyes drifted shut as the sensation of being held to him trembled through her.

  They danced the rest of the set knitted together or an arm’s distance apart. Their arc in place. Their connection never broken.

  Too soon, the guests of honor left, along with their parents, then Nanna and Riccardo’s parents.

  Alonzo gave a good-night toast, then took Julia’s hand and escorted her from the ballroom, ending the party.

  The crowd dispersed, everyone heading out the front entry to gather wraps or hats. Riccardo faced her. “We can leave through the private entry.”

  “Yes. Thank you. That would be great.”

  She stumbled over the words because she had no idea what would happen next. Their doors were side by side, bedrooms a whisper away. It seemed totally wrong to end a night of being held any other way than making love.

  So nervous she thought she’d die from it, Morgan held out her arm. “I’m ready.”

  He gave her a long look. Everything inside her shivered, as she realized the double meaning she might have given him. Still, it was what she wanted.

  After a beat, he took her arm and led her to the doors in the back.

  But he said nothing.

  She sucked in a breath to still her nerves and hopefully strengthen her voice. “I’m guessing this is a shortcut.”

  “Yes. To the back entrance.”

  “Okay.”

  They reached the discreet double doors and he opened them. They walked to the condos under the dark sky. Clouds hid the stars, promising rain in a few hours. He released her arm and opened the condo building door, granting her entry first.

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  At the elevator, he pressed the button, and the doors opened automatically. She stepped inside. So did he.

  They rode in silence and goose bumps appeared on her arms. For as sure as she was that the evening should end in lovemaking, nerves changed her mind. They’d only known each other two weeks. They’d kissed once. She was crazy to think he wanted to sleep with her.

  She was never so grateful as when the elevator stopped on the second floor and she could race out. When she reached her door, she turned to say a polite goodbye, but he was right behind her and she almost bumped in to him.

  His eyes were as black and intense as the sky had been. “You’re running away?”

  Her chest tightened.

  He took a step closer. “Why?”

  The reasoning in her head in the elevator had sounded so good. But here? At her door? Caught in the gaze of his dark, brooding eyes...she couldn’t remember a word of it. “I’m not sure.”

  “I think you’re avoiding my question.”

  “No. It just was a long night and I think I’m confused.”

  “About?”

  She sucked in a breath. “You want me to say it? To admit that I think there’s only one way this night should end?”

  “No. I want you to tell me that you’re attracted to me.” His voice cascaded over her like warm honey. He took the final step that separated them. “I want you to tell me that you want me to kiss you.”

  She did. Oh, good God, she did. But he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything else. And she realized he really was waiting for her.

  “I do.”

  He leaned closer. “You do what?”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE KISS BYPASSED being warm and sweet and went directly to hot and steamy. Morgan didn’t care. Every cell in her body tingled to life as if awakening from a long, unnecessary sleep, and she wanted more. She rolled to her tiptoes, put her hands o
n each side of his face and indulged.

  Their tongues twined. Stuttering breaths mingled. His hands slid down her bare back, hesitating at the bustle-topped train of her gown as if frustrated, then slowly cruising up her naked skin again, raising goose bumps. When he reached the slim straps at the edges of her shoulders, his fingers skimmed beneath the satiny material but stopped. The kiss slowed. The heated encounter reduced to soft brushes. Harsh breaths leveled. Their lips pulled apart as he raised his head.

  Morgan opened her eyes to find his squeezed shut. He popped them open with a muttered curse.

  “This is wrong.”

  “Really?” Her slight whisper filled the small lobby, as frustration filled her. All she could think about was touching him. Kissing him. Belonging to him. She couldn’t believe he thought this was wrong.

  “I shouldn’t be forcing you in to this.”

  Confused, she just looked at him. “Forcing me?”

  “Tempting you?” He smiled ruefully. “Right now, when you’re scared and confused I seem like the answer to all your problems. But as soon as you get home, move to New York City, get a new job, you’ll put all this behind you.”

  She listened to every word he said, twisted them around, searching for meaning, and eventually said, “You don’t think there’s something between us?”

  He shrugged. “I know there’s something between us, but I also know you’re going home tomorrow and we’re probably never going to see each other again. It would be so easy to fall into bed together, but then you’d regret it.”

  “Regret it?” Her heart kicked against her ribs. “I waited my whole life to feel what I felt with you tonight.”

  He shook his head. “You’re going to feel a hundred different things when you get home. And one of them is going to be happiness that you didn’t do anything to mess up your life.”

  “My life already was messed up.”

  “No, I mean that you didn’t make any commitments, any promises.” He caught her gaze. “You really will be able to start over when you get home.”