“Well, since you are going to have another child,” Marissa began, thinking the news of her sister-in-law’s pregnancy was an appropriate segue into the reason for her visit, “I was wondering if I could borrow Riley.”
“Okay. As long as you return her when you’re done.”
Marissa had to smile at Hannah’s easy response. “Aren’t you even curious as to when and why?”
“When and why?” Hannah asked.
“Tomorrow for the hot-air-balloon festival at Falcon Ridge,” Marissa told her. “Because I fibbed and said that I already had plans with Riley in order to avoid being alone with the man my mother wants me to marry.”
“You want Riley to chaperone your date with the Duke of Bellemoro?” Hannah asked, trying to pick out the relevant details from the explanation her sister-in-law had blurted out.
“No, I want Riley to chaperone my date with the king of Ardena.”
Hannah picked up the phone from the table beside her and began dialing.
Marissa frowned. “Who are you calling?”
“Gabriella. She has to hear about this.”
Since Marissa figured it would be easier to tell the story to both of her sisters-in-law at the same time rather than in two separate installments, she didn’t dissuade her. But she did wonder why she put the call on speakerphone.
“You need to come over,” Hannah said, as soon as Gabby answered.
“Now?” The very pregnant princess sounded weary. “I just got into my pajamas—”
“So come in your pajamas,” the newly pregnant princess told her. “I have big news.”
“News that can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m pregnant and Marissa’s engaged to the king of Ardena.”
There was half a beat of silence before Gabby said, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
The picture on the screen was fuzzy, and the more she increased the magnification of the photo, the fuzzier it got. That’s what she got for working with cheap equipment. Unfortunately, since she wasn’t a professional photographer, it was all she could afford. But now she worried that her efforts to pinch a few pennies might end up costing her big.
She turned her attention from the screen to the list of names beside the laptop. It was a copy of the final guest list for the masquerade ball, but even after reviewing it numerous times, she was no closer to ascertaining the identity of the mystery woman who had spent the night in Dante Romero’s room at the palace.
Not that her identity really mattered, except insofar as it might add fuel to the fire of the scandal. An unmarried heiress looking for a good time? No big deal. But the devoted wife of a Tesorian cabinet member? Very big deal.
She clicked on the next photo, then the one after that. When the woman left his room in the early hours of the morning after, she carried her shoes in her left hand. Zooming in, she confirmed that the hand was bare.
With another click of the mouse, she restored the original image, looking for something—anything—that might provide a positive clue. Of course, it was hard to see anything with the damn mask covering half of the woman’s face.
She clicked back through the images until she found the ones of the woman and the king locked together in a passionate embrace. She knew it was the king because she’d wheedled the location of his room out of a housekeeper, but without that knowledge, she could understand how someone might question that identification.
She rubbed the heels of her hands over eyes that were gritty from lack of sleep and too much time staring at the damn computer screen. When a familiar beep indicated an incoming text message, she snatched up her phone, her hands shaking and her heart pounding as she read her sister’s message. doctor confirmed shes doing great, should be ready 2 go home shortly, will keep u posted xoxoxo
She blew out a long breath, then replied simply: thnx 4 update, c u soon
The message echoed in her mind and eased the ache in her heart. Tears of gratitude and relief filled her eyes, and she gave herself a moment to send up a brief but fervent prayer to express her appreciation to the big guy upstairs.
Then she turned back to the computer and the images of the king again, because she didn’t owe him any thanks.
She didn’t owe him anything but payback.
It was closer to twenty minutes by the time Gabriella arrived—not in her pajamas.
“I keep forgetting that I can’t move as fast as I used to,” she said by way of apology.
She hugged Hannah first. “Congratulations, Mommy.”
Then she turned to Marissa and demanded, “Let me see the ring.”
“There is no ring,” she denied, shooting a look at Hannah. “I am not engaged. But I did have brunch with Dante Romero today.”
“And she’s got a date with him tomorrow,” Hannah interjected.
“Well, I guess this means you were wrong about the duke,” Gabby noted.
“But not wrong about my mother’s plan to marry me off to a groom of her choosing.”
“For once, I can’t fault her choice,” Hannah said.
“Ditto that,” Gabby agreed.
“I feel compelled to point out that countless women around the world have reason to share your enthusiasm,” Marissa said drily.
“Okay, so he hasn’t exactly been…circumspect with respect to past relationships,” Hannah acknowledged. “But I don’t think he’s been involved with anyone since he took the throne.”
“Or maybe he’s just learned to be discreet,” Marissa suggested.
“The king does have a reputation,” Gabriella acknowledged. “But it hardly rivals the one your brother built up over the years. If Cameron could change his ways, it’s not impossible that Dante Romero could, too.”
“Cameron changed his ways because he fell in love with you,” Marissa pointed out. “Any interest the king of Ardena has in me is fueled by politics, not affection.”
“It doesn’t matter how something starts, only how it ends,” said Hannah, who had met Prince Michael when she accepted the position as temporary nanny for his young daughter the previous summer.
“Trust me—the king is not going to propose, and I wouldn’t accept his proposal if he did.”
“Never say never,” Gabby cautioned. “He’s incredibly handsome and unbelievably charming.”
“Says the woman happily married to my brother,” Marissa remarked drily.
Cameron’s wife only smiled. “Being married to your brother should have immunized me against other handsome and charming men, but not even I was immune to Dante Romero. And if he sets his sights on you, you won’t have a chance.”
“You’re forgetting one important fact,” Marissa reminded her sisters-in-law. “The king of Ardena will be expected to marry a virgin bride—and I no longer qualify.”
Chapter Six
Security was always a concern whenever the king of Ardena attended any kind of public event, so the plan was for Dante’s chauffeur to drive over to Marissa’s condo first, and from there they would go together to pick up Riley. They were halfway to Riley’s house when the princess’s cell phone rang.
She glanced at the display. “It’s my sister-in-law,” she said apologetically before connecting the call.
Dante had no compunction about eavesdropping. After all, it wasn’t as if he could leave the moving vehicle to give her some privacy. And while he could only hear Marissa’s half of the conversation, it quickly became clear that there was a change of plans for the day. A change that, judging by the furrow between her brows and the nervous glances she sent in his direction, the princess wasn’t happy about.
“Apparently Riley’s running a fever,” Marissa told him.
“Why do you say ‘apparently’?” he asked curiously.
“Because I saw her last night and she was fine.”
“Even I know kids can get sick without any notice.”
“You’re right,” she admitted.
“But you suspect she isn’t really ill,” he guessed.
“I think if she was, Hannah would have sounded more worried.”
“Do you think your mother somehow orchestrated the last-minute cancellation?”
“No,” the princess responded without hesitation. “I can assure you that Hannah wouldn’t do my mother any favors. This is entirely her own doing—her attempt to give us some time alone together.”
“So I have an ally in your sister-in-law, do I?” he asked as Thomas pulled into a gravel parking lot.
“For today, anyway,” Marissa grumbled. “Who can predict what she might do tomorrow?”
He couldn’t help but grin in response to the obvious pique in her tone.
The chauffeur parked at the far end of the lot, away from all of the other vehicles. Several minutes passed before the door was opened and they were allowed to exit the car. Marissa knew the delay had been necessary to allow the security detail assigned to the king to survey the area and ensure there were no threats to his safety.
Her cousin, the prince regent, endured the same procedures whenever he went out. She understood that it was a way of life for a ruler and, to a lesser extent, for any royal. It was one of the reasons she preferred to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, a low profile wasn’t possible in the company of the king of Ardena.
When he was satisfied that the area was secure, the chauffeur—whom Marissa suspected was likely a high-ranking member of the security team—carried a wicker basket and led the way. He guided them toward a table that had been moved some distance from the usual picnic area at the base of the nature trails—again, for security rather than privacy—while another guard followed behind.
Thomas spread a cloth over the table, then laid out the place settings and various containers of food before he bowed to the king and retraced his steps to return to the car. But Marissa knew they were not alone. So long as they remained in this public setting, there would be an invisible circle of security guards around them—and probably camera-wielding vultures in the trees.
“I was told that the best vantage point for the launch was the observation deck at the top of the trail. I was also warned that it would be impossible to secure that area because of its popularity and numerous access points, so I hope this is okay.”
“This is fine,” she assured him, surprised that he would even ask.
“We still have about half an hour until the launch,” he noted. “Did you want to eat or walk or just relax?”
“Relaxing sounds good,” she said, even as she wondered if it was possible to relax in the presence of a man who made all of her nerve endings hum.
He picked up the blanket Thomas had left on the bench and unfolded it on the grass in the center of the clearing and gestured for her to sit. She lowered herself onto the blanket, close to the edge to ensure that he had plenty of space on the other side.
He stretched out in the middle, on his back with his hands tucked behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles.
“Is this how you like to relax?” he asked her. “By communing with nature?”
“I do enjoy being here—it’s so beautiful and peaceful. In fact, I used to be a member of the Falcon Ridge Trail Walkers,” she admitted. “But I stopped participating in the scheduled walks because the other members complained about the paparazzi scaring away the wildlife.”
“Just one of the perks of being born royal,” he noted in a dry tone.
A gust of air swept through the clearing, fluttering the leaves on the trees. Marissa tucked her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked her.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem to be relaxing,” he noted.
She wasn’t. How could she possibly relax when he was so close? Close enough that she inhaled his tantalizing masculine scent whenever she took a breath. Close enough—
“Take off your shoes,” he suggested.
“No, thank you.”
“It’s easier to relax when your feet are bare.” He kicked off his own, then sat up to remove his socks.
She’d never thought feet were sexy. Of course, she should have realized that his would be. There didn’t seem to be any part of Dante Romero that wasn’t above average.
“Your turn.”
“I don’t…”
Her protest faltered when he reached over and picked up her foot. Suddenly her mind spun back to the night of the masquerade ball, when Jupiter removed her sandals. She remembered the way he’d unwound the lace, the slow and sensual brush of his fingers over her skin. Just the memory made her heart pound faster.
But this wasn’t Jupiter, it was Dante, and he simply took hold of one shoe and tugged it off, then did the same with the other and carelessly tossed them aside.
Then he returned his attention to her now-bare feet, stroking his thumbs leisurely over the hot-pink lacquer on her toe-nails.
“Well, this answers one question,” he murmured.
She swallowed. “What question is that?”
His gaze skimmed over her, from the ivory cowl-necked blouse to the sand-colored slacks. “Whether you disliked color.”
“Neutrals are easier to coordinate,” she informed him.
“But a lot less fun.” He picked up one of her feet and stroked his thumb along the arch of her foot.
She didn’t disagree. In fact, she didn’t say anything because he was massaging her foot and she’d apparently lost the ability to form coherent thought. His thumb slid along the inside arch, circled the heel and traced the same path back again. She sighed with pleasure.
He smiled. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure it would look good if there was a snapshot of this particular scene on the front page of tomorrow’s paper.”
“The area has been secured and no one knows we’re even here,” he told her, continuing to work his magic on her instep.
“You mean aside from the half-dozen guards patrolling the perimeter?”
“Aside from them,” he agreed.
“How do you know?” she wondered.
“Because I made a point of stopping at the little café by the waterfront and asking about the beaches in San Pedro.”
“Clever,” she admitted.
He reached up and plucked the pins out of her hair, his movements so quick and deft that Marissa didn’t even realize what he was doing until her hair was tumbling over her shoulders.
“If I’d wanted my hair down, I wouldn’t have put it up,” she told him, not bothering to disguise her annoyance.
“You always wear it up,” he noted. “I wanted to see it down.”
“And you’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you, Your Majesty?”
“Usually,” he admitted.
She automatically scooped up her hair, but he smiled and held up the pins. With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and frustration, she released the tresses again.
“Much better,” he told her and tucked the pins into his pocket. “Are you feeling more relaxed now?”
She was definitely feeling “more” something, but it wasn’t relaxed. “Sure.”
He shook his head, as if he knew she was lying. “It’s the chemistry.”
She swallowed, wondering if he was somehow able to read her thoughts. “Chemistry?”
“A physical attraction evidenced by the sparks sizzling in the air.” He shifted closer, spreading his legs so that they straddled her hips while her feet were almost in his lap. “It’s an elemental human response that occurs when a man and woman who are attracted to one another are in close proximity.”
“You can’t be attracted to me.”
“It surprised me, too. Not that you’re not an attractive woman,” he hastened to clarify. “Just that you’re not my usual type.”
“Based on the extensive lineup of women you’ve dated, I wouldn’t have guessed that you had a type.”
“You might be right,” he agreed. “Either way, the fact is that I like
looking at you and being with you, and I can’t help wondering if the attraction between us might grow into something more.”
“I’m sure it’s not a concern that keeps you up at night.”
He was undaunted by her dismissive tone. “Of course, there’s only one surefire way to answer that question.”
“Maybe I don’t want it answered.”
“I think you do. Not consciously, perhaps,” he allowed. “But subconsciously, it’s preoccupying your thoughts. You’re wondering when that first kiss might happen, whether you’ll enjoy it, whether it will end with just one kiss or lead into something more.”
If she hadn’t been thinking about it before, she definitely was now. Not just thinking about it, but wanting it.
The sexy glint in his eyes warned her that he knew it.
“Instead of both of us wondering, why don’t we just get it out of the way?” he suggested.
Before Marissa’s frazzled brain could decipher his words, his lips were on hers.
Her first thought was that the man definitely knew how to kiss. Of course, his abundance of experience had no doubt allowed him to perfect his technique.
His mouth pressed against hers with just the right amount of pressure—enough to demonstrate that he was confident in her response but not so much that she felt his kiss was being forced upon her. He cradled her face in his hands, not to hold her immobile but only to adjust the angle of contact as he slowly deepened the kiss.
He touched the center of her upper lip with his tongue, a gentle stroke that sent waves of pulsing desire coursing through her system. Her lips parted and he slipped inside.
He continued to kiss her, continued to spin a seductive web around her, so that she was enveloped in layer after layer of sensation. Heat. Hunger. Need.
She wasn’t accustomed to feeling like this, to wanting like this. But there was no denying that she did want him. She wanted him to kiss and touch her all over. She wanted to feel his lips and his hands on every part of her body. Mostly, she wanted to once again experience all those glorious sensations that had rocketed through her system when she’d made love with Jupiter.
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