Except that Dante wasn’t Jupiter and this wasn’t an anonymous encounter.
She pulled away from him and forced a smile. “Well, now that we got that out of the way, we should eat.”
“I wouldn’t say that we got anything out of the way,” he denied. “In fact, I’d say that what we did was put the attraction between us front and center.”
It was the promise in his eyes more than the words that made everything inside her quiver, but she refused to let him see it. “It was just an elemental human response to proximity,” she said, turning his words back on him.
“Then I’ll just have to ensure we maintain close proximity.”
She ignored the heat that filled her cheeks.
“Lunch?” she prompted.
“Good idea.” He grinned wickedly. “I’m starving.”
Marissa couldn’t help but be impressed by the selection of food. There were French breads and savory crackers, gourmet cheeses, thin slices of smoked salmon, duck foie gras with port wine and black Ardenan olives. They watched the balloons overhead as they leisurely sampled the various offerings, sipped on a crisp, chilled Chardonnay, and then nibbled on fresh fruit and dark chocolate truffles for dessert.
When they were finished, Marissa began packing up the leftovers in the basket Thomas had left. She found an unopened plastic container.
“What’s this?” She didn’t wait for a response but opened the lid, lifting a brow when she recognized the contents. “A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich?”
“I didn’t know if Riley would be fond of pâtés and cheeses,” he explained.
“That was very thoughtful,” she said, noting that there were also chocolate-chip cookies and a bottle of apple juice for the little girl.
“Well, I didn’t actually pack it myself,” he admitted. “But I’m not so self-absorbed that I wouldn’t realize a five-year-old might prefer a simpler meal.”
“There was a time when Riley didn’t want to eat anything but chicken nuggets,” Marissa admitted. “And while her eating habits are a little more expansive these days, she would definitely have gone for the peanut butter and jelly.”
“You seem very close to her,” he noted.
“I spent a lot of time with her when she was a baby, after Michael lost his wife,” Marissa explained.
“He’s remarried now, isn’t he?”
“Yes, just this past spring,” she confirmed. “And he and Hannah have another baby on the way, which Riley is absolutely thrilled about.”
“I get the impression you’re pretty thrilled, too.”
She shrugged. “It’s no secret that I’m a sucker for babies.”
“My mother’s going to love that about you.”
“Be careful,” she warned. “A woman could get ideas when a man talks about her meeting his parents.”
“Well, it is traditional for a man to introduce his future bride to his family.”
“So all those headlines about the king of Ardena searching for a queen aren’t just rumor?”
“No, they’re all true.” He popped an olive in his mouth. “Well, all except the one about my alien bride.”
She smiled at that. “Does your constitution require that a king be married?”
“It’s not a requirement so much as an expectation, and the constitution provides far more latitude than do my parents.”
Marissa was familiar with the weight of parental expectations. Although Elena had always demanded far more of her sons than her daughter, with both Michael and Cameron happily married now, the focus had shifted. She understood that her mother’s determination to see her married to Dante Romero had nothing to do with wanting a suitable match for her daughter and everything to do with the stature she herself would gain as the king of Ardena’s mother-in-law.
“But my parents are anxious for me to marry, not only because they believe our country needs a queen but because they’re both eager for a grandchild.”
“An heir for the next generation,” she noted.
His brows lifted. “Actually, I’m not sure either of them is thinking about the future of the throne so much as their desire to have a baby around to spoil.”
“What are your thoughts on that?”
“I like kids,” he said easily. “And my dad was a great dad, so I’d hope I could do a decent job following in his footsteps.”
“I met your father once,” she told him.
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“He probably doesn’t remember.”
Dante’s brows drew together. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it was more than twenty years ago.”
“Really?”
“King Benedicto was in Tesoro del Mar for meetings with my uncle, and I was visiting the palace with my brothers. Of course, my brothers were running through the halls at full speed, as desperate to leave me behind as I was to keep up, and as I was racing up the stairs, I tripped and scraped the skin off of both of my knees.”
Dante winced sympathetically. “That must have hurt.”
She nodded. “And I screamed so that everyone would know it. Your dad was the first on the scene.
“He immediately scooped me up off the floor and carried me over to the wing chairs by the windows overlooking the rose garden. He cuddled me until my sobs subsided, then he sat me on the edge of one of the chairs and squatted down, carefully inspecting first one knee and then the next. The nanny hurried over with antiseptic cream and bandages and tried to send the king away so that she could tend to my injuries, but he insisted on cleaning and bandaging the scrapes himself. Then he took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped away the last of my tears, kissed my forehead and pronounced me good to go.”
“That’s quite a detailed memory,” he remarked, sounding more than a little skeptical.
Marissa just smiled. “Every girl remembers the first time she falls in love.”
“You fell in love with my father?”
“He was the first man—aside from my own father, who had passed away six months earlier—to hold me while I cried.”
“That’s your criteria for giving your heart?”
Her smile widened. “He was also very handsome.”
“I’ve been told I’m the spitting image of King Benedicto when he was crowned, thirty-five years ago,” he said, the devilish twinkle in those dark eyes assuring her that he was teasing.
She narrowed her gaze, as if struggling to see the resemblance. “You do have his ears,” she finally acknowledged.
“And his charm?” he prompted hopefully.
“There’s definite potential.”
As Thomas drove back toward Marissa’s condo later that afternoon, Dante found that he was genuinely reluctant for the day to end. He’d had a good time with the princess—she was easy to talk to and didn’t hesitate to speak her mind on any number of topics, nor was she the least bit shy about letting him know when her ideas and opinions differed from his own.
He’d accepted the fact that he was attracted to her. What surprised him was to realize how much he actually liked her. And that he could imagine himself spending the rest of his life with her.
Not that he was anxious to exchange vows, but he’d resigned himself to the necessity of it. And since he figured she had a right to know what his intentions were, he said, “I think we should get married.”
Her brow lifted, but she replied in a similarly casual tone. “I think you’re insane.”
He grinned, because her response proved that his instincts about her were exactly right. He needed a wife who would stand up to him and say what was on her mind. “I realize that a marriage between us might seem impulsive—”
“Might?”
“But if you think about it,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted, “there are several valid reasons for us to marry and really no reason for us not to.”
“How about the fact that I don’t want to marry you?”
“Putting aside for now the fact that you
acknowledged your wishes might not be a factor,” he said, “why wouldn’t you want to marry me?”
“Do you want a list?”
His brows rose. “Do you have one?”
“I could make one,” she assured him. “And right at the top would be the fact that I don’t even know you.”
“I’m not suggesting we get married tomorrow.”
“Well, in that case…” She paused as if reconsidering his offer, then shook her head. “The answer would still be no.”
He cocked his head. “You really don’t want to marry me?”
“Did you think I was being coy?”
The possibility had crossed his mind, and he realized that was his mistake. She wasn’t the type of woman who played those kind of games, which was just one more thing he liked about her.
“No,” he admitted. “But I do think your rejection was as impulsive as my proposal.”
She didn’t dispute the possibility.
“I have no desire to marry a woman against her will, but another man might not feel the same way,” he cautioned.
“So you’re saying that I should marry you because it’s probably going to be the best offer I get?”
“No, I’m saying that you should give me—give us—a chance,” he clarified.
“Isn’t that what today was about?”
“Today was a first date. I’m asking for a second.”
“Why?” she asked warily.
“Because I think your refusal to consider a relationship between us is more about resenting your mother’s manipulations than any personal feelings toward me.”
“I would think you would resist being manipulated as much as I do.”
“I would,” he agreed, “if I felt I was being manipulated.”
“We both know you’re not really interested in me.”
“I’d say that kiss we shared in the park proves otherwise.”
“You’re making a big deal out of one little kiss,” she warned him.
He just smiled, confident that their next kiss would prove otherwise. “I’m not asking you to run away to Ardena with me yet,” he continued. “I just want a chance to get to know you.”
“Because marrying a princess from Tesoro del Mar would be a strategic political move,” she guessed.
“It would be foolish of me to deny that’s true. However, the woman I choose as my bride—as my country’s future queen—will be my wife for the rest of my life, and I have no intention of making that decision solely on the basis of political considerations.”
“What other factors are there when you’re responsible for the future of your country?” she challenged.
“Attraction. Affection. Intelligence. Compassion. Common interests. I don’t want to stare into my coffee cup every morning because I can’t carry on a conversation with the woman seated across the table from me.”
“Sounds like you’ve given this some thought,” she noted.
“Aside from international trade relations, the domestic economy, rising unemployment, health care and funding for education, I’ve hardly been able to think about anything else.”
Her lips curved, just a little. Just enough to distract him with thoughts of how sweet those lips had tasted and how passionately she’d responded to his kiss.
“Well, that list certainly puts the matter of marriage into perspective,” she said.
“Except that it is important. My parents’ relationship taught me that having a true partner in life can make dealing with all of the other issues if not easier, at least manageable.”
“You were lucky to have that kind of example.”
“I know,” he admitted. “And although I may not know you very well, the one thing I can say with absolute certainty is that you don’t bore me.”
“I’m so pleased to hear that, Your Majesty.”
He grinned in response to her dry tone. “I imagine you’d be more pleased if I went back to Ardena and never bothered you again.”
“As if spending time with the king of Ardena could ever be considered a bother.”
“I’m having dinner with your cousin and his wife Tuesday night,” he told her. “It will just be a small group, including the French ambassador and his spouse, and Prince Harry and his current companion. I’d be pleased if you could join us.”
“I don’t know how anyone could refuse such a gracious invitation.”
He chuckled. “But no doubt if you did, you would.”
Chapter Seven
There were three messages on her machine when Marissa got home after her outing with Dante. She predicted, even before she listened to them, that there would be one each from Elena, Gabriella and Hannah. Each one, of course, wanting to hear the details of her date with the king of Ardena.
She didn’t return any of the calls because she hadn’t yet decided how many of those details she was willing to share. Except that she absolutely would not tell her mother that he’d ever brought up the idea of marriage, because she knew that if she did, Elena would somehow manage to have the church booked before she even hung up the phone.
Except that the king of Ardena would be expected to marry in his own country so that his people could share in the celebration. The date would probably even be declared a national holiday, so that men, women and children could line the streets and wave flags. And if she was to make the list that Dante had asked her about, that would be the number-one reason why she didn’t want to marry him.
I think your refusal to consider a relationship between us is more about resenting your mother’s manipulations than any personal feelings toward me.
Number two: he was arrogant and smug.
Except that he was right, dammit.
Number three: he was far too insightful for her peace of mind.
She sank down on the edge of her sofa and reached for the remote. She didn’t usually watch a lot of television, but she was in the mood for some mindless entertainment—or maybe desperate for any distraction that might push thoughts of Dante Romero out of her mind.
The knock at the door was a welcome reprieve. Even more welcome than her sisters-in-law was the plate of frosted brownies Gabriella carried.
“My mother baked today,” she said, passing the plate to Marissa. “And since I’ve already gained a gazillion pounds with this baby, I thought I would bring these over to you.”
“And as a heartfelt thank-you, I’ll put on a pot of decaf.”
While Marissa ground the beans, Hannah got out the cream and sugar and Gabby set out plates and napkins.
“Marissa?”
She looked up to see both of her friends watching her with concern.
“Sorry, I guess my mind wandered.”
Gabby gestured to the plate of brownies. “I asked if you wanted one with or without nuts.”
“Actually, I don’t want either one right now.”
“Are you feeling ill?” Hannah teased, because it wasn’t like Marissa to ever turn down chocolate.
She carried the pot of coffee to the table. “Maybe I am,” she said, looking directly at Hannah. “Maybe I picked up whatever bug it was that kept Riley home in bed today.”
Michael’s wife met her gaze evenly. “It was a headache that miraculously cured itself.”
Gabby picked up quickly on the pointed reference to Marissa’s own excuse for allegedly missing the ball.
“Riley was supposed to chaperone Marissa’s date with the king,” she remembered.
“Speaking of your date,” Hannah said, anxious to get to the point of their visit. “How was it?”
“The balloons were spectacular,” Marissa said. “It must have been a record launch, because I don’t remember ever seeing so many before.”
“We don’t want to hear about the balloons,” Gabby told her.
“What do you want to hear—details about how we did it in the back of his car?”
“Only if it’s true.”
Marissa had to sigh. “Only in my dreams.”
“Oo
oh.” Hannah reached for a second brownie. “Now this is getting good.”
“It’s not good,” Marissa denied. “I’m not the kind of woman who indulges in sexual fantasies—”
“First of all,” Gabby interrupted, “every woman should have fantasies. And if you’ve never had them before, it’s probably only because you’ve never known anyone like Dante Romero.”
“You’re saying this is normal—to lust after a man I’ve only just met?”
“It is when that man looks like the king of Ardena,” Hannah assured her.
“Wanting someone based on a purely physical attraction seems rather…shallow,” she worried.
“Shallow, absolutely. Abnormal, no,” Gabriella assured her. “I fell in lust with your brother the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“Me, too,” Hannah said, then hastened to clarify, “but with your other brother.”
“Seriously in lust?” Marissa pressed. “As in heart pounding and knees quivering?”
“And your blood pulsing in your veins so that you feel hot and tingly all over,” Gabby added.
“And your body aching so desperately that you think you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you,” Hannah finished.
“That about sums it up,” Marissa agreed.
Gabby nodded. “Perfectly normal.”
Even if it was normal, it was completely outside of Marissa’s realm of experience. Because aside from the single night she’d spent with Jupiter, she had no experience.
“So what am I supposed to do about it?” she wanted to know.
“What do you want to do?” Hannah asked.
“I want to get naked with him.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “And I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
“Your secret is safe with us,” Gabby promised her.
“I’ve never wanted to get naked with anyone before. Well, except for the night of the ball, and then it was for a specific purpose and not just because I’d met some guy who turned me inside out with lust.” She worried her bottom lip. “Do you think losing my virginity turned me into a slut?”
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