Her Return to King's Bed

by Maureen Child

  “All right, then answer me this.” She took a breath, blew it out, and asked, “Why haven’t you been with any of those women?”

  He laughed shortly. “Because unlike you, I knew I was still married.”

  She flushed and the soft color filling her cheeks made her look even lovelier, though he wouldn’t have thought that possible.

  “And you?” he countered. “What kept you from other men?”

  She was silent for several long, tense seconds before she said, “You’re the only man I wanted.”

  Heat spilled through him instantly. He realized that he wanted to believe her. He wanted to think that she had missed him as desperately as he had missed her for the last five years. But if she felt so strongly about him, how could she disappear from his life? How could she have lied to him about who she was? And how could she have stayed away for so long?

  She leaned her head against his chest and he knew she could hear his heartbeat slamming against his ribs. Since she’d arrived on Tesoro, Teresa had tried to explain her past actions to him and he hadn’t been interested in listening. Now, though, he wanted to know. Needed to hear her explanation, whatever it was. And yet he had to wonder if he would be able to believe her.

  His mind was a rushing torrent of contradictory thoughts. His blood burned in his veins. His body was hard and ready to take her again.

  What this woman could do to him was dangerous.

  What he had just done to her, he reminded himself, was unforgivable. Even if they were both healthy, he thought, no condom meant there was a chance at an unexpected pregnancy. And they had to talk about the possibilities.

  “Teresa,” he said softly, turning her face up to his. “I must know. Are you taking birth control?”

  “No.” She shook her head, then laid her hand over his, holding his hand to her breast. “I’m not. But don’t worry, Rico. Everything will be fine. What are the odds I could be pregnant from one time?”

  It depended on whether or not the gods had a sense of humor, he supposed. He remembered how not too long ago he’d actually imagined Teresa pregnant with his child. Now, through his own stupidity, there was a chance that would happen.

  “I was never much of a gambler, because the odds are usually against you.” He shook his head, still having a hard time believing that he had put them in this position. “I must apologize to you. For losing control of myself.”

  “Don’t,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize. I wanted this. I wanted you. I’m glad you lost control, Rico, and if I am pregnant…we’ll deal with the situation if it presents itself.”

  Deal with it.

  He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, but he knew very well what would happen if she was pregnant with his child. They would stay married. The divorce he’d promised her would never happen.

  And that would mean he would have to find a way to live with the still-rich memories of her betrayal. His chest tightened as if iron bands were wrapped around his body, squeezing mercilessly.

  How could he spend his life with a woman he couldn’t trust? Would he ask himself every day if today was the day she would bolt?

  Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his wife and wondered if passion would be enough to save a marriage born in deception.

  * * *

  A few days later Teresa and Rico went into the village to shop for gifts for Melinda and her new son.

  The day was warm, the wind was soft and two of the small launches used to transport guests from St. Thomas were docked at the harbor.

  Tesoro village looked, Teresa thought, like a movie set. It was too perfect to be real. The street was narrow and lined on either side by brightly painted shops. From pastels to jewel tones, each building was as different as the wares it offered.

  There was a bakery, and the scent of cinnamon wafted through its open door to tempt pedestrians. There were souvenir shops, a chocolatier that Teresa really wanted to visit, and every other kind of shop you could imagine, all catering to the wealthy tourists who came to the island to vacation. At the end of the winding street there was a small grocery store that mostly served the locals and there was a spectacular view of the ocean from every point on the tidy street. The shops huddled close to the freshly swept sidewalks. Windows gleamed, reflecting the bright light of the sun, and terra-cotta pots positioned outside the tidy stores held trailing bouquets of brightly colored flowers.

  There was so much to see, Teresa swung her head from side to side in an attempt to miss nothing. “It’s so pretty,” she said, with a glance up at Rico, walking beside her. “Like a postcard.”

  “That’s been said,” he agreed. “In fact, Sean and I hired photographers to take photos of this street at different angles and at different times of the year. Then Walter picked the ones he liked and we had postcards made to be sold in all of the shops. Proceeds go directly to the island, and the citizens here vote on how the money’s spent.”

  She just stared at him for a moment, letting the surprise she felt show on her features. “In Mexico you stayed out of local politics. Said you only wanted to run your hotel. You weren’t interested in joining committees or getting involved with the other hoteliers or the tourist industry.”

  He shrugged and shifted his gaze to pass over the main street, now crowded with a few of the tourists staying at his hotel. “Everything changes.”

  She sighed, staring up at his profile. “Not everything,” she murmured, knowing that her feelings for him would never change. Of course, she also knew that Rico wouldn’t believe her even if she was foolish enough to admit to still loving him. So she kept that piece of information to herself.

  “There were two boats in the harbor,” she pointed out. “I mean, besides the local fishing boats.”

  He nodded, tucked her arm through his and started walking again. “Sometimes there are more hotel guests coming in from St. Thomas than usual.”

  “No cruise ships are allowed to stop here, right?”

  He glanced at her. “How did you know that?”

  Well, because when she found out that Rico had bought land on Tesoro with the intention of building a hotel, she’d spent a lot of time researching the island. She’d wanted at least to know what he was doing and where he would be living—even if she couldn’t be with him. Which was how she had known that Melinda’s grandfather owned the island outright. And that it was one of the bigger privately held islands in the Caribbean.

  Walter liked keeping his island as private as possible, but he also was aware that the shopkeepers needed to make a living. So he’d compromised and allowed small ships to bring in tourists to stay in the hotel and give the islanders a steady income while at the same time protecting Tesoro from being overrun with too many people.

  When she first read about him and his stubborn refusal to welcome cruise ships, she had thought the older man was shortsighted, not letting his island progress. But looking at the village now, she could appreciate his decision. She imagined these tidy streets jam-packed with crowds of people—snapping pictures, drinking too much, dropping trash on the pretty streets—and actually shuddered at the mental image. Walter had been smart to protect this place.

  Now, to answer Rico’s question, she hedged a little. “I read up on the island when I found out my father and brother had come here.”

  He scowled at her and she was sorry to see that bringing up her family had instantly soured his mood. But better that than letting him know she’d been keeping tabs on him for years.

  “I admit, I was surprised that your family chose to come here for a ‘job.’” Rico started walking again and Teresa kept pace. “It’s a small island—thieves are spotted more easily, and, as it turns out, caught more easily, as well.”

  True, her father’s ego would be bruised for years over Rico actually catching him. Police de
partments all around the world had been trying and failing to do it for years.

  But Rico was different. As tenacious as he was, she had known that coming into contact with him again would bring disaster down on the Corettis. Which was exactly why she had warned her family off. Rico King was nobody’s fool. His eyes were too sharp to miss anything and he wasn’t one of those wealthy types who only occasionally stepped in to keep an eye on what belonged to him. Rico was hands-on. He would know everything happening with his properties.

  Especially since he’d been robbed himself, he was on a higher alert than most people would have been.

  Still, she hadn’t been all that surprised when her father and brother had come to Tesoro.

  “My father enjoys a challenge,” she said, and couldn’t help the small smile that curved her mouth. Whatever else Dominick Coretti was, he had always been a warm and loving father.

  “He should try not stealing then,” Rico told her flatly. “Give himself a real challenge.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t suggested it.” Teresa lifted her face into the wind and sighed as the cool air slid past. “But…”

  “Once a thief, always a thief?”

  Teresa let that statement go because it was pointless to argue with him about the Coretti family business. He would never understand the centuries-old legacy that Dominick was so determined to keep alive. Teresa’s worry was that her father wasn’t getting any younger and perhaps his skills weren’t as good as they had been once—though she would never suggest such a thing to him in person.

  She didn’t want to see her family in prison, though. And heaven knew the Corettis had more than enough money to retire. It wasn’t, she thought, the actual stealing that her father loved so much as the adventure of having every day be a different one. Of finding a way into a heavily guarded estate. Of out-thinking security parameters and disabling electronic surveillance equipment. He liked pitting himself against an adversary, so thinking of a way to get her father to hang up his black gloves was going to be difficult.

  That was a problem for the future, though. She only had a little more than two weeks left with Rico. She could spend that time arguing with him over the Coretti family business…or she could simply enjoy what she had while she had it.

  “Oh, my.” She stopped dead in front of a shop window, drawing Rico to a stop, as well. “How beautiful.”

  In the jewelry shop window, on a bed of black velvet, sat rings, bracelets, earrings and necklaces, all set with blue-green stones that Teresa had never seen before. They shone in the sunlight like pieces of the sea, trapped forever in settings of gold and silver. Pure avarice struck her and the Coretti legacy reared its ugly head as she curled her fingers into her palms to keep from trying to grab them all right through the glass. “They’re beautiful.”

  “They are.” Rico stood beside her, but in the reflection of the glass, she saw that he was looking at her, not the jewelry. “They’re Tesoro topazes. The gemstone is found only on this island.”

  “So jewel prospecting is a pretty good job on this island, then?”

  He laughed shortly and she suddenly found his eyes even more appealing than the glittering stones and precious metals spread out in front of her. “Occasionally a hotel guest will stumble on a find while out for a hike. But the islanders know where to look for the best stones.”

  “It would be fun,” she mused as her gaze swung back to the shop window. “Like a treasure hunt.”

  “The jewelry you see here is Melinda’s work,” he said after Teresa spent another minute or two practically drooling on the glass.

  “Melinda?” Teresa looked at him.

  “She makes the jewelry and it’s sold here.”

  “She’s incredibly talented,” Teresa murmured. “And I think I’m more than a little envious.”

  “On the other hand,” Rico told her, capturing her hand in his again, “you are a chef and Melinda is a miserable cook. So for survival’s sake, I would choose your gifts over hers.”

  A flush of pride and pleasure filled her and just for a second or two she allowed herself to fully enjoy the look in his eyes and the warmth of his hand in hers. But even as she watched, the gleam in his eyes faded slightly. So she spoke up and kept her tone light.

  “Well, then,” Teresa said with a half smile. “Guess it would be pointless to buy her that lovely bracelet as a new-mom present. I mean, since she made it.”

  “True.” He pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and steered her along the street after she gave one last look at the shop window. “When Sean and Melinda became engaged, he bought her a ring and only later found out that she had made it herself.”

  Teresa laughed at the image and enjoyed the fact that just for now, they were smiling together. Taking a walk, enjoying the day, as if reality had taken the day off. It was almost as it had been five years ago. But, of course, it couldn’t last.

  When Rico’s cell phone rang, she felt a quick flash of annoyance. Just when things were going so well. She stopped and waited as he glanced at the screen.

  “It is the hotel,” he said, then answered it. “Yes?”

  His gaze shot to hers and Teresa was disappointed to see his easy expression drain away to be replaced with the cold, cautious one she’d become so accustomed to.

  “What is it?” Her voice was as resigned as she felt.

  “A phone call,” he said. “From your father. The hotel is forwarding it to my cell.”

  “My father?” She hadn’t heard from her father since the day he left. Mainly because Rico had commandeered her cell phone—no doubt so she couldn’t make escape plans. She took the phone from him and tried not to worry at what might have happened to make her father call. “Papa?”

  “Bellissima, are you all right?” Nick’s voice was hurried, anxious. “I have not heard from you and when I try to call your cell, I get only your answering machine.”

  “I, um, lost my phone,” she said, with a quick look at Rico, who only seemed amused. Yes, she’d lied again. But she couldn’t very well tell her father that Rico had commandeered her phone to ensure that she didn’t call her family to plot an escape.

  “Good, good. I am glad you are all right. This King person, he is treating you well?”

  “I’m fine, Papa. Rico has been very…” She paused and caught his eyes. One black eyebrow lifted, as if he was waiting to see exactly what she would tell her father about their time together. “…kind.”

  He snorted.

  Her father only muttered something in Italian that she thought it was better Rico hadn’t heard. Then he spoke again.

  “When this is all over, cara, you will tell me all about how you could marry this man without telling your papa.”

  “I will,” she promised, though she knew that conversation wouldn’t be a pleasant one. No man wanted to hear that his daughter had been so swept away by passion that marrying a man she hardly knew had seemed like the rational thing to do.

  “But for now,” her father continued, “there is a small problema, mi cara.”

  “Problem?” she repeated for Rico’s benefit, and his scowl deepened accordingly. “What’s wrong?”

  Her father huffed out a breath. “We cannot find Gianni,” he admitted finally. “He, too, is not answering his phone—why do my children plague me with machines they do not bother to use?—and he has not been in touch with us. He is not here in Italy and no one has seen him in weeks.”

  Her brother could be anywhere in the world. If he didn’t want to be found, no one would be able to locate him. But why wasn’t he answering his phone? It wasn’t like him to simply disappear without telling the family when he would be back.

  There were only two weeks left in Rico’s ultimatum, and if Gianni didn’t return Rico’s dagger at the end of the month…the Coretti family would end up in ja
il. As to what Rico would do with her, she couldn’t even guess.

  “Did you try reaching him at his apartment in London?” she asked, keeping her gaze now firmly away from Rico’s.

  “Si, si. Of course we tried. Paulo is traveling, trying to run Gianni to ground.” He sounded completely disgusted with the whole situation. “Paulo is in Monaco right now. If he finds Gianni there, he will call me immediately. I am going to Gstaad. He had a woman there last year and perhaps…”

  That was the trouble with having a wandering family. They all had connections all over the world. Gianni could be anywhere. But the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone had Teresa more than a little worried. What if he had been arrested somewhere? What if he was right now sitting in a jail cell and couldn’t call?

  She chewed at her bottom lip as she considered the possibilities. Then she realized that if one of the Coretti family had been arrested, it would have made all of the news programs. So clearly Gianni wasn’t in jail. So where, exactly, was he?

  “Papa, if you can’t find him in Switzerland,” she said, “call Simone in Paris. She might know where he is.”

  “Ah, of course!” Her father sounded joyful at the suggestion. “Simone and Gianni…” And off he went again in fluent, musical Italian.

  Teresa stole a glance at Rico and was sorry she had. He didn’t look happy. His blue eyes were almost cobalt and a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw twitched with his effort to control his anger.

  “You will be well, bellissima,” her father said when he had wound down. “All will be taken care of. But we might need a little more time…”

  Oh, no. “Hold on, Papa.”

  Taking a breath, she covered the phone with her hand and spoke to the man glowering beside her. “Paulo and my father are having a hard time finding Gianni,” she explained.

  “He’s the one who took my dagger?”

  “Yes,” she said shortly. “And it seems he’s disappeared, at least temporarily. They’re looking for him, but Papa says they might need a little more time and—”