His Thirty-Day Fiancée

by Catherine Mann

  “They take into account the personality of whomever they’re protecting. Your sister will be treated with sensitivity and professionalism.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, lacing her hands and resisting the urge to smooth his satiny lapels. She hadn’t expected such quick and unreserved understanding from him.

  “Turn around,” he commanded softly, hypnotically, and without thinking she pivoted.

  His hand grazed the back of her neck. Delicious awareness tingled along her skin. What was he doing? Hell, what was she doing?

  Something chilly slithered over her heated skin, cold and metallic. Her fingers slid up to his fingers…

  Jewels. Big ones. She gasped.

  He cupped her shoulders and walked her toward the full-length mirror inside the armoire door. “It’s not bad for having to make do with what I had in the safe.”

  His eyes held hers as they had earlier when he’d been changing. Diamonds glinted around her neck in a platinum setting, enough jewels to take care of Jennifer for years.

  “Stand still and I’ll put on the matching earrings.” They dangled from between his fingertips in much the same way her purloined camera earrings had earlier. Except these were worth a mint.

  What if she lost one in a punch bowl?

  “Can’t I just have my own back?”

  “I think not.” He looped the earrings through effortlessly until a cascade of smaller diamonds shimmered from her ears almost to her shoulders. “I’ll send a guard to retrieve your shoes, and then we can go.”

  “Go where?” she asked, her breath catching at his easy familiarity in dressing her. He sure knew his way around a woman’s body.

  Duarte offered his elbow. “Time to introduce my fiancée to the world.”

  Three

  In a million years, he never would have guessed that tonight he would introduce a fiancée to Martha’s Vineyard movers and shakers. Even though the engaged couple had left the rehearsal, the band, food and schmoozing would continue long into the night.

  Duarte had expected to spend the bulk of his evening working out until he decided how to approach his father’s request for a month of his time. He needed to simplify his life and instead he’d added a curvaceous complication.

  No looking back, he reminded himself. And by introducing Kate to a ballroom full of people he ensured she couldn’t fade away. Once in the Medina spotlight, always in the spotlight.

  Kate stood at his side in the elevator—more private than the two flights of stairs. As the button for the ground level lit up, he slid his iPhone back into his pocket. He’d just sent a text to his head of security, ordering protection for Jennifer Harper, securing all the identification information for Kate. He would follow up on those instructions after the announcement.

  The parting doors revealed the back hall, muffled sounds swelling inside. Clinking glasses and laughter mingled as guests downed crate after crate of Dom Perignon. A dance band finished a set and announced their break. His event planners oversaw these sorts of gigs, but he spot-checked details, especially for a seven-figure event.

  Offering his arm to Kate, he gestured through the open elevator doors into the hall. This part of the resort was original to the hundred-year-old building, connecting to the newly constructed ballroom he’d added to accommodate larger events. He’d started his chain of resorts as a way to build a cash base of his own, independent of the Medina fortune.

  While he spent most of his time in Martha’s Vineyard, scooping up properties around the U.S. allowed him to move frequently, a key to staying undetected. There was no chain name for his acquisitions. Each establishment stood on its own as an exclusive getaway for hosting private events. He didn’t have any interest in owning a home—his had been taken away long ago—so moving from hotel to hotel throughout the year posed no problem for him.

  Kate’s hand on his arm seared through his tuxedo, making him ache to feel her touch on his bare skin. His body was still on edge from the glide of her eyes on him as he changed.

  Yet, listening to her on the phone with her sister, he’d been intrigued on a deeper level than just sex and revenge. Suddenly Kate’s anklet of yarn and plastic beads made sense. There were layers to this woman that intrigued him, made him want her even more.

  And he intended to make sure she wanted him every bit as much before he took her to bed.

  Duarte stopped in front of the side door that would open into the ballroom reception area. He reached for the knob.

  Her feet stumbled, ensconced in her retrieved black high heels. “You’re really going to go through with this.”

  “The ring did not come out of a gum-ball machine.”

  “No kidding.” She held it up, the light refracting off the ruby and diamonds. “Looks more like an heirloom, actually.”

  “It is, Katie.”

  “I’m Kate,” she snapped. “Only Jennifer calls me Katie.”

  Jennifer, the sister who’d wanted to call him Artie. If his brothers heard, they would never let him live that one down.

  “All right then, Kate, time to announce our arrival.” He wondered what Kate thought of his other name, the one he’d called himself after leaving the island at eighteen. An assumed name he could no longer use thanks to her internet exposé. Now people would always think of him as Duarte Medina instead of Duarte Moreno, the name he’d assumed after leaving his father’s island.

  Sweeping the ballroom doors open, he scanned the tables and dance floor illuminated by crystal chandeliers, searching for the father of the groom. He spotted Ramon with his wife a few feet away.

  The pharmaceutical heir smiled his welcome and reached for the microphone. “Dear friends and family,” he called for his guests’ attention.

  Some still milled over their dinner of beef tenderloin, stuffed with crab and scallops. Others collected around the stage waiting for the band to return from their break.

  Ramon continued, “—please welcome our special guest who has generously graced us with his presence—”

  Bowing and scraping was highly overrated.

  “—Prince Duarte Medina.”

  Applause, gasps and the general crap he’d already grown weary of bounced around the half-toasted wedding guests who’d been whooping it up for a week’s worth of celebration. Times like these he almost understood his father’s decision to live in total seclusion.

  Once the hubbub died down, Ramon pulled the mic to his mouth again. “A hearty welcome as well to his lovely date for the evening—”

  Duarte stopped alongside Ramon and spoke, filling the room without artificial aid. “I hope you will all join me in celebrating a second happy event this evening. This lovely woman at my side, Kate Harper, has agreed to be my wife.”

  Lifting her left hand, he kissed her fingers, strategically displaying the ring. Cameras flashed, thanks to the select media that had been invited. Kate had been on target by calling her sister. This news would be all over the internet within the hour—just as he intended.

  Comments jumbled on top of each other from the partyers, while Kate stayed silent, a smile pasted on her face. Smart woman. The less said, the better.

  “Congratulations!”

  “How did you two m—?”

  “No wonder he dumped Chelsea—”

  “Oh, you both must come to our—”

  “Why haven’t we heard anything about her before now?”

  Duarte decided that last question deserved addressing. “Why would I let the press chew Kate alive before I could persuade her to marry me?”

  Good-natured laughter increased, as did the curiosity in the sea of faces. He needed to divert their thoughts. And the best way?

  Claim that kiss he’d been craving since the second he’d felt the give of Kate’s soft body against him on the balcony.

  Her ring hand still clasped in his, he folded her arm against his chest. The pulse in her wrist beat faster under his thumb, her pupils widening with a clear signal of awakening desire. She didn’t li
ke him, and he didn’t like her much either after what she’d put his family through.

  But neither of them could look away.

  The whispers and shuffling from the guests dulled in his ears as he focused only on her. He brushed his mouth across hers, lightly, only close enough to graze the barest friction across her bottom lip. She gasped, opening just enough to send a surge of success through him. As much as he wanted to draw this out and see how long it would take her to melt fully against him, they did have an audience and this kiss served a purpose other than seduction.

  Time to seal the deal.

  A second after Duarte sealed his mouth to hers, Kate had to grab the front of his tuxedo jacket to keep from stumbling. Shock. It must be shock.

  But her tingling body called her a great big liar.

  The seductive rasp of his calloused hand cupping her face, the light tug on her bottom lip between his teeth threatened her balance far more than any surprise. Her fingers twisted tighter in the fine weave of fabric. Tingles sparked until her eyes fluttered closed, blocking out their audience, the very reason for this display in the first place. But whatever the reason, she wanted his mouth on hers.

  Sure, the attraction had been evident from the start, but still she hadn’t been prepared for this. There were kisses…

  And then there were kisses.

  Duarte’s slow and deliberate intensity clearly qualified as one of the latter. Tension from the whole crazy night unfurled inside her, flooding her body with a roaring need that blocked out the gawkers and whispers. The cool firm pressure of his lips to hers—confident and persuasive—had her swaying against him, her clenched hands between them.

  Memories of his bronzed flesh flashed through her mind. How much more of him would she see in the coming month? And if she was this tempted after a mere couple of hours together, how much worse might the attraction become with a month of these pretend fiancée kisses and touches?

  His mandarin-cedar scent enfolded her as seductively as his arms. She splayed her fingers on the hard wall of his chest. The twitch of muscles under her touch offered a cold splash of reality.

  What in the world was wrong with her that she could be so thoroughly entranced by a guy she’d just met? Her bank balance, her career, her sister’s very future demanded she keep a level head.

  Easier said than done when the stroke of his tongue along the seam of her lips sent a lightning bolt straight through her.

  She pulled away sharply before she did something reckless, like ask him to continue this later. Kate scavenged a smile and gave Duarte a playful pat on the chest for the benefit of their witnesses, people dressed in designer clothes and wearing jewels that rivaled even those around her neck. This was his world, not hers. She was just a thirty-day guest and she would do well to remember that.

  This party alone offered plenty of lavish reminders. Duarte took her arm and excused them both from the festivities. A legion of uniformed staff gathered the remains of the meal as she walked past. Her mouth watered at the leftover beef tenderloin, stuffed lobster tail…and wedding cake. Okay, technically it was a groom’s cake for the rehearsal dinner, but still.

  Her empty stomach grumbled. Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over it.

  Lord, she loved wedding cake, had a serious weakness for it, which totally pissed her off since she considered herself far from a romantic. It was as if the cake called to her, laughing the whole time. Mock me, will you?

  And speaking of negative vibes, more than one woman shot daggers with her eyes as Kate made her way back to the door with Duarte. She wanted to reassure them. She would be out of the picture soon. But somehow she didn’t think that would help these females who’d set their hopes on a wealthy prince. One wafer-thin woman even dabbed at tears with a napkin.

  Could that be the one somebody had said he’d dumped?

  Arching up on her toes, Kate whispered against his chin, “Who’s Chelsea?”

  The question fell out of her mouth before she could think.

  “Chelsea?” He glanced down. “Are you taking notes for the Intruder already?”

  “Just curious.” She shrugged more nonchalantly than she felt. “I am not a popular person among the young and eligible female crowd.”

  Duarte squeezed her hand on his elbow. “No one will dare be rude to you. They believe you’re going to be a princess.”

  “For the next month anyway.” With his kiss still singing on her lips, thirty days seemed like a very long time to resist him.

  “I think we’ve milled around enough for now.” He pushed through the side door back into the hall, deserted but for a security guard. The elevator doors stood open, at Duarte’s beck and call as everyone else appeared to be around this place.

  Once inside the private elevator, Kate stomped her foot. “What were you doing out there with that whole kiss?”

  Duarte tapped his floor number. “They expected a kiss. We gave them a kiss.”

  “That wasn’t a kiss.” Her toes curled in her high-heeled pumps until the joints popped. “That was, well, a lot more than it needed to be to make your point.”

  His heated gaze swept down, his lashes longer than she’d noticed before. “How much more was it?”

  The elevator cab shrunk in size, canned music suddenly romantic and mood setting. What a time to realize she’d never had sex in an elevator. Worse yet, what a time to realize she wanted to have sex in an elevator.

  With Duarte.

  She reached behind her neck to unhook the necklace. “Call me a cab so I can leave.”

  “How did you get here in the first place?” He caught the necklace that she all but threw at him to keep their hands from accidentally brushing. “Slow down before you tear off your earlobes.”

  “I came in a taxi.” She slid the second cascade of diamonds from her earlobe. “I paid him to wait for an hour but that’s long past, and I’m sure he’s left.”

  “For the best, because really—” he extended his palm as she dropped the rest of the jewelry there “—do you think I trust you’ll walk out of here and come back? We’re past the point where you’re free to punch out of our plan.”

  “I’ll leave your damn ruby ring behind, too, and you can assign more of your guards to watch me.” Would he threaten again to have her arrested? Would that really even hold up after the announcement they’d just made?

  “That’s not the point, and if you take off that engagement ring, you’ll be losing the chance for those wedding photos.”

  The elevator doors swooshed open to his private quarters. He motioned for her to enter ahead of him. Going forward meant committing to the plan.

  She stepped into the hall but no farther. Was this the point where he would turn into a jerk and proposition her? He had kissed her with skilled deliberation. “A part of our deal included no sex.”

  “I always keep my word. We will not have sex—unless you ask.” He stepped closer. “Although be aware, there will be more kisses in the coming weeks. It’s expected that I would shower my fiancée with affection. It’s also expected that you would reciprocate.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded, then rushed to add, “but only when we’re in public.”

  “That’s logical. Know, too, though, that we will have to spend time alone with each other. This evening, for example, we need to get our stories straight before we face the world on a larger scale.”

  So much for her assumption of darker motives for his refusal to call a cab. What he said made sense. “Know that I’m staying under duress.”

  “Duly noted. Just keep remembering that black-tie dinner in D.C. with politicians and ambassadors.”

  “You’re wicked bad with the temptation.”

  He steamed her with another smoky once-over. “You’re one to lecture on that subject.”

  “I thought we were going to talk.”

  “We will. Soon.” He stepped away and she exhaled. Hard. “I have a quick errand to take care of, but I’ll have dinner sent up to your room
while you wait. I hear tonight’s special is tenderloin and stuffed lobster.”

  “And cake,” she demanded, even knowing it wouldn’t come close to satisfying the hunger gnawing as her insides tonight. “I really need a slice of that groom’s cake.”

  Duarte watched his head of security shovel a bite of chocolate cake in his mouth in between reviewing surveillance footage and internet headlines on the multiple screens. A workaholic, Javier Cortez frequently ate on the job, rather than take off so much as a half hour for a meal. He even kept an extra suit in his office for days he didn’t make it home.

  Wheeling out a chair from the monitor station, Duarte took a seat. “What were you able to pull together on security for Jennifer Harper?”

  Javier swiped a napkin across his mouth before draping the white linen over his knee again. “Two members of our team are currently en route to her assisted-living facility outside Boston. They’re already in phone contact with security there and will be reporting back to me within the hour.”

  “Excellent work, as always.” He didn’t dispense praise lightly, but Javier deserved it.

  The head of security had also endured a crappy month every bit as bad as Duarte’s. Javier’s cousin, Alys, had betrayed the Medina family by confirming the Global Intruder’s suspicions about Duarte’s identity. She had served as the inside source for other leaks as well, even offering up Enrique Medina’s “love child” he’d fathered shortly after arriving in the U.S.

  Javier had weathered intense scrutiny after Alys’s betrayal had been discovered. He’d turned in his resignation the second his cousin had been confronted, vowing he bore no ill will against the Medinas and was shamed by his cousin’s behavior.

  Duarte had torn up the resignation. He trusted his instincts on this one.

  How odd that he found it easier to trust Javier than his own father. That could have something to do with Enrique Medina’s “love child” the whole world now knew about. Their grief-stricken widower father hadn’t taken long to hook up with another woman. The affair had only lasted long enough to produce Eloisa. Duarte made a point of not blaming his half sister. He tried not to judge his father, but that part was tougher.