Scowling from one son to the other, Enrique said, “When did you become a nag like your brother?”
Tony spun on his heel. “I think I hear the guards calling me.”
When the door closed, Duarte gave no quarter. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see, old man. I just didn’t expect you to stop fighting.”
“I’m still alive, am I not? My doctors wrote me off months ago.” He waved a hand, veins bruised from IVs. “Enough about my health. I have no interest in discussing my every ache and ailment. I want to know more about your fiancée.”
Duarte dropped into a chair. “Ah, so you held on long enough to meet her? Perhaps I should delay the introduction.”
“If one of you promised a grandchild, you might get nine more months out of me.”
“It’s unfair to put your mortality on our shoulders.”
“You are right,” Enrique said, his calculating eyes still as sharp as ever in spite of his failing body. “What do you intend to do about it?”
Duarte weighed his next words. The old monarch passed on his sense of humor to Antonio and his intense drive to Carlos.
Duarte inherited his father’s strategic abilities. Which told him exactly what he needed to say to get Enrique out of the hospital bed.
“You can meet Kate…when you get well enough to leave the clinic and come back to the house.”
Kate had expected an amazing house. But nothing could have prepared her for the well-guarded opulence of the Medina mansion. Every ooh and aah from Jennifer as she caught her first glimpse reminded Kate of the awkward position Duarte had placed them in. Although she certainly didn’t blame her sister.
Who wouldn’t stare at the trees and the wildlife and the palatial residence? She and Jennifer had grown up in a small three-bedroom Cape Cod–style house outside Boston, comfortable in their second-story rooms. Kate had painted Jennifer’s a bright yellow to go with photos she’d snapped of sunflowers and birds. She’d put a lot of effort into creating a space for her sister, the way a mother would have done. Jennifer had called the room her garden.
No wonder her sister was entranced by the botanical explosion surrounding the Medina mansion. The place was the size of some hotels. Except she usually wasn’t escorted to her hotel by a scowling head of security. Javier sat beside Shannon, eyeing Kate suspiciously the whole drive over.
The limousine slowed, easing past a towering marble fountain with a “welcome” pineapple on top—and wasn’t that ironic in light of all those guards? Once the vehicle stopped, more uniformed security appeared from out of nowhere to open the limo.
Even a butler waited beside looming double doors.
Once inside, Kate couldn’t hold back a gasp of her own. The cavernous circular hall sported gilded archways leading to open rooms. Two staircases stretched up either side, meeting in the middle. And she would bet good money that the Picasso on the wall wasn’t a reproduction.
Shannon touched her elbow. “Everything will be taken up to the room.”
“We don’t have much.” Kate passed her camera bag and Jennifer’s backpack to the butler. “Duarte told me they—”
“—already have everything prepared. That’s the Medina way,” Shannon said, her words flavored with a light Texas twang. “Let’s go straight through to the veranda. I’d like you to meet my son, Kolby.”
Her footsteps echoing on the marble floor, Kate thought back to what she knew about Antonio Medina’s fiancée and remembered the widowed Shannon had a three-year-old child from her first marriage, the boy she’d called Kolby.
Kate walked past what appeared to be a library. Books filled three walls, interspersed with windows and a sliding brass ladder. The smell of fresh citrus hung in the air, and not just because of the open windows. A tall potted orange tree nestled in one corner beneath a wide skylight. Mosaic tiles swirled outward on the floor, the ceiling filled with frescoes of globes and conquistadors. She pulled her eyes from the elaborate mural as they reached French doors leading out to a pool and seaside veranda.
A million-dollar view spread in front of her, and a towheaded little boy sprinted away from his sitter toward his mom. Shannon scooped up Kolby, the future princess completely natural and informal with her son.
Kate decided then and there that she liked the woman.
Shuffling Kolby to her hip, Shannon turned to Jennifer. “What would you like to do today?”
“What do I get to pick from?” Jennifer spun on her tennis shoes. “Are you sure it’s too cold to go swimming in the ocean?”
Kate’s heart warmed at Shannon’s obvious ease with Jennifer.
“You could take a dip in the pool out here. It’s heated.” Shannon patted her son’s back as he drooped against her, eyes lolling. “There’s also a movie theater with anything you want to see. They’ve added a spa with pedicures and manicures even recently.”
Jennifer clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s what I want, painted toenails and no snow boots.”
Laughing, Shannon set her groggy son on a lounger and walked to the drink bar. “You’re a kindred spirit.”
“What does that mean?” Jennifer asked.
Shannon poured servings of lemonade—fresh squeezed, no doubt. “We’re sister spirits.” She passed crystal goblets to each of them. Her eyes were curious behind retro black glasses. “I live to have my feet massaged.”
“And when Katie marries Artie—” Jennifer’s brown eyes lit with excitement as she clutched her drink “—we’ll be sisters for real since you’re marrying his brother.”
Shannon spewed her sip. “Artie?”
Stifling a smile, Kate set aside her lemonade. “He prefers to be called Duarte.”
Seeing how quickly Jennifer accepted these people into her heart sent a trickle of unease down Kate’s spine. This was just the kind of thing she’d wanted to avoid. Explaining the breakup would have been difficult enough before. But now? It would be far more upsetting. Her frustration with Duarte grew.
Jennifer hooked arms with her sister. “I know you’re the one who is going to marry Artie—uh, Duarte. But I already feel like a princess.”
Duarte had done his best to leave his princely roots behind and lead his own life. But there was no escaping the Medina mantle here. Even the “informal” dinner at this place was outside the norm, something he realized more so when seeing the all-glass dining area through other people’s eyes. Shannon’s young son loved the room best since he said it was like eating in a jungle with trees visible through three walls and the ceiling.
Throughout the meal, Kate had stayed silent for the most part, only answering questions when directly asked. He wanted to tell himself she was simply tired. But now, watching her charge through her bedroom taking inventory of her surroundings and setting up her computer, she brimmed with frustrated energy. Her dress whipped around her leather knee boots.
No more waiting. He had to know what had set her off. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” She spun away from the canopy bed, anger shooting icicles from her eyes. “It’s helpful to a person when you elaborate rather than bark out one- and two-word orders.”
He was completely clueless as to what pissed her off and that concerned him more than anything. He should at least have some idea. “Explain to me what has made you angry, and don’t bother denying that you’re upset.”
“Oh, believe me.” She sauntered closer, stopping by her camera case resting on a chaise at the end of her bed. “I wasn’t planning to deny a thing. I was simply waiting for a private moment alone with you.”
“Then let’s have it.”
She jabbed him in the chest, the kimono sleeves of her dress whispering against him. “You had no right to interfere in my life by bringing Jennifer here.”
What the hell? Her accusation blindsided him. “I thought seeing your sister would make you happy.”
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get her into that facility, a place that fits her needs but also makes her happy?” Her words hi
ssed through clenched teeth as she obviously tried to keep her voice down. “What if they give someone else her spot?”
That, he could fix. “I will make sure it doesn’t happen.”
“Argh!” She growled her frustration. “You can’t just take over like that. You’re not responsible for her. You have no say in her life. And while we’re on that subject, how did you even arrange for her to leave? Good God, maybe I should move her anyway if security is that lax in the center. I’m shelling out a small fortune for Jennifer to live there. What if someone had kidnapped her?”
All right, he could see her point somewhat, even if he didn’t agree. “I told you before. I had round-the-clock guards watching her and the facility—” he saw her jaw tighten and added “—which is quite nice by the way, like a boarding school. You’ve done an admirable job for your sister.”
And she’d done it all alone without her father’s help. That kind of pressure could explain her over-the-top reaction.
“I searched long and hard to find a place where she could live given how much I have to travel.” Her chest heaved and her cheeks pinked with her rising emotions. “It wasn’t easy and now you’ve jeopardized that. I simply can’t let it pass that they released her to you without even consulting me.”
Now he was starting to get pissed off himself. He’d been thinking of her and he wasn’t accustomed to explaining himself to people. “I’m not a random stranger claiming a connection. It’s well documented and, thanks to your job, highly publicized that I’m your fiancé. My name is known at that facility whether you like it or not and Javier was acting on my authority. We have the space for Jennifer here, as well as the staff on hand for anything she needs. In case you didn’t notice, she’s very happy with the arrangement.”
“Of course she’s happy. And that’s going to make it all the tougher when we have to go back to our everyday, middle-class life. I can’t afford—” she gestured around her wildly, her eyes lingering on a framed Esteban March battle painting “—all of this. I don’t want her getting attached to the lifestyle.”
Then it became clear. He stroked down her arm, ready to entice her anger away in the canopy bed. “You don’t want to get attached.”
She dodged his touch. “You’ll be out of my life in about three weeks. You’ve only been in my life less than a week. Be honest, you don’t want a real relationship with me any more than I want to be a part of your crazy world. This needs to stop before someone gets hurt. We have to go back to our original arrangement.”
Like hell. Anger kicked around inside him as hard as her words in his brain, her insistence that she didn’t want to be involved with the Medina mess. “Do you think backing off will erase what happened last night and again today? Will you be able to forget? Because I damn well can’t.”
He could see those same memories scrolling across her mind.
Her gaze locked on him as firmly as his stayed on her. Moonlight played with hints of the caramel-colored highlights in her brown hair, glinted off the deepening blue of her eyes. He wanted her so much he went rock hard in a flash.
His life would be so much simpler without this attraction.
“Duarte, I haven’t forgotten a second,” she whispered.
Heat flared in her eyes as hot as the fire licking through his veins and he knew he wouldn’t trade a second of the connection with Kate. He knew she couldn’t ignore this any more than he could. Duarte started across the room just as Kate joined him, mouths meeting, passion exploding.
They fell back onto the canopy bed.
Ten
Duarte tucked Kate under him on the canopy bed, her frenetic kisses tapping into all the frustration burning his insides. Static lifted strands of her hair toward him, crackling off his face in an echo of the charged need snapping through him.
After their fight tonight, he hadn’t expected another chance to be with her. Her seductive wriggle he now knew encouraged him to press his thigh closer. She sighed, urging him on with her gasps and fingers digging deeper into his back.
Their legs tangled in the spread. Without moving his mouth from hers, he wadded the coverlet and flung it on the floor. He tunneled his hand under the hem of her dress. The cool sheets slithered underneath them, the high thread count nowhere near as silky as her skin.
“Clothes,” she whispered between nips, “we have too many.”
He knew an invitation when he heard one.
“Let me help you with that.”
Drawing his mouth from hers, he nuzzled down her body until he reached her long legs. She’d driven him crazy all day long with the killer boots. As he eased down one knee-high leather boot, he kissed along her calf, her skin creamy and soft. Her breathy moan, the impatient grapple of her hands on his shoulders encouraged him. He tugged the other boot down and sent it to the floor with a resounding thump.
Kate curled her toes, wriggling the painted white tips in a delicious stretch that called his fingers to her delicate arches. Stretching to the side, she switched on the bedside lamp.
He stroked along her arm and gathered her against him again. “You don’t shy away from the light. That’s a total turn-on.”
She hooked a leg over his hip. “You’re such a guy.”
“Obviously.” His erection throbbed between them.
Her eyes narrowed with purpose. “Lie back.”
“We’ll get there.” He slanted his mouth over hers.
She flattened her palm against his chest. “I said for you to lie back.” Determination resonated from her words as sure as the unremitting surf rolling outside the open veranda doors. “You give a lot of orders. I think it’s time for someone to take charge of you.”
“Are you challenging me to a power struggle?”
“I’m daring you to give your body over to me. Or does the prince always have to be in control?”
Her question hinted at their argument earlier, and damned if he would let this moment be derailed. His hand glided up to cradle her breast. “What do you have in mind?”
“No, no.” She shook her head slowly, tousled hair a sexy cloud of disarray around her face. “If I spell everything out, you’re not taking much of a risk.”
Her meaning crystallized in his mind. “So I trust you a little and you trust me a little?”
“You first,” she said, the mix of vixen and vulnerability winning him over.
He whipped his shirt off, reclined back. And waited.
Standing at the foot of the bed, she bunched the hem of her dress in her hands, inch by inch exposing her thighs to his hungry gaze. Then showing her cranberry-red panties and bra he’d peeled from her earlier in the airplane.
Her dress covered her face for an instant before she flung it aside. The salty sea air through the French doors fluttered the canopy overhead and her breasts beaded visibly against the satin bra. His hands fisted in the sheets as he resisted the urge to haul her against him right then and there. She shook her hair from her face, flicking it over her shoulders.
“Your turn,” she demanded.
God, she was hot and turned him inside out in a way no other woman had. He tugged his pants and boxers off, ready to cut short this game of dare or strip poker or whatever she wanted to call it.
She quirked a brow then reached for the center clasp—he swallowed hard—to unfasten her bra. Red satin fell away and he couldn’t resist. He arched off the bed toward her.
Shaking her head, she covered her breasts and backed up. He reclined again, his arms behind his head. She lowered her hands and hooked her thumbs in her panties. A slow shimmy later, she kicked aside the underwear.
Her eyes blazed bold and determined as she knelt on the bed. Crawling up the mattress, she climbed toward him. He slid his hands from behind his head, flattened along the sheets, but didn’t touch her, not yet. The intensity in her eyes said she wanted to play this out a while longer. He didn’t delude himself that this would magically fix their argument, and they might be better served talking.
; But damned if he could find the words or will to stop her.
She fanned her fingers over his chest. A primitive growl rumbled free ahead of his thoughts. She dipped her head and flicked her tongue over his flat nipple. Again. She devoted every bit as much attention to him as he’d enjoyed lavishing on her beautiful body earlier in the plane. Drawing circles down his stomach, she scratched lightly down and down. His abs contracted under her touch.
Lower still she traced just beside his arousal until his teeth clenched. Then her cool hand curled around him and stroked, deliberately, continuing until his eyes slammed shut and his senses narrowed to just the glide of her touch. The caress of her thumb. The warmth of her mouth.
Dots specked behind his eyelids, the roar in his ears rivaling the crash of waves. His jaw clamped tight as he held back his release, fought the urge to move.
“Kate…” he hissed between clenched teeth.
Shifting, she stretched upward again, her lips leading the way as she kissed, licked, nipped until she reached his face.
Once he opened his eyes, she stared down at him. “Where do you keep the birth control?”
His desire-steamed brain raced to keep pace. “In my wallet. I would reach for it, but someone told me not to move. Do you mind?”
With a fluid stretch over the side, she plucked his wallet from his pants and pulled out a condom. Flipping the packet between her fingers, she smiled at him with such a wicked glint in her now-near-purplish-blue eyes that he knew she wasn’t through with her control game. Not by a long shot. She smoothed the condom down and took him inside her with such sweet torturous precision he almost came undone.
The restraints snapped and his hands shot up to cup her breasts. She pushed into his palms, tips harder and tighter than ever before. Her instant response to his touch sent a rush of possessiveness through him.
She cradled his face as she rocked her hips. “I would love to capture your expression on film.”
“There I have to draw the line.” He finger-combed her hair, bringing her mouth to his as he thrust again and again.
His Thirty-Day Fiancée Page 11
