Mail-Order Prince In Her Bed (Silhouette Desire)

by Kathryn Jensen

  When Maria finally sat down, he held out a stem of crystal-white wine to her. “At last we have time to relax in privacy.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, sipping, letting liquid silver course sweetly down her throat, feeling not at all relaxed. “To say we’ve both been busy lately would be a ridiculous understatement.”

  “I’ve noticed you’ve done a lot in just two days to move our project along,” he commented.

  “You read my report?” She had left it on his desk for his return, but hadn’t thought he’d had time to even glance at it.

  “Yes. It’s brilliant. All of it, Maria. Such a strategist—you ought to have been a general.”

  She laughed and set her glass down. “I don’t know about that. I just think this is an approach that will work well with American buyers. And we were very fortunate with the filming.” She drew a satisfied breath and let it out. “We’re going to have a very effective TV commercial.”

  She paused. But when he didn’t pick up the conversation and the moment threatened to turn awkward, she prompted him. “And you’ve been traveling…”

  He nodded. “My lawyer is in Rome. And I ship out of Naples, through a branch of my family. I needed to speak to people in both places because I’m considering some important changes in—” He hesitated.

  “In the company’s structure?” she guessed. “Because you’ll now be exporting to a new market?”

  “Changes that affect the company, yes, but also my personal life. I had to get a realistic sense of the impact they would have.” He looked at her, hard. As if trying to see through to her core, to her soul.

  She frowned. His serious tone and that steely gaze focused on her suggested that she had something to do with all of this.

  “Maybe you’d better explain,” she murmured.

  He stood up from the table, pulled his chair around to sit beside her and took her hand between his two. “I want you to forget everything I’ve said in the past.”

  “Everything?” she asked, more confused than ever.

  “I told you once I would never marry again. I meant it…then. I didn’t know you’d play such a critical role in my life. In my son’s life. Maria, you seem to be taking this all very casually. But I know what you did. You saved my son’s life.”

  She lowered her head. So that’s what this is all about, she thought a little sadly. A thank-you dinner. She was grateful that Antonio appreciated her. But it was a bittersweet end to their romance.

  Then she looked up from her lap and saw the ring resting in the center of his palm.

  “Oh!”

  “It’s not your style. Far too large for your small hand. Too ornate for today’s styles. But I would be proud if you’d wear it.”

  The diamond was enormous. Probably five carats. Encircling it was a generous row of rubies as red as royal blood. The band and rich encrusting around the stones had the look of antiquity, yet the gold shone as if it had been cast that day, just for her.

  “It’s unbelievable,” she sighed, overwhelmed at so generous a gift.

  “It has been the engagement ring of the Boniface for over three hundred years. Our brides have worn it until they were ready to pass it along to a son or daughter.”

  “Brides?” she asked, staring up at him, feeling muddled, desperate for words she could cling to that made sense, and more than a little dizzy. “Antonio, you’re talking in riddles. Please, don’t make me think this is something other than a reward for Michael.”

  He groaned and smiled down at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. It’s difficult…I just don’t want to lose you, cara. I want you to marry me. Please marry me.”

  He was down on one knee, she suddenly realized. The man was kneeling before her! Kneeling! And saying those beautiful, impossible, wondrous words!

  “Say it again.”

  He laughed. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t believe I’m hearing it. Say it!”

  “I love you, Maria. Marry me…please! I’ve spent the last two days making sure that my lawyers, my employees, my mother and everyone else understands that you are going to be my wife and play an active role in this company. We Italians love politics, and the family—both by blood and by profession—had to be prepared for such a change. Now that they are, I can promise you everything you deserve. I know your career is important to you. As my wife, you will also be CEO in charge of worldwide marketing.”

  A husband. A professional future so amazing she could only have imagined it in a dream. And a family?

  “What about children?” The words tumbled out on top of each other. She watched his expression. “I’ll always love Michael as my own, but…”

  “I know,” he admitted. “I said that too, didn’t I?”

  “You said, no more children.”

  “If I can risk taking you as my wife…I can take any risk. I do want more children. And this time I will raise them in partnership with their mother.”

  It was all falling into place. Love felt as if it was swelling to fill all the gaps in her life with rich and satisfying details beyond anything she could have hoped for. But there still remained one knotty issue…

  “What about Nonna? Genevra?”

  Antonio winced. “She has been difficult, hasn’t she? I expect Michael will always be special to her, but she and I had a serious discussion before I left for Rome. My mother understands that she will have our respect and love, as long as she lets us raise our children without interference and returns that respect. I told her you would never try to force her out of her home, or keep her grandchildren from her.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed immediately.

  “I also bribed her.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I told her you would give her many, many bambini to cuddle.”

  Maria laughed. “Now that was wicked of you.”

  He winked at her and squeezed her hand. “Not really. I intend to deliver.”

  That night Maria slept in Antonio’s bed in the main house with his ring on her finger. And they began to create a new generation of Bonifaces. A family who would struggle and love, and sweat over the soil that had been theirs for centuries untold. A family whose dedication to the land and devotion to each other would coax from the earth its savory fruit and continue their proud heritage.

  Epilogue

  The central office of Klein & Klein Public Relations and Advertising, in Washington, D.C., on Connecticut Avenue shifted into high gear. Although their client list included many important names from politics, industry and the entertainment business, they were always hungry for a big, new name. And Boniface Olive Oil, which had been unknown in the U.S. only a year before, was now one of the fastest growing importers of its kind.

  Tamara Jackson was flying high that morning. She lived for challenges. Prided herself on being better than good at her job. She’d won her share of high-powered clients for the company. But none so distinguished as Boniface Olive Oil. She was good at playing it cool, but inside nerves clandestinely prickled at her.

  Tamara tapped lightly on the conference room door and strode through without waiting for an answer. On the far side of the room a woman, elegant in black silk, stood gazing out the windows. She wore a hat—very chic, retro-forties—the short, bead-flecked veil shadowing the upper part of her face. Just enough to add allure. Her blond hair was swept up beneath it in a sophisticated coif.

  Tamara envied her immediately. “La Principessa, welcome to Washington. I hope your flight was comfortable.”

  “It was just fine,” the woman said, turning to face her.

  Tamara fell back a step. The woman’s English was flawless.

  Unaccented. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was an American edge to it. She frowned, took closer note of the features behind the semi-sheer veiling.

  “You’re American.”

  “Si.” The woman said, reaching up to remove the diamond stickpin from her hat and the hat from her head. “H
ello, Tamara. How have you been?”

  “Maria!?” She swallowed, fell back a step. Sat down on whatever it was that had just struck the back of her knees. “Ohmygod! It’s…how did?”

  “Are you all right?” Maria asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “Am I all right?” Tamara gasped. “I had no idea. I…my word, look at you, girl…I mean. I’m sorry, Principessa…Maria… Do I call you Your Highness?” She was babbling, nearly incoherent. Pull it together, Tam, she told herself ruthlessly. “You sure gave me a jolt.”

  Maria smiled sweetly at her. “I intended to.” Her smile faded.

  Then Tamara got it.

  “All the times we tormented you…I’m so sorry. I suppose we just got carried away. You were such an easy target.”

  “I suppose I was.”

  The emphasis on the final word. Yes, Tamara thought, I’ll bet you’ve grown up a great deal since leaving Klein & Klein. The change was unbelievable.

  Tamara bit down on her bottom lip, took a deep breath, accepted the inevitable.

  “This beats all of our little tricks,” she admitted. “Just look at you. Well, I suppose there’s no point in our continuing this meeting.” She tapped two crimson lacquered fingernails on the thick proposal file she’d labored so hard to finish on schedule. “Did you just stop by to rub my nose in it? No matter. Who are you contracting with for your advertising? The Masters Agency? Or will it be Zandewski?”

  Maria studied her old foe…or the woman she’d believed had been her enemy at one time. She smiled, remembering the pranks played at her expense. Silly things, really. All in good fun. She’d just been too shy to appreciate the camaraderie behind them, to join in the fun instead of running from it.

  But now she’d given back as good as she’d gotten. Better even. Delicious.

  “I want the best representation possible for Boniface Olive Oil,” she said carefully. “And I know from working with you that you’ve always done a spectacular job for your accounts, Tamara.” She sat down at the table, reached over and pulled the file toward her, opened it. “Let’s see what you have for me.”

  Tamara swallowed, smiled, then shoved her own chair closer to the table. Maria hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said no either. “You did the breakout ads, didn’t you?”

  Maria nodded.

  “Awesome!” Tamara beamed, her confidence returning when Maria smiled back. “We’re going to make an amazing team, Principessa.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8611-9

  MAIL-ORDER PRINCE IN HER BED

  Copyright © 2003 by Kathryn Pearce

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