by Katie Knight
Finally, as the air cooled around them, he started to move off of her, concerned he was too heavy, but she held him in place.
“No. Don’t go yet.” Her words rumbled through her chest beneath his ear as he stilled atop her once more, their bodies still connected intimately. “I’ve heard it’s good to wait a bit… you know, afterward.”
The vulnerability in her tone made his chest ache and Z slid his arms beneath her to hold her closer. He justified it to himself by thinking that they were making a baby together and if this was the best way, then so be it.
It was only natural to want to handle this business properly, right?
A job well done, indeed.
“Are you okay, princess?” he asked after a while. She’d asked him not to call her by her title in public, but in here, with just the two of them, it felt like a special endearment.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice sleepy now. “I’m beyond okay, actually. Thank you.”
Z raised his head slightly to look up at her, grinning. “My pleasure, princess. Believe me.”
“Mine too,” she said, then giggled.
He lay back down, scooting slightly to the side to spoon her instead, sharing body heat as they both drifted off to sleep. Hopefully, they’d created a new life tonight. If not, there was always tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after, and…
After all, SEAL motto number one was never, ever quit until the job was done.
Chapter Eight
“Don’t you look chipper this morning,” Taylor said. She was Esme’s stylist in DC and an old friend from college. Tall, auburn-haired and lovely, she could’ve been a fashion model. She chose instead to do what she loved—overseeing fashion and makeup for someone else. Her Southern drawl was oddly comforting after the heated night Es had spent with Z. “What’s your secret?”
Esme did her best to stem the tide of heat creeping into her cheeks and failed. “No secret.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Taylor shook her head and grinned, moving around Esme’s chair as she fluffed and primped and curled her hair to within an inch of its life. “I’ll get his name out of you eventually, you know.”
“How do you know there’s a man involved?” Esme continued flipping through the preview designer catalog on her lap, avoiding Taylor’s gaze entirely. They were doing a trial run on hair and makeup before the state dinner at the White House later on in the trip, and also choosing attire for the upcoming events on Esme’s busy holiday schedule. From early October through January, her calendar was fully booked with parties and dinners and charity galas of all sorts. Not to the business meetings and conferences and other functions she needed to attend now in her father’s stead. She cleared her throat and did her best to sound flippant. “Maybe there’s no man involved.”
Taylor gave a dramatic eye roll in the mirror. “Seriously? There’s always a man involved.”
True enough. Esme exhaled slowly and placed a hand on her stomach for the umpteenth time. Which was ridiculous. It had been one night, less than twenty-four hours since she and Z had slept together. Even if by some miracle she was with child, it would be impossible for her to know this early on. And yet…
A silly smile formed on her lips and she glanced up to see Taylor watching her with interest.
“You know I’ll just bug you to death until you tell me what’s happening.” Taylor stood, hands on hips, a wicked pair of trimming shears dangling from her fingers. “C’mon. Fess up.”
Esme hadn’t planned on sharing her secret with anyone, but it was so hard and lonely not having anyone close by to talk to and share with. Most girls, she imagined, would share things like this with their mothers, but hers was gone. Taylor had been a friend for years and Esme trusted her completely. And it would be so nice to have someone to confess her deepest fears and hopes to. “If I tell you, you must swear not to share this information with anyone.”
Taylor placed her hand over her heart in a sign of allegiance. “Promise.”
“I’m trying to have a baby.”
At first, Taylor just blinked at her, absorbing that information. Then a small frown appeared. “Say that again.”
“I’m trying to have a baby. I’ve always wanted children and now, with the way things are with my father and with my cousin Silvester, it would be an opportune time and—”
“So, you’re trying to have a kid to save Prylea?” Taylor gave up any pretense of working and plopped down in the swiveling chair beside Esme’s. “Is that a wise move? Kids are a lot of work. Believe me.”
Taylor was happily married and had three small children at home, along with a successful personal stylist business. If anyone would know about the work involved, it would be her.
“I know.” Es clasped her hands in her lap atop the catalog. “But I’ve been over all the available options and this seems to be the most viable solution.”
“Hmm.” Taylor sat back and crossed her arms. “And who’s the lucky sperm donor?”
“Hey!” The heat level in Esme’s cheeks turned scorching. “It’s not like that.”
In fact, it was exactly like that. On paper anyway. But each time Esme remembered the feel of Z in her arms, in her body, his gorgeous face flushed and his strong muscles trembling with release, her heart fluttered anew and her chest squeezed with tenderness. At least until she shoved those unwanted emotions aside. This had nothing to do with intimacy and tenderness and everything to do with securing the safety and future prosperity of Prylea.
“Fine. Whatever.” Taylor gave a dismissive wave, clearly not believing Esme at all. “So, what’s his name? Do I know him?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I shouldn’t say anything. It’s against our agreement.”
“Agreement?” Taylor’s frown deepened, and she leaned forward, voice lowered. “This really is a business deal then.”
“Of course it is.” Esme scowled back. “I’m not an idiot. He signed contracts drawn up by my lawyers and everything.”
“Wow. How romantic. Not.” Taylor sat back and fiddled with the scissors in her hand. “Your cousin’s a real piece of work. I’ve seen him on TV just about every day since you’ve been here in the US, touting some new initiative he wants to put in place once he’s in charge. Something about immigration and closing the borders. Oh, and removing the military base.”
“And that’s exactly why I need this baby. He’s awful. There’s no way I can let him run my country. He’ll destroy all the progress my father has made and have us bankrupt with no valuable alliances left within a year. He’s a narcissistic, attention-seeking idiot.” Esme forced her tense shoulders to relax. “I’ll be a good mother, too. I will.”
“I know you will, sweetie.” Taylor sighed. “The best. That’s not what I’m worried about. Although if you do get knocked up, we may have to adjust your wardrobe choices accordingly.”
Grateful for the distraction, they began going through the special catalog together. It included pieces from all the world’s top designers from their latest fall collections. Esme had a stipend for clothing and styling as part of her annual salary from the palace. She was an important part of marketing for Prylea—young, attractive, smart, and savvy—and they needed her to look the part each time she went out in public. They picked out several gowns and day wear suits and dresses, even a couple of cocktail frocks that would be flattering even if Esme put on a bit of baby weight during the holiday season. Once they’d finished, Taylor took the catalog from her and set it aside so she could finish her hair.
“Does your cousin know what you’re up to while you’re here in the States?” Taylor asked as she snipped some longer layers around Esme’s face. “Can’t imagine what a nightmare it must be for you having him hold down the fort at home while you’re gone.”
“It’s not pleasant, that’s true.” Esme exhaled slow and closed her eyes as Taylor trimmed her bangs. “We’re here until my father’s well enough to fly home though, so there’s not much I can do. His physicians are telling me they
hope he’ll be ready within the next few weeks, but it all depends. He’s so sick, Taylor. And it’s so hard.” She bit back a sob and her friend gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze in support. “I know he’s not immortal, but he’s my last living parent.”
“I know, sweetie.” Taylor set her shears aside and sprayed some styling cream into her hands, rubbing them together before raking her fingers through Esme’s damp hair. “I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this. But you know I’m here for you. Whatever you need whenever you need it. You just call and I’m there, husband and kids in tow if need be. Understand?”
Esme nodded, not trusting her voice. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. That’s what friends do for each other.”
They exchanged a look in the mirror, years of friendship and trust conveyed in their locked gazes.
Taylor smiled and reached over to grab her hairdryer and a round brush. “Okay, so before I start your blowout, tell me who it is.”
The information ricocheted inside her like a pinball and she needed to get it out, at least to someone. Esme crooked her finger for the stylist to lean closer, then whispered Z’s name in her ear.
“Right.” Taylor clicked on the hairdryer and its loud white-noise whirr filled the air. She worked fast, smoothing Esme’s damp locks into shiny perfection. By the time she was done, her Cheshire-cat grin was huge. “Good job.”
Esme knew she wasn’t talking about the hairstyle. “What?”
“On your choice of…partners. He’s handsome as hell. You guys will make beautiful babies together.”
“That’s not the point.” Though Esme had to admit she’d thought of little else since last night herself. She couldn’t help wondering if their child would have Z’s blond hair and her hazel eyes or her chestnut brown curls and Z’s bright blue gaze. “The point is, he’s smart and healthy and should be able to give me the heir I so desperately need. I checked his files and all his pre-employment physical results came back excellent. He’s also someone I can trust to hold up his end of the deal and not try for a power grab.”
“Well, aren’t you just Little Miss Efficient? Close your eyes again for a sec.” Taylor spritzed around Esme’s head with an herbal-smelling spray, then stepped back to admire her work.
“When it comes to my country, I can’t afford to leave anything to chance.”
“What about love?”
“What about it?” Esme took the mirror Taylor handed to her, then checked her new ’do from all angles as Taylor slowly turned the chair for her. “This looks great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Taylor gave Esme an assessing look. “I know you’ll love your kid. But what about his or her father? I know you and it will be hard for you to keep your heart out of the equation. Sex is more than just two bodies coming together, or at least it should be.”
“This time it’s not.” Esme pushed to her feet and brushed a hand down the front of her jeans and pink long-sleeved sweater. The weather outside was still warm, but the breeze was crisp and colder. A harbinger of things to come. “Like I said, we signed a contract, dotted all the i’s and crossed the t’s. No hearts or emotions involved. This is strictly to save my throne and get him back on his SEAL team where he belongs. Nothing more. When it’s all over, we’ll part ways and happily go back to our separate lives.”
“Okay. Sure.” Taylor walked her to the front door where Z waited outside the entrance. Through the glass, Esme caught sight of Z’s broad back and her stupid knees wobbled again. Her fingertips tingled, remembering the feel of his smooth skin beneath her touch, the ripple of his muscles as he thrust into her, bringing her to climax. The closeness of him staying inside her after they were done, his warm breath fanning her breasts as he rested atop her, sated and sleepy. Then he’d spooned her afterward and made her feel safe and secure, even though the rest of her world was falling apart.
She’d fallen asleep that way. When she’d opened her eyes this morning, she’d been in her bed and he was gone. She had no idea when he’d left. This was the first time she’d seen him post-sex, and the effect was far more potent than she’d expected. Despite her wishes and words to the contrary, a bond had formed between them, however tenuous and tiny. She touched her stomach again without thinking and as if sensing her presence, Z glanced over his shoulder at her.
His blue gaze warmed slightly, dropping to where her hand lay on her abdomen before returning to her eyes. He looked away fast, but not before she caught the flickering emotions in his expression—wary, want, and a hint of wonder. All the same things she felt.
Taylor ran back and grabbed the catalog and together they put in the orders for her holiday wardrobe and accessories, setting up appointments for fittings with several US designers over the next couple of weeks to fit in as much as possible while she was still in the States. Back home in Prylea, her usual stylist on staff handled these things, but she’d already been scheduled for a holiday with her family and this trip had come up last minute with her father’s medical appointment.
Finally, she kissed her friend goodbye, with a promise to meet up for coffee later, then held the door while her friend walked outside to the taxi waiting near the curb.
Z avoided all eye contact with her as he stepped back inside the townhouse and Esme began to worry that perhaps she’d disappointed him somehow. Maybe he didn’t like the way she looked after her appointment. Maybe he’d somehow guessed that she’d shared her plans with Taylor. Maybe he’d found her bad in the sack. Her other boyfriends certainly had never raved about her sexual prowess.
All of these doubts stewed in her head as she walked behind him down the hall, doing her best to ignore his taut, perfect backside in those suit pants and the delectable, spicy-citrus smell of his cologne.
Then, just as she was about to duck back into the safety of the study, Z stopped and faced her, leaning in to whisper closer to her ear, “Smile. You look beautiful, princess.”
His warm words made her shiver with awareness and as she took her seat on the leather sofa to prepare for her upcoming meetings, Esme couldn’t wipe the besotted grin off her face.
She also couldn’t ignore the niggling concern that perhaps not falling for Z might be more difficult than she’d anticipated.
Chapter Nine
After a busy day of escorting Es around to various press junkets and interviews in DC, Z was feeling a bit more confident in his situation, but just a bit. In truth, the previous night with Es had shaken him. He’d gone into this thinking it would be easy to keep his emotions separate from the physical act, to do his duty—so to speak—and move on. To hit it and quit it.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t as easy as he’d expected.
He’d tried to brush his lingering feelings off as going too long between bed partners, but honestly, the part that had knocked him off-kilter the most was afterward, lying together, still intimately connected. Es had claimed it was for the sake of conception, and yeah. Okay. Z supposed he could go with that. Biologically speaking, it probably did make sense to keep still for a while to give his swimmers the best chance of crossing the finish line.
But emotionally, the intensity of that moment lingered.
Nothing he’d done today had lessened his emotions either—not work, not focusing on the upcoming state dinner at the White House, not even taking matters into his own hands by planning a nice, quiet meal for them at the townhouse to try and get a read on how Es was feeling about it all.
If he was honest with himself, he’d allowed his libido to get out of control the previous night, allowing his senses to be overrun with her taste, her scent, the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. And sure, the sex had been good—incredible, even—but that was no reason to go overboard and get all mushy. He’d done that once, allowed his heart to become involved in a relationship where it should have been strictly physical, and it had landed him in a world of heartache. Since then, he’d done the sensible thing and kept his feelings out of the bedroom.
Not that he didn’t love sex. He did. He just went for the casual flings instead of anything more.
That’s why this gig should’ve been perfect.
So, why did it feel anything but at present?
The limo pulled up in front of the Colonial-style townhouse and Z climbed out first, scanning the area for any suspicious parties before opening the door to help Es from the rear of the vehicle. There were a few paparazzi nearby, snapping photos, and he did his best to shield her with his body as they climbed the front steps. Through his Bluetooth headset, he ordered the rest of his team to their usual stations around the perimeter to guard the townhouse, then followed Es inside. Some of the glow and energy she’d had earlier had dissipated, and her normally creamy complexion had gone a bit gray with fatigue. Z felt the unaccountable urge to carry her into the library where they’d made love the night before and lay her down on that huge leather sofa. To slip off those sexy stilettos of hers and massage her feet until she went all limp and relaxed beneath his hands. To slowly work his way up those long, toned legs of hers, inching that pretty pink sweater of hers higher and higher and higher with his fingers until…
“What is that delectable smell?” Es sniffed the air, her eyes closing and her expression going dreamy with delight. “Did you call ahead for dinner?”
Z shook away his erotic thoughts and forced a smile. “I did. It’s been a long day, and I thought it might be nice to stay in and relax tonight.”
She toed off her shoes and sighed. The sound zinged straight to his groin before he tamped it down. There’d be time enough for that later, if she wanted him again. But first, they needed to eat. She was too thin as it was, and he was starving. His stomach growled in confirmation that she’d been right, the aromas of garlic and roasted onions smelled amazing. He led her into the formal dining room where the food had been laid out at one end, making things a bit homier, since it was just the two of them.