The Prince's Secret Baby

by Jennifer Lewis

“We’ll have to turn it.” Sandro hauled the heavy root end while she attempted to lever the frond end around until the tree lay across the increasingly sodden lawn.

  “Do you hear the dog now?” Arms aching, Serena strained to hear through the pelting rain. Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning illuminated the house as it struck nearby.

  “I think it’s just wind in the chimney. We’d better get back inside.”

  By the time they staggered back in, they were drenched with both rain and perspiration. Serena lowered the electric shutters with a sigh of relief. “We’re lucky to have light. I wonder how long before the gas in the generator runs out.”

  “There’d better be enough in there to cook my chicken.” Rain dripped from Sandro’s chiseled features. “I take my Christmas dinner very seriously.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t have a turkey at the store. At least a chicken doesn’t take that long.”

  “With any luck there’s a huge fuel tank buried underground somewhere.”

  “I don’t usually like to count on luck, but in this case we don’t have much choice.” Serena felt self-conscious in her wet T-shirt. “I’m going to go change.”

  “Wait.” Sandro said the word quickly, his eyes focused on hers. Then they drifted lower, to her mouth. Her lips twitched under his bold stare. Should she really just stand here because he’d commanded her to? How did women usually respond to a royal command?

  Her thoughts scattered as he tugged her close and pressed his lips to hers.

  A shudder roamed through her body, and goose bumps spread down her arms. She’d like to blame the combination of rain and cool air-conditioning for the shiver of excitement coursing through her, but she knew it came from deep inside.

  From Sandro.

  Chemistry flashed between them like the lightning outside. Her fingers, acting of their own accord, pushed into his damp hair, and a moan escaped her mouth as he deepened the kiss.

  When he finally pulled back enough for their lips to part, she was panting slightly, her heart pounding.

  Eyelashes half lowered over desire-darkened eyes, he rested his gaze on her face again. “I think we should go upstairs.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Uh, yes.” She croaked, barely able to make a sound. “I need to change.” Was he suggesting that they climb into bed together?

  Her body responded very enthusiastically to that idea—her fingers itched to peel his wet clothes off his strong body—but her mind screamed at her to be sensible.

  “Me too.” His response came after her thoughts had already run away from her, and she struggled to think what he’d agreed with.

  “Oh.” So he did just want to change. Fine. “Let’s go.” She peeled herself further away from him, straightened her T-shirt—he’d fisted his hands into it—and headed for the stairs.

  Her insides pulsed with arousal, calling to her.

  She tried to settle herself. It wasn’t as if she’d gone years without sex.

  Her body didn’t care. Her nipples tingled against her wet bra, and her pants chafed wetly against her trembling legs.

  Sandro must be used to women melting under his gaze and turning into quivering Jell-O of need at his touch. Gorgeous and royal? It was a deadly combination.

  Not that she was usually susceptible to such superficial qualities in a man.

  She was emotional, though, with this whole Christmas-in-hiding thing. Her recent breakup had crushed her confidence and left her worried—would she now be alone forever? Would all her followers decide she was a fraud and desert her?—so maybe she was more vulnerable than usual to the attentions of a practiced player.

  “Good lord.” The gruff voice behind her made her turn as she walked up the stairs. Sandro’s eyes rested on her behind. She blinked. That was crude. She didn’t like that. It wasn’t gentlemanly.

  Still, her body responded with a flush of heat.

  How did he do this to her?

  She could tell he was attracted to her. Very attracted. She could see it in his hot, steady gaze and feel it in his touch.

  But he probably felt the same way about half the women he met.

  Did she want to be another notch in his bedpost?

  Yes, some traitorous part of her body answered swiftly.

  No! She tried to reason. Besides, she’d gone off her contraception so she couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

  Which she didn’t. How would she feel in the morning if she slept with a man she’d just met?

  She headed into her bedroom. Sandro followed. “Uh, what are you doing in here?”

  “I’m here to help you undress.” Mischief danced in his eyes.

  “I can handle that all by myself, thanks.”

  “Wet clothes can be quite difficult to remove.” His dark gaze drifted to her breasts, where her damp T-shirt clung to the outline of her bra. “I’m sure I’ll need some help myself.”

  Her heart beat faster. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “We’re both single, we’re stuck here, there’s an attraction between us strong enough to light something on fire.” A smile tugged at one side of his mouth.

  “But…” This isn’t going anywhere. It would just be a fling. She prided herself on not jumping into pointless dalliances. On saving herself for Mr. Right.

  Except that he’d turned out to be Mr. Wrong.

  The sound of her own voice surprised her. “You do make some good points.”

  He took her in his arms. “I’m smarter than people give me credit for.”

  She giggled as her chest crushed against his. “I might be less smart than people give me credit for. If my readers knew what I was doing right now…” The thought made her stiffen. “I can count on you to be discreet?”

  “Of course.”

  Should she? Temptation clawed at her. Then she heard it again. “The dog. Listen.”

  This time it was unmistakable. A bark, followed by a long howl of desperation.

  “Poor thing. It might be chained outside.”

  Serena pulled from their embrace and hurried to the window. “I can see the house from here.” From the look of its rusting metal roof, it was an older house, wood and rather ramshackle, with a front porch half hidden by a clump of trees. “There it is. It’s chained to a porch column. Oh, my. It’s soaked.” Even from up on the second floor, she could see black and white fur plastered to its skin. “Let’s bring it inside.”

  “Sure.” If Sandro was annoyed by the interruption to their almost tryst, he didn’t betray it. He was out the door and down the stairs before she could gather her thoughts.

  “What if the owner is home?” she wondered aloud as they reached the foyer. “I hope we don’t get shot.”

  Sandro chuckled. “We’ll call out first.”

  They headed out into the blasts of wind and rain. “Ugh, this is nasty.” Rain slapped her in the face, and the gusts were distinctly colder than before. “Oh, no, look at the road.”

  Its bumpy unpaved surface was slick with water—moving water.

  “My God, it’s a river.”

  The water was already creeping up onto the lawn. “Quick, let’s get the dog.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Serena hesitated for a moment. Sensible people didn’t step into floods. This was the kind of thing you saw people doing on the news, then getting swept away in water far deeper than they’d expected.

  Still, the dog couldn’t be more than a hundred feet away. Now that she knew the house was there, she could glimpse it past a thin clump of trees. Sandro was already splashing across the puddle-strewn lawn.

  “There’s a fence.” Sandro climbed over a crumbling picket fence, then helped her over. The property next door was lower, and already water crept over their shoes.

  They hurried to the porch. Up close the house was small, old and poorly maintained. Not a safe place to ride out a storm. “If there’s someone in here, they should come into our house. A flood could wash this one away.” She cleared her throat
and called, “Hello!”

  The dog barked like crazy, straining at its leash, which was a steel cable like a bike lock.

  “Is anyone home?” shouted Sandro. He strode up to the door and banged on it with his fist. “Come next door with us. The street’s flooding.”

  Serena approached the dog, which had started growling and snarling. “It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re here to help.” She spoke softly, trying not to sound too nervous. Dogs could pick up on that. The steel cord attached to a rusted metal ring screwed into the porch column. “I’ll have to detach it at the collar.” There was a carabiner clip there. “But I need a leash so it doesn’t run off.”

  “I’ll grab it.” Sandro rushed over.

  “It might bite.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Oddly, the dog quieted, turning submissive as they both loomed over it, and Sandro took it in his firm hands. She unclipped the leash, and he clutched the stunned dog to his chest.

  “No one’s home. No lights, no answer,” he said through the rain. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The rain and wind together were blinding, and water now lapped at their ankles as they struggled back over the ramshackle picket fence and up across the soggy lawn of the newer house.

  Serena battled the wind, trying to get the door closed behind them. When she finally slammed it shut she turned the dead bolt. “The water is rising.” Her voice shook. “What if it gets really deep?”

  “This house is sturdy. It’ll hold.” He stroked the dog, which now shivered in the cool air that lingered even though they’d turned the air-conditioning off.

  “Let me get a towel.” She grabbed the hand towel from the powder room and quickly ruffled it through the dog’s soggy fur. Now longer growling or even barking, the dog stared at them with wide blue eyes. “I think it’s saying thank you.”

  “It should. It could have drowned out there.”

  “We should get upstairs.”

  “You go on up.” He handed her the dog, which settled into her arms. She expected it to be heavy, but it barely weighed anything. “Let me check on the chicken and potatoes.”

  She laughed. She’d forgotten all about them. “Okay. I guess we’ll be having a picnic up there.”

  She held the little dog close. He was black and white with longish hair, probably fluffy when dry, and he had big, mournful blue eyes. She’d always wanted a dog when she was little. Her parents were far too sensible to get one. Just like she was too sensible to get one now. A dog was a big responsibility.

  She couldn’t believe someone would leave this one out on the porch in a big storm. It had a bowl of water, which the rain had refilled, but she hadn’t seen any food.

  The dog sniffed the air. “You can smell that chicken, huh? Well, I bet there will be enough for you, too.” It had a pointed black nose, which it turned up at her, and as she bent down it reached up and licked her face.

  She recoiled from its wet tongue but couldn’t help smiling. “Doggy kisses?” Then she whispered, “I think those are safer than the other kind that you rescued me from.”

  She looked around. It would make sense to bring all the plates and cups they might need upstairs. “What should we call him? Or is it a her?” She peeked. “He’s a him.”

  “I suppose Lucky is too clichéd?” He pulled the chicken out of the oven.

  The dog was riveted and drooled on her arm at the smell. “I think it’s perfect. You are Lucky. If you didn’t bark so loud.…” She shuddered at the thought of Lucky’s fate and kissed his head. She managed to gather some plates and cutlery with her free hand and a bowl for Lucky.

  “Let me sauté the vegetables, and we’ll be ready to eat.”

  “I think Lucky’s ready right now. I’ll put him down upstairs, then I’ll come back for more stuff.”

  Upstairs she put the plates on a dresser and set Lucky down on the soft bedding in one of the bedrooms. No sooner had she turned her back than Lucky was following her back out of the room.

  “Stay!”

  Lucky cocked a black-and-white ear.

  “You do know what I’m saying. Stay!” She turned and left the room, but when she reached the bottom of the stairs, whining made her turn to see him up at the top. “You didn’t stay. I don’t think you know how to climb down stairs, though, do you?”

  The poor little dog looked desperate enough to hurl himself down. “I’m coming back for you. Hold on.” She climbed the stairs and picked him up again. “You’ll just have to help me get the glasses and napkins.”

  Sandro had stuffed the chicken and put it on a big serving platter. He now spooned roast potatoes and sautéed greens around it.

  “That looks so good.”

  “Sure you don’t want your turkey roll?” He lifted a brow.

  “You might be grateful for that two days from now when we’re waiting to be airlifted out of here.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t sound so bad.” He flashed a warm grin that turned her insides to liquid.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sandro picked up the big platter and followed her upstairs. Somehow she managed to juggle a stack of napkins, two glasses and a carton of orange juice.

  “I guess we can finish the champagne, too. Why aren’t I more nervous? I should be petrified, stuck out here practically in the ocean with water rising on all sides, a storm coming from two directions and no phone contact with the outside world.”

  “You’re calm because you know I will take care of you.”

  The tiny hairs on her neck prickled. Annoyance. Or arousal at his reassuringly protective words? “Who says I need to be taken care of?”

  “Not you, that’s for sure.” He chuckled and followed her into the bedroom she’d chosen because it had a low platform bed they could spread out on.

  She settled Lucky on a pillow and started to arrange the plates and make a hard surface for their drinks with a big coffee table book of sunsets, but as soon as Sandro put the plate with the chicken down, Lucky made a beeline for it.

  Sandro scooped the dog up in his arms. “Not yet, buddy. We have to carve.”

  “He might be starving. I wonder when he last ate.”

  “Good point. We’ll do your portion first.” She took Lucky back from him, laughing at how he wiggled with excitement, attention fixed on the roast chicken. Sandro carved it into expert-looking pieces.

  “Be sure to take the bones out. Dogs can choke on them. I read that somewhere.”

  Sandro put the chicken on the little plate she’d brought for Lucky, and the dog set upon his meal as if he hadn’t seen food in weeks.

  “He likes your cooking.”

  “He has good taste.” Sandro winked at her. Again her insides shifted. How did he have this effect on her? One glance from Howard never turned her upside down. “Everything for you?”

  “Please.”

  The food was delicious, and Lucky was such an excellent beggar that they’d fed him almost half the chicken by the time they finally put it up out of reach so he didn’t vomit on the carpet.

  “I am so glad I’m not here alone,” she admitted. “I’d be scared to death by myself.”

  “It sounds terrible, but I’m rather glad my friends flaked out on me.” He poured them both a glass of champagne. “Their relatives live overseas so they end up all alone while everyone else is celebrating Christmas. I got them to Altaleone two years ago, but they both had important meetings this year and couldn’t go that far.”

  “I think it’s sweet that you made the effort for them.”

  “Friends are important to me.”

  Serena sighed. “I barely keep up with my friends on social media these days. Everyone’s so busy with their careers, their partners. My best college friends both moved to L.A. to work in television and I haven’t made a real best friend in New York.”

  “But you must come into contact with people through your line of work, at least through social media.”

  “Well, they come into contact with my p
ublic persona. The real me is a lot more shy. I let myself get too wrapped up in Howard. I probably smothered him.”

  Lucky climbed into her lap and licked her chin. “Isn’t he sweet? I wonder who he belongs to.”

  “Must be the person who owns that house. I hope they’re somewhere high and dry.”

  “Do you think we have to give him back?” Lucky collapsed in her lap with a huff. He wasn’t that big. He looked like a herding dog, but he was skin and bones under his fur—which was fluffing out as he dried. “I don’t much like the idea of him being owned by someone who left him out there in this weather.”

  “You want to keep him, don’t you?” Sandro’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

  Lucky looked up at her with his big blue eyes.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. I rent my place. I’m not sure dogs are even allowed.”

  “Maybe they are?” Sandro lifted his champagne glass to meet hers. “Perhaps he’s a Christmas gift from the universe to you.”

  She laughed. “We need to at least find out who he belongs to. But maybe if they’re truly not a good home.…” She stroked his silky fur. A dog was a big responsibility.

  Sandro moved the plates and cutlery off the bed and up onto the high dresser with the rest of the chicken.

  “Now, before this dog started barking…where were we?”

  Lucky had rolled onto his back and was now fast asleep.

  Serena laughed. “About to do something foolish. I owe this dog a big debt of gratitude.”

  “I have a bone to pick with this hound.” Sandro scowled at him. “But I think we can pick up where we left off.”

  “Really?” She lifted a brow.

  “Really.” He pressed his finger to his mouth, asking for silence as he took her hand and led her silently out of the room, then closed the door on snoozing Lucky. “In here,” he whispered, opening the door to the bedroom they’d been in before. “It’ll be easier now as our clothes are dry.”

  Serena stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. “There’s a huge storm outside. The neighborhood is flooding.”