by Cat Schield
Her brows drew together. “You didn’t think I would go with you?”
“You have a life in California. Family. Friends. A career.”
“So instead of asking me what I wanted, you made the decision for me.”
“Except I can’t ask.” His frustration was no less acute than hers. “A month ago my older brother made a decision that affects not only my life, but the future of Sherdana.”
“What sort of decision?”
“He married a woman who can never have children.”
Brooke stared at him in mystified silence for a long moment before saying, “That’s very sad, but what does it have to do with you?”
“It’s now up to me to get married and make sure the Alessandro royal blood line is continued.”
“You’re going to marry?” She sat back, her hands falling from the table onto her lap.
“So that I can produce an heir. I’m second in line to the throne. It’s my duty.”
Her expression flattened into blank shock for several seconds as she absorbed his declaration. He’d never seen her dumbfounded. Usually she had a snappy retort for everything. Her quick mind processed at speeds that constantly amazed him.
“Your younger brother can’t do it?”
The grim smile he offered her conveyed every bit of his displeasure. “I’m quite certain mother intends to see that we are both married before the year is out.”
“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” she quoted, “that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” She stared at the taverna’s logo printed in blue on the white place mat as if the answers to the universe were written there in code. “And I’m not the one you want.”
“It isn’t that simple.” He gripped his beer in both hands to keep from reaching out and offering her comfort. “In order for my child to be eligible to ascend Sherdana’s throne someday, the constitution requires that his mother has to be either a Sherdana citizen or a member of Europe’s aristocracy.”
“And I’m just an ordinary girl from California with two doctorates.” The corners of her mouth quivered in a weak attempt at a smile. “I get it.”
Three
Beneath the grapevines woven through the taverna’s roof beams, the afternoon heat pressed in on Brooke. Light-headed and slightly ill, she didn’t realize how much she’d set her hopes on Nic’s returning to California and giving their relationship another try until he crushed her dreams with his confession. Her fingers fanned over her still-flat abdomen and the child that grew there. Not once since she’d learned she was pregnant had she considered raising this child utterly on her own. Nic had always been there for her. First as her brother’s friend. Then her friend. And finally as her lover.
When she’d strayed from her topic during the writing of her second thesis he’d spent hours on the phone talking her through her research and her arguments. He’d gone with her to buy both her cars. He always shared his dessert with her when they went out to dinner even though she knew it drove him crazy that she never ordered her own. And in a dozen little ways, he stayed present in her life even though physically they lived miles apart.
For an instant she recalled the last time she and Nic had made love. She’d gazed deep into his eyes and glimpsed her future. During their time together, their lovemaking had been in turn fast, hot, slow and achingly sweet. But on their last night in particular, they’d both been swept away by urgent intensity. Yet there’d been a single look suspended between one breath and the next that held her transfixed. In that instant, an important connection had been made between them and she’d been forever changed.
But now...
A prince.
The conversion from distracted, overworked scientist to intense, sexy aristocrat had been apparent when she’d arrived this morning. At first she’d ascribed the change to his European-style clothing, but now she understood he’d been transformed in a far more elemental manner.
A month ago he’d given her a speech about how he needed to refocus on Griffin, and that meant he had to stop seeing her. She’d been frustrated by the setback, but figured it was only a matter of time until he figured out they were meant to be together. When he’d left California in the wake of the accident, the bond had stretched and thinned, but it had held. Awareness of Nic had hummed across that psychic filament. Although compelled to track him down and investigate if her instincts were correct, she’d decided to give him some space to process the accident before she followed him. Her pregnancy had made finding him much more urgent.
But what good was the bond between them when the reality was he was a prince who needed to find a wife so he could father children that would one day rule his country?
And what about her own child? This was no longer a simple matter of being pregnant with Nic’s baby. She was carrying the illegitimate child of a prince. For a moment the taverna spun sickeningly around her. Telling Nic he was going to be a father had become that much more complicated.
Somehow she found the strength of will to summon a wry smile. “Besides, you and I both know I’m not princess material.”
“You’d hate it,” Nic told her in somber tones. To her relief he’d taken her self-deprecating humor at face value. “All the restrictions on how you dressed and behaved.”
“Being polite to people instead of setting them straight.” He was right. She’d hate it. “The endless parties to attend where I had to smile until my face hurt. I’m so not the type.”
The litany leached away her optimism. With hope reaching dangerously low levels, she cursed the expansive hollowness inside her. Nothing had felt the same since she’d stepped onto this island. It wasn’t just Nic’s fancy clothes, expensive villa and the whole prince thing. He was different. And more unreachable than ever.
How am I supposed to live without you?
The question lodged in her throat. She concentrated on breathing evenly to keep the tears at bay.
“Are you okay?”
Her pulse spiked at his concerned frown. In moments like these he surprised her by being attuned to her mood. And keeping track of how she was feeling was no small task. Her family often teased her about being a drama girl. She enjoyed life to the fullest, reveling in each success and taking disappointments as world-ending. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned to temper her big emotions and act on impulse less frequently.
Except where Nic was concerned. Common sense told her if she’d behave more sensibly, Nic might be more receptive to her. But everything about him aroused her passion and sent her into sensory overload.
“Brooke?”
Unable to verbalize the emotions raging through her, she avoided looking at Nic and found the perfect distraction in a waitress’s hard stare. The woman had been watching from the kitchen doorway ever since Brooke had sat down. “I don’t think that waitress likes me,” Brooke commented, indicating the curvaceous brunette. “Did I interrupt something between you two?”
“Natasa? Don’t be ridiculous.”
His impatient dismissal raised Brooke’s spirits slightly. She already knew Nic wasn’t the sort to engage in casual encounters. Her five-year pursuit of him had demonstrated that he wasn’t ruled by his body’s urges.
“She’s awfully pretty and hasn’t taken her eye off you since I sat down.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Nic signaled Natasa and she came over.
“Another beer for me,” he told the waitress. “What are you drinking?” He looked to Brooke.
“Water.”
“And an order of taramosalata.”
“What is that?” Brooke quizzed, her gaze following the generous sway of Natasa’s hips as she wound her way back toward the kitchen.
“A spread made from fish roe. You’ll like it.”
You’ll like it.
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Did he realize the impact those words had on her nerve endings?
It was what he’d said to her their first night together. To her amazement, once he’d stopped resisting her flirtatious banter and taken the lead, she’d been overcome by his authoritative manner and had surrendered to his every whim. Her skin tingled, remembering the sweep of his fingers across the sensitized planes of her body. He’d made love to her with a thoroughness she’d never known. Not one inch of her body had gone unclaimed by him and she’d let it all happen. Her smile had blazed undiminished for five months until he’d driven up to San Francisco for the talk.
Natasa returned with their drinks. She gave Brooke a quick once-over, plunked two bottles on the table and shot Nic a hard look he didn’t notice. Brooke grinned as Nic reached for her bottled water and broke the seal without being asked. He didn’t know it, but this was just one of the things that had become a ritual with them. During the past five years, Brooke had repeatedly asked him to do her small favors and Nic had obliged, grumbling all the while about her inability to do the simplest tasks. He’d never figured out that each time he helped her, he became a little more invested in their relationship.
Six months ago all her subtle efforts had brought results. After a successful test firing of the Griffin’s ignition system, the team had been celebrating in Glen’s backyard. Nic had been animated, electrified. She’d been a moth to his flame, basking in his warm smiles and affectionate touches. At the end of the evening he’d meshed their fingers together and drawn her to the privacy of the front porch where he’d kissed her silly.
Lying sleepless in her bed that night she’d relived the mind-blowing kiss over and over and wondered what she’d done to finally break through Nic’s resistance. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint anything, nor did she think that day’s success had been the trigger. The team had enjoyed several triumphs in the previous few months. In the end Brooke had decided her years of flirting had finally begun to reach him.
After that night, she’d noticed a subtle difference in the way Nic behaved toward her and began to hope that he might have finally figured out she was the one for him. Brooke increased the frequency of her weekend visits to the Mojave Air and Space Port, where the Griffin team had their offices. Despite the increased urgency to finish the rocket and get it ready for a test launch, Nic had made time for quiet dinners. Afterward, they’d often talked late into the night. After two months, he’d taken things to the next level. He’d shared not just his body with her, but his dreams and desires, as well. At the time, she’d thought she was getting to know the real Nic. Now she realized how much he’d kept from her.
With fresh eyes, Brooke regarded her brother’s best friend and saw only a stranger. In his stylish clothes and expensive shades he looked every inch a rich European. She contemplated the arrogant tilt of his head, the utter command of his presence as he watched her. Why had she never picked up on it earlier?
Because his English was flawlessly Americanized. Because he went to work every day in ordinary jeans and
T-shirts. Granted, he filled out his commonplace clothes in an extraordinary manner, but nothing about his impressive pecs and washboard abs screamed aristocracy. She’d always assumed he rarely let off steam with his fellow scientists because he was preoccupied with work.
Now she realized he’d been brought up with different expectations placed upon him than people in her orbit. A picture formed in her mind. Nic, tall and proud, his broad shoulders filling out a formfitting tuxedo, a red sash across his chest from shoulder to hip. He looked regal. Larger than life. Completely out of reach.
Brooke had always believed that people didn’t regret the things they did, only the things they didn’t. She liked to believe she was richer for every experience she’d had, good or bad. Would she have given her heart to Nic if she’d known who he was from the beginning? Yes. Brief as it had been, she cherished every moment of their time together.
While logic enabled her to rationalize why she couldn’t marry him, her heart prevented her from walking away without a backward glance. And she suspected he wasn’t thrilled to be sacrificing himself so that his family could continue to reign. As devastating as it was to think she’d have to give up on a future with Nic, wanting to be with him was a yearning she couldn’t shake off.
“I’m going to ask you a question,” she announced abruptly, her gaze drilling through his bland expression. “And I expect the truth this time.”
Nic’s beer bottle hung between the table and his lips. “I suppose I owe you that.”
“You’re darned right you do.” She ignored the brief flare of amusement in his eyes. “I want to know the real reason you broke up with me.”
“I’ve already explained the reason. We have no future. I have to go home and I have to marry.” He stared at the harbor behind her, his expression chiseled in granite.
She’d obviously phrased her question wrong. “And if your brother hadn’t married someone who couldn’t have children? Would you have broken things off?”
What she really wanted to know was if he loved her, but she wasn’t sure he’d pondered how deep his feelings for her ran. Also, a month ago he’d apparently accepted that he had to marry someone else and it wasn’t his nature to dwell on impossibilities.
“It’s a simple question,” she prompted as the silence stretched. He surely hated being put on the spot like this, but she couldn’t move on until she knew.
His chest rose and fell on a huge sigh as he met her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes. Something flickered within those bronze-colored depths. Something that made her stomach contract and her spirits soar.
She’d journeyed to Ithaca to tell him about the baby, but also because she couldn’t bear to let him go. Now she understood that she had to. But not yet. She had two days before she had to return to the States. Two days to say goodbye. All she needed was a sign from Nic that he hadn’t wanted to give her up.
“No.” He spoke the word like a curse. “We’d still be together.”
* * *
The instant the words left his lips, Nic wished he’d maintained the lies. Brooke’s eyes kindled with satisfaction and her body relaxed. She resembled a contented cat. He’d seen the look many times and knew it meant trouble.
“I think we should spend the time between now and when you leave together.” She gave the last word a specific emphasis that he couldn’t misinterpret.
Nic shook his head, vigorously rejecting her suggestion. “That’s not fair to you.” Duty. Honor. Integrity. He repeated the words like a prayer. “I won’t take advantage of you that way.”
Brooke leaned forward, her gaze sharpening. “Has it ever occurred to you that I like it when you take advantage of me?”
The world beyond their table blurred until it was only him and her and the intense emotional connection that had clicked into place the first time they’d made love, a connection that couldn’t be severed.
“I never noticed.” His attempt to banter with her so that she’d adopt a less serious mood fell flat.
Her determination gained momentum. “Tell me you don’t want to spend your last days of freedom with me.”
Every molecule that made up his body screamed at him to agree. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I shouldn’t.” He spoke quickly to prevent her from arguing with him. “Ever since finding out I had to return home and get married, I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you again.”
“That’s just silly.” She gave him a wicked smile. “You like touching me.”
In the time he’d known her, he’d learned just how powerful that smile could be. It had whittled away at his willpower until he’d done the one thing he knew he shouldn’t. He’d fallen hard.
Duty. Honor. Integrity. The lament filled his mind. If only Brooke didn’t make it so damned hard to do the right thing.
She got u
p from her chair and stepped into his space.
He tipped his head back and assessed her determined expression. His heart shuddered as she put her palms flat on his shoulders and settled herself on his lap. Even though Nic had braced himself for the arousing pressure of her firm rear on his thighs, it took every bit of concentration he possessed to put his hands behind his back, safely out of range of her tempting curves. What sort of hell had he let himself fall into?
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Are you all right?” she asked, tracing her fingertips across his furrowed brow.
God, she was a tempting lapful.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m great, and you didn’t answer my question.” He pulled her spicy scent into his lungs and held it there. He longed to bury his face in her neck and imprint her upon his senses. “What are you doing on my lap?”
“Demonstrating that you want me as much as I want you.”
He hated himself for hoping she’d continue the demonstration until he couldn’t catch his breath. Making love to her was amazing. He’d never been with anyone who matched him the way she did. Anticipation gnawed on him like a puppy with a stolen shoe.
“I assure you I want you a great deal more.” How he kept his voice so clinical, Nic would never know.
“Then you’ll let me stay on the island for the next few days?”
She knew him better than anyone and once she’d discovered his weakness where she was concerned, she’d pressed her advantage at every opportunity. Before they’d made love, she’d slipped past his defenses like a ninja. Now they’d been intimate and he didn’t doubt that she would exploit his passion to get her way.
“I left California without saying goodbye because leaving you was so damned hard.” When he’d broken off things a month ago, he’d been lucky to escape before her shock at his announcement wore off. Ending their relationship was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. If she’d begged him to stay, he wasn’t sure if he could have done the right thing by Sherdana. “Nothing good will come of putting off the inevitable.”