The Maverick Prince

by Catherine Mann

  Which made him a selfish bastard for pursuing her. But he couldn’t seem to pull back now when his world had been rocked on its foundation. The sailor in him recognized the only port in the storm, and right now, only a de la Renta dress separated him from what he wanted—needed—more than anything.

  However, he needed to choose his time and place carefully with the private island growing more crowded by the minute.

  The next afternoon, Shannon sat beside Tony in the Porsche four-wheel drive on the way to the beach. He’d left her a note to put on her bathing suit and meet him during Kolby’s naptime. She’d been taken aback at the leap of excitement in her stomach over spending time alone with him.

  The beach road took them all the way to the edge of the shoreline. He shifted the car in Park, his legs flexing in black board shorts as he left the car silently. He’d been quiet for the whole drive, and she didn’t feel the need to fill the moment with aimless babbling. Being together and quiet had an appeal all its own.

  Tugging on the edge of the white cover-up, she eyed the secluded stretch of beach. Could this be the end of the “romancing” and the shift back to intimacy? Her stomach fluttered faster.

  She stepped from the car before he could open her door. Wind ruffled his hair and whipped his shorts, low slung on his hips. She knew his body well but still the muscled hardness hitched her breath in her throat. Bronzed and toned—smart, rich and royal to boot. Life had handed him an amazing hand, and yet he still chose to work insane hours. In fact, she’d spent more time with him this past week than during the months they’d dated in Galveston.

  And everything she learned confused her more than solving questions.

  She jammed her hands in the pockets of her cover-up. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

  “Over there.” He pointed to a cluster of palm trees with surfboards propped and waiting.

  “You’re kidding, right? Tony, I don’t surf, and the water must be cold.”

  “You’ll warm up. The waves aren’t high enough today for surfing. But there’re still some things even a beginner can do.” He peeled off his T-shirt and she realized she was staring, damn it. “You won’t break anything. Trust me.”

  He extended a hand.

  Trust? Easier said than done. She eyed the boards and looked back at him. They were on the island, she reminded herself, removed from real life. And bottom line, while she wasn’t sure she trusted him with her heart, she totally trusted him with her body. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Decision made, she whipped her cover-up over her head, revealing her crocheted swimsuit. His eyes flamed over her before he took her cover-up and tossed it in the SUV along with his T-shirt. He closed his hands around hers in a warm steady grip and started toward the boards.

  She eyed the pair propped against trees—obviously set up in advance for their outing. One shiny and new, bright white with tropical flowers around the edges. The other was simpler, just yellow, faded from time and use. She looked at the water again, starting to have second—

  “Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re just going to paddle out. Nothing too adventurous today, but I think you’re going to find even slow and steady has some unexpected thrills.”

  And didn’t that send her heart double timing?

  Thank goodness he moved quickly. Mere minutes later she was on her stomach, on the board, paddling away from shore to…nowhere. Nothing but aqua blue waters blending into a paler sky. Mild waves rolled beneath her but somehow never lifted her high enough to be scary, more of a gentle rocking. The chilly water turned to a neutral sluice over her body, soothing her into becoming one with the ocean.

  One stroke at a time she let go of goals and racing to the finish line. Her life had been on fast-paced frenetic since Nolan died. Now, for the first time in longer than she could remember, she was able to unwind, almost hypnotized by the dip, dip, dip of her hands and Tony’s into the water.

  Tension she hadn’t even realized kinked her muscles began to ease. Somehow, Tony must have known. She turned her head to thank him and found him staring back at her.

  She threaded her fingers through the water, sun baking her back. “It’s so quiet out here.”

  “I thought you would appreciate the time away.”

  “You were right.” She slowed her paddling and just floated. “You’ve given over a lot of your time to make sure Kolby and I stayed entertained. Don’t you need to get back to work?”

  “I work from the island using my computer and telecoms.” His hair, even darker when wet, was slicked back from his face, his damp skin glinting in the sun. “More and more of business is being conducted that way.”

  “Do you ever sleep?”

  “Not so much lately, but that has nothing to do with work.” He held her with his eyes locked on her face, no suggestive body sweep, just intense, undiluted Tony.

  And she couldn’t help but wonder why he went to so much trouble when they weren’t sleeping together anymore. If his conscience bothered him, he could have assigned guards to watch over her and she wouldn’t have argued for Kolby’s sake. Yet here he was. With her.

  “What do you see in me?” She rested her cheek on her folded hands. “I’m not fishing for compliments, honest to God, it’s just we seem so wrong for each other on so many levels. Is it just the challenge, like building your business?”

  “Shanny, you take challenge to a whole ’nother level.”

  She flicked water in his face. “I’m being serious here. No joking around, please.”

  “Seriously?” He stared out at the horizon for a second as if gathering his thoughts. “Since you brought up the business analogy, let’s run with that. At work you would be someone I want on my team. Your tenacity, your refusal to give up—even your frustrating rejection of my help—impress the hell out of me. You’re an amazing woman, so much so that sometimes I can’t even look away.”

  He made her feel strong and special with a few words. After feeling guilty for so long, of wondering if she could hold it all together for Kolby, she welcomed the reassurance coursing through her veins as surely as the current underneath her.

  Tony slid from his board and ducked under. She watched through the clear surface as he freed the ankle leash attaching him to his board.

  Resurfacing beside her, he stroked the line of her back. “Sit up for a minute.”

  “What?” She’d barely heard him, too focused on the feel of his hand low on her waist.

  “Sit up on the board and swing your legs over the side.” He held the edge. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “But your board’s drifting.” She watched the faded yellow inch away.

  “I’ll get it later. Come on.” He palmed her back, helping her balance as finally, she wriggled her way upright.

  She bobbled. Stifled a squeal. Then realized what was the worst that could happen? She would be in the water. Big deal. And suddenly the surfboard steadied a little, still rocking but not out of control. The waters lapped around her legs, cool, exciting.

  “I did it.” She laughed, sending her voice out into that endlessness.

  “Perfect. Now hold still,” he said and somehow slid effortlessly behind her.

  Her balance went haywire again for a second, the horizon tilting until she was sure they would both topple over.

  “Relax,” he said against her ear. “Out here, it’s not about fighting, it’s the one place you can totally let go.”

  The one place he could let go? And suddenly she realized this was about more than getting her to relax. He was sharing something about himself with her. Even a man as driven and successful as himself needed a break from the demands of everyday life. Perhaps because of moments like these he kept it all together rather than letting the tension tighten until it snapped.

  She fit herself against him, his legs behind hers as they drifted. Her muscles slowly melted until she leaned into him. The waves curled underneath, his chest wet and bristly against her skin. A new
tension coiled inside her, deep in her belly. Her swimsuit suddenly felt too tight against her breasts that swelled and yearned for the brush of the air and Tony’s mouth.

  His palms rested on her thighs. His thumbs circled a light massage, close, so close. Water ebbed and flowed over her heated core, waves sweeping tantalizing caresses on her aching flesh. Her head sagged onto his shoulder.

  With each undulation of the board, he rocked against her, stirring, growing harder until he pressed fully erect along her spine. Every roll of the board rubbing their bodies against each other had to be as torturous for him as it was for her. His hands moved higher on her legs, nearer to what she needed. Silently. Just as in tune with each other as when they’d been paddling out.

  She worried at first that someone might see, but with their backs to the shore and water…she could lose herself in the moment. Already his breaths grew heavier against her ear, nearly as fast as her own.

  They could both let go and find completion right here without ever moving. Simply feeling his arousal against her stirred Shannon to a bittersweet edge. And good God, that scared the hell out of her.

  The wind chilled, and she recognized the sting of fear all too well. She’d thought she could ride the wave, so to speak, and just have an affair with Tony.

  But this utter abandon, the loss of control, the way they were together, it was anything but simple, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to risk.

  Scavenging every bit of her quickly dwindling willpower, she grabbed his wrists, moved his hands away…

  And dived off the side of the board.

  Nine

  Tony propped his surfboard against a tree and turned to take Shannon’s. The wariness in her eyes frustrated the hell out of him. He could have sworn she was just as into the moment out there as he was—an amazing moment that had been seconds away from getting even better.

  And then she’d vaulted off the board and into the water.

  Staying well clear of him, she’d said she was ready to return to shore. She hadn’t spoken another word since. Had he blown a whole week’s worth of working past her boundaries only to wreck it in one afternoon? Problem was, he still didn’t know what had set her off.

  She stroked a smudge of sand from his faded yellow board. “Is it all right to leave them here so far from where we started?”

  They’d drifted at least a mile from the SUV. “I’ll buy new ones. I’m a filthy rich prince, remember?”

  Yeah, sexual frustration was making him a little cranky, and he suspected no amount of walking would take the edge off. Worse yet, she didn’t even rise to the bait of his crabby words full of reminders of why they’d broken up in the first place.

  Fine. Who the hell knew what she needed?

  He started west and she glided alongside him. The wind picked up, rustling the trees and sweeping a layer of sand around his ankles.

  Shannon gasped.

  “What?” Tony looked fast. “Did you step on something? Are you getting chilly?”

  Shaking her head, she pointed toward the trees, branches and leaves sweeping apart to reveal the small stone chapel. “Why didn’t I notice that when we drove here?”

  “We approached the beach from a different angle.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” Her eyes were wide and curious.

  “No need to look so surprised. I told you that we lived here 24/7. My father outfitted the island with everything we would need, from a small medical clinic to that church.” He took in the white stone church, mission bell over the front doors. It wasn’t large, but big enough to accommodate everyone here. His older brother had told him once it was the only thing on the island built to resemble a part of their old life.

  “Were you an altar server?”

  Her voice pulled him back to the present.

  “With a short-lived tenure.” He glanced down at her, so damn glad she was talking to him again. “I couldn’t sit still and the priest frowned on an altar server bringing a bag of books and Legos to keep himself entertained during the service.”

  “Legos?” She started walking again. “Really?”

  “Every Sunday as I sat out in the congregation. I would have brought more, but the nanny confiscated my squirt gun.”

  “Don’t be giving Kolby any ideas.” She elbowed him lightly, then as if realizing what she’d done, picked up her pace.

  Hell no, he wasn’t losing ground that fast. “The nanny didn’t find my knife though.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You brought a knife to church?”

  “I carved my initials under the pew. Wanna go see if they’re still there?”

  She eyed the church, then shook her head. “What’s all this about today? The surfing and then stories about Legos?”

  Why? He hadn’t stopped to consider the reasons, just acting on instinct to keep up with the crazy, out-of-control relationship with Shannon. But he didn’t do things without a reason.

  His gut had pointed him in this direction because… “So that you remember there’s a man in here.” He thumped his chest. “As well as a filthy rich prince.”

  But no matter what he said or how far he got from this place, the Medina heritage coursed through his veins. Regardless of how many times he changed his name or started over, he was still Antonio Medina. And Shannon had made it clear time and time again, she didn’t want that kind of life. Finally, he heard her.

  Several hours later, Shannon shoved her head deeper into the industrial sized refrigerator in search of a midnight snack. A glass of warm milk just wasn’t going to cut it.

  Eyeing the plate of trufas con cognac and small cups of crema catalana, she debated whether to go for the brandy truffles or cold custard with caramel on top…. She picked one of each and dropped into a seat at the steel table.

  Silence bounced and echoed in the cavernous kitchen. She was sleepy and cranky and edgy. And it was all Tony’s fault for tormenting her with charming stories and sexy encounters on the water—then shutting her out. She nipped an edge of the liqueur-flavored chocolate. Amazing. Sighing, she sagged back in the chair.

  Since returning from their surfing outing, he’d kept his distance. She’d thought they were getting closer on a deeper level when he’d shared about his sister and even the Lego, then, wham. He’d turned into the perfect—distant—host at the stilted family dinner.

  Not that she’d been able to eat a bite.

  Now, she was hungry, in spite of the fact she’d finished off the truffle. She spooned a scoop of custard into her mouth, although she suspected no amount of gourmet pastries would satisfy the craving gnawing her inside.

  When she’d started dating Tony, she’d taken a careful, calculated risk because her hormones had been hollering for him and she’d been a long, long time without sex. Okay, so her hormones hadn’t been shouting for just any man. Only Tony. A problem that didn’t seem to have abated in the least.

  “Ah, hell.” Tony’s low curse startled her upright in her seat.

  Filling the archway, he studied her cautiously. He wore jeans and an open button-down that appeared hastily tossed on. He fastened two buttons in the middle, slowly shielding the cut of his six-pack abs.

  Cool custard melted in her mouth, her senses singing. But her heart was aching and confused. She toyed with the neck of her robe nervously. The blue peignoir set covered her from neck to toes, but the loose-fitting chiffon and lace brushed sensual decadence against her skin. The froufrou little kitten heels to match had seemed over-the-top in her room, but now felt sexy and fun.

  Her hands shook. She pressed them against the steel topped table. “Don’t mind me. I’m just indulging in a midnight feeding frenzy. I highly recommend the custard cups in the back right corner of the refrigerator.”

  He hesitated in the archway as if making up his mind, then walked deeper into the kitchen, passing her without touching. “I was thinking in terms of something more substantial, like a sandwich.”

  “Are princes allowed to make their own snacks?”


  “Who’s going to tell me no?” He kicked the fridge closed, his hands full of deli meat, cheese and lettuce, a jar of spread tucked under his elbow.

  “Good point.” She swirled another spoonful. “I hope the cook doesn’t mind I’ve been foraging around. I actually used the stove, too, when I cooked a late night snack for Kolby. He woke up hungry.”

  Tony glanced over from his sandwich prep. “Is he okay?”

  “Just a little homesick.” Her eyes took in the sight of the Tony she remembered, a man who wore jeans low-slung on his hips. And rumpled hair…she enjoyed the disobedient swirls in his hair most.

  “I’m sorry for that.” His shoulders tensed under the loose chambray.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate how everyone has gone out of their way for him. The gourmet kid cuisine makes meals an adventure. I wish I had thought to tell him rolled tortillas are snakes and caterpillars.” Pasta was called worms or a nest. “I’m even becoming addicted to Nutella crepes. But sometimes, a kid just needs the familiar feel of home.”

  “I understand.” His sandwich piled high on a plate, he took a seat—across from her rather than beside as he would have in the past.

  “Of course you do.” She clenched her hands together to keep from reaching out to him. “Well, I’ll have to make sure the cook knows I tried to put everything back where I found it.”

  “He’s more likely to be upset that you called him a cook rather than a chef.”

  “Ah, a chef. Right. All those nuances between your world and mine.” How surreal to be having a conversation with a prince over a totally plebian hoagie.

  Tony swiped at his mouth with a linen napkin and draped it over his knee again. “You ran in a pretty high-finance world with your husband.”

  Her husband’s dirty money.

  She shoved away the custard bowl. Thoughts of the media regurgitating that mess for public consumption made her nauseated. She wasn’t close to her in-laws, but they would suffer hearing their precious son’s reputation smeared again.