Her Return to King's Bed

by Maureen Child

  “Try me. Tell me why. Why any of it?”

  “Telling you why won’t change anything, Rico. Why go there?”

  “We never left there.”

  She shrugged and walked to the French doors opposite his bed that led to the terrace. She stared out and he knew the view she was looking at. The white sand beach. The aquamarine ocean beyond. The banyan trees and the double-wide hammock strung between them. There was a stone patio out there, surrounded by so many different varieties of flowers it took the breath away even as it urged you to breathe deeply, to savor the scents and tastes on the wind. There was a boat at his private dock, a yacht that Rico took out when he needed complete privacy and time to think. And when it was still and quiet enough, you could hear the waterfall in the nearby forest that splashed over rocks worn smooth by time and the relentless rush of the river.

  He’d built his treasure, his paradise on Tesoro. And now that she was here—it felt complete.

  “There’s nothing I can say to you, Rico.”

  “There’s plenty you could have said five years ago,” he countered.

  She blew out a breath and shook her head. “If I give you a reason, will it make this better for you?”

  Nothing would. Nothing could. “Give it a shot.”

  “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a classic self-defensive posture. “I slept with you because you were gorgeous. Famous. Rich. What girl wouldn’t go to bed with you?”

  A fresh spurt of anger shot through him even as he identified the lie in her words. She was too dismissive. Too careless to be telling him any kind of truth. But this lie would serve him as no truth could.

  “Good. Then the next month will be easy for you,” he said, at last crossing the room in long, slow strides that had her automatically backing away. “I’m still famous. Still rich. So being with me again won’t be a hardship for you.”

  He saw her pale slightly. Then she stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders.

  “I’m ready to pay my debt.” She glanced at the bed, then to him. “Now?”

  God, yes.

  “No.” He enjoyed the flicker of surprise he caught in her eyes. “I’ve already told you, I don’t bargain for sex, Teresa. When we come together again, it will be because you need me. Not because you are paying a bill owed by your family.” She flushed and the color was lovely on her skin.

  By the time he was finished with her, she’d be pleading with him to take her. “Your things have been brought here from your suite at the hotel.”

  “Here? To your house?”

  “Here. To my room,” he corrected. “Our room—for the next month, anyway.”

  She stiffened her spine but flattened her lips together to keep from saying whatever was stuck in her throat. Didn’t matter, he told himself. Nothing mattered now. Nothing but finally getting the revenge he’d promised himself so long ago. And still, he had to ask. “One more question.”

  “Only one?”

  “Were you planning your family’s theft from the beginning?”

  “Would it matter if I said no?”

  He thought about that for a second or two. “No, because how could I believe a thief?”

  She winced and he almost felt guilty—almost.

  “Get dressed. We’re going to dinner.”

  She frowned and couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Dinner?”

  Her surprise told him he had caught her off guard. Good. Now all he had to do was keep her there. “Be ready in an hour.”

  * * *

  After he left Teresa in his room, Rico stalked down the long hallway leading to the front of the house. He didn’t notice the throw rugs in bright tropical colors or the sunlight glancing in through the front windows to lie on the gleaming tile floor. His mind was too busy, his emotions choking him too completely to be interested in the mundane. Right now all he could think about was the fact that Teresa was back with him. And what that was going to mean.

  In long strides, he marched down the long, elegant hallway directly to the library. Once there, he sealed himself inside, walked to his desk and sat down behind it. Snatching up the phone, he hit the speed dial and waited for the connection to be made.

  “Hello?”

  His cousin Sean’s voice sounded clipped and a little harassed. Rico smiled. “Catch you at a bad time, Sean?”

  A huff of resignation came before Sean King said, “No. Just recovering from my latest heart attack. Mel had another false alarm.”

  In spite of everything going on, Rico had to grin. Sean King had, since marrying Melinda Stanford, become a changed man. Wasn’t so long ago that Sean himself would have laughed at the image of himself as devoted husband and father-to-be. Now, though, he was the prototypical family man. And since Melinda’s due date was only a week or two away, he never let his wife out of his sight. Every sigh she made sent Sean into a tailspin, and watching his anxiety escalate over the last several months had been very entertaining. While Melinda was sailing through her pregnancy, it was about to kill Sean.

  “I swear,” Sean said under his breath, “sometimes I think Mel’s doing it on purpose. I’m sitting here watching the game and she lets out this little whimper-slash-groan. I jumped up so fast I knocked my beer over and dumped a whole bowl of popcorn on the floor. The dog loves me.”

  Rico laughed. “If it’s this bad before she goes into labor, how will you survive the real thing?”

  “Once it actually happens I’ll be fine,” Sean argued. “It’s this waiting and waiting that’s making me nuts. And between you and me, I think Mel’s doing this stuff just to watch me jump.”

  She probably was. Melinda was great, but she did love keeping her husband on his toes. “I’m sure she’s as nervous as you are.”

  “Who’s nervous?” Sean replied. “I’m not nervous. I’m just hyperprepared.” He grumbled something under his breath then added, “Right now, she’s eating ice cream and laughing at me.”

  In the background, Rico could hear Melinda’s laughter and the excited barking of their dog, Herman. Soon they would have their child and be even happier than they were already. Hard not to be jealous of that.

  “You’re a lucky man,” Rico told him.

  “Yeah, and she never lets me forget it,” Sean said, laughing. “So what’s going on?”

  Secrets were impossible to keep inside the King family. So naturally Rico’s brothers and cousins all knew about his marriage to Teresa—and the fact that the divorce had never gone through. Hell, with a lot of the Kings now living across Europe, Rico had had unpaid “detectives” keeping their eyes open looking for Teresa so that Rico could finally end what was still lying between them.

  The King family was tight. And since Sean had led the King Construction project to build this hotel and Rico’s home—then stayed on Tesoro when he married Melinda—the two cousins had grown even closer. They’d spent many nights having a drink together, talking about work and family and what Rico would do if he ever caught up to Teresa Coretti King.

  Now that he finally had, Rico had to talk to his cousin about this. He took a breath and said simply, “She’s back.”

  “She?”

  “Teresa.”

  There was a long pause and Rico knew his cousin was as dumbstruck as he’d been just a couple of hours ago. Idly, he picked up a pen off the desktop and flipped it between his fingers.

  “Are you kidding me?” Sean’s voice ratcheted up a notch or two before he stopped and talked to Melinda. “Rico’s wife showed up. Yeah, I’m finding out.” When he came back, he asked, “She just showed up at the hotel?”

  “Not alone. She was with her father and brother—who were doing what they do best.”

  “Oh, crap. They were pulling jobs on your guests?”

  “Yeah. Serenity James l
ost a necklace and there were a few others hit, as well.” Just thinking about it infuriated Rico all over again. Of course he’d made sure the Corettis turned over the stolen property before they left the island, but the fact that thefts had occurred at all seriously pissed him off. “They returned the jewels before they left.”

  “Before you tossed ’em off the island, you mean.”

  “That’s about it.”

  “And you didn’t alert the police because…”

  “Because I made a deal with Teresa.”

  “Oh, man, do I want to know what it is?”

  Rico tossed the pen to the desktop and watched it roll off the far edge. Leaning back in his chair, he outlined his plan for revenge and waited for Sean’s reaction. It didn’t take long.

  “So basically you took her prisoner?” A yelp from Melinda in the background caused Sean to say, “I know, Mel. I’m finding out.” Then he asked, “Okay, so where’s Teresa now?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Rico—”

  “She’s still my wife, Sean.” He prepared for a battle. He’d talked to his cousin many times about the frustration he’d felt over the years. Now that his revenge was at hand, though, Rico almost felt…guilty about wielding it. So he’d called his cousin for some backup. Which, it appeared, he wasn’t going to get.

  “She’s your wife but you haven’t seen her in five years.”

  “You don’t have to remind me,” Rico said, flipping the pen between his fingers.

  “So what’re you planning to do? Lock her up?” Sean asked. “Chain her to the bed?”

  “I hadn’t considered it, but…” Now that erotic image seared itself on his brain as he considered it.

  Fine. He was kidding. Probably. Although the thought of Teresa chained to his bed awakened a mental image that suddenly made him completely uncomfortable. Pushing out of his chair, Rico paced the perimeter of the room. Even the air of home seemed different now, with Teresa here. She was just up the stairs and it was taking everything he had to keep from storming up there. He knew she would see his hunger for her, but it would only mirror what she was feeling and push her closer to coming to him.

  Sean sighed. “What’s the plan?”

  “Just what I said.” Rico stopped at the wide front window overlooking the meticulously landscaped front yard. “She stays with me for one month. Then her family returns the dagger and I divorce her.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sean blew out a breath. “Until that happens, what’re you gonna do with her?”

  He knew what he wanted to do with her. His body was rock hard and just knowing Teresa was upstairs, in a room with a wide, comfortable bed, made even breathing difficult. But he had time. His wife would be here, with him, for a solid month and in that time he would find a way to finally and completely get Teresa out of his mind for good.

  But for now, “We’re going to dinner at the hotel.”

  Sean snorted. “Sure. When your missing wife reappears after five years of running from you, you want to put off revenge long enough to have a dinner date.”

  “It’s not a date.” Even the word had Rico scowling.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s dinner.” Rico slapped one hand to the wall beside the window and glared out at his yard. “I’m not romancing her. I’m not courting her. We both have to eat and I don’t want her out of my sight. Don’t make more of this than there is, Sean.”

  “Sure, sure. Not a date. Just revenge foreplay. Got it all planned out, huh?” There was a distinctive smile in Sean’s voice that irritated Rico beyond measure.

  “Is there something wrong with a plan?”

  “Nope,” Sean said. “Just be prepared, cousin.”

  “For what?”

  “For when your plan blows up in your face.”

  * * *

  Teresa’s stomach was in knots. Just being with Rico was tearing her up. And waiting for whatever was going to happen next was making her a little crazy. Who knew what he would do? She never would have expected to be held hostage and since he’d surprised her once, she had to wonder what else was ticking through his mind.

  Oh, she had known the minute she slipped from their suite at the Castello de King five years ago that she had made him her enemy. It had broken her heart at the time, but over the last five years, she had tried to heal. Tried to forget the fact that she had run away from a man who had loved her. And though her inner wounds had healed over, the scar tissue was still tender. Being here with him now, Teresa knew that even more pain was headed her way. There was no chance to avoid it. When this month with him was over, that was it. All dreams would be dead. All hope gone.

  So should she treat this month as the punishment Rico considered it—or should she embrace it and pack in as many memories as she could? Enough to last her a lifetime?

  “If I turn this around,” she whispered into the quiet room, “and look at this month as a gift from the fates…” What? She wouldn’t be in pain later? She’d get the happy ending to her fairy tale?

  “No,” she told herself, refusing to even begin to blow a bubble of hope that was doomed to burst. “But at least this time with him will be easier. For both of us.”

  She almost laughed. Nothing about this was going to be easy, no matter how she colored it. The man she had loved so desperately wanted her—but only for the revenge she could provide. There was no happily ever after in her future. But she still had the choice to either accept this coming month as he’d described it—a punishment—or to look at it as one last thing she could share with Rico.

  The door to the bedroom opened on a hush of sound and she turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. He took her breath away. In this palace of tropical pastel colors and varying shades of white, he stood apart. Dressed entirely in black—slacks, long-sleeved shirt, shoes—he looked…dangerous. And she knew he was. At least, to her own sensibility. His black hair was too long, curling around the collar of his shirt. His blue eyes shone against his tan. His mouth was a grim slash. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and fixed his gaze on her.

  She felt that look as surely as she would have a touch. Heat washed through her and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Oh, she was in very deep trouble here. And she couldn’t even really regret that he had ensured she stay with him. How could she? She’d missed him for five years. Now that she was with him again, how could she not enjoy it?

  “You’re ready. Good. We’re leaving.” He straightened up, turned and walked out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow.

  She glanced into the mirror and gave herself a quick look. She was wearing a lemon-yellow dress, with narrow straps over her shoulders, a deeply cut back and a full skirt that ended just above her knees. Her long black hair was drawn back into a tumble of curls that fell down between her shoulder blades and the gold hoops at her ears winked in the light. She looked good and she knew it.

  Yet Rico had almost looked through her. As if he hadn’t seen her at all. As if she was no more important to him than any of the other furnishings in his lovely home.

  She was nothing to him now.

  And so the pain began.

  * * *

  Once they were at his hotel, Rico stalked across the main dining room. He kept one hand at Teresa’s back as if to assure himself she wouldn’t bolt. But the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm was a fire that wouldn’t be denied. Heat spilled up his arm and through his chest to spread lower until simply walking was an agony. The low back of her dress showcased the pale honey tone of her smooth skin and made a man’s gaze dip lower, to the curve of her behind. Then Rico’s mind took over, just to drive him completely around the bend.

  Nice job, he told himself silently. You’re supposed to be punishing her and ins
tead, you’re torturing yourself. Yeah. This month was going to be a piece of cake.

  While the maître d’ hustled to escort them to his private table, Rico’s gaze slipped around the room. Black tablecloths, candles on every table, the flames flickering in the soft wind drifting in through the opened windows that allowed the scent of flowers to wash over the room. Muted conversations, the clink of crystal and classical music being pumped through the stereo system all came together to make King’s Castle on Tesoro’s dining room the elegant sanctuary it was. Waiters moved swiftly, silently through the maze of tables. Champagne corks popped, wine was poured and the finest food in the world was served. He had built this, following the vision he’d had to create a lush, sensual retreat. A place where reality took a backseat and dreams came to life. Where sensual pleasures were enhanced and fantasies sprang to life.

  Now he himself was caught up in one of those fantasies.

  He noticed the furtive glances of other men as they passed and he knew they were admiring Teresa. Well, hell, who could blame them? She was beautiful, but more, there was an inherent pride in the way she held herself. The tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes. He knew they saw all of that, because he had seen the same the first time he met her—when he had known he had to have her.

  That need was as fresh tonight as it had been so long ago.

  The booth at the back of the restaurant had a view of the entire room, yet remained set apart. Private. His. He felt her shiver as they stepped into the shadows and he hid a smile. He liked knowing that she was off balance. Rico had the power here and he wasn’t going to give it up. Sensing Teresa’s nerves smoothed the jagged surfaces of the simmering anger and raw need clawing at Rico’s insides.

  She gave the maître d’ a smile and then slid across the burgundy leather seat. Rico’s heartbeat skittered wildly, but he buried the reaction to her smile and told the tuxedoed man beside him, “Champagne.”

  “Right away.” He scurried off and Rico slid into the booth beside Teresa.

  “Champagne?” she asked.

  “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” He leaned back and laid one arm across the back of the bench seat. “After all, it’s been five years. A reunion deserves champagne, don’t you think?”