The Prince's Secret Baby

by Christine Rimmer

  She leaned closer to him, because she wanted to. Because she could. “I like you as you are. Don’t pretend to be someone else. Please.”

  “I wouldn’t. But I can be cruel.” He said it so casually, so easily. And she realized she believed him. She saw the shining blade of his intention beneath the velvet sheath that was his considerable charm.

  “Please don’t. I’ve had enough of mean men. I…” She let the words trail off. The waiter was approaching their table. Perfect timing. The subject was one that desperately needed dropping.

  But a flick of a glance from Rule and the waiter turned around and walked away. “Continue, please,” Rule prompted softly. “What men have been cruel to you?”

  Way to ruin a beautiful evening, Syd. “Seriously. You don’t need to hear it.”

  “But I want to hear it. I meant what I said. I want to know about you, Sydney. I want to know everything.” His eyes were so dark. She could get lost in them, lost forever, never to be found. And the really scary thing was that she almost felt okay with being lost forever—as long as he was lost right along with her.

  “What can I say? There’s just something about me…” Lord. She did not want to go there. She tried to wrap it up with a generalized explanation. “I seem to attract men who say they like me because I’m strong and intelligent and capable. And then they get to work trying to tear me down.”

  Something flared in his eyes. Something…dangerous. “Who has tried to tear you down?”

  “Do we have to get into this?”

  “No. We don’t. But sometimes it’s better, I think, to go ahead and speak frankly of the past.” Now his eyes were tender again. Tender and somehow completely accepting.

  She let out a slow, surrendering sigh. “I lived with a guy when I was in law school. His name was Ryan. He was fun and a little bit wild. On the day we moved in together, he quit his job. He would lie on the sofa drinking those great big cans of malt liquor, watching ESPN. When I tried to talk to him about showing a little motivation, things got ugly fast. He said that I had enough ambition and drive for both of us and next to me he felt like a failure, that I had as good as emasculated him—and would I get out of the damn way, I was blocking his view of the TV?”

  Rule gave one of those so-European shrugs of his. “So you got rid of him.”

  “Yes, I did. When I kicked him out, he told me he’d been screwing around on me. He’d had to, he said. In order to try and feel at least a little like a man again. So he was a cheater and a liar, too. After Ryan, I took a break from men. I stayed away from serious entanglements for the next five years. Then I met Peter. He was an attorney, like me. Worked for a different firm, a smaller one. We started going out. I thought he was nothing like Ryan, not a user or runaround or a slacker in any way. He never formally moved in with me. But he was…with me, at my house, most nights. And then he started pressuring me to get him in at Teale, Gayle and Prosser.” She said the name of her firm with another long sigh.

  “You weren’t comfortable with that?”

  “No, I wasn’t. And I told him so. I believe in networking, in helping the other guy out. But I didn’t want my boyfriend working at the same firm with me, especially not if he was hired on my say-so. There are just too many ways that could spell trouble. He said he understood.”

  Rule still had his fingers laced with hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “But he didn’t understand.”

  “Not in the least. He was angry that I wouldn’t give him ‘a hand up,’ as he put it. Things kind of devolved from there. He said a lot of brutal things to me. I was still an associate at the firm then. At a party, Peter got drunk and complained about me to one of the partners. By the time he and I were over, I…” She sought the right way to say it.

  He said it for her. “You decided you were through with men.” She glanced away. He caught her chin, lightly, gently, and guided it back around so that she met his eyes again. “Are you all right?” He sounded honestly concerned. She realized that her answer really mattered to him.

  She swallowed, nodded. “I’m okay. It’s just…when I talk about all that, I feel like such a loser, you know?”

  “Those men. Ryan and Peter. They are the losers.” He held her gaze. “I notice you haven’t told me their last names.”

  “And I’m not going to. As I said, it’s long over for me, with both of them.”

  He gave her his beautiful smile. “There. That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He let go of her hand—but only to touch her in another way. With his index finger, he traced the line of her jaw, stirring shivers as he went. He caught one of the loose curls of hair that Lani had pulled free of her French twist, and rubbed it between his fingers. “Soft,” he whispered. “Like your skin. Like your tender heart…”

  “Don’t be too sure about that. I’m not only prickly, I can be a raving bitch,” she whispered back. “Just ask Ryan and Peter.”

  “Give me their last names. Ryan and Peter and I will have a long talk.”

  “Hah. I don’t think so.”

  He touched her cheek then, a brushing caress of such clear erotic intent that her toes curled inside her Jimmy Choos. “As long as you’re willing to give men another chance.”

  “I could be. If the right man ever came along.”

  He took her untouched champagne flute and handed it to her. Then he picked up his own. “To the right man.”

  She touched her glass to his, echoed, “The right man.” It was excellent champagne, each tiny bubble like a burst of magic on her tongue. And when she set the glass down again, she said, “I always wanted to have children.”

  He answered teasingly, “However, not nine of them.”

  Suddenly, it came to her. She realized where she’d been going with her grim little tale of disappointed love. It hadn’t really been a case of total over-sharing, after all.

  “Actually,” she said. “This is serious.”

  “All right.”

  “There’s something I really do need to tell you.”

  His expression changed, became…so still. Waiting. Listening. He tipped his head to the side in that strangely familiar way he had. “Tell me.”

  She wanted—needed—for him to know about Trevor. If learning about Trev turned him off, well, she absolutely had to know that now, tonight. Before she got in any deeper with him. Before she let herself drown in those beautiful black eyes. “I…” Her mouth had gone desert-dry. She swallowed, hard.

  This shouldn’t be so difficult, shouldn’t matter so very much. She hardly knew this man. Holding his interest and his high regard shouldn’t be this important to her.

  Yet it was important. Already. She cared. A lot. Way, way too much.

  He seemed too perfect. He was too perfect. He was her dream man come to vivid, vibrant, tempting life. The first minute she saw him, she’d felt as though she already knew him.

  Yes, she should be more wary. It wasn’t like her to be so easily drawn in.

  And yet she was. She couldn’t stop herself.

  She thought of her grandmother, who had been a true believer in love at first sight. Grandma Ellen claimed she had fallen for Sydney’s grandfather the first time she met him. She’d also insisted that Sydney’s father had fallen in love with her mother at first sight.

  Could falling in love at first sight be a genetic trait? Sydney almost smiled at the thought. She’d believed herself to be in love before—and been wrong, wrong, wrong.

  But with Ryan, it hadn’t been like this. Or with Peter. Nothing like this, with either of them.

  Both of those relationships had developed in the logical, sensible way. She’d come to believe that she loved those men over a reasonable period of time, after getting to know them well—or so she had thought.

  And look what had happened. She learned in the end that she hadn’t really known either Ryan or Peter. Not well enough, she hadn’t. With both men, it had ended in heartbreak. Those failures should have made her more wary. Those failures had made her mo
re wary.

  Until today. Until she met Rule.

  With Rule, her heart seemed to have a will of its own. With him, she wanted to just go for it. To take the leap, take a chance. She didn’t want to be wary with him. With him, she could almost become a believer in love at first sight.

  If only he wasn’t put off by learning that she already had a child… .

  “It’s all right,” he said so gently. “Go on.”

  And she did. “I was almost thirty, when it ended with Peter. I wanted to make partner in my firm and I wanted a family. I knew I could do both.”

  He gave a slow nod. “But the men were not cooperating.”

  “Exactly. So I decided…to have a family anyway. A family without a man. I went to a top cryobank—a sperm bank, at a fertility clinic?”

  “Yes,” he said in a way that could only be called cautious. “I know what a cryobank is.”

  “Well, all right.” Her hands were shaking. She lowered them to her lap so he wouldn’t see. “I went to a sperm bank. I had artificial insemination. The procedure was successful. I got pregnant. And now I have a beautiful, healthy two-year-old son.”

  “You have a child,” he repeated, carefully. “A boy.”

  She folded her hands good and tight in her lap to still the shaking. And her heart seemed to have stopped dead in her chest—and then commenced beating way too hard and too fast. It hurt, her own heart, the way it pounded away in there. Because she knew, absolutely, that it was over, between her and Rule, over before it had even really begun. And it didn’t matter how perfect he was for her. It didn’t matter if he just happened to be her dream-come-true. It didn’t matter that he made her want to believe in love at first sight. She was absolutely certain at that moment that he wouldn’t accept Trevor. And if he didn’t accept her son, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  In a moment, she would be rising, saying good-night. Walking away from him and refusing to look back.

  She drew her shoulders tall. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Yes, Rule. I have a son, a son who’s everything to me.”

  Chapter Three

  And then, just as she was dead certain that it was finished between them, Rule smiled.

  A real smile. He laid his warm, lean hand along the side of her face. “How wonderful. I love children, Sydney—but I already said that, didn’t I? When can I meet him? Tomorrow, I hope.”

  She blinked, swallowed. Almost sick with emotion, she put her hand against her churning stomach. “I… You what?”

  He laughed, a beautiful, low, sexy sound. “You thought I wouldn’t want to meet your son?” And then he frowned. “You don’t know me very well.”

  “I… You’re right. I don’t know you.” She took slow, deep breaths, ordering her stomach to settle down, stunned at how much it mattered, that he wasn’t rejecting Trevor. That it wasn’t over after all, that she didn’t have to rise and walk away and not look back. She could stay right here, in this beautiful restaurant, at this private table, with this incredible man. She chided, “I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t know you well, that we only met this afternoon.”

  “Unbelievable.” His frown had faded. “I had forgotten. Somehow, it seems that I’ve known you forever.”

  She confessed, “I have that feeling, too.” And then she laughed, a laugh that felt as light and bubbly as the excellent champagne. “I had it the first moment I saw you.”

  “You did?” He wore that boyish look, the one that made her think of Trev.

  “Yes. I thought how you couldn’t be looking at me. And then I thought how familiar you looked, that I must have met you before… .”

  “Of course I was looking at you,” he said it with a definite note of reproach. “But you were very busy reminding yourself that you were through with men.”

  “I was. I admit it. How dumb was that?”

  “It’s all right. Now that you’ve told me why you gave up men, I thoroughly understand. And I’m not complaining. If you hadn’t decided to stay away from the male sex, you might have found someone else by now and I wouldn’t have a chance with you.”

  “And that would have been a tragedy,” she teased.

  “Yes, it would. A true catastrophe. But you did give up men. Now all I have to do is convince you to give one more man a chance.” He raised his glass again. She clinked hers against it. “Are you ready for the first course?”

  Suddenly, she was starving. “I am, yes.”

  He cast a glance beyond the open curtain. That was all. Just a glance. The waiter appeared again and made straight for their table.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Rule walked her out to the valet stand and had her car brought around. He tipped the valet generously and then took her hand and led her away from her waiting Mercedes. “Just for a moment…”

  She went with him, down the sloping front entrance, to a shadowed area next to a large brick planter thick with greenery, beneath a beautiful old oak. The spring night felt warm and close around them.

  He turned to face her. His eyes gleamed like polished stones through the darkness and his fingers trailed up her bare arm, a long, slow, dancing caress that left her strangely weak and slightly breathless. “Sydney…” He clasped her shoulders, and then framed her face between both wonderful hands. “Sydney O’Shea. I was becoming frightened.”

  His words confused her. She scanned his shadowed features. “But why?”

  “That I would never find you. Never meet you…”

  “Oh. That.” She felt a glad smile curve her lips.

  “Yes. That.” His sweet breath stirred the loose curls at her temples as he bent his head closer to her.

  A kiss. His kiss. Their first kiss. She tipped her face up to him, offering her mouth.

  He held her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.

  Warm. Soft. Easy…

  Her eyes drifted shut as his mouth touched hers, lightly, cherishingly. And she trembled, the moment was so exactly as she’d imagined it might be during their lunch that afternoon, during the long, glorious meal just past.

  “Sydney…” He whispered her name against her mouth and she opened for him.

  Instantly, she wanted more, wanted to be closer. Had to be closer.

  Surging up, she wrapped her arms around him. A tiny, hungry cry escaped her at the sheer glory of such a perfect moment.

  He took her cue and deepened the kiss, gathering her into him, cradling her against his body, so that she felt his warmth and solidness all along the length of her. He tasted of coffee and the heavenly pistachio mascarpone cake they’d shared for dessert. And the way he kissed her, the way his warm, rough-tender tongue caressed her…oh, there was nothing, ever, in her experience, to compare to it.

  Nothing to compare.

  To his kiss…

  She wished it would never end.

  But of course, it had to end. He took her shoulders again and reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, gazing down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, holding her a willing captive with his light touch at her shoulders, with his tender glance.

  “Yes,” she vowed, though she didn’t even know yet what he planned for tomorrow.

  He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and then up to her temple, causing those lovely shivers to course across her skin. “In the morning? I could come and collect you and your little boy. We could…visit a park, maybe. A park with swings and slides, so he’ll have a chance to play. My little niece and nephew love nothing so much as a few hours in the sunshine, with a sandbox and a slide.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had a niece and a nephew.”

  He nodded. “My older brother, Max, has two children—say yes to tomorrow.”

  “But I already did, didn’t I?”

  “Say it again.”

  “Yes—and why don’t you come for breakfast first? You can meet my best friend, Lani, who has a degree in English literature, is a fabulous cook and takes care of
Trevor while I’m at work.”

  “I would love breakfast. And to meet your friend, Lani.”

  “I have to warn you. Breakfast comes early at my house.”

  “Early it is.”

  “Seven-thirty, then.” She took his hand, automatically threading her fingers with his, feeling the thrill of touching him—and also a certain rightness. Her hand fit perfectly in his. “Come on.” She pulled him back toward her car. “I’ll give you my address and phone number.”

  * * *

  “Where’s Michael?” Sydney asked, when she let herself in the house at quarter of eleven and found Lani sitting on the sofa alone, wearing Tweety Bird flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow cami top.

  “How was the big date?” Lani asked, with a too-bright smile.

  Sydney slipped off her red shoes and dropped to the sofa beside her friend. “It was better than…anything. Wonderful. I’m crazy about him. He’s coming for breakfast at seven-thirty.”

  “Good. I can check him out. See if he’s good enough for you.”

  “He’s good enough. You’ll see. I thought maybe one of your fabulous frittatas…”

  “You got it.” Lani took off her glasses and set them on the side table.

  “Hey.” Sydney waited until her friend looked at her again. Then she guided a thick swatch of Lani’s dark, curly hair behind her ear. “You didn’t answer my question about Michael.”

  Lani’s big eyes were a little sad, and her full mouth curved slightly down. “Tonight, when I watched you getting ready to meet this new guy, putting on your makeup, fixing your hair, waffling over that perfect red dress…”

  “Yeah? Tonight, what?”

  “I thought, ‘That. What Syd’s feeling. I want that.’”

  “Oh, sweetheart…”

  Lani’s shoulders drooped. “And then you left and Michael came over and I thought what a nice guy he is…but I couldn’t go on with him. Because he’s not the guy.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Do you know what I mean?”