by Wendi Zwaduk
That morning, he woke first and admired her sleeping form. She embodied beauty in slumber. No makeup, her hair in tangles, but she was the prettiest girl. She knew his past and still loved him. He’d bet his parents would’ve liked her. He wished they could’ve met her.
“Are you watching me?” She opened her eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re natural.” He kissed her. “I was admiring the view.”
“I’ve got a good view, too.” She hugged him. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“I’m planning on spending time in my studio. Ever since Charlie gave me the job of painting Torrance, I haven’t been able to accomplish much else. Why? What are you going? Coming to my studio, I hope.” He could use mid-afternoon sex. He’d never turn down a chance to be with Zara.
She cuddled up to him. “I will, but I need to do something first.” She kissed him, then left the bed.
Luke stretched and rested his hands behind his head. He crossed his ankles. He’d finally come to a good place in his life. He had security, a job creating art and the woman he loved. Next June, he’d marry her. “When is Charlie’s official coronation?” he called. “Did they set a date yet?”
“The fifteenth, I believe.” She remained in the bathroom. “It won’t be Torrance beside him.”
“No?” He thought Torrance and Charlie were a good team and had a solid relationship. “They’ve hit Quitsville already? I thought they were getting serious. What happened?”
“Torrance asked for money and wanted to be declared a duke. He bragged to his friends that he was doing a prince and would end up being the queen. Him, a commoner, would help run the country. I didn’t think it was funny, but Charlie hated that he’d been used. Torrance didn’t love him and apparently had a boyfriend on the side. Who does that?”
“Your stepmother,” Luke said. “I’m sorry to hear about Charlie and Torrance.”
“It’s for the better. Charlie needs people he can depend on around him.” She emerged from the bathroom. “Are you set on marrying in June?”
“I’d marry you today,” he said. “The royal protocols declare I can’t, but who needs rules?” He rolled onto his side. “Why? Do you want to rush it?”
She crossed the room. “I might.” She held something in her hands. “When I left for college, I had a list. I don’t remember all the things that were on it. I know one was wanting to be kissed properly.”
He curled his fingers behind her head and eased her close. “Like this?” He feathered his mouth over hers until she opened to him, then he sucked on her tongue. She whimpered. When he broke the connection, pink infused her cheeks.
“Like that.” She remained close. “I wanted to see a concert, too, but most of all I wanted to have sex with a handsome man and lose my virginity.” She traced the seam of his mouth with her finger. “I also wanted to meet the tall, dark and handsome artist downstairs.”
“Me?” He feigned shock. “Hello, my name is Luke.”
“Zara.” She blushed deeper. “I wanted to model for you and be one of those girls in your apartment.”
“You’re the only one.” He smoothed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “What else?”
“I wanted to attend a party—not in the way Corinne threw it, but whatever.” She smiled. “Mostly, I wanted to fall in love.”
“Have you?” He knew the truth, but adored when she got flustered. “Do you love me?”
“I do, which is why I’m thinking about the wedding. We should move it up.” She offered up the item. “We’re pregnant.”
He stared at her. He’d heard the words and what she said made sense. Pregnant. “Zara?”
“We’ve been going at it every day and not using protection. It was bound to happen.” She crawled onto his lap. “I haven’t had my period for the last month and this one is late, too. Is my knight in shining armor having second thoughts?”
He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around her declaration. Pregnant. She moved the pregnancy test to his hands. He stared at the screen on the stick. A bright pink plus sign. She hadn’t been kidding. He met her gaze. “You just took this, didn’t you?”
“I did.” She folded her hands on his lap. “Are you upset?”
“No.” He tugged her down for a kiss. “It’s still sinking in, but I’m thrilled. A baby. We’re having a baby.”
“Our baby.” She stretched out on top of him. “You’re happy?”
“Very.” He held her. “A royal baby.” He paused. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Marry me as soon as we can so my life will be perfect and our child will be official.”
“It’s already official.” He stroked her back. “How about we get married tomorrow?” He’d do it now, but he wanted to do this right. They needed some time to get her dress, his tuxedo, flowers, the chapel and the church to officiate. Plus, they’d have to round up Corinne, Elise, Charlie and the king to witness their union.
“It sounds perfect.” She tossed the test onto the nightstand. “If I’d known running away would get me the experience I needed to be a better royal and brought me to you, I would’ve done it earlier. I was bound to move beyond the court. The world had plans for me and I needed to take the chance. If I’d stayed here, I wouldn’t have you.”
“Things happen when they do for a reason.” He brushed her hair from her face. “This is the right time for us.”
“Yes, it is.” Passion flickered in her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed the woman he adored. “My runaway royal.”
She smiled and rubbed on his growing erection. “I’m all yours.”
Now they’d have forever together to grow the love they shared and raise their family. The runaway royal wasn’t running any longer—with the love of her life beside her, she’d come home.
Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!
Her Man
Wendi Zwaduk
Excerpt
Trouble. That’s what most women were—too much trouble! When Logan Malone’s last movie had ended, so had his love life. He’d decided women weren’t worth the effort—not right now.
Well, no, that wasn’t the case—not entirely. Red-hot American blood still charged through his veins and he needed a woman, someone soft in all the right places, tough as nails and unafraid to fight to warm his bed. Why not go for totally impossible?
Logan shifted in his seat. The olive-colored plastic creaked and scratched against the ceramic tile floor. The other three men in the drafty room glared as though he’d ruined their concentration.
“Quiet,” the blond man to his right growled.
“Sorry,” Logan muttered. He caressed the worn cover of the book jacket as he convinced himself he could play the romantic lead better than the rest of the competition sitting in the drab hallway. Who else could embody the sexy, romantic boy-next-door role better than Romeo Malone, the hunk of the silver screen? He smiled, but quickly lost faith. He faced the biggest roadblock of his career—convincing the directors, producer and author that he was the man for the job. Yeah, another impossible task.
He sighed. Was he the man? Logan took a deep breath to relax before another glance at his competition. Mark Lanigan stood hunched in the corner with his index finger in his ear as he spoke on his cell phone. Shit.
Logan flexed his jaw and turned away. His heart dropped to his stomach with a sickening thud. Mark Lanigan wasn’t a slouch in the looks department. His baby blues melted even the iciest of hearts with ease. Romance publishers begged for his services as a cover model and Mark had the honor of being selected the ‘Sexiest Man of the Decade’ according to Delish magazine. Last year the man had won an award for his performance of a baseball phenom in love with a farmer’s daughter in Flowers in the Outfield.
Logan ground his teeth. He should’ve had that role, but no! He’d spent the two-week casting call screwing around with
Katrina Butterfield, romping in the Virgin Islands, answering her darned booty call and living up to his womanizing Romeo image. When he realized he’d forfeited his chance at the part of the year, he’d just about wrung her pretty little neck. He sighed. At least he’d learned from his misstep.
Logan gripped the unforgiving black rubberized armrests. He had to get his career in order. Andrew Speedle exited the conference room through the thick wooden auditorium door. Logan’s heart plummeted to the floor. Great. More competition he didn’t need. Andrew’s crooked smile could be both sinister and sweet at the same time. His rumpled, straight-out-of-bed look graced the covers of countless magazines. And he was only twenty-seven! Not only that—he had three supporting roles under his belt, with a lead coming up at the end of the year. Audiences had flocked to see his last film, making it the third highest grossing movie of the year. Andrew could play the sexy hunk-next-door role in his sleep and Logan hated him for it.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit. Another part down the drain and he hadn’t even tried out yet.
Please let them turn him down. I can do this.
“Malone? Are you giving in already?”
Logan’s gaze met Andrew’s glare. “They laughed at your sappy credits, didn’t they?”
Andrew gave him the finger. “Piss off, Malone. Once she finds out you’ve screwed the producer and the director, that writer will have your balls in her pocket. Go home and try for a fitting job, something you can handle without dialogue. This ain’t the role for you.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks, asshole.”
Andrew sauntered away. Jealousy crashed in Logan’s body like a tidal wave. What did that man have that he didn’t? He mentally tallied his own assets—broad shoulders, six-pack abs, toned legs and tight buns. Women drooled over his hazel eyes and perfect grin, and he looked hot with any hairstyle. So what was the issue? He was the man for the job without a doubt—case closed.
He sighed. That line of reasoning worked, but Andrew had roles and money, lots of money. A tight ass meant nothing without dollars in the bank.
He thumbed through the book. There were no answers in the battered pages, but simply holding the paperback gave him comfort. He could identify with the hero who wanted true love and honesty with no pretensions. He shook his head. That wasn’t possible in Hollywood. Maybe not even in California. Possibly not the world.
Logan flipped to the black and white picture of the author on the inside back cover of the book. Her dowdy professional clothing covered her figure and she smiled sweetly over her shoulder. He’d stared at her so many times and dragged the book around so much over the past three months that the edges of the paper had ruffled. He wondered if she was the actual writer or a model meant to trick the reader. Women that beautiful didn’t write romance. Or did they?
Desire curled in his stomach. If she weren’t a model, he’d love to tangle his fingers in her dark hair, kiss her lips raw and make her scream with pleasure. Did her skin feel as soft as it looked? Logan guessed it would and she’d do just fine as his arm candy for the premiere. Hell, he’d love to love her for quite a long time.
Love? Too bad it was all a load of crap and nothing more than an act of foreplay involving fictitious emotions. Who actually believed in love? Logan drew a deep breath and let it slide between his lips. He’d never meet a woman who could change his mind and his heart. Women like that didn’t exist. Not that lasting relationships mattered much. Paying the bills—that was important. Keeping up the movie star lifestyle had drained his already dwindling bank account. Another flop would mean the end of his career. Career over before the age of thirty-three, hard to envision…but it looked like a very real possibility.
Maybe it was time to go home. No, he’d begged too long and hard to get the chance for the audition. He couldn’t back down now. I will earn this role.
“Malone?”
Jostled back to reality, Logan looked up. His throat constricted at the sight of another ex. Perfect. “Well, hello, Nikita. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Is it my turn, or did you fill the role? I saw Speed walk out earlier.”
Nikita Cline pushed her black-rimmed cat’s eye glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s your turn. We haven’t made a decision, yet, but you might do.”
Logan felt her heated gaze travel the length of his body. He shivered. He should switch to a different production—one without Nikita. He pasted a wolfish grin on his face and stood to meet her in the doorway. “Well, I’d better dazzle your socks off, then, shouldn’t I?”
She grabbed his arm before he entered the room. “You could dazzle other things off instead.” Her lips grazed his ear. “I miss you.”
Logan shivered again as her perfume wafted to his nose, demanding his undivided attention. He didn’t miss the arguments, the accusations, the experimentations she loved so much. She liked to play the field with multiple partners, toys, role-play and whatever she could find for kink. He liked a little kink, but she wasn’t his style. “How about I just pass the audition, huh?”
He spotted the women at the table and pasted on his most wicked smile. His voice caught in his throat and a ripple of excitement ran the length of his spine at the sight of his audience. The writer? Was she really there? Or did she moonlight as a screenwriter? Maybe a friend of the producers? Oh, my, my, my.
Nikita gestured to the table. “I’d like to introduce the heads of this production. This is Maggie Bowles, our associate producer.” She shrugged a shoulder to the woman on the right. “And this is the writer, Cass Jensen.”
Logan forced a nod. Maggie had worked on Break and co-directed Maia, both mega box office hits. She had a reputation for fairness and impartiality with her actors and crew. But the other woman—oh man. He blinked. Cass Jensen penned Wrong Turn, Slingshot and toyed with his fantasies from the safety of a black and white photo. Crossbeam Studios had translated three of her earlier novels into box office hits. Now she sat across the room, in living color and completely unaware of his innermost desires.
Had the heat just kicked on? He licked his lips. Something had happened and not just between his legs.
It seemed as if everyone else in the cavernous conference room had evaporated except him and Cass. She wasn’t his normal blonde model-type, quite the opposite. She had curves and porcelain skin. Her dark chocolate-colored hair glittered slightly under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting, and she brushed the silky strands off her face, revealing her lack of a wedding ring.
Score!
Her mouth curled into a faint smile, accompanying the sparkle in her startling blue-gray eyes. Color rushed into her pale cheeks.
Oh man.
Logan’s eyes slipped greedily over her body. Would she flush during sex? The light scent of her perfume muddled his brain. Lilac? Rose? Whatever it was, it was enticing. Logan swallowed hard. Tightness invaded his chest. Such a rapid reaction to a woman knocked him for a complete loop. Cass was the kind of woman who ended up being a cherished lover, not a plaything. He glanced at her once more. His throat went dry. Damn, if she blushed too much longer, he’d be in trouble. If he got time alone with her, he’d be a goner. How would her hands feel gliding along his body? Heaven, probably.
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About the Author
Wendi Zwaduk is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to BDSM and LGBTQ themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best
contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com and the former AllRomance Ebooks. She also writes under the name of Megan Slayer.
Wendi loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com