His Thirty-Day Fiancee (7 page)

Hell, he didn’t know what it made him feel, but he didn’t like the way his collar suddenly seemed too tight. He swiped the sleet from his coat sleeves.

After they’d taken the ferry from Martha’s Vineyard, they’d spent the past couple hours driving through snow turned to sleet on their way to her place. She’d insisted on retrieving her cameras herself, stating she didn’t want one of his “people” pawing through her things. He understood the need for privacy and had agreed. He controlled his own travel plans, after all. A few hours’ wiggle room didn’t pose a problem.

A hand’s reach away, Kate sorted through her camera bag she’d retrieved from her tiny efficiency. The bland space where she lived had relayed clearly how little time she spent there.

She looked up from her voluminous black bag as ice and packed snow crunched under the limo’s tires. “May I ask what’s next on the agenda or are we going to an undisclosed location?”

“I have a private jet fueled and waiting to fly us to D.C. as soon as the weather clears. After we land, we’ll stay at one of my hotels.” He selected a card from his wallet and passed it to her. “Here’s the address, in case you want to let your sister—or the
Intruder
—know.”

Not that anyone would get past his security.

He’d bought the nineteenth-century manor home in D.C. ten years ago. With renovations and an addition, he’d turned it into an elite hotel. He catered to the wealthy who spent too much time on the road and appreciated the feeling of an exclusive home away from home while doing business in the nation’s capital.

Silently, she pulled out her cell phone from her bag and began texting, her silky hair sliding forward over one shoulder. She was a part of the press. He couldn’t forget for a second that he walked a fine line with her.

He needed to be sure she remembered, as well. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking Javier is cut from the same cloth as his cousin. You were able to trick Alys, but Javier is another matter.”

She kept texting without answering, sleet pinging off the roof. He studied her until she glanced over at him, tight-lipped.

Anger frosted Kate’s blue eyes as chilly as the bits of melted sleet still spiking her eyelashes. “For your information, I didn’t have to trick your pal Alys. Yes, I approached her about the photo I accidentally snapped of you at Senator Landis’s beach house. But
she
came to
me
about your half sister.”

Duarte registered her words, but he could only think about her determination, her drive…and her 34C breasts. He wondered what his assistant had chosen for Kate. As much as he wanted to know, checking out the clothes before they were sent to her felt…invasive. Privacy was important.

He understood that firsthand. “You made the contact with Alys when you chased her down about that photo of me with the senator.”

“Believe what you want.” She changed out the lens on a camera with the twist of her wrist. “I merely traced people in the picture until one of them was willing to give up more information on the mysterious past of a guy who called himself Duarte Moreno.”

Hearing how easily someone in his father’s inner circle could turn angered him. But it also affirmed what he’d thought during his entire isolated childhood on the island. There was no hiding from the Medina legacy. “You’ll be wise to remember how easy it is to misstep. If our secret is out, I’ll have no reason to keep you around until the wedding.”

A small yellow rag in hand, she cleaned a lens. “One screwup and that’s it? No room for mistakes and forgiveness? Everyone deserves an occasional do over.”

“Not when the stakes are so high.” A single mistake, a break in security, could cost a life. His mother had died and Carlos still carried scars from that day.

“Aren’t you curious as to why Alys was willing to sell out your family?”

“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.”

“There, you are wrong.” She handled her camera reverently. “The ‘why’ can matter very much.”

“What happened to neutral reporting of the facts?” He hooked a finger along her black camera strap.

“The ‘why’ can help a good journalist get more information from a source.”

“All right, then. Why did Alys turn on us?”

Kate raised the camera to her face, lens pointed in his direction, and when he didn’t protest, she clicked.

He forced himself not to flinch, tough to do after so long hiding from having his image captured as if the camera could steal his spirit. “Kate?”

“Alys wanted to be a Medina princess.” Kate lowered the camera to her lap. “But how much fun would the tiara be worth if she couldn’t show it off to the world? She wanted everyone to know about the Medinas, and my camera made that possible.”

“Don’t even try to say she had feelings for one of us. She wouldn’t have betrayed us if she cared.”

“True enough.” Her voice drifted off and he could all but see the investigative wheels turning in her mind. “Did
you
love
her?
Is that why you’re so edgy today?”

His restlessness had everything to do with Kate and nothing to do with Alys, a woman he considered past history. “What do you think?”

“I believe it must have hurt seeing a trusted friend turn on your family, especially if she meant something more to you.”

“I’m not interested in Alys, never was beyond a couple dates. Any princess dreams she may have harbored were of her own making.”

In a flash of insight, he realized she was curious about his past relationships, and not as a reporter, but as a woman. Suddenly his frustration over finding her with Javier didn’t irritate him nearly as much.

He slid his arm along the back of the leather seat.

“Uh…” Kate jumped nervously. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dipping his face toward her hair, he nuzzled her ear. When she purred softly, he continued, “Kissing my fiancée, or I will be,” he said on his way toward her parted lips, “momentarily.”

Catching her gasp, his mouth met hers. His hand between her shoulder blades drew her closer. The rigid set of her spine eased and she flowed into him, her lips softening. The tip of her tongue touched his with the first tentative sweep. Then more boldly.

Carefully, he moved her camera from her lap to the seat. He untied her belt and pushed her coat from her shoulders. The turtleneck hugged her body to perfection, the fabric so thin he could almost imagine the feel of her skin under his hands. He cupped her rib cage, just below her breasts. If his thumb just twitched even an inch, he could explore the lush softness pressed against him.

Heat surged through his veins so quickly he could have sworn it would melt the sleet outside. Shivering, she brushed against him, her breasts pebbling against his chest in unmistakable arousal.

Kate’s breathy gasp caressed his face and she wriggled closer. “What are we doing?”

“I want to reassure you. You have no worries where Alys is concerned.” He swept her hair from her face, silky strands gliding between his fingers, catching on calluses. “You have my complete and undivided attention.”

“Whoa, hold on there a minute, Prince Charming.” She eased away. “That’s quite an ego you’re sporting there.”

“You wanted to know if I had a relationship with Alys. And you weren’t asking for some article. Am I wrong?”

“I’m the one who’s wrong. I should have stopped that kiss sooner. I’m not even sure why…” She pulled her coat back over her shoulders. “Last night was a different matter. That display was for the public.”

“I had no idea you were into voyeurism.”

“Don’t be dense.”

“I’m complimenting you. I enjoyed that kiss so much I want a repeat.”

“To what end?”

He simply smiled.

Her pupils widened in unmistakable arousal even as she scooted away, crossing her arms firmly and defensively across her chest. “We made a month-long business deal, and then we walk away. You said sleeping together wasn’t a part of the plan unless I asked. And I do not intend to ask. I don’t do casual sex.”

He eased her tight arms from her chest and looped the trench tie closed again. “Then we’ll have to make sure there’s nothing casual about it.”

The black-tie dinner packed with politicians and embassy officials had been a journalistic dream come true. The five-course meal now over, she one-two-threed past a senator partnered with an undersecretary in the State department. Her fingers had been itching all night long to snap pictures, but Duarte had been generous with allowing other photographs while they were in D.C. She had to play by his rules and be patient.

And he’d been open to her sharing tips with her boss at the
Global Intruder.
Duarte had spent the past two days meeting with embassy officials from San Rinaldo and neighboring countries. He’d delivered a press conference on behalf of his family. She’d racked up plenty of tips and images to send on the laptop.

Although, sticky politics had quickly taken a backseat to questions about the fiancée at his side. Kate had to applaud his savvy. He’d been right in deciding an engagement could prove useful as he steered the media dialogue.

The press as a whole was having a field day with the notion of a Medina prince engaged to the woman who’d first broken his cover. Their concocted courtship story packed the blogosphere.

Undoubtedly images of them waltzing together would continue the Cinderella theme in the society pages. Her off-the-shoulder designer dress tonight was a world away from the ill-fitting gown she’d worn when breaking into Duarte’s Martha’s Vineyard resort. The shimmer of champagne-colored satin slithered over her with each sweeping step, giving her skin a warm glow. Duarte’s hand on her back, his even breaths brushing her brow, took that warm glow to a whole new and deeper level.

She glanced up into his dark eyes and saw past the somber air to the thoughtfulness he tried so hard to hide. “Thank you for the clothes and the dinner. You really have come through on what you promised.”

“Of course.” He swept her toward the outer edges of the dance floor, around a marble pillar, farther from the swell of music. “I gave you my word.”

“People lie to the press all the time.” People lied period. “I accept it.”

“I never expected to meet a woman as jaded as myself.” His hand on her back splayed wider, firmer. “Who broke your heart?”

She angled closer, resting her head against his jaw so she wouldn’t have to look in his too-perceptive eyes. “Let’s not wreck this perfect evening with talk about my past.” With talk about her father. “Just because you’ve got a packed romantic history doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Wait! Where had that come from? It seemed they bumped into his old girlfriends around every corner. Not that she cared other than making sure they kept their stories straight about the engagement.

Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she might start believing it. Somewhere over the past few days, she’d started enjoying his presence. She really didn’t want him to be a jerk.

“Hmm…” He nuzzled her upswept hair, a loose bundle of fat curls dotted with tiny yellow diamonds, courtesy of a personal stylist brought in for her for the afternoon. “What do you know about my dating history?”

“You’re like a royal George Clooney. Except younger.” And hotter. And somehow here, with her.

“Did you expect me to be a monk just because I had to live under the radar?” His hand on her back pressed slightly, urging her closer as the music slowed.

“Best as I can tell from the women I’ve met during our time in D.C.—” she paused, her brain scrambling with each teasing brush of his body against hers, nothing overt, but just enough to make her ache for a firmer pressure “—you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than three months.”

His ex-girlfriends had wished her luck,
lots
of luck. Their skepticism was obvious. Women he hadn’t dated were equally restrained in their good wishes.

“Would you prefer I led someone on by continuing a relationship beyond the obvious end?”

“Don’t you care that you broke hearts?” Money and good looks, too, not fair. And then she realized… “Those women didn’t even know you’re a prince. You’re positively a dangerous weapon now.”

Why was she pushing this? Old news wouldn’t make for much of a media tip. It shouldn’t matter that this man who collected luxury hotels around the country had never committed to a single house, much less a particular woman.

He exhaled dismissively. “Anyone who’s interested in me because of my bank balance or defunct title isn’t worth your concern. Now can we discuss something else? There’s the U.S. ambassador to Spain.”

“I’ve already met him. Thank you.” She had nabbed award-winning photos by never backing down. She wouldn’t change now. “Didn’t it bother you, lying to women about your past?”

“Perhaps that’s why I never stayed in a relationship.” He tucked their clasped hands closer and flicked her dangling earring. Yellow diamonds in a filigree gold setting tickled her shoulder. “Now there are no more constraints.”

Her heart hitched in her chest at his outlandish implication. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly be serious, she couldn’t resist asking, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Absolutely. And I intend to make sure you enjoy every minute of it.”

With a quick squeeze of their linked hands, he stepped back. The song faded to an end. He applauded along with the rest of the guests while she stood stunned and tingling.

Only seventy-two hours since she’d climbed onto his balcony and already she was wondering just how much longer she could hold out against Duarte Medina.

Abruptly, Duarte frowned and reached into his tuxedo coat. His hand came back out with his iPhone.

“Excuse me a second.” The phone buzzed in his hand again. “Javier? Speak.”

As he listened, his frown shifted to an outright scowl. His body tensed and his eyes scanned the room. Kate went on alert. Something was wrong. She looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He disconnected with a low curse and slid an arm around her waist. His touch was different this time, not at all seductive, but rather proprietary.

Protective.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“We need to duck out. Now.” He hauled her toward a side exit. “Security alert. We have party crashers.”