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Pregnant With A Royal Baby!
SUSAN MEIER


Marrying for the baby’s sakePrince Dominic Sancho has always lived up to his family’s royal expectations. Until one irresistibly spontaneous night with teacher Ginny Jones has dramatic repercussions – she’s now carrying the next heir to Xaviera’s throne! There’s only one solution – a royal wedding…A marriage of convenience is Ginny’s worst nightmare, but for their baby’s sake, she says 'I do'. And as the royal couple jet off on their honeymoon, she begins to realise that beneath the royal etiquette, Dominic is a daddy – and loving husband – in the making!









The Princes of Xaviera


Two princes, conveniently wed!

You are cordially invited to celebrate the weddings of Xaviera’s most eligible princes …

When Prince Dominic spends one night with Ginny Jones it comes at a price … a marriage of convenience in order to claim his heir!

Pregnant with a Royal Baby!

Available February 2016

Prince Alex has always believed royal rules were made to be broken, but when his royal duty comes calling it’s time for Alex to meet his Princess—and wife-to-be!

Coming Soon!

For better or for worse, these gorgeous princes are about to claim their brides!




Pregnant with a Royal Baby!

Susan Meier





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SUSAN MEIER is the author of over fifty books for Mills & Boon. The Tycoon’s Secret Daughter was a RITA® Award finalist, and Nanny for the Millionaire’s Twins won the Book Buyer’s Best award and was a finalist in the National Reader’s Choice awards. She is married and has three children. One of eleven children, she loves to write about the complexity of families and totally believes in the power of love.


To my own Prince Charming, and our marriage—a journey of ups and downs that surprises me every day. Usually in a good way. :)


Contents

Cover (#u3ad95aa1-81bc-5a11-94c6-a8f8a785d3dc)

Introduction (#u9a333322-7a52-5e0e-9fe4-bc44145d2d11)

Title Page (#u7b36a5a7-9a17-5ffc-a3b5-67bb225b9013)

About the Author (#u3e213ae4-8d8b-5997-a670-391f1d5b7bee)

Dedication (#udd2c2392-5415-5c81-a2a0-0ef82867096f)

CHAPTER ONE (#ubed7bdc5-3567-5975-b5b1-494d3eb26a3d)

CHAPTER TWO (#u84097614-c040-5ca9-836c-1993290c9150)

CHAPTER THREE (#ub1a8ad30-05b4-574a-b57b-7dbe63f669f0)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u46d2f6ac-cd72-50fa-b907-185a1540c335)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_40b39fe7-00b5-5953-86a1-7c5d4a99836e)

WHEN THE DOORBELL to her condo rang, Virginia Jones, Ginny for short, had just gotten out of the shower after a long, long day at Jefferson High School in Terra Mas, Texas. Her school was the last on a list of places Prince Dominic Sancho of Xaviera, a small island country between Spain and Algeria, was visiting on a goodwill tour. As guidance counselor, she’d shown him the school and introduced him to staff, then herded the kids into the gymnasium, where he’d given an hour-long talk on global economics: how the world was a much smaller place than it had been before the internet.

She’d loved the talk, but she’d liked looking at Prince Dominic even more. Tall and broad shouldered, he filled out the formal uniform of his royalty like a man meant to be a king. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement at the antics of “her” kids. His full lips had never stopped smiling.

If it were permitted for grown women to swoon, she would have made a fool of herself with him that afternoon. As it was, common sense had kept her professional. And now she was tired. Not up for a visitor.

Her doorbell rang again.

She gave her glass of wine a longing look before she rose from her sofa.

“I’m coming.” She said it just as she reached the door. Going up on tiptoes, she peeked through the peephole. When she saw Prince Dominic, she gasped and jumped back.

Her doorbell rang again.

She peered down at her sweatpants and tank top, ran a hand along her still-wet long blond hair and knew this would go down in the annals of her life as one of her most embarrassing moments.

With no choice, she pasted a smile on her face and opened the door.

He laughed. “I caught you at a bad time.”

“Unfortunately.” Just looking at him made her heart speed up. He’d removed the royal uniform and replaced it with a lightweight white V-neck sweater and jeans. Not a hair of his shiny black curls was out of place. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

“You probably think all Americans are idiots.”

“No, I think the United States is a very comfortable country.” He paused long enough to lift his perfect lips into a warm smile. “Are you going to invite me in?”

She motioned for him to come in with a wave of her hand and kept hyperventilation at bay only by a miracle of self-discipline. She had a prince entering her house. A good-looking, good-natured, good everything prince.

As she closed the door, he said, “I’d actually come here tonight to see if you’d like to have dinner with me.” He shrugged. “And show me your town.”

She had to work to keep her eyes from bugging. He wanted to take her out? Then she realized his request made sense. She’d shown him the school. Of course, she was the prime candidate to show him the town. He was not asking her out.

“Then I thought maybe we’d fly to Los Angeles and go to a club.”

She let her eyes bulge. Okay. He was asking her out. “You want to go clubbing?”

“Don’t you like to dance?”

Her heart tripped over itself in her chest. “I love to dance.”

He smiled. “Me, too. I’m afraid I don’t get to dance often, though. Duty supersedes fun. Please say you’ll come with me.”

“I’d love to.”

Though he was in jeans, he looked good enough to eat, so she slithered into her prettiest red party dress, put on her best makeup and slid into tall black sandals.

They had dinner at the local Italian restaurant, with his bodyguards unobtrusively eating at the tables beside theirs, then they actually got on his royal jet and flew to LA, where they’d danced until three. He should have dropped her off at her building lobby. Instead, he came up to her condo, and the few kisses they’d shared in his limo turned into passionate lovemaking. The best sex of her life. She’d kissed him goodbye at the door in her one and only fancy robe—which she’d retrieved from her closet when he made the call to his driver that he was ready. Then just when she was about to shower for school again, he called her.

“Thank you.”

The sweetness of his words caused her throat to tighten. Her voice was soft and breathless when she said, “You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry we’ll never meet again.”

“Me, too.”

But in a way she wasn’t. She’d had a wonderful fairy-tale night with a prince, something she could hold in her heart forever. There would be no need to worry if he would be a good king or a bad king; no need to know if he did stupid things like hog the bathroom; no need to worry if the stress of his job would make him an alcoholic, as her dad had been. No need to know the real Prince Dominic Sancho.

There had been one glorious, wonderful night. No regrets and no worries about the future. The way she liked all her relationships.

They hung up on mutual sighs. In the process of setting her phone on her bedside table, she realized that because he’d called her, she had his number. She clicked a few buttons and when the digits came up caller ID said private line. She smiled. She didn’t just have his number she had his private number.

That pleased her enormously. If she ever got curious or lonely, she could call him...

Or not. Best to sit and stare at his number and imagine good things. Not bad. Never bad. She’d had enough bad in her life.

Knowing there was no time to sleep, she dressed for school, hugging her secret to herself. For two weeks she walked on a cloud of happiness, then one morning she woke and realized she hadn’t gotten her period, and she knew there really was a good reason to have his private number.

* * *

“Thank God our country isn’t like Britain used to be where the future king had to marry a virgin.”

Prince Dominic Sancho held back the anger that threatened to rise up in him. He’d been the perfect royal for nearly thirty years and one slip, one reckless night in America, had wiped all that away. His father might be angry, but it was his life plan that had been changed. In order to ensure the integrity of the line and the safety of his child, he had no choice but to marry Ginny Jones, a woman he didn’t know.

“Yes. Thank God I’m permitted to marry the mother of my child.”

“I was being facetious.” Short and bald, with a round belly, his father, the king of Xaviera, was an imposing, strict man. He hated mistakes. Couldn’t even tolerate slipups. Especially not from the son who was his successor.

“And I was being sarcastic.” It wasn’t often that he got smart with his father. In fact, he probably hadn’t done it more than five times in his entire life, including his teen years. But discovering a simple one-night stand had resulted in a pregnancy had pushed him over the edge. His brother was the king of playboys but did he ever suffer a consequence for his actions? No. Yet the first time Dom stepped out of line, he was punished.

“I’ve arranged for you and Ms. Jones to meet with the protocol officials whenever you’re ready. But no later than tomorrow morning.” King Ronaldo caught his gaze. “Prepare your bride.”

The insult in his father’s voice cut through Dom like a knife. He just barely succeeded in not sniping back.

He rose from his seat across from the ornate desk that was the seat of power for the king. He should have said, “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” A good prince would have done that. Instead he said, “I’ll get back to you.”

“See to it that this wedding is done right. I will not be so easy on you if you screw up again.”

He bowed and headed out of the room. I will not be so easy on you if you screw up again?

Anger coursed through him. He stifled it. His father was the king. Dominic was heir to the throne. He knew there were protocols and rules. He’d broken them. He deserved this.

Still...the penalty for one misstep was marriage?

Marriage.

After the way his father had fallen apart when his mother died, Dominic understood why his dad was careful, rigid now. His grief had been so intense that he hadn’t come out of his quarters for six weeks and in that time the country had begun to crumble. Parliament nearly took his crown, and, watching it all unfold, Dominic had promised himself he would never marry, never soften so much that a loss nearly destroyed him.

When an opportunity for a treaty had arisen, the price being his marriage to a princess of a country that had been an enemy for centuries, he’d thought why not? Not only was the feud between their kingdoms old enough that it was time to retire it, but also there’d be no real emotional ties in a marriage that was part of a treaty, and he’d get an heir who would be a prince in two countries. But now here he was. Forced to marry a woman he didn’t know, ruining his design for a double royal heir, because of his own carelessness.

His life plan really had gone to hell.

He sucked in a breath and walked to the back stairway that led to his private quarters, buying time before he had to talk to Ginny. If he was angry, he couldn’t imagine how she felt—

Unless she’d gotten pregnant deliberately?

The horribleness of the thought froze his blood, stopped his breathing, and he told himself to calm down. Too many things had to align for her to have orchestrated the pregnancy, including the fact that he was the one who had gone to her condo that night. And she’d been a cute mess. Wet hair. Sweatpants. She obviously hadn’t been planning on seeing him that night.

Reaching the top floor of the east wing of Xaviera’s palace, he strode in the direction of the white double doors with intricate scroll designs carved down the sides. The huge square “waiting” area between the top of the stairs and his apartment had scant furnishings, though the walls were adorned with art. Picasso. Rembrandt. Monet. Hidden treasures. Mostly for his viewing. Because that’s what his life was. Special. Honored. In spite of the awkward meeting with his father, he knew that he was different. Some day he would be a king.

The click of his heels echoed as he walked along the marble floor. When he reached the doors, he took both handles and opened them onto his home, his haven.

Virginia Jones rose from the tufted bench seat in what served as a foyer for his apartment. Medium height, with long yellow hair and the kind of body that tempts a man to do exactly what he had done the night he met her, Ginny was every man’s fantasy. When her striking blue eyes met his, he remembered how adorable she was at the Texas high school, a guidance counselor beloved by her students. He also remembered the hot little red dress she’d slipped into when he’d persuaded her to go clubbing with him. The dress had brought out the best of her figure, almost made him drool and turned him into a real live Prince Charming. Seducing her had been second nature. The sex had been amazing.

It seemed that was all he could think about when he looked at her. And now he was about to make her a princess.

“So?”

“So, my father and my kingdom wish for us to marry.”

Those bright blue eyes met his. “Wish?”

He motioned for her to follow him into his formal living room. More marble floors greeted them, except these were covered by rich red Oriental rugs. White sofas flanked a white marble fireplace. Red pillows gave the room some color. He gestured for Virginia to take a seat while he strode to the bar and grabbed the decanter of Scotch.

“Can I get you a drink?”

She gaped at him. “I’m pregnant.”

He winced. “Right.” He took a breath. “How about some orange juice?”

“I’m fine.” She held his gaze. “I’m more anxious to learn my fate than to pretend we’re having a tea party.”

He had no idea where the attitude had come from, but that was the truth of getting intimate with someone you didn’t know. She could be the Wicked Witch of the West, or a woman who wanted to save the whales, or a woman who had no loyalties at all, a woman who was lazy, crass or stupid, and he was stuck with her.

“All right.” He walked to the sofa across from the one on which she sat and set his Scotch on the glass table between them. “Maybe the better way to put it is that they are requesting that we marry.”

“So I have a choice?”

“Not really. You are pregnant with the heir to Xaviera’s throne. If you decide not to marry me, your child will be taken from you.”

She gasped. “What?”

“He or she is the heir to our throne. There isn’t a country in the world who’d dare supersede our laws with their own when it comes to royalty, especially royalty in line to rule the country.”

She bounced from her seat. “That’s not fair!”

He sat back, watching her long legs as she paced. Though she wore jeans and a snug sweater, he pictured those legs beneath the shiny red dress. “Try suing. Waste time. Ruin the chance for us to have a royal wedding. Ruin the chance for the gossip to die down and our child to be brought into the world with a celebration instead of whispers.”

She stopped pacing and caught his gaze, obviously thinking through what he’d said.

He took advantage of her weak moment. “You won’t win and you’ll bring our child into a world of chaos for nothing because I have a plan.”

* * *

“A plan?”

Ginny stared at the gorgeous man on the sofa. With eyes so dark they almost looked black and onyx hair, he was every inch a prince. A royal. A future ruler who lived a life of privilege. A man just a little bit above everybody else.

As they talked about a situation that would totally change her life, he very calmly sipped Scotch.

“My father wants the next king to be born in wedlock.” He held her gaze. “Our subjects will, too. But that doesn’t mean we have to stay married.”

Relieved, she sat on the sofa across from him again. “It doesn’t?”

“No. But it does mean we have to play a part for a while.” He glanced at his Scotch then back up at her. “Over the next couple of days, as the protocol office begins planning our wedding, we’ll be seen together in public.”

Her heart thumped when he said wedding. She would be married to a guy who would someday be a king. Did that mean sleeping with him? They might be at odds now, but the night they’d gone out, they’d had a really good time. She had no idea how that factored into his plan, so she kept her face calm, simply kept her gaze locked with his, hoping to appear cooler than she was.

“Next week we’ll announce our engagement, quick wedding and pregnancy all at once.”

That didn’t sound fun. “Oh, boy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve thought this through. The people of Xaviera will be thrilled to see me getting married. But the only thing they love better than a royal wedding is a royal pregnancy. If we play this right, the next few months could be a wonderful time for the people of my kingdom.”

“Okay.” Her nerves popped and jumped, but she resisted the urge to bounce off the sofa and pace again. If he could be calm, she could be calm. And really what he said made sense. They were doing this for his people and their child, a future king, who deserved to be born amid celebration.

“So we’d get married next month and after that we’d spend the rest of your pregnancy making appearances as the happy couple expecting the next heir to the throne, then the baby will be born to a country excited and happy about his birth.”

She could picture it. She’d seen enough of Britain’s royal family’s weddings, as well as their pregnancies, to have a pretty good idea of what she was in for. Except Xaviera was a small country, much smaller than Britain, so she could probably cut the exposure in the press and even in Xaviera itself in about half. Which wouldn’t be too bad.

“After that we should stay married until the baby’s about two. At age two, there’s a ceremony that would induct him or her into the line of reigning Sanchos. We can be cool to each other at that ceremony, and then we can divorce without causing too much of a stir because after that nothing press worthy happens in his life until he turns twelve.” He sat back. “If people want to say we married hastily, or even if they say we only married for the baby, we agree. But waiting until he or she is two shows we gave the marriage a good shot. Because we’ll be fair and calm about it, everyone will support us.”

“And what about the baby?”

“What about the baby?”

“Who keeps him? What kind of custody arrangements are we talking about here?”

“There are a few scenarios. I was hoping you’d let the years we’re married go by without making any final decisions, but if you choose to take our child back to America, a contingent of bodyguards will be sent with you. Xaviera will purchase a home with suitable security.”

“What about my job?”

“Your job will be mother to Xaviera’s heir. At least until he or she is twelve.”

“Twelve?”

“Up until twelve he can be homeschooled. After that there are mandatory boarding schools. He or she has to have a certain kind of education.”

“No public school, huh?”

“Mock if you want, but that is the situation.” He rose from the sofa. “Once he goes to boarding school, your life is your own again. Except you will be expected to attend all of his public functions.”

She could see it. She could picture herself as the future king’s mom, wiping grape jelly from her little boy’s chin in private, and way, way out of the view of cameras when he was in public. Knowing that she’d easily slip out of the limelight settled some of her nerves. Still, there was more to it than grape jelly and hiding from cameras.

“I’ll give you a week to think about it.”

“A week?”

“The week you’re at the palace. The time we’re getting out. Being seen in public. Having a date or two.”

Their eyes met. Their last date had been fantastic. But it was also what had gotten them into this mess.

“I think I still have some more questions.”

“About the dates?”

She nodded.

“Like, will we kiss?”

A starburst of tingles exploded in her stomach. She nodded again.

“Yes. We have to pretend we adore each other. That we met and swept each other off our respective feet.” He held her gaze. “Which we sort of did.”

Memories of holding hands, intimate touches and those unbelievable kisses rippled through her, tightening her chest, sending her pulse into overdrive.

“But sex is off the table.” He smiled. “Unless you’re interested.”

Her heart thumped. She tried to imagine herself resisting that smile, that charm—

Actually, he hadn’t been all that charming in this chat, except when it suited him. That was the curse of getting involved with someone she didn’t know. She’d met and made love with Prince Charming. She had no idea who the real Prince Dominic was. What if he was like her dad? Only pulling out the charm to get what he wanted?

Oh. No brainer. She could resist that like sour wine at a bad dance club.

“Ginny, this relationship can go any way you want.” And the stoic, respectable prince was back. “Behind the walls of this palace we can be as distant or as intimate as you wish. But make no mistake. If you marry me, it’s temporary. Don’t get stars in your eyes. Don’t get any big ideas. This marriage will not become permanent. I had been promised to a princess as part of a treaty and that was what I wanted. A marriage that meant something, accomplished something. A real marriage doesn’t work in my world. So this little arrangement will not turn permanent. You need to know that, too, before you decide.”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_44449549-6cec-53c7-9ab9-9a4d3840e8c2)

“SO IT WILL be totally a marriage of convenience?”

Ginny lay on the bed in the suite across the great room in Dominic’s palace apartment. Cool silk caressed her back. Fluffy pillows supported her. Rich aqua walls brought color and life to the cavernous space.

“That’s it. Nothing but a marriage of convenience to bring the heir to Xaviera’s throne into the world legitimately.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s weird.”

“I know, Mom. But you have to remember the child we created will be in the public eye his entire life. How selfish would it be for me to refuse to marry Dominic, and have the heir to Xavier’s throne born in a way that causes whispers and gossip that follow him forever?”

“True.”

“Besides, this might just be the best thing for me, too. I mean, seriously, I don’t know Dominic. What he said today about not wanting to be married proves it. He was such a sweetheart when he came to the school that day that I thought he really was a Prince Charming.”

“They’re all Prince Charming on dates, Ginny. It’s real life that brings out their bad side.”

Ginny winced. Though Dominic and her alcoholic dad seemed to share the charm gene, her dad had been mean and emotionally abusive. Dominic just seemed formal. It wasn’t fair to compare the two—even if she would be wise about the charm part.

“He’s not a bad guy, Mom. He’s just not the happy-go-lucky guy he was on our date. And, you know what? I’m probably not the starry-eyed, flirty girl I was that night, either. We were both just having fun. But this pregnancy is real. And that’s why he’s serious.”

“Okay. You’re right.”

“I know I’m right, but I still don’t know what to do.”

“It sounds like you think you should marry him. What are you giving up? A year, a year and a half of your life?”

“About two and a half years, and my career. Apparently, my job for the next twelve years is to be the heir’s mom.”

Ginny’s mom laughed. “Even if your child wasn’t a prince or princess, your priorities would switch from your job to this baby.” She sucked in a breath. “You know what? This isn’t all that much different from having the baby of a commoner.”

“Except for dealing with the press.”

“Yeah, well, the press is different.”

“And boarding school.”

“There is that.”

“And living in a palace.”

“Right, palace.” Her mother sighed. “But the situation is done, Ginny.”

“I suppose.”

“So what concerns you?”

“Well, I have to see if I can handle it. Dominic’s given me a week to make up my mind. He said we’d go out in public a few times.” She groaned. “Oh, damn.”

“What?”

“I brought jeans and T-shirts. One sundress.” She dropped her head to her hands. “I’m going to go out with a prince, in public, in my junky clothes?”

“Your wardrobe is fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Right.” She hadn’t even told her mom about kissing Dom, possibly sleeping with Dom. All she’d mentioned was not knowing Dominic and changing her life to suit a baby, and just that had scared her silly.

This was a mess.

Two quick knocks at her door brought her head off the pillow. “Yes?”

“It’s me. Dominic. My father requests our presence at dinner tonight.”

Ginny turned toward the wall and whispered, “Gotta go, Mom,” into the phone before she rolled off the bed and said, “Sure. That’s fine. What time?”

“Seven.” He cleared his throat. “It’s semiformal.”

She gaped at the door, as discomfort swamped her. Not only did she not have a semiformal dress for dinner, but her suite had a private sitting room outside her bedroom. He had to be in that room to be knocking on her bedroom door. He might have knocked on the door to her suite before inviting himself in, but she wouldn’t have heard him. The darned place was so big and had such high ceilings that sound either echoed or disappeared. He wasn’t infringing on her privacy. She hoped.

“Semiformal?”

“I took the liberty of having the staff get some suitable clothes for you.”

Pride almost caused her to say, “I’m fine.” But when she looked down at her jeans and considered the contents of her suitcase, she knew this was the first step in many toward giving up her real life.

“You’re right. I have nothing acceptable to meet a king.” She walked to the door, opened it and watched as four men brought in bags and boxes and armloads of dresses, including gowns.

“Oh, my God.”

Dominic walked in behind the parade of men. “Even if you decide not to marry me, you’re here for a week.”

Her mouth fell open at the ease with which he spoke in front of staff, but the expression of not a single man even twitched. This was one well-trained staff.

She took a quick breath. “So I need to be semiformal.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Scram. I have some work to do to be presentable.”

“I can have a hairdresser sent up. Manicurist. Masseuse.”

“Why would I need a massage?”

“Maybe what I should get you is a rundown on my dad. Then you’d very clearly understand why you want to be Zen and you’d get the massage.”

“Great.”

She took advantage of the hairdresser and manicurist, and ten minutes before it was time to leave for dinner she wished she’d agreed to the masseuse.

Dressed in a lightweight blue dress that stopped midcalf, with her hair in an updo suitable for a woman of seventy and old-fashioned pumps dyed to match the dress, she stepped out of her bedroom.

Standing in the great room, Dominic smiled. Unlike her ugly blue dress, his tux appeared to have been made for him. Again he was every inch a prince. Handsome. Debonair. Regal.

While she looked like a frumpy old bat.

“You look lovely.”

“I look like the Queen of England. Get me a hat and one of those sedate purses she carries all the time and people would probably get us confused.”

He laughed. “You are meeting a king.”

“Who wants to be reminded of his grandmother?”

“You do not look like a grandmother.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t look like a twenty-five-year-old guidance counselor in the coolest school in Texas.”

“Trust me. You will want the armor of a grandma dress when you meet my dad.” He took her elbow and led her to the door, out of the apartment and through the echoing lobby to the waiting elevator.

As they stepped inside and the door closed behind them, she said, “You have some impressive art.”

“We are royalty.”

“I guess I’d better get used to that.” That and ugly clothes.

“That’s why we’re giving you the week. To get accustomed to us.”

She released her breath in a slow sigh. She knew that, of course. She also suspected the clothes weren’t ugly as much as they were dignified.

“Who picked out these clothes anyway?”

He stared straight ahead at the closed elevator door. “I did.”

She pulled the skirt of the too-big dress away from her hips. “Because you think your dad will like me better in baggy clothes?”

“I was a bit off on your size. But it’s better to be too big than too small.”

“Couldn’t you at least have gotten something red?”

“Blue matches your eyes.”

The sweetness of that caught her off guard. For a second she’d forgotten he knew the color of her eyes. But thinking about it, she remembered that gazing into her eyes, making her feel special, had been his seduction superpower.

“Besides, red would have reminded me of that night.”

Her lips lifted into a smile. “Oh?”

“You were devastatingly beautiful.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He’d made her feel beautiful. “If you hadn’t been staring straight ahead when you said that, it would have been romantic.”

“We don’t want to be romantic, remember?”

“So that means you’re not going to look at me?”

“I’m not going to make eye contact. I’m pretty sure that’s what got us into trouble on our date.”

She laughed, but happiness bubbled inside her. He liked her. A prince liked her. At the very least, he liked her looks.

It was heady stuff.

The elevator bell rang. The doors opened. Dominic led her out. “The family dining room is this way.”

They walked across a short hall to open doors that ushered them into a formal dining room. A table that could have seated forty dominated the space. Four places were set near the head. An older man dressed in a royal uniform and a younger man in a tux like Dominic’s rose as they entered.

“Virginia Jones, this is King Ronaldo Sancho and my brother, Prince Alexandros. We call him Alex.”

Ginny froze. What was she supposed to do? Curtsy? Bow? Damn it. Why hadn’t she paid attention to etiquette—

What etiquette? Guidance counselors knew the basics but nothing else. And she certainly hadn’t expected to someday meet a prince, let alone a king. She hadn’t attended etiquette classes. Was there even such a thing anymore? She couldn’t be mad at herself for not knowing something she’d never been exposed to.

“You hold out your hand,” King Ronaldo said irritably. “And it’s my choice to kiss it or shake it.”

“Oh.” She held out her hand. The king shook it.

Great. She’d already blown her first introduction.

Dom turned her in the direction of his brother. As tall as Dominic and every bit as good-looking—though his face had a roundness to it that made him appear kinder, with eyes that sparkled—Alex smiled warmly at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who snagged my brother.”

King Ronaldo growled. “We do not speak that way in this house.”

“Really, Father,” Alex said, as he took his seat and opened his napkin. “This house is the only place we can speak like that.” He smiled at Ginny as Dominic seated her. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the family, Ginny, even if my brother does intend to dress you like a grandmother.”

With a gasp, she faced Dom. “I told you!”

He almost smiled, but his father let out one of those low growls of disapproval again, and Dominic’s face shifted, returning to his formal expression.

As a servant brought in salads, King Ronaldo said, “So, Miss Jones, tell us about yourself.”

She swallowed. “Well, you know I’m a guidance counselor at a high school.”

“Which is where you met Dominic.”

She nodded. “My mother was a teacher. I loved the relationships she had with her students.”

Alex said, “So why not teach?”

“I wanted a chance to meet all the kids, know all the kids, not just the ones I was teaching.”

The king said, “Ump,” but his tone of voice was positive.

She relaxed a bit. But when she glanced at the row of silverware, sweat beaded on her forehead. Seven forks. Just what in the name of all that was holy were they about to eat?

Remembering the rhyme she’d been taught in grade school, she started with the outside fork.

“What else should we know?”

“Actually, Your Majesty, since you’ve already decided the answer to our problem is to marry, and I’m the one who hasn’t made up her mind, I think I should be the one asking questions.”

Alex burst out laughing. “I like her.”

The king growled again.

Dominic shot her a look of reprimand.

So she smiled and rephrased the question. “It’s an honor to have been asked to join your family. But in America we have a saying about not buying a car unless you kick the tires.”

Alex laughed again. “Now we’re tires.”

Not sure if she liked Dominic’s brother or not, Ginny shrugged and said, “Or you’re the used car. Be glad I didn’t use the don’t-buy-a-horse-without-checking-its-teeth analogy.”

Alex laughed. Dominic groaned. But the king quietly said, “Fair enough. What would you like to know?”

“I don’t really have to dress like this for the entire time Dominic and I stay married, do I?”

“You need to look respectable.” King Ronaldo inspected her blue dress and grimaced. Even he thought it was ugly. “If we let you choose your own wardrobe, can you do that?”

“Of course, I can do that!”

“You also need to behave with the utmost of decorum in public.”

“I can do that, too. Though I might need some help with protocols.” She answered honestly, but she hadn’t missed the way the king had turned the tables on her again, and she retook control of the conversation. “So what was Dominic like as a child?”

The king said, “Headstrong.”

Alex said, “A bully.”

Dominic said, “All older brothers bully their baby brothers. It’s like a rule.”

And for the first time, Ginny felt as if she was actually talking to people. A family.

Alex shook his head. “Do you know he agreed to marry the princess of Grennady when he was only twelve?”

She faced Dom. “Really?”

Their eyes met and memories of holding him close, whispering in his ear, being held and touched and loved by him rolled through her, and she understood why Dominic had been avoiding eye contact in the elevator. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate. In those few seconds, he wasn’t just a name or a problem or a memory, he was a real person. The guy she’d made love with. Father of her child.

“My mother had just died. Our kingdom was in a state of mourning from which we couldn’t seem to emerge. It was appropriate to do something that didn’t just ensure peace—it also brought up morale.”

She continued to hold his gaze as he spoke, and something warm and soft floated through her. At twelve, he had been mature enough to do his duty. Hell, he was mature enough to know his duty. It was remarkable, amazing.

Alex sighed. “Now I’m stuck marrying her.”

She faced Dom’s younger brother with a wince. “Really? You have to marry the princess Dom was supposed to marry?”

The king said, “You can’t just back out of a twenty-year-old treaty. We promised a marriage. We will deliver a marriage.”

Alex batted a hand. “Doesn’t matter. The princess and I will have a marriage of convenience.” He shrugged. “I’ll run around on her. She’ll run around on me. Nobody will really know who our babies belong to and we won’t allow blood tests. It’ll be fine.”

The king scowled. “Once again, Alex, I won’t have you talk like that at the table.”

Silence fell over the foursome. Dominic didn’t defend his younger brother, who seemed oddly cowed by the reprimand. Hoping to restart the conversation and shift everybody’s attention, Ginny tried to think of a question to ask, but couldn’t come up with one to save her soul. She wanted to. She wanted to lift the gloom of talking about a dead queen, mourning subjects and a younger brother resigned to a loveless marriage—his life made tolerable by affairs. But nothing came to mind, except an empty, hollow feeling that this was the family she was marrying into.

But even as she thought that, she realized there was a human side to this story. A man had lost his wife and raised two boys alone. One son had become a slave to duty. The other rebellious.

Was the pain of losing a wife and mom any less because they were royal?

In some ways she thought it might have been worse.

Dominic started a conversation about the country’s budget and a quiet discussion ensued. When the dinner was over, the king took her hand, bent and kissed it. An apology, she supposed, for the long, difficult dinner. Or maybe an acknowledgment that the next few years of her life would be like this, if she chose to marry Dominic.

They walked back to Dominic’s apartment in silence, her blue dress swishing against her calves, mocking her, reminding her just how out of her element she was and just how much she wished she were back at her condo, sitting by the pool, sipping something fruity.

When they entered Dom’s apartment, he said, “We’ll meet the minister of protocol tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” She headed for the double doors of her bedroom suite. “Great.”

“Don’t let my family scare you.”

She stopped, turned to face him. “I’m not afraid of you.” She almost said, “I feel sorry for you.” For as difficult as the beginning of her life had been, she’d redeemed it. She’d built a world of friends and meaning. Dominic, his brother and the grouchy king were stuck.

But the strange look in his eyes kept her from saying that. He didn’t seem embarrassed by his family as much as he appeared interested in what she thought of them. He wanted her to like them. Or approve of them. Or maybe just accept them.

She walked over to him, her ugly dyed blue pumps clicking on the marble floor, echoing in the silence. “I’m very accustomed to dealing with ornery dads. I was fine. Your father and brother might be a little grouchy or stern or even too flip, but I’d have paid to have family like them.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Right.”

“I’m serious.” She smiled slightly. “Your brother needs a week of time-out in his room to get his act together, or maybe a good friend to talk through his life. Your dad lost his wife and lived his grief in the public eye. And you just want to live up to what your dad wants. You’re actually a very normal family.” Something she’d longed for her entire life. Something that could suck her in if she wasn’t careful. “Good night.”

* * *

As she turned to walk back to her bedroom suite, Dominic whispered, “Good night,” confused by what she’d said. From what his investigators had dug up, her father was dead. Her mother adored her and she had a billion friends.

So what was that sad note he heard in her voice?

And why the hell would she have wanted his family?

He told himself it couldn’t matter and walked to his suite, removing his tie. But the next day when she arrived at the table for breakfast, he jumped to his feet, feeling something he couldn’t quite identify. He didn’t see her in the red dress, dancing provocatively, happily seducing him. He saw a fresh-faced American girl who had something in her past. Something his private investigator hadn’t dug up, but something that made her more than accepting of his stiff and formal father, and sometimes-obnoxious playboy brother.

He pulled out the chair beside his. “What would you like to eat?”

“I’d like one of those oranges,” she said, pointing at the fruit in the bowl on the buffet behind the table. “And some toast.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “It’s all I’m hungry for.”

He rang for a serving girl and made her request for toast and a glass of water. She plucked an orange from the bowl and began to peel it.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“You remember we meet with the minister of protocol this morning?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

His nerves jangled and he cursed himself. They were entering into a pretend marriage for the sake of their child. It was her prerogative if she didn’t want to get too chummy with him.

Still, it didn’t seem right not to say anything while they ate breakfast.

“If you decide to stay and marry me, we’ll have your mom flown over, not just for the wedding but for the preparations.”

“My mom still teaches.”

“Oh.”

“I’m twenty-five. She had me when she was twenty-five. That makes her fifty.” She peeked up from her orange and smiled at him. “Too young to retire.”

“You said she likes teaching.”

“She loves teaching.”

And the conversation died. Frustration rolled through him. As her toast arrived, he tried to think of something to say; nothing came to him.

She pulled one of the many newspapers provided for him from the stack on the end of the table and began reading. Even as he was glad she was a smart woman who appeared to be up on current events and most likely wouldn’t embarrass him, he scowled internally, realizing reading the paper was a good way to avoid talking to him.

After breakfast, they walked along tall-ceilinged corridors to the first floor of the palace and the office of the minister of protocol, their footsteps the only sound around them. If a servant caught a peek at Dominic, he or she froze in place and bowed as he passed by. He barely noticed until he caught a sideways glance at Ginny’s face and saw it scrunch in confusion.

“I don’t like the fuss.”

She peeked over. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like the fuss. But respect is part of the deal. To be an effective leader, your subjects must respect you. Trust you to rule well. Bowing is a sign that they trust you.”

“Interesting.”

Annoyance skittered through him. “It’s not ‘interesting.’ It’s true.”

“Okay. Maybe I said that wrong. What I should have said was it’s interesting that it’s true because it gives me a whole different perspective of you as a leader. It helps me to see you as a leader.”

It shouldn’t have relieved him so much that she agreed. But he told himself it only mattered because he needed for her to respect him, too, for the years they’d be married.

Finally at the back of the building, they took an elevator to the first floor to the working space of the palace.

“Holy cow. This is big.”

“It’s huge.” He pointed to the right. “The king’s offices are over there. My offices and my brother’s are near his. To the left,” he said, motioning toward a long hall, “are the general offices. This is where our ministers and staff work.”

* * *

Not able to see the end of the hall, Ginny blinked. It went so far it was almost like looking at an optical illusion.

He smiled. “I know. Impressive.”

She said, “Right.” But when her gaze swung around to his, she was no longer talking about the size of the palace. Everything about being royalty was bigger, better, grander than anything she’d ever seen or experienced. The truth of being a commoner washed through her again. His family might have normal bickering siblings with a traditional disciplinarian dad, but she couldn’t forget they were rulers. Rich, powerful. The kind of family she shouldn’t even cross paths with, let alone marry into.

“This way.”

He took her elbow to guide her and sparkly little pinpricks skittered up her arm. She didn’t know which was worse—being incredibly attracted to him or her good reaction to his brother and dad. Either one of them could get her into trouble. She shouldn’t have admitted the night before that she’d have loved to have had a family like his. She could see it had made him curious. She’d tried to downplay it by being distant that morning, but she knew they were going to talk about this and she knew he had every right to ask. The question was: How did one explain living with a cheating, lying, thieving alcoholic to someone raised with such structure, such finery?

The minister of protocol turned out to be a short older woman whose green eyes lit when Ginny and Dominic entered the room.

She rose from her seat. “Prince Dominic!” She rounded the desk and hugged him. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re about to have a baby!”

It was the first time anybody had actually been happy about her pregnancy or spoken of her baby as a baby, instead of a ruler or a prince or the guy who would be king. Ginny’s heart filled with warmth and she forgot all about her dad, her past, her rubbish upbringing and the fear that someday she’d have to explain it all to Dominic.

The minister turned to Ginny. “And you.” Her smile was warm, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. Welcome to our home.”

Stifling the urge to curtsy and the vague feeling that the minister didn’t quite think her good enough, she said, “Thank you. But I still haven’t made a decision on the marriage.”

Dominic took over the introductions. “Virginia, this is Sally Peterson, our minister of protocol.”

“You may call me Sally.” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

“Because Virginia is on the fence, I thought perhaps you could better explain to her why our getting married is a good idea.”

“Okay.” Sally folded her hands and set them on the desk. “What’s the best way to explain this?” She thought for another second, then said, “Because your child will someday be our ruler, there isn’t a court in the world that would refuse us the opportunity to train him, to bring him up to be our king. Which means you have four choices. First, marry Dom.” She smiled at Dominic. “Second, don’t marry Dom but live in the palace with your child to help raise him or her. Third, don’t marry Dom, move back to the United States with a contingent of bodyguards and household servants until the child is twelve and will attend boarding school, and fourth, give up all rights.”

Her voice softened. “I’m certain you don’t want to give up all rights. Not marrying Dom, but living in the palace and helping raise your child makes sense, but will expose Dom to all kinds of gossip. He could be perceived as being unfit as a ruler if he couldn’t even persuade the woman he’d gotten pregnant to marry him.”

The thought of the ramifications for Dom made her blood run cold. She might not really know him, but she knew him enough that she could not let that happen to him. “What would happen if we got married?”

“You would need to be seen in public together at least twice before you would announce the quick wedding. We will also announce the pregnancy at the same time so that the rumors of a pregnancy don’t take the sheen off your wedding day. The theory is if we get it out immediately it won’t be ‘news’ anymore.”

Exactly what Dom had told her.

He caught her gaze and smiled at her.

Once again she saw a glimpse of the guy who had whisked her away the night of their fateful dalliance. Stiff and formal or not, almost-complete stranger or not, he was the father of her child and his needs had to be considered.

“Plus, if you marry Dom, your position gives you a bit of power so to speak. You can use your celebrity to support causes. As someone who’d worked in education, you may wish to host events to raise awareness or to build schools anywhere in the world.”

“Oh.” That was amazing. Something she hadn’t considered and something that would give her a chance to impact the world. Just the thought of it stole her breath. “That would be great.”

“Plus,” Sally said with a chuckle, “a royal wedding is fantastic. Your gown would be made by the designer of your choice.” She laughed. “And money is no object. The guests will be royalty and dignitaries from every country in the world. You would get to meet your president.”

“The president of the United States would be invited?”

“And he’d attend.” Sally smiled. “Our royal family is influential. We don’t just control waterways. We have oil, which gives us a seat in OPEC.”

It was hard enough to adjust to the knowledge that Dominic was a royal. Now she was being told his small, seemingly insignificant country was powerful?

Oh, boy.

Dominic’s hand stealthily slid from the arm of his chair over to her hand. He caught her pinkie with his, linking them.

She swallowed. He’d done that in the limo on the way to the club in Los Angeles. A small, sweet, simple gesture that made her heart catch and her breathing tremble. He recognized that all this information was becoming overwhelming for her. And the pinkie knot? It told her he was there for her.

Damn, but he could be sweet.

“But, as I mentioned, you have choices. And as I understand the situation, you and Dominic plan to divorce two years after the baby is born.”

Dominic quietly said, “Yes.”

The small, sweet gesture suddenly felt empty. Pointless. There was no need for them to be close. They just had to be friendly.

She pulled her hand away.

“In that case, most of your options still apply. Except Dom wouldn’t suffer the negative press of being unable to persuade you to marry him.”

“I could return to the United States.”

Sally laughed. “If, after years of being influential in education, of being someone known to the entire world, someone impacting the world, you still want to go back, then, yes.”

Ginny smiled. Something about the way Sally kept highlighting the good part about staying in the country told her there was a catch, and she knew it had to have something to do with her child. “But the baby would go with me?”

Sally rose from the desk and walked to the front where she leaned against it. Her voice was soft, gentle. “Yes. As I’d said, that is an option. But it will require heightened security and teachers for home schooling unless you can find a private school that passes our tests. Then every time there was a ceremony, a formal dinner, a holiday, he’d have to be flown home.” She shifted against the desk. “Ideally, our future ruler should be raised here. In the palace. It just makes things easier.”

“Right.”

Dominic faced her. “Our child needs to be acclimated into the life of a royal. Not rigidly, but to realize all monarchs and leaders are people, too. Countries are made up of people. Troubles are borne by people. Ruling is about people.”

Caught in the gaze of his dark, dark eyes, she remembered why she’d fallen so hard for him the night she met him. He always knew the right thing to say.

Even if it was a modification of the truth.

Yesterday, he’d been smart enough to let her believe returning home would be possible, when in reality it sounded as if it would be very hard on their child.

He hadn’t out and out lied. In fact, if the option really was available for her to return to the United States, then he hadn’t lied at all. But he was counting on her love for their baby to help her to see that returning home might be an option but it was a poor one.

She couldn’t decide if he was manipulating her or trusting her, but after eighteen years of a bullying, manipulative father, that misstep made her stomach roil.

She rose. “You know what? I’m a bit tired. I think I should go back to the room.”

He bounced to his feet. “Of course.”

She faced Sally. “I’ll need some help with etiquette. I know the basics but the specifics are way beyond what a high school guidance counselor needs to know. Even if I decide not to marry Dominic, I have an entire week here and I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Sally grabbed her calendar. “I’ll make appointments for you.”

“Just let me know when to be where.”

Dominic laughed. “The teachers will come to our apartment. You’re not just a guest of a prince. You’re pregnant. We want to take care of you.”

She ignored his laugh. Ignored the smile on his face. Ignored that he was solicitous about her pregnancy. Her dad had been exceptional at being sweet, being charming, when it suited him. She didn’t want to think Dominic was like her dad, but the facts were out there plain and simple. He’d told her a half-truth the day before.

Still, she could deal with this. She was unfortunately good at dealing with people who told her half-truths.

She straightened her shoulders. “That’s fine. I’m happy to have the sessions in your apartment.”

She held her head high as she walked out of Sally’s office, but her stomach churned.

Why was she even considering marrying a man who was a manipulator like her father?


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c5c1ffe4-e733-5660-a713-5d689a0cef36)

DOMINIC HAD TO run to catch up to her. “What was that all about?”

“What?”

“Your sudden need to leave as if Sally had done something wrong.”

“It wasn’t Sally.” She turned on him. “You led me to believe I could go home.”

“The option is yours.”

“Oh, sure, if I want to make our child’s life a miserable succession of plane rides between Texas and Xaviera.”

Not waiting for a reply, she raced to the elevator, punched the button and was inside before Dom had wrapped his head around what she’d said. He jumped into the plush car two seconds before the door would have closed.

“I’m sorry if the truth offends you.”

She turned on him again, poking her index finger into his chest. “The truth? You told me half the truth, so I would get false hope. When the situation looked totally impossible, you held out the offer of being able to return home. Now that I’m adjusting to you, to your family and to people bowing to you, I’m told the option exists, but, oh, by the way, it will make your child’s life suck.”

He caught her finger. “What did you want me to say? No. You can’t ever go home again?”

“Yes! I’m twenty-five years old. I handled two thousand kids for three years. I can handle this!”

The elevator door swished open. She yanked her finger from his hand and headed across the big square marble floor to the regal double doors of his apartment.

He ran after her, but didn’t reach her until she was already in the sitting room of their apartment. When he did, he caught her arm and forced her to face him. “I will not have you be mad at me for something I didn’t do! We didn’t talk a lot yesterday. I gave you your bare-bones options because that’s all you seemed to want to hear. Sally expanded on those options today. If you’d wanted the entire explanation yesterday, you should have stayed for it! Instead you said something about wanting to go to your room. I was fully prepared to talk it all out. You left.”

He could see from the shifting expressions in her blue eyes that she knew what he said was true.

She dropped her head to her hands. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She shook her head. “No. It isn’t.” She sucked in a breath. “Look, my dad was a hopeless alcoholic who was always lying to me. I have trust issues.”

Glad to have his real Ginny back, Dom breathed a sigh of relief. “We all have trust issues.”

He motioned for her to sit, so they could talk some more, but she shook her head. “I’m fine. Really. Tired, but fine.”

A trained diplomat, he read the discretion in her answer and knew she didn’t want to talk about this. Who would want to talk about a father who drank so much he’d clearly made her miserable? But at least he understood why she’d absurdly said she would have taken his family when she was a child.

“I probably also should have told you that all of this will be set out in an agreement.”

“An agreement?”

“Yes, the legal office will draw up an agreement that sets out everything. Your responsibilities. Our responsibilities. What’s required of you as mother to our future heir.”

“You’re going to put all this into an agreement?”

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t?”

She considered that. “A written agreement would make things easier.”

“It’s one of the few documents that will remain totally secret. Because it’s considered private, no one but you and I, the king and both of our counsels will even know it exists. But your jobs and responsibilities will be spelled out and so will mine. Plus, we can provide you with counsel who can assure you the agreement is fair. If you don’t like who we provide, you can choose your own counsel.”

She nodded.

“We’re not trying to cheat you.”

“Right.”

“Really. And we don’t sign the agreement until the day of the ceremony. So right up until the day we get married, you can change your mind.”

“I’ll just be doing it publicly.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. The press sort of comes with the territory.”

She didn’t answer, but she’d definitely calmed down. A written agreement seemed to suit her, but she still looked tired, worn. “Why don’t you go lie down?”

She nodded and walked into her suite, closing the door behind her.

* * *

He gave her the morning to rest. When she came out at lunchtime, he pulled out her chair and she smiled.

Relieved that she really was okay, he said, “A simple coffee date has been arranged for us this afternoon.”

“Then you’d better get someone up here to help me with wardrobe because I went through the clothes you had sent up yesterday and there isn’t anything in there that I’d actually wear out in public.”

“What about the white pants with the sweater?”

“Seriously? That blue sweater with the big anchor on the front? My mother would wear that.”

“Okay. Fine. Right after lunch I’ll have a clothier come up.”

“Great.” She looked at the food, then sat back as if discouraged.

“You don’t like ham sandwiches?”

“They’re great. I’m just not hungry.”

He sucked in a breath. They’d had a misunderstanding but worked it out, and she’d taken a rest. When she’d come out of her suite, it was to eat lunch. Now suddenly she wasn’t hungry?

“You had an orange for breakfast. You have to eat.”

“Maybe I can get a cookie at the coffee shop.”

He laughed, thinking she was joking. Seeing she wasn’t, he frowned. “Seriously? That’s going to be your food for the day? A cookie?”

“I told you. I’m not very hungry.”

He supposed their situation would be enough to make a normal woman lose her appetite, but being married to him wasn’t exactly the third circle of hell. Everything and anything she wanted could be at her disposal. There was no reason for her to refuse to eat.

“Okay. From here on out, you choose our menus.”

She nodded. He felt marginally better. But what man in the world could possibly like the idea that just the thought of marrying him had taken away a woman’s appetite?

Was she subtly saying he made her sick?

After a visit from the clothier, an hour’s wait for clothing to be delivered and an hour for her to dress, they left the palace in his Mercedes. He drove, surprising her.

“We don’t need a bodyguard?”

“They’re discreetly behind us. This is supposed to look like a casual date.”

“Ah.”

He tried not to let her one-word answer grate against his skin, but it did. She wouldn’t eat around him and her conversation had been reduced to one-word answers. He’d thought they’d resolved their issue, but maybe they hadn’t? Or maybe the reality of marrying a prince was finally sinking in?

“You know you’re going to have to say more than one word to me when we get into the coffee shop.”

“Yes.”

He gritted his teeth. “We could also use this time to chitchat so that when we get out of the car, we’ll already be engaged in conversation the way normal people would be.”

“I know all about being a normal person.” She flicked her gaze to him. “You, on the other hand, are wearing a white shirt out for coffee.”

“I’m a prince.”

“You’re also a person, supposedly out with a woman he likes. A woman he’s comfortable with. White shirt does not say comfortable.”

“Oh, and scruffy jeans does?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? Scruffy jeans is the very definition of comfortable.”

“You look like you’re going to the trash yard.”

“I look like an American girl on a date with a prince she just met. I am playing the part. As our dates get more serious so will my wardrobe.”

Unexpectedly seeing her reasoning, he sighed. “Okay. I get it. Just don’t make fun of the white shirt.”

“Fine.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw not just the Mercedes with his bodyguards, but also the usual assortment of paparazzi. Satisfied, he finished the drive to the ocean-side coffee shop.

Xaviera’s warm sun beat down on him as he walked around to the passenger’s side and opened the door for Ginny. He took her hand and helped her out, to the whir of cameras. She stepped out, one blue-jeans-clad leg at a time, wedge sandals, short blue T-shirt and big sunglasses, all looking very normal to him in the parking lot of a beach café.

She really had been right about her very casual clothes.

Standing in front of him, she caught his gaze and smiled, and his heart—which had been thundering in his chest from fear of the first step of their charade—slowed down. He hadn’t forgotten how beautiful she was, but somehow or another the sunlight seemed to bring out the best in her rich yellow hair and tanned skin. She might not be royalty or someone accustomed to the public eye, like an actress or model, but she was every bit as beautiful—if not more beautiful because she was genuine.

The cameras whirred again.

She whispered, “What do we do? Do we wave?”

“We ignore them.”

She peeked up at him. “Really?”

He laughed, took her hand and led her to the café door. “Yes. We know they are there. But we also know they are always there, even if, for us, they have no purpose. Unlike an actor or actress, we don’t need them to enhance our visibility. We tolerate them. Thus, we ignore them.”

“Got it.”

He held the door open for her. The press rushed up behind them, but his bodyguards closed the door on them. Two things happened simultaneously. The press opened the door and crammed in behind the bodyguards, their cameras whirring. And Marco, café owner, greeted them.

“Prince Dominic!” He bowed. “It’s an honor.”

“Can I have my usual, Marco? And—” Oh, dear God. First complication. He could not order coffee for a pregnant woman. He faced Ginny. “What would you like, Ginny?”

As soon as he said her name, the reporters began shouting, “Ginny! Ginny! Look here, Ginny!”

She slid off her sunglasses. Doing as he’d told her, she ignored the press. “How about some water? It’s hot.”

The press laughed. “Did you not know our weather was hot?”

“Where are you from?”

“How old are you?”

“How did you meet?”

“How long have you been dating?”

Dominic also ignored them. “Just water? What about that cookie?”

Marco said, “I have a cookie that will make you happy to be alive.”

Ginny laughed. “That’d be great.”

“You sound American.”

He saw Ginny waver. The questions directed at her were hard for her to ignore. And the press began closing in on them. Even with his two bodyguards standing six inches away, the reporters and photographers bent around them, shouted questions and took pictures as Marco made Dom’s coffee, retrieved a bottle of water and wrapped a cookie in a napkin.

Dom took their items and turned to say, “Let’s go out to the deck by the dock,” but, as he turned, he saw her sway. Before he could blink, she began to crumble.

He dropped his coffee, the water and the cookie to the counter and just barely caught her before she hit the floor.

The cameras whirred. A gasp went up from the crowd. Dominic’s bodyguards turned to help him as Marco came out from behind the counter, broom in hand.

“Get out of here!” He waved the broom at the paparazzi. “Get out, you brood of vipers!” He glanced behind the counter. “Antonella. I chase them out. You lock the door!”

Down on one knee, holding Ginny, Dominic cast Marco a grateful look as the coffeehouse owner and Dom’s bodyguards shooed the press out of his shop and Antonella locked the door behind them.

Ginny’s eyes slowly blinked open. “It’s so hot.”

He sort of smiled. She was so fragile and so beautiful, and holding her again took him back to their night of dancing in LA and making love in her condo. A million feelings trembled through him. Brilliant memories. A sense of peace that had intermixed with their fun. The wonderful, almost-overwhelming sensation of being able to be himself because she was so comfortable being herself.

“You’re adding to the heat by wearing jeans.”

“Trying to look normal.”

Her skin was clammy. Her eyes listless and dull. His happy, beautiful one-night stand memories dropped like a rock, as his heart squeezed with fear. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“You’re sending a pregnant woman to the hospital for fainting? You haven’t been around pregnant women much have you?”

“That’s all this is?”

She drew in a breath and suddenly looked stronger. “Heat. Pregnancy. Nerves. Take your pick.”

He said, “Right.” Then nodded at Marco. “Open her water.”

The solicitous shop owner did as he was told. He handed the opened bottle to Dominic, who held it out to her. She took a few sips.

Dominic sighed, grateful she was coming back but so scared internally that he shook from it. His heart had about leaped out of his chest when he saw her falling. “You should probably have a bite or two of the cookie. I told you to eat lunch.”

She smiled. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Antonella brought over the cookie. “You eat.”

Ginny sat up a bit and took the cookie from Antonella’s hands.

“Maybe we should get you to a chair?”

She laughed. “I feel safer down here. No cameras. No one can see me through the windows.”

He felt it, too. Behind the tables and chairs between them and the doorway, he felt totally protected from the press.

She ate a few bites of her cookie, drank the entire bottle of water and held out her hand to him. “We can stand now.”

“We’re going to have to go back to the car though a crowd of reporters and photographers who just saw you faint. If you thought their questions were bad before this—” he caught her gaze “—now they are going to be horrific. A tidal wave of jumbled words and noisy cameras. Are you up for this?”

“I’m fine.”

“Right. As soon as we get home, I’m having you checked out by the doctor.”

“I would expect nothing less from a man accustomed to bossing people around.”

His fear for her wouldn’t recede and she didn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously. “Stop joking. You fainted.”

“On a hot day, after not eating.” She smiled suddenly, pushed herself to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m fine.”

The unexpected kiss went through him like a warm spring breeze. He told himself not to make too much of it, but how could he not when color was returning to her cheeks and she was smiling, really smiling, for the first time since their argument that morning.

Wanting to get her home, Dominic said, “Let’s go.”

But before they could walk to the door, Marco hugged her and then Antonella hugged her. Dominic finally noticed the few stragglers sitting at the café tables, necks craned to see what was going on. One or two whispered, but in general, they’d given them privacy.

Leading her to the door, he addressed them, “Thank you all for your consideration.”

People nodded and smiled and a few said, “You’re welcome.” Then they reached the door. The lock clicked as Antonella sprang it.

He said, “Ready?”

Ginny nodded.

He opened the door to the whir of cameras and shouts of questions. “How are you?”

“Why did you faint?”

“What’s your last name?”

“Are you pregnant?”

Dominic’s steps faltered.

But Ginny slid her sunglasses on her face and smiled at them. “I didn’t eat lunch.” She turned to Dominic and entwined her arm with his. “Dom told me to eat lunch but—” She held out a leg. “Look at these jeans. They are to die for and I wanted them to fit.” She smiled again. “American girls, right? We love our jeans and we want them to look perfect.”

Then she turned them in the direction of his Mercedes. His bodyguards created a path for them to walk.

He opened the door for her.

She slid inside. Before Dom could close the door, she gave a final wave to the press. “I’m fine,” she called out to them. “And, I swear, I will eat before we come out again.”

Walking around the hood of his car, he heard the rumble of laughter. He peeked up to see the smiles of approval on the faces of those in the crowd. And why not? She was beautiful, approachable, likable.

But he also saw a few reporters frowning in his direction. He saw the ones on their cell phones talking feverishly.

He slid into the car. “You know your pregnancy’s out now, right?”

“Yup.” She caught his gaze. “Looks like we won’t need a second date.”

“You’re saying yes?”

She nodded.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. I have a feeling we’re in for one hell of a ride.”


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_b9c6da87-04fc-54ff-8c53-b4862e06a028)




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