Читать книгу: «Luxury Escapes», страница 3

“So you elected to become a single mother rather than deal with a relationship?”

She frowned, her full lips turning down into a very tempting pout. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. My goal wasn’t to become a single mother. It was to be a mother. I wasn’t giving too much thought to the exclusion of a relationship. I was just pursuing what I wanted.”

“And this complicates things.”

“Very much.”

“Is it so bad for our child to have both parents?”

She turned her face away from him and fixed her gaze on the view outside the window. “I don’t know, Maximo. I don’t think I can deal with everything at once. Can’t we just get through the testing and talk about the rest later?”

He inclined his head. “If you like. But we still have to discuss our options at some point.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t what you had planned, I understand that. None of this is what I had planned, either.”

Alison knew he wasn’t just referring to her pregnancy, but to the death of his wife. Finding a woman he had loved enough to marry, and then losing her—she couldn’t even imagine the void that must be left in Maximo’s life.

She didn’t really want to feel anything for Maximo. Already her awareness of him was off the charts, and it scared her. Adding any kind of emotion to that was asking for trouble.

Romantic love had never really appealed to her, and neither had any kind of intimate relationship. She’d seen the aftereffects of romantic love turned sour in her childhood home, watched her parents fall apart and self-destruct. Her mother had simply folded in on herself, leaving Alison to fend for herself.

When her father had left they’d lost their financial stability. People her mother had considered friends had all but abandoned her. Alison never wanted to find herself in that position, never wanted to place so much of her life in someone else’s hands that losing them could undo everything. Those experiences had taught her that she had to make her own way, find her own security, her own happiness.

Every inch of her life had been in her complete control since her disastrous childhood. She could control how good her grades were, and in high school she’d been obsessive about keeping her 4.0 so that she could get scholarships. In college she’d been single-minded in the pursuit of her degree, so that she could get a job that would allow her to remain independent. And every step in her life since then had been carefully planned and orchestrated, down to when and how she would become a mother.

All of that seemed laughable now that she was on a plane, headed to a foreign country with a shockingly handsome prince who also happened to be the unintended father of her baby.

CHAPTER THREE

HER first glimpse of Turan stole her breath. The island was a jewel set in the bright Mediterranean Sea. Gleaming white rock faces beset with stucco houses dotted the pale sanded coastline. The beach faded into lush greenery, and set into the tallest visible mountainside was a stone castle with masculine angles that gleamed gold in the late-afternoon light.

“It’s lovely.” Lovely, and yet untamed. Sort of like its master. For all of Maximo’s urbane sophistication, there was something about him that was raw and almost primitive. It appealed to her on a basic level she’d hardly been aware of before she’d seen him descending the stairs of his elegant mansion.

The entire flight had been thick with tension, at least on her end. Maximo seemed totally unaffected by her presence. Which was more than she could say for herself. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like men or that she had never felt any kind of sexual desire—of course she had. She simply hadn’t acted on it, hadn’t wanted to. The very idea typically made her feel as if she was on the edge of a panic attack. Sexual intimacy, opening herself up to someone like that, exposing herself, and possibly even losing some of her carefully guarded control, was usually about the least appealing thing she could think of. And yet something about Maximo ignited a curiosity that was starting to override her normal sense of self-preservation.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice full of total sincerity. “It is my belief that Turan is one of the most beautiful places on Earth.”

The plane began to descend, taking them low over grassland where cattle grazed free-range. “I wouldn’t have thought you could do much cattle farming on an island.”

“Not much, but we try to make the most of every natural resource we have. Vineyards and olive groves do well. And our grass-fed beef is almost world renowned. Of course, being an island, seafood is also a large part of our exports. But we don’t export as much as we might. My first priority has always been self-sufficiency.”

She made a small sound of approval. “What do your duties encompass? Your father is still the official ruler, right?”

He nodded. “I have been put in charge of managing the economy. In the past five years I’ve managed to increase tourism by fifty percent. With the new luxury casinos and the renovation of some of the historic fishing villages, Turan has become a popular destination for wealthy people looking for a high-profile vacation spot.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So you’re more of a businessman than a prince.”

He gave a low laugh. “Perhaps. Maybe in another life that’s what I would have been. But in this one, I’m happy to fulfill my duty. I do have some business interests on the side, but my main responsibility is still to my country.”

“And duty is the most important thing?”

“It means a lot to me. I was raised to believe that it was duty before self.”

Duty before self. And did that mean she had a duty to her child to ensure that he knew his father? If her father had wanted her and her mother had never given him a chance, how would she have felt? Pain twisted her. She would have given anything for a father who wanted her. For the protection and safety it would have represented. Did she have any right to refuse her own child this amazing gift? Especially one she would have given just about everything to have herself? She didn’t want to face the fact that having Maximo involved in the raising of their child was the right thing to do. What she wanted was for things to turn out according to her plan. But she knew that wasn’t possible now.

The plane touched down on the tarmac and her stomach rose into her throat.

When the small aircraft came to a stop, the stairs let down and Maximo took her arm in a very proprietary manner, his posture stiff. He held her as far from his body as was possible, as though too much contact was beneath his royal self. Which was just fine with her. She was still disturbed by the strange effect he seemed to be having on her equilibrium. It was as though her self-control had gone on vacation and now her body was making up for it by craving a whole host of things that had just never seemed important before.

She would much rather have him be aloof than have him touch her again like he’d done at his house. She could easily remember the slow burn against her lip as he drew his thumb over the sensitive skin. She shivered, trying to shake off the little thrill that assaulted her as the scene replayed in her mind.

A crew of five lined the runway, ready to unload his royal highness’s luggage, and her one little carry-on bag. She’d chosen to pack conservatively since she planned to be back in Seattle in just a few days, but seeing all of his belongings next to her one well-used suitcase made the disparity between their social standing widen before her eyes.

He ushered her into the back of the black limousine that was waiting for them, and she complied, mostly because she was in such awe of the wealth that surrounded her.

Money she was used to. For the early part of her childhood her family had enjoyed quite a bit of luxury, and though there were a few years of poverty after her father left, she remembered what it was like to live in the most coveted home in the cul-de-sac. Even now her income was healthier than most, though she chose to save her money rather than spend it on frivolous possessions.

But this … this was like nothing she had ever encountered.

The sleek limo slid through the wrought-iron gates that served to divide the castle and its inhabitants from the serfs who populated the rest of the island. Massive stone statues of men with swords stood watch by the gates, as if to reinforce the exclusivity of the location.

“No moat?” she asked facetiously as she gazed up at one massive turret that rose from the inner walls.

“No, the crocodiles could never discern between the intruders and the residents, so it made for a lousy security system. Now we just have a silent alarm like everyone else.”

His unexpected stab at humor brought a giggle to her lips. “No hot oil, then, either?”

“Only in the kitchen.” A small smirk teased the corner of his mouth and she noticed a small dimple that creased his cheek. Why couldn’t he stay austere and distant? It was easier to see him as the opposition when he was being an autocrat, much more difficult to do so when he actually seemed likable.

They came to a stop in front of the heavy double doors that were flanked, to her amusement, by formally dressed guards who didn’t look so different from the stone soldiers that stood at the gates.

He turned to face her, the full impact of his masculinity leaving her close to breathless. “After the doctor comes to perform the test, we will be having dinner with my parents so that I can introduce you to them.”

“Why would you need to introduce me?”

“Apart from the fact that you’re a guest, you are also the mother of my child, and their grandchild.”

Grandparents. He could even give her son or daughter grandparents, while she … well, her own father was heaven-knew-where and her mother was an extremely bitter woman who drank her issues away and forced everyone around her to listen to her vitriolic diatribes about life and men in general. Alison would never subject her child to that. She didn’t even subject herself to it unless absolutely necessary.

“This just gets more and more complicated.” She put her hand over her face and pressed hard on her eyes, trying to stop tears from overflowing. It was overwhelming in so many ways. Being pregnant, actually knowing she was having a baby, had been change enough, but to add all of this seemed impossible.

“They have every right to their grandchild, as I have every right to my child. Just as much right as you have, Alison. I will not allow you to deny my family this chance.”

Anger rolled through her, heating her blood, giving her strength. “By royal decree, is that it? Is this where the dungeon comes into play?”

“What is it with you and dungeons? Do you have some kind of weird fetish?”

“Just concerned I might end up on a twenty-four-hour cable news channel. American held captive by primitive prince,” she snapped. She pressed cool hands to her cheeks in an effort to release some of the heat that had mounted at his mention of fetishes. As if she would ever, ever, let a man tie her up so he could have his way with her.

Oddly, instead of the distaste she expected the thought to evoke, when she placed Maximo in the role of her captor, a sensual thrill tightened her stomach. Completely shocked by the direction of her usually sexless thoughts she turned her burning face away from Maximo and opened her own door, not waiting for any of the overeager staff who had appeared outside the palace, to assist her.

Maximo caught up to her in two easy strides, his long legs eating up the ground much faster than her five foot four inches would allow her to do. “Have I embarrassed you, tesoro?”

She ignored him, thrusting her chin up and trying to look unaffected by him, his presence and his innuendos.

He gripped her hand and stopped her from walking, drawing her close to him. Her heart began to pound so hard she was certain he must be able to hear it. Standing this close to him she could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell the heady, masculine scent that was one hundred percent raw, sexual man. One hundred percent Maximo.

Since when had she noticed how a man smelled? Unless she was at the gym and it was in a negative connotation she didn’t think she ever had. So why did Maximo’s smell appeal to her like this? Why did it make her pulse race and her breasts feel heavy? He wasn’t wearing cologne or any other kind of added scent. It was just him.

“I would have thought that a sophisticated career woman like you wouldn’t be so easy to embarrass.” He brushed his thumb across her burning cheek. She knew she was flushed, could tell by how hot she felt. “But it seems as though I’ve made you blush, cara.”

“Stop with the foreign endearments,” she said, her voice sounding breathless rather than snappy as she’d intended. “I don’t like them.”

“Really?” He dipped his head and her stomach dropped. She had thought, for one breathless moment, that he might be leaning in to kiss her. “Most women find them very sexy.”

“I’m not most women.”

He frowned, his dark gaze searching. “No, you’re not.”

She didn’t know whether or not she should feel complimented by that, but she did. Not that she would let him know it. His words shouldn’t have the power to flatter or hurt her in any way. They shouldn’t have any effect on her at all. He shouldn’t have any effect on her. The only thing they had between them was their baby. Their relationship had nothing to do with personal feelings. If not for the mistake at the clinic they never would have met. They ran in totally different social spheres. He never would have given her a second look if it weren’t for the baby.

It was important for her to remember that.

“When are you seeing the doctor?” she asked, hoping to distract him, eager to not be the focus of his undivided attention.

“She will come as soon as I call her.”

She nodded, not knowing why she’d thought he might need an appointment. Maximo wasn’t the sort of man who made appointments. People made them to meet with him, not the other way around.

“When will you call her?” she asked, pretending that all of the edginess she was feeling was over the test, and that none of it was due to Maximo’s proximity and the way it made her feel.

“Right away, if you like.”

She nodded, her stomach fluttering. “Yes, please. I’d like that.”

The doctor came immediately, and Alison followed Maximo and the beautiful young physician into his office. When he’d mentioned having a personal physician she’d imagined an elderly man, not a blonde in her early thirties who was tall and willowy enough to be a model.

It shouldn’t really surprise her. Maximo was a handsome man. A very handsome man, she amended herself. He was rich. And powerful. Plus, of course, there was that very basic feminine nurturing instinct that likely made women want to heal all of his wounds. He probably attracted women in droves. It was likely he welcomed the female attention. He was in his prime; a powerful, sexually attractive man who probably took pleasure when it was offered.

She felt hot all over again and she tried hard to quell that physical response that had become so darn instant and predictable. Maximo was entitled to do as he liked, with whom he liked, which included the sexy doctor, and that was fine by her. Because she didn’t want to engage in those kinds of relationships. She had no desire to sacrifice her independence and self-sufficiency for a few hours of hedonistic enjoyment in a man’s bed. None at all.

Besides, she seriously doubted she would actually find it enjoyable. It was fine with her if other women wanted to have affairs just for the sake of them, but she never had, and her aversion to relationships had prevented her from actually finding out about physical relationships in a practical, hands-on kind of way. But she was twenty-eight and she wasn’t born yesterday. She had a full intellectual knowledge of sex, even if she didn’t have actual firsthand experience, and she couldn’t imagine such an intimate activity holding any appeal to her. She avoided intimate relationships altogether. She was hardly going to pursue something so … so … profound with a man when maintaining a healthy distance between herself and others was an important matter of self-preservation, as far as she was concerned.

So why did it make her stomach clench when the beautiful doctor slid her feminine hands over Maximo’s arm? The sexy blonde drew his shirtsleeve up and wiped at the inside of his elbow with a small cleansing pad, her movements seeming slower, more sensual than was strictly necessary.

“We just need a little blood,” she said, her attention on Maximo, her eyes never once straying to Alison.

Alison had to turn her face away when the doctor drew a phial of dark blood from Maximo’s arm. She was never very good with things like that and being pregnant made her feel all the more fragile about it. And the last thing she wanted to do was something as ridiculously weak as passing out in front of him. As much as she imagined he was used to women falling at his feet, she couldn’t afford to show that kind of vulnerability.

“All done.” The doctor all but purred as she tugged Maximo’s shirtsleeve back into place, covering up his sexy, well-muscled arm. “It will take five days for us to run the complete carrier screening. As soon as I know, I’ll be in touch. If you need anything before then let me know. I’m always available.” The good doctor offered Maximo a sympathetic arm squeeze and Alison couldn’t help but think that she knew exactly what the other woman would be available for if Maximo needed her.

After the doctor left she and Maximo simply sat, silence stretching between them. Anxiety gnawed at Alison’s stomach. A few more days and she would know if there was a chance their child might be affected.

Their child. It seemed so surreal that this stranger was the father of the baby nestled in her womb. At least if the baby had been the product of a one-night stand they would have known each other on a basic level. As it was, they didn’t know anything about each other. They didn’t even share the physical attraction that most people expecting a baby together would have shared.

Liar.

Okay, so she was attracted to him. She’d been attracted to men before. Not like this, but she had been, and she hadn’t acted on those feelings. She wouldn’t have acted on them with Maximo, either.

“Is there a hotel that you can recommend?” she asked, desperate to break the tension that was thickening the air in the room.

The test was weighing heavily on him, too, she could tell. The corded muscles of his arms obviously tense beneath his well-fitted shirt, his jaw locked tight. He really did care about the baby already. Knowing they shared that made her feel linked to him, even if it was only by one tenuous thread. It was comforting in a way, knowing that someone else cared about the baby. That if something was wrong she wouldn’t be alone in hurting for her child. For now at least, Maximo didn’t feel as much like an adversary.

“Why would you need a hotel?” he asked, flexing the arm that the doctor had taken blood from.

“I don’t want to sleep in a field somewhere. I’m not big on camping.”

“You do have a very smart mouth,” he said, his focus dipping to her lips. She darted her tongue out to moisten them, feeling very self-conscious of the action as she did it. But with him looking at her like that all she could think about was her mouth, and that made it feel dry. And tingly. His dark eyes conveyed an interest that made her stomach tighten. He was attracted to her, too. The realization made her feel light-headed. It had been one thing to experience the errant desire on her own, but to know he might feel even a fraction of it for her …

Just as suddenly as the interest had appeared in his eyes, it was gone, his expression flat and unreadable. She must have manufactured the moment. There was no other explanation. She wasn’t ugly by any stretch; she knew that. Men asked her on dates often enough. She wasn’t a beauty queen, though. Maximo’s first wife had even made Supermodel Doctor look average: her features exquisitely stunning, her sleek dark hair always styled so elegantly, her slim figure the perfect showcase for designer clothing.

She could remember his wife’s face clearly. She’d graced the covers of fashion magazines and had been a minor celebrity prior to her marriage to Maximo. An opera singer who had performed in the most prestigious venues around the world, she’d been talented, beautiful and cultured.

So, it wasn’t that Alison didn’t have her own brand of beauty. She just didn’t have that universal appeal, that unquestionable, unrivaled loveliness that Selena Rossi had possessed. There was no way Maximo could want her. She was average, and he was just as perfect as his wife had been. A demigod of masculine perfection.

And now she was dramatizing.

She licked her lips again and silently cursed herself.

“You will be staying here at the palace,” Maximo said, his tone so confident she knew that it absolutely didn’t occur to him that she might refuse. Or, if it did occur to him he was supremely confident that he could change her mind.

“I don’t need you to put me up. I’m perfectly capable of getting my own accommodations.”

“No doubt,” he said, flashing her a wry smile. “I imagine your extensive education has left you more than capable of booking your own room. But you’re pregnant with my child and I don’t want you staying at some hotel by yourself.”

“Seedy hotels in Turan, are there?”

“Not at all,” he said, dismissing her statement with a wave of his hand. “But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to—”

She cut him off, anger bubbling in her chest and spilling over. “Allow me? You have no authority to allow or disallow me to do anything.”

“You are pregnant with my baby. I would say that gives me some rights over where you go and what you do.”

Her mouth dropped open and she was certain she was doing a fair impression of a shocked guppy. He honestly believed that he had some kind of dominion over her, over her body, because he happened to be the accidental father of her baby!

The fine, gossamer strand that she had felt connecting them earlier snapped.

“That is the most primitive thing I have ever heard. You don’t have any rights over me!”

“I want to keep you safe. You and the baby. What’s primitive about that?”

“Other than the fact that it’s controlling beyond belief?”

“Che cavolo! How is it controlling to want to protect you? You are pregnant with my baby and that makes you my woman.” He looked completely exasperated, as though she were slow in comprehending something that should be completely obvious.

“Your woman?” She ignored the sensual thrill that shot through her. It wasn’t something to be excited about. It was insulting. Ridiculous. “I’m not anyone’s woman. Even if we had …” She swallowed and tried to fight the involuntary urge to blush as she spoke her next words, “Even if we had made this baby the traditional way I wouldn’t be your woman. I am more than capable of running my own life.”

“Yes. You certainly are,” he said drily. “How is that going, by the way?”

“About as well as your life is going I would imagine.”

He ignored her tart statement. “What’s the point of fighting me on this, Alison? I want you here for your safety and the safety of the baby. If the press figure out who you are and you stay here without my protection they will hound you constantly. And what would happen if you get chased by the paparazzi? You have no idea how ruthless and single-minded they can be.” His dark eyes were bleak, black holes of bottomless, intense emotion that stunned her momentarily. And just like that, all of the depth was gone, his expression composed again.

“Is that a … is it a possibility?”

“You saw the press at the airport in Washington. Here in Turan it can be much worse than that.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t really taken that into consideration. Hadn’t believed that she might be a point of interest to the media. She’d seen how they’d gravitated to Maximo at the airport, but he was … well, he was worthy of press. And they had loved his wife, but she had been gorgeous and talented. Alison truly hadn’t thought that they might want pictures of her.

“Yes, ‘oh.’ I will not take that kind of chance with our baby’s safety.”

“I won’t, either,” she said softly, hating that he was right.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her gently from his office out into one of the main corridors of the palace. The casual touch ignited a flash fire of sensation that scorched a path from the point of contact all the way to her toes and up to her fingertips, hitting all kinds of interesting points in between. A pulse beat, hard and heavy at the apex of her thighs, and she squirmed slightly, in an effort to gain some distance and to quell the insistent ache that was making itself known.

She tried to focus on something other than his touch. A touch that meant nothing to him, and shouldn’t mean anything to her. She looked around, taking in her surroundings and gritting her teeth against the onslaught of sensation that was rioting through her. The wing of the palace they had entered was his own personal quarters, and rather than resembling the interior of a Gothic castle it had a light, modern aesthetic that was similar in appearance to his home in Washington.

The walls had been textured and were painted a bright white that contrasted with bold pieces of artwork and sleek, dark furniture. Whoever Maximo had hired to decorate had excellent taste. Maybe his wife had done it. The thought made her chest tighten.

He led her to a curved staircase, winding his arm around her waist and placing a hand over her stomach as they walked up to the second floor. She found the proprietary nature of the gesture oddly comforting rather than offensive, and that scared her. When they reached the landing she moved away from him, not wanting to draw any kind of comfort from his touch. That was not a road she was willing to go down.

He pulled her to him again, placing his hand back over her flat stomach, slowly pushing the hem of her shirt up, his dark eyes intent on hers. He stroked his fingers slowly over the bare skin of her belly, as though he had every right to. It wasn’t a gesture of ownership, but an acknowledgment of the fact that they shared something infinitely special.

Tears stung her eyes. It was his baby that she carried and she couldn’t deny the connection that he felt with their unborn child, or the connection it made her feel with him. His touch felt right, so right that the steadily growing anxiety that had been gnawing at her since her phone call about the lab mix-up was momentarily masked by the comfort the simple contact gave her.

She looked down at the place where his hand rested on her, his golden skin contrasting with her pale flesh. It fascinated her, held her attention, made her stomach tighten with a deep kind of longing that went way past the desire for something simply physical. But that was there, too. Part of her wished that he would continue moving his hand upward, palm her breast, squeeze her aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

She looked up, trying to break the spell that he had somehow woven around them. His face was inches from hers and she was awestruck by the perfection of his striking features. Even close up she couldn’t find a single flaw with his sensual mouth, his strong nose and jaw, his dark, compelling eyes. She found herself moving closer to him, leaning in, drawn by an instinct she couldn’t understand or control.

When his mouth brushed hers she held her lips still for a second. Then he moved, pressed his hand to the small of her back, closed the gap between them and brought her up against his hard body. She parted her lips, allowing the tip of his tongue to delve between them, to lightly tease her. It wasn’t a demanding kiss. It was a slow seduction of her body, her mind, her senses. She’d never been kissed like this, with this level of skill and sensuality.

She’d kissed men before. Mostly back in college when she’d bothered with the pretense of casual dating. But never had a kiss made her feel so hollow, so desirous for more, as if she was in need of something only this man possessed.

Always, the kiss itself had been the main event for her. Other kisses had either been nice, or not so nice, but never had they made her want to lean in, to press her body more firmly against a man, to rock her hips against his hard length to bring herself at least some small measure of satisfaction.

His tongue slid over hers and she felt it all the way in the core of her body. Muscles she’d never been aware of before clenched in anticipation of something much more intimate.

When Maximo pulled away she swayed slightly, her brain totally scrambled by the drugging power of his lips covering hers.

“Max,” she whispered, touching her lips, feeling for herself that they really were swollen and hot from the press of his mouth against them.

His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Max. I like that.”

The fog of desire was starting to clear and awareness was creeping into the fuzzy edges of her mind, shame mingling with her slowly ebbing arousal.

He placed his hand over her stomach again, his expression intense. “This is my baby that you carry, Alison. Our baby. I could not feel it more if you had conceived in my bed.” His accent was thicker than she’d ever heard it, his voice a husky rasp that made her nipples tighten and her pulse pound. “The attraction between us is very convenient.”