His Thirty-Day Fiancée

“I had no idea you were into voyeurism.”

“Don’t be dense.”

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

“To what end?”

He simply smiled.

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

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

Six

Two days later, Kate let the live band’s waltz number sweep her away on the dance floor with Duarte in his D.C. hotel. The tuxedoed musicians played a mix of slower show tunes, segueing out of a Moulin Rouge hit and into a classic from Oklahoma. Duarte’s hand linked with hers, his other at her back. Crystal chandeliers dimming, he guided her through the steps with an effortless lead. For the moment, at least, she was content to pass over control and simply enjoy the dazzling evening with her handsome date.

She’d been endlessly impressed by all she’d seen of his restored hotel and this ballroom was no exception. Greco-Roman architectural details mirrored many of the Capital City’s earliest buildings. Wide Doric columns soared high to murals painted on the ceilings, depicting characters from classic American literature. Huck Finn stared down at her alongside Rip Van Winkle. Moby Dick rode a wave on another wall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Protective.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

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

Duarte hurried Kate the rest of the way down the hall and into the elevator. No one followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances or wasting a minute. Even a second’s delay could prove catastrophic.

The old-fashioned iron grate rattled shut, then the doors slid closed on the wooden compartment, sealing him inside with Kate and jazz Muzak.

Finally, he had her safely alone, away from cameras, party crashers and the scores of other people wanting a piece of her simply because she wore his ring. Growing up, he’d resented like hell the island isolation his father had imposed on them all. But right now, he wouldn’t have minded some of that seclusion.

He stabbed the stop button and reached for his phone to check for text updates from Javier.

“Duarte?” Kate gripped his wrist. “Why aren’t we going upstairs?”

“Soon.” He needed to ensure her security before he let himself enjoy how easily she touched him now. “We are going to hang out here until Javier gets the lowdown on those party crashers.” Duarte scrolled through the incoming texts.

Inching closer, she eyed the corners of the wood elevator suspiciously. The side of her breast brushed his arm. His hand gripped the phone tighter.

Even if they were only in the elevator, he had her all to himself for the first time since he’d seen the shift in her eyes. He’d known she felt the same attraction from the start and seventy-two hours straight spent together had crammed months’ worth of dates and familiarity into a short period.