His Thirty-Day Fiancée

Tension rippled through his lean muscled body, and she could certainly empathize. Life had been spiraling out of control for her since they’d met.

And now they were winging to some unknown island. Shades covered all the windows so she didn’t know if they were traveling over land or water. Duarte had told her the clothes appropriate for the “warmer climate” would be waiting.

What a mess she’d made of things. How was she supposed to report on a man she’d slept with? Should she have taken his offer to walk away?

Her fingers curled around his bare hip, his body now so intimately familiar to her. How much longer could she avoid weightier issues?

Duarte sketched the furrows in her brow. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” she said. She wasn’t ready to let him know how being with him rocked her focus. Better to distract him. “I’ve never made love in a plane before.”

“Neither have I.” His fingers trailed from her brow to tap her nose. “You look surprised.”

“Because I am.” She expected this man had done all sorts of things she couldn’t imagine. “I would have thought during all those three-month relationships, you would have joined the mile-high club at some point.”

“You seem to have quite a few preconceived notions about me. I thought journalists were supposed to be objective.”

“I am. Most of the time. You’re just… Hell, I don’t know.”

He was different, but telling him that would give him too much power over her. Was she being unfair to Duarte out of her own fear? Was she making assumptions based on an image of a privileged playboy prince?

Swinging her feet off the bed, she plucked her underwear from floor.

Duarte stroked her spine. “Tell me about the man who broke your trust.”

“It’s not what you think.” She pulled on her panties and bra. Where was her dress? And why was she letting his question rattle her? “I haven’t had some wretched breakup or bad boyfriend.”

“Your father?” Duarte said perceptively as he pulled on his boxers.

Kate slipped her kimono-sleeve dress over her head and swept it smooth before facing Duarte again. “He isn’t an evil man or an abuser. He just…doesn’t care.” Parental indifference made for a deep kind of loneliness she couldn’t put to words. Only through her camera had she been able to capture the hollow echo. “It doesn’t matter so much for me, but Jennifer doesn’t understand. How could she? He cropped himself right out of the family picture.”

“Where is he now?” He stepped into his slacks and reached for his chambray shirt.

“He and his new wife have moved to Hawaii, where he can be sure not to bump into us.”

“The kind to send his checks as long as he doesn’t have to invest anything of himself?”

She stayed quiet, tugging on her leather knee boots.

His hand fell on her shoulder. “Your father does send help, right?”

Bitter words bubbled up her throat. “When Jennifer turned eighteen, he signed over his rights and all responsibility. They were going to put her in the state hospital since she can’t live on her own. I couldn’t let that happen, so I stepped in.”

Duarte sat beside her, taking her hand lightly, carefully. “Have you considered taking him to court?”

“Leave it alone.” She flinched away from him and the memories. “Bringing him back into her life only gives him the option to hurt her more than he already has. Jennifer and I will be fine. We’ll manage. We always do.”

Duarte cursed low. “Still, he should be helping with her care so you don’t have to climb around on ledges snapping photos to pay the bills.”

“I would do anything for her.”

“Even sleep with me.”

His emotionless voice snapped her attention back to his face. The coldness there chilled her skin. Confusion followed by shock rippled through her. Did he really believe she could be that calculating? Apparently what they’d shared wasn’t as special to him if he thought so poorly of her.

Hurt to the core, she still met his gaze dead-on. “I’m here now because I want to be.”

He didn’t back down, his face cool and enigmatic. “But would you have slept with me to take care of her?”

And she’d thought she couldn’t ache more. “Turn the plane around. I want to go back.”

“Hey, now—” he held up his hands “—I’m not judging you. I don’t know you well enough to make that call, which is why I’m asking questions in the first place.”

Some of the starch flaked from her spine. Hadn’t she thought the same thing herself, wondering about ways she may have misjudged him? “Fair enough.”

“Has your father called you because of the publicity surrounding your engagement?” he asked, his eyes dark and protective. “People develop all sorts of, uh, creative crises when they think they can gain access to a royal treasure trove.”

“I haven’t heard a word from him.” Although now that Duarte had given her the heads-up, she would be sure to let voice mail pick up if her father did phone. “Other than the obligatory holiday greeting, we haven’t heard so much as a ‘boo’ from him. I guess that’s better than having to explain his dropping in and out of our lives.”

His hand slid up into her hair, cradling her head. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”

“Jennifer and I are lucky to have each other.” Kate stood abruptly, refusing to be distracted by his seductive touch.

This conversation reminded her too well that they knew precious little about each other. She’d known her jerk of a father all her life and still she’d been stunned when he dumped his special-needs daughter without a backward glance. What hurtful surprises might lurk under Duarte’s handsome surface?

Watching her through narrowed eyes, Duarte pulled on his shoes and gestured her back toward the main cabin. “We’ll have to put this conversation on hold. We should be landing soon. Would you like your first glance of the island?”

“The secrecy ends?”

“Revealing the specific location isn’t my decision to make.” He opened the window shade.

Hungry for a peek at where Duarte had grown up, she buckled into one of the large leather chairs and stared outside. An island stretched in the distance, nestled in miles and miles of sparkling ocean. Palm trees spiked from the landscape, lushly green and so very different from the leafless snowy winter they’d left behind. A dozen or so small outbuildings dotted a semicircle around a larger structure, what appeared to be the main house.

A white mansion faced the ocean in a U shape, constructed around a large courtyard with a pool. Details were spotty but she would get an up-close view soon enough of the place where Enrique Medina had lived in seclusion for over twenty-five years, a gilded cage to say the least. Even from a distance, she couldn’t miss the grand scale of the sprawling estate, the unmistakable sort that housed royalty.

Engines whining louder, the plane banked, lining up with a thin islet alongside the larger island. A single strip of concrete marked the private runway, two other planes parked beside a hangar. As they neared, a ferry boat came into focus. To ride from the airport to the main island? They sure were serious about security. Duarte had said it wasn’t his secret to reveal. She thought of his father, a man who’d been overthrown in a violent coup. And his brothers, Carlos and Antonio, had a stake in this, as well. None of the Medina heirs had signed on for the royal life.

God, she missed the days when her job had been about providing valuable information to the public. It had been two years since she’d been in the trenches uncovering dirty politics and the nuances of complicated wars as opposed to shining a public flashlight on good people who had every right to their privacy.

The intercom system crackled a second before the pilot announced, “We’re about to begin our descent. Please return to your seats and secure your lap belts. Thank you, and we hope you had a pleasant flight.”

A glass-smooth landing later, she climbed on board the ferry that would transport them to the main island. Crisp sea air replaced the recycled oxygen in the jet cabin. Her camera bag slung over her shoulder, she recorded the images with her eyes for now. Duarte would call the shots on when she could snap photos. Her stomach knotted even though there wasn’t a wave in sight, a perfect day for boating. A dolphin led the way, fin slicing through the water, then submerging again.

An osprey circled over its nest and herons picked their way through sea oats along the shore like a pictorial feature straight out of National Geographic. Until you looked closer and saw the guard tower, the security cameras tucked in trees.

A guard waited on the dock, a gun strapped within easy reach to protect the small crowd gathered to greet them. She recognized the man and woman from recent coverage in the media. “That’s your youngest brother, Antonio, and his fiancée.”

Duarte nodded.

The wedding he had mentioned made perfect sense now. She’d started the ball rolling digging up information about the shipping magnate and his waitress mistress. But then they’d fallen off the map. Apparently Alys Cortez hadn’t shared everything she knew about the Medinas.