His Thirty-Day Fiancée

And a single bed.

Wearing paisley pajamas, Enrique Medina needed a shave. That alone told Duarte how ill the old man was.

He’d also lost weight since Duarte’s last visit in May when he’d brought their half sister Eloisa over for her first trip to the island since she was a child. His father had been making a concerted effort to reconcile with his children.

A sigh rattled Enrique’s chest and he adjusted the plastic tubes feeding oxygen into his nose. “Thank you for coming, mi hijo.”

My son.

“Of course.” He stepped deeper into the room. The old man had never been the hugging type. Duarte clapped him on the shoulder once. Damn, nothing but skin and bones. “Antonio says you’re responding well to the treatment. When are you going to get a liver transplant?”

Scowling from one son to the other, Enrique said, “When did you become a nag like your brother?”

Tony spun on his heel. “I think I hear the guards calling me.”

When the door closed, Duarte gave no quarter. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see, old man. I just didn’t expect you to stop fighting.”

“I’m still alive, am I not? My doctors wrote me off months ago.” He waved a hand, veins bruised from IVs. “Enough about my health. I have no interest in discussing my every ache and ailment. I want to know more about your fiancée.”

Duarte dropped into a chair. “Ah, so you held on long enough to meet her? Perhaps I should delay the introduction.”

“If one of you promised a grandchild, you might get nine more months out of me.”

“It’s unfair to put your mortality on our shoulders.”

“You are right,” Enrique said, his calculating eyes still as sharp as ever in spite of his failing body. “What do you intend to do about it?”

Duarte weighed his next words. The old monarch passed on his sense of humor to Antonio and his intense drive to Carlos.

Duarte inherited his father’s strategic abilities. Which told him exactly what he needed to say to get Enrique out of the hospital bed.

“You can meet Kate…when you get well enough to leave the clinic and come back to the house.”

Kate had expected an amazing house. But nothing could have prepared her for the well-guarded opulence of the Medina mansion. Every ooh and aah from Jennifer as she caught her first glimpse reminded Kate of the awkward position Duarte had placed them in. Although she certainly didn’t blame her sister.

Who wouldn’t stare at the trees and the wildlife and the palatial residence? She and Jennifer had grown up in a small three-bedroom Cape Cod–style house outside Boston, comfortable in their second-story rooms. Kate had painted Jennifer’s a bright yellow to go with photos she’d snapped of sunflowers and birds. She’d put a lot of effort into creating a space for her sister, the way a mother would have done. Jennifer had called the room her garden.

No wonder her sister was entranced by the botanical explosion surrounding the Medina mansion. The place was the size of some hotels. Except she usually wasn’t escorted to her hotel by a scowling head of security. Javier sat beside Shannon, eyeing Kate suspiciously the whole drive over.

The limousine slowed, easing past a towering marble fountain with a “welcome” pineapple on top—and wasn’t that ironic in light of all those guards? Once the vehicle stopped, more uniformed security appeared from out of nowhere to open the limo.

Even a butler waited beside looming double doors.

Once inside, Kate couldn’t hold back a gasp of her own. The cavernous circular hall sported gilded archways leading to open rooms. Two staircases stretched up either side, meeting in the middle. And she would bet good money that the Picasso on the wall wasn’t a reproduction.

Shannon touched her elbow. “Everything will be taken up to the room.”

“We don’t have much.” Kate passed her camera bag and Jennifer’s backpack to the butler. “Duarte told me they—”

“—already have everything prepared. That’s the Medina way,” Shannon said, her words flavored with a light Texas twang. “Let’s go straight through to the veranda. I’d like you to meet my son, Kolby.”

Her footsteps echoing on the marble floor, Kate thought back to what she knew about Antonio Medina’s fiancée and remembered the widowed Shannon had a three-year-old child from her first marriage, the boy she’d called Kolby.

Kate walked past what appeared to be a library. Books filled three walls, interspersed with windows and a sliding brass ladder. The smell of fresh citrus hung in the air, and not just because of the open windows. A tall potted orange tree nestled in one corner beneath a wide skylight. Mosaic tiles swirled outward on the floor, the ceiling filled with frescoes of globes and conquistadors. She pulled her eyes from the elaborate mural as they reached French doors leading out to a pool and seaside veranda.

A million-dollar view spread in front of her, and a towheaded little boy sprinted away from his sitter toward his mom. Shannon scooped up Kolby, the future princess completely natural and informal with her son.

Kate decided then and there that she liked the woman.

Shuffling Kolby to her hip, Shannon turned to Jennifer. “What would you like to do today?”

“What do I get to pick from?” Jennifer spun on her tennis shoes. “Are you sure it’s too cold to go swimming in the ocean?”

Kate’s heart warmed at Shannon’s obvious ease with Jennifer.

“You could take a dip in the pool out here. It’s heated.” Shannon patted her son’s back as he drooped against her, eyes lolling. “There’s also a movie theater with anything you want to see. They’ve added a spa with pedicures and manicures even recently.”

Jennifer clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s what I want, painted toenails and no snow boots.”

Laughing, Shannon set her groggy son on a lounger and walked to the drink bar. “You’re a kindred spirit.”

“What does that mean?” Jennifer asked.

Shannon poured servings of lemonade—fresh squeezed, no doubt. “We’re sister spirits.” She passed crystal goblets to each of them. Her eyes were curious behind retro black glasses. “I live to have my feet massaged.”

“And when Katie marries Artie—” Jennifer’s brown eyes lit with excitement as she clutched her drink “—we’ll be sisters for real since you’re marrying his brother.”

Shannon spewed her sip. “Artie?”

Stifling a smile, Kate set aside her lemonade. “He prefers to be called Duarte.”

Seeing how quickly Jennifer accepted these people into her heart sent a trickle of unease down Kate’s spine. This was just the kind of thing she’d wanted to avoid. Explaining the breakup would have been difficult enough before. But now? It would be far more upsetting. Her frustration with Duarte grew.

Jennifer hooked arms with her sister. “I know you’re the one who is going to marry Artie—uh, Duarte. But I already feel like a princess.”

Duarte had done his best to leave his princely roots behind and lead his own life. But there was no escaping the Medina mantle here. Even the “informal” dinner at this place was outside the norm, something he realized more so when seeing the all-glass dining area through other people’s eyes. Shannon’s young son loved the room best since he said it was like eating in a jungle with trees visible through three walls and the ceiling.

Throughout the meal, Kate had stayed silent for the most part, only answering questions when directly asked. He wanted to tell himself she was simply tired. But now, watching her charge through her bedroom taking inventory of her surroundings and setting up her computer, she brimmed with frustrated energy. Her dress whipped around her leather knee boots.

No more waiting. He had to know what had set her off. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” She spun away from the canopy bed, anger shooting icicles from her eyes. “It’s helpful to a person when you elaborate rather than bark out one- and two-word orders.”

He was completely clueless as to what pissed her off and that concerned him more than anything. He should at least have some idea. “Explain to me what has made you angry, and don’t bother denying that you’re upset.”

“Oh, believe me.” She sauntered closer, stopping by her camera case resting on a chaise at the end of her bed. “I wasn’t planning to deny a thing. I was simply waiting for a private moment alone with you.”

“Then let’s have it.”

She jabbed him in the chest, the kimono sleeves of her dress whispering against him. “You had no right to interfere in my life by bringing Jennifer here.”

What the hell? Her accusation blindsided him. “I thought seeing your sister would make you happy.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get her into that facility, a place that fits her needs but also makes her happy?” Her words hissed through clenched teeth as she obviously tried to keep her voice down. “What if they give someone else her spot?”

That, he could fix. “I will make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Argh!” She growled her frustration. “You can’t just take over like that. You’re not responsible for her. You have no say in her life. And while we’re on that subject, how did you even arrange for her to leave? Good God, maybe I should move her anyway if security is that lax in the center. I’m shelling out a small fortune for Jennifer to live there. What if someone had kidnapped her?”