A Royal Baby Surprise (The Sherdana 2)

For an instant she recalled the last time she and Nic had made love. She’d gazed deep into his eyes and glimpsed her future. During their time together, their lovemaking had been in turn fast, hot, slow and achingly sweet. But on their last night in particular, they’d both been swept away by urgent intensity. Yet there’d been a single look suspended between one breath and the next that held her transfixed. In that instant, an important connection had been made between them and she’d been forever changed.

But now...

A prince.

The conversion from distracted, overworked scientist to intense, sexy aristocrat had been apparent when she’d arrived this morning. At first she’d ascribed the change to his European-style clothing, but now she understood he’d been transformed in a far more elemental manner.

A month ago he’d given her a speech about how he needed to refocus on Griffin, and that meant he had to stop seeing her. She’d been frustrated by the setback, but figured it was only a matter of time until he figured out they were meant to be together. When he’d left California in the wake of the accident, the bond had stretched and thinned, but it had held. Awareness of Nic had hummed across that psychic filament. Although compelled to track him down and investigate if her instincts were correct, she’d decided to give him some space to process the accident before she followed him. Her pregnancy had made finding him much more urgent.

But what good was the bond between them when the reality was he was a prince who needed to find a wife so he could father children that would one day rule his country?

And what about her own child? This was no longer a simple matter of being pregnant with Nic’s baby. She was carrying the illegitimate child of a prince. For a moment the taverna spun sickeningly around her. Telling Nic he was going to be a father had become that much more complicated.

Somehow she found the strength of will to summon a wry smile. “Besides, you and I both know I’m not princess material.”

“You’d hate it,” Nic told her in somber tones. To her relief he’d taken her self-deprecating humor at face value. “All the restrictions on how you dressed and behaved.”

“Being polite to people instead of setting them straight.” He was right. She’d hate it. “The endless parties to attend where I had to smile until my face hurt. I’m so not the type.”

The litany leached away her optimism. With hope reaching dangerously low levels, she cursed the expansive hollowness inside her. Nothing had felt the same since she’d stepped onto this island. It wasn’t just Nic’s fancy clothes, expensive villa and the whole prince thing. He was different. And more unreachable than ever.

How am I supposed to live without you?

The question lodged in her throat. She concentrated on breathing evenly to keep the tears at bay.

“Are you okay?”

Her pulse spiked at his concerned frown. In moments like these he surprised her by being attuned to her mood. And keeping track of how she was feeling was no small task. Her family often teased her about being a drama girl. She enjoyed life to the fullest, reveling in each success and taking disappointments as world-ending. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned to temper her big emotions and act on impulse less frequently.

Except where Nic was concerned. Common sense told her if she’d behave more sensibly, Nic might be more receptive to her. But everything about him aroused her passion and sent her into sensory overload.

“Brooke?”

Unable to verbalize the emotions raging through her, she avoided looking at Nic and found the perfect distraction in a waitress’s hard stare. The woman had been watching from the kitchen doorway ever since Brooke had sat down. “I don’t think that waitress likes me,” Brooke commented, indicating the curvaceous brunette. “Did I interrupt something between you two?”

“Natasa? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His impatient dismissal raised Brooke’s spirits slightly. She already knew Nic wasn’t the sort to engage in casual encounters. Her five-year pursuit of him had demonstrated that he wasn’t ruled by his body’s urges.

“She’s awfully pretty and hasn’t taken her eye off you since I sat down.”

“Do you want something to eat?” Nic signaled Natasa and she came over.

“Another beer for me,” he told the waitress. “What are you drinking?” He looked to Brooke.

“Water.”

“And an order of taramosalata.”

“What is that?” Brooke quizzed, her gaze following the generous sway of Natasa’s hips as she wound her way back toward the kitchen.

“A spread made from fish roe. You’ll like it.”

You’ll like it.

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Did he realize the impact those words had on her nerve endings?