Roarke's Kingdom
She didn’t play games.
She loved him without reservation, just as he loved her.
It was the sort of love her mother had not been capable of giving.
“Da-da? You read me a story?”
“Tonight, when I come home,” Roarke said, smiling as he caught one tiny finger between his lips.
He’d been so wrong about her mother. About the woman who had been his wife. But he’d never be that wrong again. He knew what women wanted from a man like him. Money. Status. Jewels and designer clothes and expensive toys.
Were they all like that?
The woman who’d blundered into his life a handful of days ago seemed different. Jennifer Hamilton. His wealth, his power didn’t seem to mean a damn to her. She wasn’t impressed by any of it, and she certainly didn’t seem intimidated.
A smile curved his lips.
Amazing, how she stood up to him.
How she’d tried to slug him.
How she tasted. How she smelled. How she felt in his arms…
Roarke frowned.
Who gave a damn about any of that?
Jennifer Hamilton had no place here, no place in his world or in his life—and the sooner he got rid of her, the better off he’d be.
He got to his feet, walked briskly from the nursery and handed the baby to the nanny who stood waiting in the hall.
“Time to get to work,” he said—but he paused long enough to kiss the top of his little girl’s head, and to remind himself that she was the only thing in his life that mattered.
Chapter Five
“Buenos días, Señorita Hamilton.” Constancia smiled as she set a platter of sliced oranges, mangoes, and bananas on the terrace dining table. “You look rested this morning. Are you feeling better?”
Jennifer smiled in return. “Thank you, Constancia. I am feeling much better, yes.”
“That is good.” The housekeeper poured a stream of coffee into a white mug and put it in front of Jennifer. “The señor will be pleased to see how smoothly your recovery goes when he returns.”
Roarke had been away for two days. Things had been peaceful without him…
And maybe a little empty. Which was, of course, ridiculous.
“Will he be back today, do you think?”
“Oh, sí, I am certain of it. By tonight, I would imagine.” Constancia whisked imaginary crumbs from the glass tabletop. “Is there anything else you would like?”
“No. No, thank you. I’m going to walk along the beach.”
“No swimming, señorita. Please, there is a strong current, and you are still weak—”
It was an admonition that Jennifer had heard yesterday. Today she knew how to respond.
“No swimming,” she said easily.
Constancia nodded. “To lie on the sand will be good for you. The sun will bake your bones, and the sea air will put the roses back into your cheeks. If you wish someone to accompany you—”