His Thirty-Day Fiancée

This man was such a strong presence he could eclipse a person as fully as his palm covered her hand. “Of course I’ll also have to make note in the article that you’re bossy.”

“I prefer to think I’m a take-charge sort of man.”

“You would have made a great general.”

He traced from her ring finger around to the vein leading to the pulse in her wrist. “Why do I feel like you’re not complimenting me?”

“Don’t you worry about how I’ll present you in stories once this is over? Photography may be my main focus, but I do write articles on occasion.”

The warmth of his clasp seared her skin. They were just linking fingers, for crying out loud, something as innocent as two teens in a movie theater. But they weren’t in some public locale.

They were alone, and she questioned the wisdom of letting him touch her in private. The heated look in his eyes was most definitely anything but innocent.

“You’ll be the ex-fiancée. It’ll all sound like sour grapes.” He released her fist and stood before she could pull away. “Regardless, I don’t give a flying f—”

“Right. Got it.” She raised both hands. “You don’t care what people think of you.”

“I only cared about privacy, and now that’s a moot point.” He walked around the table, stopping beside her and tipping her chin with a knuckle. “So let’s get back to talking about how smoking-hot you look regardless of what you wear, and how much better you must look in nothing at all.”

She saw this for what it was, a gauntlet moment where she could either back down—or let him know she wasn’t a pushover. No dancing around the subject or pretending to ignore his seductive moves to keep some kind of peace. She’d always met life head-on and now wouldn’t be any different.

“Stop trying to throw me off balance.” She stared at him without flinching or pulling away. “I’ve kept a steady hand taking pictures through bomb blasts in a war zone and during aftershocks in earthquake rubble. I think I can handle a come-on from you.”

A flicker of approval mingled with the desire in his dark eyes at her moxie. And how silly to be excited because she’d impressed him with something other than her cup size. She wasn’t interested in the man beyond what he had to offer in a photo op.

Okay, not totally true. Truth be told, just looking at him turned her on. Hearing his light Spanish accent stoked that a notch. He was a handsome man, and a big-time winner in the genetic gene pool when it came to charisma.

But that didn’t mean she intended to act on the attraction.

“I can handle you,” she repeated, just as much to reassure herself as to convince him.

“Good, an easy victory isn’t nearly as much fun.” He reached behind her, his hand coming back with a thick white robe. He passed the folded terry cloth bearing the resort logo to her. “Enjoy your shower.”

Kate was naked under the robe.

The terry cloth was thick and long and covered her completely from Duarte’s eyes as he lounged in her suite. But deep in his gut, he knew. She wore nothing more.

He went utterly still in his chair by her fireplace. He’d waited for a half hour in her suite, a large room with a sitting area in the bay window, sleigh bed across the room. She stood in the doorway from her bathroom, her fluffy robe accenting the crisp blue-and-white decor. Her wet hair was gathered in a low ponytail draped over one shoulder.

It was longer than he’d expected. He also expected her to demand that he leave. But she simply tucked her feet into the complimentary slippers by the door and padded across the room toward him.

Unflinching, she stared back at him, her eyes sweeping down him as if taking in every detail of his tuxedo shirt open at the neck, dark pants sans cummerbund, feet propped on the ottoman. She stopped alongside him and sank smoothly into the blue checkered chair on the other side of the fireplace. She was fearless.

And magnificent.

She crossed her legs, baring a creamy calf. “What else do we need to cover before facing the world tomorrow?”

The fire crackled and warmed. He’d started the blaze to set a more intimate tone. Except now it tormented him by heating her pale leg to an even more tempting rosy pink. “Let’s discuss how we met. You spin mythical stories from a thread of truth. How about take a stab at it by creating our dating history?”

“Hmm…” Her foot swung slowly, slipper dangling from her toes, her yarn jewelry still circling her ankle. “After I broke the story about your family, you confronted me…at my apartment… You didn’t want to risk being seen at my office. You know where I live, right? Since you knew to send someone to take care of my cat.”

“You’re based out of Boston, but travel frequently,” he confirmed correctly. “So you just keep a studio apartment.”

“Your detectives have done their homework well.” Her smile went tight, her plump lips thinning. “Did you already know about Jennifer?”

“No, I only know your address and work history.”

Perhaps there he’d dropped the ball. He, above all people, should know how family concerns shaped a person’s perspective. Pieces of the Kate puzzle readjusted in his mind, and he resolved to get back to the issue of her sister.

Although Kate’s tight mouth let him know he would have to tread warily. “Tell me, Ms. Harper, how does someone who covered the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan end up working for the Global Intruder?”

“Downsizing in the newspaper industry.” She blinked fast as if working hard not to look away nervously.

“Taking care of your sister had nothing to do with your decisions?” He understood her protectiveness when it came to her sibling. The bond was admirable, but he wouldn’t let softer feelings blur his goal.

“Jennifer needs me.” Kate picked at the white piping along the club chair.

“There were plenty of people willing to roll out for an assignment at the drop of the hat.” Unanswered questions about her career descent now made perfect sense. “By the time you settled your sister, you’d lost out on assignments. Other reporters moved ahead of you. Have I got it right?”

Fire snapped in her eyes as hotly as the flames popping in the fireplace. “How does this pertain to fielding questions about our engagement? If the subject of Jennifer comes up, we’ll tell the media it’s none of their business.”

“Well, damn.” He thumped himself on the forehead. “Why didn’t my family and I come up with that idea ourselves? To think we hid out and changed our identity for nothing.”

“Are you sure we’ll be able to convince anyone we even like each other, much less that we’re in love?”

He tamped down the anger that would only serve to distract. This woman was too adept at crawling under his skin. “We’re only talking about your basic life story. Surely you can trust me with that.”

“Give me a good reason why I should trust you with anything. I don’t really know you.” She toyed with the tip of her damp ponytail, releasing a waft of shower-fresh woman. “Perhaps if you would tell me more about your past, I’ll feel more comfortable opening up in return.”

“Touché,” he said softly as a lighthouse horn wailed in the distance. “Instead, we’ll move back to creating our dating history.”

She dropped her ponytail and stared upward as if plucking the story from the air. “On the day we met, I was wearing khaki pants, a Bob Marley T-shirt, and Teva sandals. You remember it perfectly because you were entranced by my purple toenail polish.” Her gaze zipped and locked with his again. “You get bonus points if you remember the polish had glitter. We ended up talking for hours.”

“What was I wearing?”

“A scowl.” She grinned wickedly.

“You sound positively besotted.”

She flattened a hand to her chest dramatically, drawing his eyes to the sweet curves of her breasts. “I swooned.” Kate leaned forward, her robe gaping enough to tease him with a creamy swell but not enough to give him a clear view. “I took your picture because I found you darkly intriguing and the feeling increased when you came to confront me about exposing your identity. The attraction was instantaneous. Undeniable.”

“That part will be very easy to remember.” His groin tightened the longer he looked at the peekaboo flesh of her generous breasts.

“You wooed me. I resisted, of course.” Clasping the neck of her robe closed, she sat back. Had she tormented him on purpose? “But ultimately I fell for you.”

“Do tell what I did to convince you.” Any edge with Kate would be helpful.

Her grin turned mischievous. “You won me over with your love poem.”

He leaned back. “Afraid not.”

“I was joking.” She toe-tapped his feet, propped and crossed on the ottoman.

“Oh. Okay. I see that now. I’m not artistic.” His family also said he lacked a sense of humor, which had never bothered him before, but could prove problematic in dealing with this woman. He needed to turn the tables back in his favor. “I can be romantic without resorting to sappy sonnets.”

“Then let’s hear how you spin the story of our first date.” She waved with a flourish for him to take over. “How did it go?”