The Prince's Holiday Baby. Brenda Harlen

the right woman for you?”

      “I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “Or maybe I did but refused to admit it, because I knew getting involved with the royal nanny would create a situation fraught with complications. And it wasn’t so much that she was the right woman as she was the only woman—the only one I couldn’t get out of my mind, the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”

      “The only one who would put up with him, more likely,” Lara said from behind him.

      Eric glanced at his sister-in-law, who was standing in the doorway with a ten-month-old baby tucked under one arm and a three-and-a-half-year-old holding her other hand. Her strawberry-blond hair looked a little more tousled than usual, and there was a stain on the shoulder of her blouse that he knew was courtesy of the baby, but despite the lateness of the hour and the obvious busyness of her day, her smile was still vibrant and beautiful.

      Rowan had definitely lucked out when he’d fallen in love with Lara Brennan, Eric thought, with just the slightest twinge of envy. As Marcus had also done when he’d stopped by a little café in West Virginia and met—and eventually fallen in love with—Jewel Callahan. As Eric hoped he might luck out someday and find his own soul mate.

      Unbidden, thoughts of Molly again nudged at his mind, but he pushed them aside.

      “And I will forever be grateful for that,” Rowan said, smiling back at his wife.

      “You can prove it by tackling the bedtime routine with a stubborn three-year-old,” she told him.

      “It would be my pleasure,” Rowan said, holding out his arms to the little boy, who went rushing into them.

      Eric had to smile at the obvious bond between father and son. It was hard to believe that when Rowan had taken on the responsibility for Julian and Catherine’s three children he had almost no experience with—and even less knowledge about—raising kids. Now Christian was seventeen and about to start college in the fall, Lexi was thirteen with a maturity well beyond her years and Damon was nine and still reveling in the joys of childhood and wreaking havoc on the household. Since their marriage, Lara and Rowan had added two of their own, and Rowan had not only embraced fatherhood but managed to juggle his various responsibilities to reflect his commitment to his family.

      Eric wasn’t really surprised by the apparent ease of his older brother’s transition from footloose financier to responsible prince regent. Rowan had always taken his obligations seriously. More surprising to Eric was that his younger brother had willingly made similar changes in his life. He’d never seen Marcus look happier than when he was with Jewel and their baby daughter.

      It was at the baptism for young Princess Isabella that Eric was first confronted by the emptiness of his life. Up until then, he’d never thought about what was missing. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that nothing seemed to be missing because his career had fulfilled him so completely.

      Over the past three years, he’d had too much time to think, too much time to wonder if there should be something more, although he hadn’t really thought about his restless yearning for more in terms of a relationship until he’d met Molly.

      “Bath time and story?” Rowan’s question to his son drew Eric’s attention back to the scene in the library.

      “Story!” Matthew repeated with enthusiasm.

      “After the bath,” his mother interjected firmly.

      Matthew scowled as Rowan rose with him in his arms.

      Eric chuckled. “What is it about little boys that makes them inherently allergic to bathwater?”

      “I was hoping you could tell me,” Lara said, crossing the room to settle into the chair her husband had vacated. The baby rubbed his face on his mother’s shoulder, then popped his thumb in his mouth and snuggled in with a sigh.

      Eric felt an unexpected pang as he watched Lara cuddle her infant son. Children were something else he hadn’t thought much about because he’d never been in a position to be a father, but spending time with his brothers’ children had changed that, too. He wanted a family of his own—a wife and children to come home to at the end of the day, to make plans and share dreams with and to simply be with.

      Dios, that sounded pathetic, as if he couldn’t endure his own company. Or maybe he’d just been enduring his own company for too long. After unsuccessful romances, it had seemed easier to accept solitude than yet another relationship failure. But maybe it was finally time to reconsider that position.

      “You and Rowan sure do make beautiful babies,” he commented to his sister-in-law now.

      Lara smiled. “As much as I want to take credit, the dark hair and eyes are trademark Santiago.”

      “But Matthew has your mouth and your smile, and William’s bone structure is just like yours.”

      “Do you think so?” She seemed pleased that he would notice such details.

      “As I said, you make beautiful babies.”

      “And you’re a flatterer as much as both of your brothers,” she mused. “So what deep conversation between you and Rowan did I interrupt?”

      “Nothing deep,” he assured her.

      “You’ve met a woman,” she guessed.

      He stared at her, baffled.

      She laughed, and automatically rubbed the baby’s back when he started to stir. “I heard you ask your brother how he knew I was the right woman for him—it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that you’ve met someone who has you thinking in those terms.”

      “I’ve just been thinking a lot about my life and my future,” he hedged. “And I wanted to tell Rowan about my plan to go back to Texas. It occurred to me that, as the best man, I should be available to help Scott with anything that needs to be done in the last few weeks before the wedding.”

      Lara’s smile was just a little smug. “She’s in Texas, isn’t she?”

      “Whatever you want to believe,” he said, knowing it was pointless to deny it.

      The widening of her smile only proved she knew she was right. “When are you leaving?”

       Chapter Three

      Molly pulled a brush through her hair and wrapped an elastic band around it to hold the heavy mass off of her neck. It was only the end of May, not even officially summer yet, but even three days of almost steady rain had done little to alleviate the humidity and forecasters were warning that the season was going to be a brutal one.

      As she stripped out of her shorts and T-shirt to change for work, she thought she could use a change of scenery and a break from the oppressive heat—a week or two away from the neverending problems at home. And she found herself wondering what the weather was like in Tesoro del Mar, if the summers were hot or if there were cool ocean breezes to regulate the temperature.

      She wondered if Eric lived somewhere on the coast or in a crowded apartment in the city—or even if there were cities in Tesoro del Mar. She didn’t really know anything about the country, or even how big it was, and she didn’t know—if she decided to take a trip to the island, as she’d been thinking she might do—if there was any chance her path would cross with his.

      It was a crazy idea—almost as crazy as spending the night with a man she didn’t know—and yet it was an idea that refused to be discarded.

      She’d thought about him a lot since that single night they’d spent together, and not just since she’d learned that she was carrying his child.

      But five days after her appointment with Dr. Morgan, she’d still made no effort to find her baby’s father and she knew it was past time she did so. She had plenty of legitimate excuses for the delay—including the hundred-and-one daily tasks that kept her at the restaurant for ten or more hours a day.