His Thirty-Day Fiancée. Catherine Mann

of Jennifer for years.

      “Stand still and I’ll put on the matching earrings.” They dangled from between his fingertips in much the same way her purloined camera earrings had earlier. Except these were worth a mint.

      What if she lost one in a punch bowl?

      “Can’t I just have my own back?”

      “I think not.” He looped the earrings through effortlessly until a cascade of smaller diamonds shimmered from her ears almost to her shoulders. “I’ll send a guard to retrieve your shoes, and then we can go.”

      “Go where?” she asked, her breath catching at his easy familiarity in dressing her. He sure knew his way around a woman’s body.

      Duarte offered his elbow. “Time to introduce my fiancée to the world.”

      Three

      In a million years, he never would have guessed that tonight he would introduce a fiancée to Martha’s Vineyard movers and shakers. Even though the engaged couple had left the rehearsal, the band, food and schmoozing would continue long into the night.

      Duarte had expected to spend the bulk of his evening working out until he decided how to approach his father’s request for a month of his time. He needed to simplify his life and instead he’d added a curvaceous complication.

      No looking back, he reminded himself. And by introducing Kate to a ballroom full of people he ensured she couldn’t fade away. Once in the Medina spotlight, always in the spotlight.

      Kate stood at his side in the elevator—more private than the two flights of stairs. As the button for the ground level lit up, he slid his iPhone back into his pocket. He’d just sent a text to his head of security, ordering protection for Jennifer Harper, securing all the identification information for Kate. He would follow up on those instructions after the announcement.

      The parting doors revealed the back hall, muffled sounds swelling inside. Clinking glasses and laughter mingled as guests downed crate after crate of Dom Perignon. A dance band finished a set and announced their break. His event planners oversaw these sorts of gigs, but he spot-checked details, especially for a seven-figure event.

      Offering his arm to Kate, he gestured through the open elevator doors into the hall. This part of the resort was original to the hundred-year-old building, connecting to the newly constructed ballroom he’d added to accommodate larger events. He’d started his chain of resorts as a way to build a cash base of his own, independent of the Medina fortune.

      While he spent most of his time in Martha’s Vineyard, scooping up properties around the U.S. allowed him to move frequently, a key to staying undetected. There was no chain name for his acquisitions. Each establishment stood on its own as an exclusive getaway for hosting private events. He didn’t have any interest in owning a home—his had been taken away long ago—so moving from hotel to hotel throughout the year posed no problem for him.

      Kate’s hand on his arm seared through his tuxedo, making him ache to feel her touch on his bare skin. His body was still on edge from the glide of her eyes on him as he changed.

      Yet, listening to her on the phone with her sister, he’d been intrigued on a deeper level than just sex and revenge. Suddenly Kate’s anklet of yarn and plastic beads made sense. There were layers to this woman that intrigued him, made him want her even more.

      And he intended to make sure she wanted him every bit as much before he took her to bed.

      Duarte stopped in front of the side door that would open into the ballroom reception area. He reached for the knob.

      Her feet stumbled, ensconced in her retrieved black high heels. “You’re really going to go through with this.”

      “The ring did not come out of a gum-ball machine.”

      “No kidding.” She held it up, the light refracting off the ruby and diamonds. “Looks more like an heirloom, actually.”

      “It is, Katie.”

      “I’m Kate,” she snapped. “Only Jennifer calls me Katie.”

      Jennifer, the sister who’d wanted to call him Artie. If his brothers heard, they would never let him live that one down.

      “All right then, Kate, time to announce our arrival.” He wondered what Kate thought of his other name, the one he’d called himself after leaving the island at eighteen. An assumed name he could no longer use thanks to her internet exposé. Now people would always think of him as Duarte Medina instead of Duarte Moreno, the name he’d assumed after leaving his father’s island.

      Sweeping the ballroom doors open, he scanned the tables and dance floor illuminated by crystal chandeliers, searching for the father of the groom. He spotted Ramon with his wife a few feet away.

      The pharmaceutical heir smiled his welcome and reached for the microphone. “Dear friends and family,” he called for his guests’ attention.

      Some still milled over their dinner of beef tenderloin, stuffed with crab and scallops. Others collected around the stage waiting for the band to return from their break.

      Ramon continued, “—please welcome our special guest who has generously graced us with his presence—”

      Bowing and scraping was highly overrated.

      “—Prince Duarte Medina.”

      Applause, gasps and the general crap he’d already grown weary of bounced around the half-toasted wedding guests who’d been whooping it up for a week’s worth of celebration. Times like these he almost understood his father’s decision to live in total seclusion.

      Once the hubbub died down, Ramon pulled the mic to his mouth again. “A hearty welcome as well to his lovely date for the evening—”

      Duarte stopped alongside Ramon and spoke, filling the room without artificial aid. “I hope you will all join me in celebrating a second happy event this evening. This lovely woman at my side, Kate Harper, has agreed to be my wife.”

      Lifting her left hand, he kissed her fingers, strategically displaying the ring. Cameras flashed, thanks to the select media that had been invited. Kate had been on target by calling her sister. This news would be all over the internet within the hour—just as he intended.

      Comments jumbled on top of each other from the partyers, while Kate stayed silent, a smile pasted on her face. Smart woman. The less said, the better.

      “Congratulations!”

      “How did you two m—?”

      “No wonder he dumped Chelsea—”

      “Oh, you both must come to our—”

      “Why haven’t we heard anything about her before now?”

      Duarte decided that last question deserved addressing. “Why would I let the press chew Kate alive before I could persuade her to marry me?”

      Good-natured laughter increased, as did the curiosity in the sea of faces. He needed to divert their thoughts. And the best way?

      Claim that kiss he’d been craving since the second he’d felt the give of Kate’s soft body against him on the balcony.

      Her ring hand still clasped in his, he folded her arm against his chest. The pulse in her wrist beat faster under his thumb, her pupils widening with a clear signal of awakening desire. She didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her much either after what she’d put his family through.

      But neither of them could look away.

      The whispers and shuffling from the guests dulled in his ears as he focused only on her. He brushed his mouth across hers, lightly, only close enough to graze the barest friction across her bottom lip. She gasped, opening just enough to send a surge of success through him. As much as he wanted to draw this out and see how long it would take her to melt fully against him, they did have an audience and this kiss served