The Montoros Dynasty. Katherine Garbera

Trust me on that one.” He found her mouth with his, going in for a quick pass and then lingering to taste every nuance of warm, willing woman.

      Maria was not shy, but there was a certain hesitance in her response, a tiny awkwardness that perhaps signified a lack of experience. That same pesky tenderness surfaced, making him want to protect her from himself. And wasn’t that a conundrum...

      Finally, her arms went around his neck. Now they were pressed chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip. There was no way she could miss the state of his body. He was hard everywhere.

      Though it took everything he had, he kept the kiss gentle, the embrace circumspect. They were standing where anyone could see them. And they had a very critical appointment in less than an hour.

      One more minute. That’s all he needed. His tongue stroked hers. “Hell, Maria. You make me forget my name.”

      “Alex,” she whispered, straining against him, standing on tiptoe. “Smart, sexy, adorable Alex.”

      “Adorable?” He frowned, trying to focus as she sucked on his bottom lip.

      “Adorable,” she said firmly. “You’re so serious and dedicated and straight-arrow. It’s lovable and charming.”

      He forced himself to release her, though when she clung to him in protest, his resolve weakened. His heart slamming in his chest like a pile driver, he took her wrists in his hands and dragged them away from his neck. “I’m not feeling at all dedicated right now, Maria. If it weren’t for the possibility of alligators in that lagoon, I’d be tempted to pull you down on the ground and have my adorable wicked way with you.”

      “Alligators?” Her shriek sent a flock of birds skyward.

      If he’d hoped to derail the possibility of sex, he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. His companion looked scared to death.

      He shook his head in bemusement. “You do know where we are, right? Alligator alley?”

      “I didn’t think they were everywhere.” She clung to his arm as he led her back toward their quarters.

      Alex ushered her inside the villa and shut the door. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Gators aren’t aggressive as a rule. Though they might grab the occasional cat or dog.”

      “Oh, Lord.” When she went white, he realized his assurances weren’t helping.

      “Go take your shower,” he said. “As long as you stay out of unknown pools and ponds, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.” He leaned down for one last kiss. “I’ll protect you.”

      * * *

      Maria turned the water as hot as she could bear it, stepping into the shower and trying to stop shaking. Maybe her fear was irrational, but while she could handle the occasional mouse or nasty spider, alligators were beyond her experience. Maybe this was what people meant when they said every Eden has its serpent.

      Miami and Coral Gables were beautiful beyond belief. Lush...tropical...a garden paradise. She’d never anticipated a dark side.

      As she dried off and re-dressed in the outfit she’d worn earlier, she hoped she had chosen appropriate attire for the weekend. Unfortunately, there was no manual for how to hobnob with royalty in America.

      Her navy linen sheath dress was very plain, its only adornment a trio of quirky wooden buttons on either shoulder. Her shoes were low-heeled strappy sandals in a neutral shade with cork soles. She stared in the mirror. Too casual? Not casual enough?

      The decision was moot now, because she didn’t have enough clothing with her for endless choices. Truthfully, it probably didn’t matter. She was not a key player in this drama. Alex was the one in the hot seat. The Montoros would be grilling him, not Maria. Poor Alex.

      She finished drying her hair and brushed it out, leaving it as it had been when she arrived. The clips kept it off her face. Presumably this afternoon’s gathering would be inside an air-conditioned space. One thing she had already learned about Florida was that even if the outside temperatures were sweltering, inside most buildings, it was cold enough to hang meat.

      Alex was waiting in the living room when she went in search of him. His smile was automatic and held no hint that only minutes earlier they had been passionately entwined in a kiss that had made her weak with longing.

      She decided to match his air of calm. “Are we ready?”

      He nodded. At that same moment the doorbell chimed. A young man, probably Maria’s age, stood waiting with a polite posture. His grin was quick and easy. A navy knit polo shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders, identified him as an employee of Montoro Enterprises.

      “I’m here to take you to the main house,” he said. “The Jeep’s right outside.”

      The vehicle was spotless, though perhaps not designed for women wearing dresses. Maria’s cheeks flamed when she was forced to accept Alex’s help climbing into the rear seat. The two men sat up front.

      It dawned on her that this compound must be even larger than she had imagined, because it took five minutes to drive to their destination. All the buildings, large or small, had been designed in the same vein, with whitewashed stucco walls and blue tile roofs.

      Most of the places they passed she couldn’t identify, but she did see a gardening shed and a transportation corral that housed multiple golf carts. When they arrived at the Montoros’ residence, she was not surprised to find that it was the largest building on the property.

      It was a work of art...two stories, with wraparound porches, ceiling fans and rattan furnishings. And there were windows...lots of windows. The glass was probably tinted, because otherwise, the sun would bake the inhabitants.

      Their escort parked at the base of a shallow set of steps and abandoned them. “Just knock,” he said, whistling as he wandered away.

      Maria looked at Alex askance. “I guess we’re on our own.”

      He shaded his eyes and looked around with curiosity. “I guess we are.” He didn’t seem a fraction as nervous as she felt. But then again, his family was every bit as prestigious as the Montoros, though not royal. If Alex so desired, he could probably be elected to lead the country when the current prime minister’s term was over.

      Together, she and Alex ascended the stairs. Moments after Alex rang the buzzer, a honey-skinned gray-haired man answered the door. He was dressed much like Alex in clothes that gave deference to the climate, though his manner was anything but relaxed. An English butler couldn’t have been more dignified.

      “Welcome to Casa Montoro,” he said. “The family awaits you in the salon.”

      The house reminded Maria of a spread she’d once envied in Architectural Digest. Every detail was harmonious perfection. Polished hardwood floors, colorful rag rugs. And views. Wow. One entire wall of glass framed the ocean in the distance.

      When she and Alex entered the large room, Rafael III jumped to his feet. “You’re here at last. We’re honored to welcome you to our home.” He shook Alex’s hand and kissed Maria on both cheeks.

      One glance around the assemblage told Maria that the key players in this drama were present. Rafael’s three children—Gabriel, Bella and Rafael IV. Juan Carlos II, the cousin. And, last but not least, the frail but indomitable Isabella Salazar.

      At seventy-three, she should still have a number of good years ahead of her, but her body had been ravaged with Parkinson’s. Though bound to a wheelchair when she was able to get out of bed, she was an imposing figure. Grandmother to Juan Carlos and great-aunt to his cousins, Isabella wielded considerable influence. And she was a proponent of the old ways. Which made her automatically an ally.

      With the exception of Isabella, Maria and Alex had met everyone the night of the reception. Knowing that, and as a matter of courtesy, Rafael took them immediately to sit with his aunt.

      The old woman might have been trapped in a broken body,