Found: His Royal Baby. Raye Morgan

she was surrounded by friends. He couldn’t do anything to her here. So why did she feel so vulnerable? Why did fear flutter inside her like a butterfly seeking freedom?

      She had to do something. Dane was going to make sure she was humiliated if he kept this up. The only way to avoid it was going to be to dance with the man. Very well, then. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. She might as well get it over with.

      “You win, oh mighty one,” she said mockingly. “Let’s dance.”

      Second thoughts came fast and furious, and she stiffened as he took her in his arms as though they were heading out to perform a Viennese waltz. She hadn’t expected that.

      “Wait,” she said, resisting. “What are you doing?”

      “You don’t think I’m going to do the Shim Sham or whatever crazy dance is popular, do you?” he said blithely, not giving an inch. “I’m not one of your pretty boys, Alexandra. And I won’t make a spectacle of myself before the whole world.”

      She lifted her chin, green eyes glittering. “You didn’t like my dancing style?”

      He smiled down at her coldly. “Your dancing was exotic, erotic and totally shameless.”

      He pulled her just a bit closer. The music started and he began to lead her onto the dance floor, turning her slowly to every other beat. Somehow, it worked, and though they were in a slow embrace, they seemed to be in tune to the music, regardless.

      “I told you I wanted to talk. We can’t do that jumping up and down on each other’s toes.”

      Her pulse raced. It was so strange to be with him like this. For months she’d longed to see him at the same time she dreaded it. Now that he was here, she knew nothing good could come of it. He was a danger to her, a danger to her family. She had to be so careful what she said, so careful what she let him know. He was still the enemy, no matter what ties still lingered between them.

      And here she was, so close to him she could feel his breath in her hair. Her gaze drifted to the open neck of his white shirt. She remembered what that chest looked like without a shirt, she remembered…

      “Oh!” She pulled back, closing her eyes against the vision. “I thought you wanted to talk,” she said quickly. “Go ahead. Say something.”

      “I was trying to recall if we’d ever danced together before,” he said softly.

      “Never,” she snapped. “And this will be the only time, so make the most of it.”

      “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Don’t you remember that hotel cocktail lounge in Tokyo?”

      She looked up and met his steady gaze, even though she knew it was a big mistake. Tokyo was over six years ago. They’d been so young, and both dispatched by their families as representatives to the International Conference on Economic Growth.

      They’d started out antagonists when he’d made an official challenge to her right to sit for Carnethia. He’d called her family’s rule illegitimate, he’d called her a usurper. She’d reacted angrily, calling him a sore loser, a remnant of a decadent past. They’d come face-to-face, staring each other down.

      They’d carried their argument into the dining room during the official banquet, and then into the meeting rooms, and finally into the cocktail lounge. And somehow they had ended up dancing. And dancing. The night went on and on. The antagonism had melted away, but not the passion. Once they’d come together like that, they couldn’t seem to keep away from each other. They spent most of the next two days in each other’s arms.

      By the time they had boarded separate planes Monday morning, she could have sworn they were in love. That it was forever. That nothing could keep them apart. She could hardly wait to get home to begin making plans. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince her family that love was more important than old grudges, but she was sure she would find a way.

      But she’d been wrong. There was no way. She’d been dreaming of bridal veils and satin wedding gowns, and her country had been taking up arms. While they’d been gone, romancing in Tokyo, the unrest in Carnethia had taken a serious turn for the worse. Fighting had begun along the border. The world of Acredonna power that she’d grown up being so sure of was quickly crumbling, though she didn’t know it yet.

      She was swept up in the fight almost immediately, and Dane was the enemy, one of the leaders of the very people who were trying to ruin her family. She didn’t see him again until the last month of the war.

      The war was over now, but the bitterness lingered on.

      “Tokyo?” she lied, shrugging. “I don’t remember Tokyo. Ancient history.”

      He winced. Beyond all reason, that was another painful twist to his heart.

      “I’ve been searching for you for weeks,” he said gruffly. “You and your family have kept a low profile since the war ended.”

      “That’s what happens to the vanquished, isn’t it?” She looked up into his eyes. “The losers have to hide.”

      Her eyes had always had the power to hypnotize him. Once he looked into them, he had a hard time looking away. But there was something different tonight. The usual open honesty she gave him was missing. Something furtive hid in the recesses of those beautiful irises. He searched hard, trying to analyze what she was avoiding. But he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

      “And your father?” he asked with real curiosity. There were so many rumors floating around and so few solid facts.

      “My father?” A flash of anger covered her wariness. “What do you care about my father? You hate him.”

      “He’s been a big influence on my life, whatever the reason. I’m curious. I’ve heard different things and I’d like to know what the real story is.”

      She pressed her lips together, then decided to tell him the truth. “My father is sick and barely hanging on.”

      He drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

      She grunted skeptically, shrugging away his simple sympathy. “And he is very, very bitter.”

      He shrugged. He’d assumed that. “Of course.”

      She took a deep breath, glanced into his eyes and then away. “Mostly toward his own children,” she admitted, “who were not able to hang on to the prize he won for the family fifty years ago.”

      He nodded. He took that as a matter of course as well. His father would have been the same, had he lived and gone through what her father had suffered.

      “And yet, you’re here,” he noted dryly.

      She nodded, biting her lip. “It’s my birthday.”

      Her birthday. He almost caught his breath at that news. Why it should affect him with a wave of emotion he wasn’t sure, but it did.

      “I didn’t bring you a present,” he said softly.

      She looked up at him, her lower lip quivering, but her eyes still full of spirit. “And here I thought you considered yourself a gift to the human race,” she said flippantly.

      “Cute.”

      He looked at her mouth. The urge to kiss her surged in his chest. The music stopped and they stood swaying, still pressed together. He stared at the way her lip was trembling, so full and delicious and tempting.

      And below, the full thrust of her breasts, the deep, shadowed cleavage between them. He could feel the warmth rising from it, taste the heat he would find in her mouth. Every fiber of his being wanted her. No other woman would ever affect him the way she did.

      And no woman was more impossible for him to have.

      His head went back as he realized the murmurs had begun. Someone had recognized him, and the whispers were spreading through