Rich, Rugged And Royal. Catherine Mann

      “Soccer.” His bicep twitched under her touch. “I’m from Europe, remember?”

      “Of course.” Unlikely she would ever forget his roots now that she knew. And she wanted to learn more about this strong-jawed man who thought to order a miniature motorized Jeep for her son—and then give credit to his father.

      She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as she swished through the ebbs and flow of the tidewaters. “So you still think of yourself as being from Europe? Even though you were only five when you came to the U.S.?”

      His eyebrows pinched together. “I never really thought of this as the U.S. even though I know how close we are.”

      “I can understand that. Everything here is such a mix of cultures.” While the staff spoke English to her, she’d heard Spanish spoken by some. Books and magazines and even instructions on labels were a mix of English, Spanish and some French. “You mentioned thinking this was still San Rinaldo when you got here.”

      “Only at first. My father told us otherwise.”

      What difficult conversations those must have been between father and sons. So much to learn and adjust to so young. “We’ve both lost a lot, you and I. I wonder if I sensed that on some level, if that’s what drew us to each other.”

      He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer while they kicked through the surf. “Don’t kid yourself. I was attracted to how hot you looked walking away in that slim black skirt. And then when you glanced over your shoulder with those prim glasses and do-me eyes.” He whistled long and low. “I was toast from the get-go.”

      Trying not to smile, her skin heating all the same, she elbowed him lightly. “Cro-Magnon.”

      “Hey, I’m a red-blooded male and you’re sexy.” He traced the cat-eye edge of her glasses. “You’re also entirely too serious at the moment. Life will kick us in the ass all on its own soon enough. We’re going to just enjoy the moment, remember? No more buzz kills.”

      “You’re right.” Who knew how much longer she would have with Tony before this mess blew up in her face? “Let’s go back to talking about surfing and high school dances. You so would have been the bad boy.”

      “And I’ll bet you were a good girl. Did you wear those studious glasses even then?”

      “Since I was in the eighth grade.” She’d hated how her nose would sweat in the heat when she’d marched during football games. “I was a dedicated musician with no time for boys.”

      “And now?”

      “I want to enjoy this beautiful ocean and a day with absolutely nothing to do.” She bolted ahead, kicking through the tide, not sure how to balance her impulsive need for Tony with her practical side that demanded she stay on guard.

      Footsteps splashed behind her a second before Tony scooped her up. And she let him.

      The warm heat of his shoulder under her cheek, the steady pump of his heart against her side had her curling her arms around his neck. “You’re getting us all wet.”

      His eyes fell to her shirt. His heart thumped faster. “Are you having fun?”

      “Yes, I am.” She toyed with the springy curls at the nape of his neck. “You always make sure of that, whether it’s an opera or a walk by the beach.”

      “You deserve to have more fun in your life.” He held her against his chest with a familiarity she couldn’t deny. “I would make things easier for you. You know that.”

      “And you know where I stand on that subject.” She cupped his face, his stubble so dark and thick that he wore a perpetual five o’clock shadow. “This—your protection, the trip, the clothes and toys—it’s already much more than I’m comfortable taking.”

      She needed to be clear on that before she even considered letting him closer again.

      He eased her to her feet with a lingering glide of her body down his. “We should go back.”

      The desire in his eyes glinted unmistakably in the afternoon sun. Yet, he pulled away.

      Her lips hungered and her breasts ached—and he was walking away again, in spite of all he’d said about how much he wanted her. This man confused the hell out of her.

      Five days later, Shannon lounged on the downstairs lanai and watched her son drive along the beach in his miniature Jeep, dogs romping alongside. This was the first time she’d been left to her own devices in days. She’d never been romanced so thoroughly in her life. True to his word, over the past week Tony had been at his most charming.

      Could her time here already be almost over?

      Sipping freshly squeezed lemonade—although the drink tasted far too amazing for such a simple name—she savored the tart taste. Of course everything seemed sharper, crisper as tension seeped from her bones. The concerns of the world felt forever away while the sun warmed her skin and the waves provided a soothing sound track to her days.

      And she had Tony to thank for it all. She’d never known there were so many entertainment options on an island. Of course Enrique Medina had spared no expense in building his compound.

      A movie screening room with all the latest films piped in for private viewing.

      Three different dining rooms for everything from family style to white-tie.

      Rec room, gym, indoor and outdoor swimming pools.

      She could still hear Kolby’s squeal of delight over the stable of horses and ponies.

      Throughout it all, Tony had been at her side with tantalizing brushes of his strong body against hers. All the while his rich chocolate brown eyes reminded Shannon that the next move was up to her. Not that they stood a chance at finding privacy today. The grounds buzzed with activity, and today, no sign of Tony.

      Behind her, the doors snicked open. Tony? Her heart stuttered a quick syncopation as she glanced back.

      Alys walked toward her, high heels clicking on the tiled veranda as she angled past two guards comparing notes on their twin BlackBerry phones. Shannon forced herself to keep the smile in place. It would be rude to frown in disappointment, especially after how helpful the woman had been.

      Too bad the disappointment wasn’t as easy to hide from herself. No doubt about it, Tony was working his way back into her life.

      The king’s assistant stopped at the fully stocked outdoor bar and poured a glass of lemonade from the crystal pitcher.

      Shannon thumbed the condensation on the cold glass. “Is there something you need?”

      “Antonio wanted me to find you, and I have.” She tapped her silver BlackBerry attached to the waistband of her linen skirt. Ever crisp with her power suit and French manicure. As usual the elegant woman didn’t have a wrinkle in sight, much less wince over working in heels all day. “He’ll be out shortly. He’s finishing up a meeting with his father.”

      “I should get Kolby.” She swung her feet to the side. How silly to be glad she’d caved and used some of the new clothes. She had worn everything she brought with her twice and while the laundry service easily kept up with her limited wardrobe, she’d begun to feel a little ungrateful not to wear at least a few of the things that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to provide. Shannon smoothed the de la Renta scoop-necked dress, the fabric so decadently soft it caressed her skin with every move.

      “No need to stop the boy’s fun just yet. Antonio is on his way.” Alys perched on the edge of the lounger, glass on her knee.

      Shannon rubbed the hem of her dress between two fingers much like Kolby with his blanket when he needed soothing. “I hear you’re the one who ordered all the new clothes. Thank you.”

      Alys saw to everything else in this smoothly run place. “No need for thanks. It’s my job.”

      “You