Rich, Rugged And Royal. Catherine Mann

arriving in the U.S., which resulted in Eloisa. She’s in her mid-twenties now.”

      Shannon’s eyes went wide behind her glasses.

      “Yeah, I know.” Turning, he drove from the jungle road onto a waterside route leading to the ferry station. “That’s a tight timeline between when we left San Rinaldo and the hookup.” Tight timeline in regard to his mother’s death.

      “That must have been confusing for you. Kolby barely remembers his father and it’s been tough for him to accept you. And we haven’t had to deal with adding another child to the mix.”

      A child? With Shannon? An image of a dark-haired baby—his baby—in her arms blindsided him, derailing his thoughts away from his father in a flash. His foot slid off the accelerator. Shaking free of the image was easier said than done as it grew roots in his mind—Kolby stepping into the picture until a family portrait took shape.

      God, just last week he’d been thinking how he knew nothing about kids. She was the one hinting at marriage, not him. Although she said the opposite until he didn’t know what was up.

      Things with Shannon weren’t as simple as he’d planned at the outset. “My father’s affair was his own business.”

      “Okay, then.” She pulled her glasses off and fogged them with her breath. She dried them with the hem of her dress. “Do you and your sister get along?”

      He hauled his eyes from Shannon’s glasses before he swerved off onto the beach. Or pulled onto the nearest side road and to hell with making it to the airstrip on time.

      “I’ve only met her once before.” When Tony was a teenager. His father had gone all out on that lone visit with his seven-year-old daughter. Tony didn’t resent Eloisa. It wasn’t her fault, after all. In fact, he grew even more pissed off at his father. Enrique had responsibilities to his daughter. If he wanted to stay out of her life, then fine. Do so. But half measures were bull.

      Yet wasn’t that what he’d been offering Shannon? Half measures?

      Self-realization sucked. “She’s come here on her own since then. She and Duarte have even met up a few times, which in a roundabout way brought on the media mess.”

      “How so?” She slid her glasses back in place.

      “Our sister married into a high-profile family. Eloisa’s husband is the son of an ambassador and brother to a senator. He’s a Landis.”

      She sat up straighter at the mention of America’s political royalty. Talk about irony.

      Tony slowed for a fuel truck to pass. “The Landis name naturally comes with media attention.” He accelerated into the parking lot alongside the ferry station, the boat already close to shore. An airplane was parked on the distant airstrip. “Her husband—Jonah—likes to keep a low profile, but that’s just not possible.”

      “What happened?”

      “Duarte was delivering one of our father’s messages, which put him on a collision course with a press camera. We’re still trying to figure out how the Global Intruder made the connection. Although, it’s a moot point now. Every stray photo of all of us has been unearthed, every detail of our pasts.”

      “Of my past?” Her face drained of color.

      “I’m afraid so.”

      All the more reason for her to stay on the island. Her husband’s illegal dealings, even his suicide, had hit the headlines again this morning, thanks to muckrakers looking for more scandal connected to the Medina story. He would only be able to shield Shannon from that for so long. She had a right to know.

      “I’ve grown complacent this week.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “My poor in-laws.”

      The SUV idled in the parking spot, the ferry already preparing to dock. He didn’t have much time left alone with her.

      Tony skimmed back her silky blond hair. “I’m sorry all this has come up again. And I hate it that I can’t do more to fix things for you.”

      Turning toward his touch, she rested her face in his hand. “You’ve helped this week.”

      He wanted to kiss her, burned to recline the seats and explore the hint of cleavage in her scoop-necked dress. And damned if that wasn’t exactly what he planned to do.

      Slanting his mouth over her, he caught her gasp and took full advantage of her parted lips with a determined sweep of his tongue. Need for her pumped through his veins, fast-tracked blood from his head to his groin until he could only feel, smell, taste undiluted Shannon. Her gasp quickly turned to a sigh as she melted against him, the curves of her breasts pressed to his chest, her fingernails digging deeply into his forearms as she urged him closer.

      He was more than happy to accommodate.

      It had been so long, too long since they’d had sex before their argument over his damned money. Nearly fourteen days that seemed like fourteen years since he’d had his hands on her this way, fully and unrestrained, tunneling under her clothes, reacquainting himself with the perfection of her soft skin and perfect curves. She fit against him with a rightness he knew extended even further with their clothes off. A hitch in her throat, the flush rising on the exposed curve of her breasts keyed him in to her rising need, as if he couldn’t already tell by the way she nearly crawled across the seat to get closer.

      Shannon wanted sex with him every bit as much as he wanted her. But that required privacy, not a parking lot in clear view of the approaching ferry.

      Holding back now was the right move, even if it was killing him.

      “Come on. Time to meet my sister.” He slid out of her arms and the SUV and around to her door before she could shuffle her purse from her lap to her shoulder.

      He opened the door and she smiled her thanks without speaking, yet another thing he appreciated about her. She sensed when he didn’t want to talk anymore. He’d shared things with women over the years, but until her, he’d never found one with whom he could share silence.

      The lapping waves, the squawk of gulls, the endless stretch of water centered him, steadying his steps and reminding him how to keep his balance in a rocky world.

      Resting his head on Shannon’s back, he waited while the ferry finished docking. His sister and her husband stood at the railing. Eloisa’s husband hooked an arm around her shoulders, the couple talking intently.

      Eloisa might not be a carbon copy of their father, but she carried an air of something unmistakably Medina about her. His father had once said she looked like their grandmother. Tony wouldn’t know, since he couldn’t remember his grandparents who’d all died before he was born.

      The loudspeaker blared with the boat captain announcing their arrival. Disembarking, the couple stayed close together, his brother-in-law broadcasting a protective air. Jonah was the unconventional Landis, according to the papers. If so, they should get along just fine.

      The couple stepped from the boat to the dock, and up close Eloisa didn’t appear nearly as calm as from a distance. Lines of strain showed in her eyes.

      “Welcome,” Tony said. “Eloisa, Jonah, this is Shannon Crawford, and I’m—”

      “Antonio, I know.” His sister spoke softly, reserved. “I recognize you both from the papers.”

      He’d met Eloisa once as a child when she’d visited the island. She’d come back recently, but he’d been long gone by then.

      They were strangers and relatives. Awkward, to say the least.

      Jonah Landis stepped up. “Glad you could accommodate our request for a visit so quickly.”

      “Damage control is important.”

      Eloisa simply took his hand, searching his face. “How’s our father?”

      “Not well.” Had Shannon just stepped closer to him? Tony kept his