she?
Maybe if she had held still just a moment longer, his kiss would have landed on her cheek. Yeah, that was probably it. But now that they were in this awkward situation, neither moved. Could he hear the pounding of her heart?
Over the years, she’d wondered what it’d be like to feel Luca’s mouth pressed to hers. But she’d never, ever thought that it would actually happen.
And then his lips moved over hers, tentatively and slowly, as though figuring out where they went from here. Her pulse raced, and any rational thoughts slipped out of reach. At last, her dream was coming true.
Her purse slipped from her hand as she reached out to him. Her fingers slid beneath his gray sports jacket to the black T-shirt beneath. As her palms slid over the defined contours of his chest, a moan swelled in the back of her throat.
Oh, yeah... This kiss—this moment—was so much better than she’d ever imagined. She definitely approved of this change in Luca.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Need, wonderment and eagerness consumed her. The rush of emotions was more intoxicating than the bubbly they’d just shared.
As their kiss intensified, his tongue slipped past her compliant lips. She leaned in closer, pressing the length of her body against his. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.
A whistle followed by applause from the stage crew had her reluctantly pulling away. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she gazed into Luca’s face. Perhaps disappointment or regret, but instead he was smiling at her. It was one of those smiles that made his eyes twinkle.
“Are you ready to go?” Luca whispered into her ear, sending goose bumps racing down over her body.
“Um...yes.”
“Good. I want to make this a very special evening for you.”
It was already special. That kiss had been so unexpected and so much better than she’d ever imagined. This was a different side of Luca, and she liked it—she liked him—a lot.
After retrieving her purse from the floor, she slipped her hand into his and they rushed out the door. She refused to second-guess this decision. It was her one chance to be something so much more than Luca’s friend.
At last, he’d seen her as a desirable woman.
Nine weeks later, Mirraccino Island,
the Mediterranean
SHE’D HEARD IT said that you can never go home again. Maybe she should have heeded that warning.
Elena stared at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom at her parents’ modest home on the royal estate of Mirraccino. This trip had not been her idea. It had come about rather suddenly when her mother broke her leg.
Her mother had called to say that she couldn’t get around on her own, and since Elena’s father was needed at the palace, her mother was home alone all day. As their only child, it was up to Elena to return home. And though the timing wasn’t ideal with the start of the new campaign for the Renard line, Elena had worked feverishly to reschedule all of her appointments. She was more than willing to help her mother, who’d always been there for her.
But unbeknownst to Elena, her mother had exaggerated her condition. The fact that her mother had played on Elena’s emotions was unusual, so she let it pass without comment. The truth was she didn’t make it home often enough.
Don’t think about it. Not this evening.
She hadn’t even unpacked yet when her mother had handed over an invitation printed on heavy cream stationery sealed with a deep purple royal crest. A little confused, Elena had opened it, surprised to find that she’d been invited to Lady Annabelle’s engagement festivities. The invitation had said the event was to be intimate and to dress casually.
Now, two days later, she’d tried on every single dress she’d brought with her from Paris at least twice. Some were too revealing. Others were too flashy. And some were too formal. What exactly did one wear to dinner at the palace?
She’d never been in this situation before. Although she was the daughter of the king’s private secretary, she wasn’t the type who received invitations to royal events. And this wasn’t just any party. It was a weeklong series of events. And her mother had taken it upon herself to post an acceptance on Elena’s behalf.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in.”
Her mother smiled as she entered the room. Her long dark hair was pulled back and tucked up at the nape of her neck. Only powder accentuated her natural beauty. “I just wanted to see if you needed any help getting ready.”
“I’m the one who should be asking if you need anything.”
Her mother waved off the concern. “I’m fine.”
“Isn’t Father home yet? I thought he might stay with you while I’m out for the evening.”
The smile slipped from her mother’s face. “I don’t see your father much lately.”
Elena had noticed her father’s increased absence. “What has him so busy?”
“The same thing as always—the king.”
“Oh.” Elena knew from growing up that her father kept his work to himself. And that was probably why he was the king’s most trusted employee. “I’m sorry. I had hoped the king would be back to normal by now.”
“I had hoped the same thing. Nothing has been right since they arrested that murderer. The news hit the king really hard.”
“I’m sure it was quite a shock to learn there was a murderer wandering through the palace all those years.”
Her mother shuddered. “I don’t like to think of it. Your father saw that criminal every day. Just the thought—”
“Don’t go there. It’s all over.” Elena hoped to reassure her. “Father is safe.”
Her mother sent her a weak smile and nodded.
Elena turned back to the full-length mirror. She’d finally settled on a little black dress. It wasn’t anything special. But the black suited her mood. She’d been sullen and reserved ever since her night with Luca. It had been just one more mistake on her part—a total error in judgment.
The only right decision she’d made was agreeing to be the face of one of the world’s hottest designers. The work was now coming in droves. In fact, there were so many requests for appearances and photo shoots that she couldn’t do them all. But once word got out about her condition, it would all end.
She was pregnant with Luca’s baby.
Pregnant. The word still sounded so foreign to her.
She’d always kept track of her cycle—a little tick mark on her day planner.
