“Monaco is small enough that we could have walked to the café, you know,” she said.
“You have had enough sun.” And he was less likely to be recognized in an anonymous taxi. The driver pulled over in the street and stopped. Dominic paid him and opened the door. He noted Ian climbing from a taxi a half a block away. Dominic subtly angled his head toward the Italian café as a signal.
Madeline curled her fingers around Dominic’s and allowed him to assist her from the car. She joined him on the sidewalk, but didn’t release his hand. The small gesture tightened something inside him. When had he last held hands with a woman? Such a simple pleasure. One he hadn’t realized he’d missed.
She tipped back her head. “Monaco has strict protocol. Are you sure we’re dressed appropriately?”
One of us is. He had pulled on trousers and a polo shirt before leaving the beach. His attire was acceptable, as was Madeline’s if one was unaware she wore nothing beneath the thin yellow sundress. The driver retrieved the dive bag from the trunk. Dominic took it from him. “The café is casual. I recommend the prosciutto and melon or the bruschetta.”
He’d prefer to feast on her, on her rosy lips, on her soft, supple skin, on the tight nipples pushing against her dress.
Wondering when his intelligence had deserted him, Dominic led her inside and requested a table in the back. Madeline didn’t release his hand until he seated her. He chose a chair facing away from the door. The fewer people who saw his face the better and Ian would cover his back.
The entire afternoon had been an exercise in restraint and a reminder that he was not an accomplished liar. He had been so distracted by his unexpected attraction to Madeline that he had almost blown his cover. Had she not commented on his blond body hair he would have removed his shirt and his secret would be out.
Your secret is keeping her out of your bed.
Without a doubt, he desired Madeline Spencer, but getting women to share his bed had never been difficult. Getting one to see him as a mere man, however, was nearly impossible. He would have to reveal his identity soon for he did not think his control would last much longer, and then if he could be certain Madeline could be happy with a short-term affair, he would explore every inch of her. Repeatedly.
But before he revealed his secret he needed to discover hers. Why had she renounced love?
After placing their orders Dominic asked, “Did you love him?”
Her smile wobbled and then faded. Her fingers found and tugged one dark coil of hair. He wanted to wind the spirals around his fingers, around his—
“Who?”
Her pretended ignorance didn’t fool him. The shadows darkening her eyes gave her discomfort away. He removed his sunglasses and looked into her eyes. “The man who disappointed you.”
She fussed with her cutlery. “Pfft. What makes you so sure there is one?” When he held her gaze without replying she bristled. “Is this twenty questions? Because if it is, you’ll have to give an answer for every one you get.”
Risky, but doable if he chose his words carefully. He nodded acceptance of her terms. “Did you love him?” he repeated.
“I thought I did.”
“You don’t know?”
She shifted in her seat, reminding him of her nakedness beneath the T-shirt thin layer of cotton. “Why don’t you tell me what you have planned for our next outing?”
“Because you are a far more interesting topic.” His voice came out in a lower pitch than normal as if he were dredging it up from the bottom of the sea. “Why do you question your feelings?”
She sighed. Resignation settled over her features. “My mother was forty-six when I was born and my father fifty. They were too old to keep up with a rambunctious child. I wanted to do things differently when I had children, so I made a plan to get married and start my family before I turned thirty. I met Mike right after college. He seemed like the perfect candidate and we got engaged. But it didn’t work out.”
“One failed relationship soured you?”
Another squirm of her naked bottom made him wish he could take the place of her chair. “My parents divorced. It wasn’t pretty. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”
“Yes.”
Her arched brows rose. “And?”
“My turn. Why did your relationship end?”
She frowned. “Lots of reasons. First, I spent too much time trying to be the woman I thought he and society expected me to be instead of the one I wanted to be. Second, he found someone else.”
“He is a fool.”
A smile twitched her lips. “Don’t expect me to argue with that brilliantly insightful conclusion.”
The waitress placed their meals on the table and departed.
“Have you ever been married?” Madeline asked before biting into her bruschetta.
“Yes.”
Her body stilled and her emerald gaze locked with his. She chewed quickly and then swallowed. “What happened?”
“She died.” The words came out without inflection. He’d learned long ago to keep the pain locked away behind a wall of numbness.
Sympathy darkened her eyes. “I’m sorry. How?”
“Ectopic pregnancy.”
She reached across the table and covered his hand. Her touch warmed him and surprisingly, soothed him. “That must have been hard, losing your wife and child at the same time. Did you even know she was pregnant?”
How could this virtual stranger understand what those closest to him had not?
“Yes, it was hard, and no, we didn’t know about the baby.” It had infuriated him at the time that many had been more concerned with the loss of a potential heir to the throne than the loss of his wife, his friend, his gentle Giselle. Only recently had his anger subsided enough for him to agree to another marriage. If his sisters had produced sons instead of daughters, he probably never would have.
They finished the meal in silence. He waited until Madeline pushed her plate aside before asking, “You do not wish for another affaire de coeur or the American dream of a house with a white picket fence and two-point-something children?”
She straightened and put her hands in her lap. “No. I’m over my urge to procreate. It’s time to focus on me. My wants. My needs. My career. I don’t need a man to complete me. And I don’t need marriage to find passion.”
Passion. Arousal pulsed through him. “You can be happy with brief liaisons? Without love?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I prefer it that way. If I want to take a promotion, a trip or stay out late with my friends, then I don’t have to worry about anyone’s ego getting bent. So, Damon…” Her fingertips touched his on the table. “What you
