Royal Scandals: Scandal With A Prince Part 12

"Conspiring has a negative connotation, which is why the common phrase is conspiring against. What we're doing is convincing you, since this is an activity you'd enjoy."

"You do love the fountain, Mom," Anna argued. "Please? It's almost eight already. If we want to go, we should get there before it's too crowded so we can stake out a spot on the gra.s.s, up close."

"I've never seen it." Stefano's voice dripped with mock pleading. "If I don't see it now, I might never have the opportunity-"

"You will so! You're coming back to visit me again!" Anna spun in the seat and landed a fake punch to Stefano's ribs, which sent him careening off the bench with a laugh.

"Fine, fine, I'll visit! But we're supposed to be convincing your mother to go tonight, not pointing out that we can go another time."

"Oh. Right."

Megan raised her hands in surrender. "We'll go. Before you two injure yourselves trying to convince me."

Anna leapt off the bench and high-fived Stefano. "Nice work, Mr. Jones. You're very convincing."

Megan rolled her eyes as father and daughter led the way, arm in arm. So much for semantics. Attending the fountain's water show might not be a negative, as Stefano put it when explaining conspiring versus convincing, but it was definitely dangerous.

Chapter Eighteen.

Stefano stole a look at Megan before drinking in the sight of his sleeping daughter. Half of Anna's hair remained captured atop her head in a bright purple ponytail holder while the rest hung in messy chunks over her face, which was planted just above Megan's left knee. Anna's expression as Megan rubbed her back was one of quiet bliss.

d.a.m.n if he wasn't jealous of a kid.

From the moment he'd spotted Megan in the crowd outside La Boqueria, a lopsided, half-awake smile on her face and her hair gleaming in the early morning light, he'd itched to touch her. He'd fought the urge to put his hand at the small of her back to guide her along the aisles as they'd wandered the market after breakfast, even going so far as walking with his hands in his pockets and keeping Anna between them to act as a buffer.

But then she'd paused to purchase a bar of soap and the fresh green scent, one forever intermingled in his mind with the heat of their shared shower, overrode his common sense. He'd leaned in close. He'd flirted. And when she'd spun face him, he'd seen desire in her gaze.

If Anna hadn't returned to ask about the silly pink candle, he'd have kissed Megan then and there.

He'd managed the cathedral and the chocolate museum without giving in to her pull. It was easier outside the confines of the market, with its rich smells and romantic atmosphere. But there'd been a moment late in the afternoon when he'd caught a view of Megan from the side that made him ache. They'd offered to wait under a Gothic arch while Anna scampered across the street to drop a Euro in a musician's open violin case. The sun streamed between the buildings and through the stone arch at such an angle that it shone through Megan's soft blue irises, making them sparkle like crystal as she'd watched her daughter look both ways, then cross the narrow street.

Their daughter.

It was all he could do not to draw Megan close and kiss her on the forehead, just under the stray strands of hair twisting along her temple, and tell her how fortunate he felt. How amazing and miraculous it was that they shared this vivacious girl. How much he wanted to be with them-with her-and spend all his weekends this way. Instead, he'd turned away, allowing the moment to pa.s.s.

When they'd returned to La Rambla at dusk, tiny lights looped through the trees that grew down the center of the boulevard sparkled to life. The scent of roasting chestnuts floated through the air. Young adults gathered around tables in cafes on either side of the cobblestone street while lovers strolled past, arms around each other's waists. He saw Megan's gaze follow one young couple and thought of gently taking her hand in his-an easy, natural gesture given their surroundings-but she'd drifted away to admire a piece of art in a store window.

She wasn't playing hard to get, as other women he'd been with liked to do. Instead, she was doing exactly as she promised, allowing him the opportunity to spend time with his daughter.

So it was Anna's hand he held under the glittering treetop lights. It was for the best.

The more time he spent with Megan, the more impressed he became with all she'd accomplished. He'd known she was a strong, independent woman before he'd even spoken to her. When he first saw her walking in that alley in Venezuela, she'd been shouldering more pipe than most men would and doing it without complaint. She'd allowed him to help her, but she hadn't liked it. He could tell she wasn't the type who wanted to depend on others for anything.

If he pressured her now, she might view it as a challenge to her independence. But if he could keep his distance, let her see for herself that he could be a good father to Anna and a good partner for her, perhaps she'd reconsider his offer of marriage.

He had to give up control. Let her guide their relationship.

He also had to be patient. Patience, however, was hard to come by when Megan sat shoulder to shoulder with him in the near dark. As much as his brain told him to appeal to her logical side, his body craved an entirely different approach.

"She hasn't crashed like this since she was a little girl." Megan shifted so Anna's head rested more comfortably in her lap.

The three of them had selected spots in the gra.s.s near the fountain to wait for the show to start, with Anna asking Megan to sit in the middle, since that put Anna in a better position to see the fountain. But as more couples and families filled the open s.p.a.ce around them, Anna put her head down for "just a sec" and was out.

"It's understandable. She woke up early and walked a long way today."

Stefano removed his amber sungla.s.ses and propped them onto his tattered baseball hat so he could better see Megan. He could feel divots on either side of his nose as a result of wearing gla.s.ses for more than twelve hours and his leg muscles ached from sitting cross-legged. He wasn't used to being in the midst of such a crowd outdoors and hadn't counted on the discomfort of folding his legs under him. To buy s.p.a.ce, he leaned back and propped his hands behind him.

"Think she'll wake up when it starts?" he asked.

"Hard to say. Maybe. It's all right if you'd like to call it a night." She leaned forward to study Stefano's face. Her eyes clouded and a small crease appeared between her brows. "You look tired, too."

"It's been a long day. Didn't think I looked that bad, though." He scrubbed a hand over his chin. "Maybe it's the beard. Makes me look like I haven't slept."

"I must say, this" -Megan reached up to touch the stubble covering his face- "is something else. I've never seen you with a five o'clock shadow. Even in Venezuela."

He froze as her warm fingers glided over his cheek and chin, then wondered if his sudden stillness alerted her to his intense reaction to her touch. If not, his desire must have shown in his eyes, for when she met his gaze with her own, she slowly withdrew her hand and lowered it to the gra.s.s.

At that moment, cla.s.sical music blasted from speakers surrounding the fountain. Hundreds, if not thousands, of voices cheered as plumes of water sailed skyward in time to the music. The sight had to be spectacular, judging from the sounds of the crowd and the mult.i.tude of camera flashes, but he didn't dare look.

Megan sat motionless, her eyes turned toward him rather than the fountain. Despite the cacophony around them, Anna didn't stir.

In that moment, a sensation gripped his heart he'd never before experienced.

He didn't simply admire this woman. He loved her. He loved her strength. Her independence. Her open smile. Her ability to forgive the fact she'd been blocked from informing him about her pregnancy, and that he'd become engaged so soon after leaving her. And he especially loved her honesty, when she could've continued to keep Anna a secret. All of it spoke to the kind of woman she was. Unique in the world. Unique in his life.

He could never, ever let her go.

But he couldn't tell her, not until he was certain she felt the same. If he breathed a word, she'd think he was trying to manipulate her into marriage.

"No one has seen me like this," he finally said, running a hand over his face full of stubble. "Other than during field training, when I didn't have access to a razor for a few days, I haven't let it grow. I've certainly never been photographed with it."

A muscle jumped in her throat as she lowered her gaze to his mouth. "Good way to disguise yourself, then."

He was losing the battle now. His fingers curled in the gra.s.s as he grappled with his overwhelming need to kiss her. To show her, even if he couldn't tell her, how he felt. Perhaps, just once- "Stefano? Is that you?"

Megan's eyes rose to his in a mix of surprise and concern. The voice had come from beyond Megan, beyond the middle-aged couple seated in the gra.s.s next to her. Shaken back to reality, he leaned forward, seeking out its source.

"It's me," the feminine voice came again. "Ilsa."

Then he spotted her sitting about fifteen or twenty feet away with a group of young women who, judging from their dress, were planning to spend the evening barhopping or dancing after the water show. When Ilsa saw he'd located her, she fanned her fingers in a small wave.

Cautiously, he glanced around. Everyone else's attention was riveted on the fountain. He looked back to Ilsa and smiled, then put a finger to his lips.

"Ilsa?" Megan hadn't moved. She seemed afraid to look. "The woman from the Grandspire party?"

"Yes."

"She recognized you?"

"She's known me for years." He shrugged. "But she also understands my need for privacy. She's been through this with my sister. She won't give me away to her friends."

"She said your name." Worry crept into Megan's voice.

"My first name only, and in a city where it's not uncommon. No one will make the connection." He hoped. He leaned forward to look past Megan again. The rest of Ilsa's group laughed as they held up their cell phones to snap video of the fountain, with its high, wild sprays and multicolored lights moving in time to the music. They seemed not to notice that Ilsa had spied a friend in the crowd. Ilsa gestured toward Megan, tilting her head as if to ask whether Megan was the woman she thought.

He gave a slight nod. It was useless to deny Megan's ident.i.ty. Ilsa was too eagle-eyed by far. Not only had she picked out Megan from across the rooftop during the Grandspire fireworks and noted Megan's interest in Stefano, she'd recognized Stefano in a crowd with a day's worth of beard.

Ilsa smiled in acknowledgement then turned back to her friends.

"You think we're okay?" Megan asked quietly. She still hadn't turned around to look at Ilsa, as if afraid doing so would result in disaster. "Should we leave? Can we leave without being noticed?"

Stefano put his hand over hers, strictly for rea.s.surance. "Like I said this morning, no one expects me here in Barcelona. No one is looking our way. We're fine."

His attention dropped to the still form in Megan's lap. "On the other hand, Anna hasn't moved a muscle in at least half an hour. If it would make you feel better to take her home, we can."

Megan a.s.sessed her daughter before looking back to Stefano. She shifted, but didn't withdraw her hand from beneath his. "We'll give her a few minutes. If she doesn't wake up, then we'll go, but we'll have been here long enough for you to tell her how much you enjoyed the fountain."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

"Me, too."

Megan didn't stir. Didn't look at the fountain. And he knew, knew in his deepest soul, that she desired him even if she refused to marry him. He could see it in the light blush creeping across her cheeks and the slight part of her supple lips. In the way her breathing changed whenever he touched her or smiled at her. At the same time, she didn't look at him in the same way other women did. It was as if she saw beyond the surface, beyond the royal t.i.tle, to who he was as a man, and regarded him on that basis.

He threaded his fingers between hers and squeezed. He had to have her. No matter what it took, no matter how long he had to wait. He never considered himself a romantic, but what was their random meeting after ten years on the opposite side of the world if not destiny? In the soft glow and splash of the Magic Fountain, it certainly seemed possible.

Easing his head toward hers, he whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For a perfect day." He leaned in close enough to feel her warm breath mingle with his. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment before moving fractionally to kiss her cheek. He allowed his lips to linger against her skin for a half-beat longer than necessary for a proper thank you kiss before he pulled back, let go of her hand, and turned to watch the water arc toward the starlit sky.

He took deep satisfaction in the thready sound of her exhale before she said, "You're welcome."

Chapter Nineteen.

Megan wanted Stefano. Badly. Worse, the man knew it.

What he didn't know-what he could never know-was that she was falling in love with him. No, not falling. She feared she'd always loved him. Clandestine weekends spent together so he could make up for lost time with his daughter only served to show Megan that the dynamic, caring, utterly s.e.xy man she'd met in Venezuela, the man she'd kept in her deepest fantasies for years, turned out to have matured into someone even better.

It killed her.

Which was why, as they made their way toward the parking lot that sat above one end of the Grandspire's beachfront boardwalk, Megan took care to keep a healthy physical distance between them.

It was the first time they felt safe being together on hotel property since he'd attended the grand reopening nearly two months ago. So far, aside from the emotional havoc it wreaked within Megan, his weekend visits had gone smoothly. The only blip occurred when Stefano's friend Ilsa had recognized them at the Magic Fountain during his first visit, but that was all it had been. A blip.

He'd even taken the chance he wouldn't be recognized and booked a commercial flight this weekend while his jet underwent maintenance. The change meant he couldn't send his travel bag to the airport with his pilot when checking out of his hotel, as had become his habit, but Megan offered her suite for storage and it hadn't been a problem. Stefano had his hotel's concierge deliver the bag while Stefano met Megan and Anna at the Parc del Laberint, an old Barcelona public area complete with a hedge maze and a country house that offered tours. Since Anna had never visited the maze, Stefano challenged her to a race from one section to the other as Megan watched from a nearby viewing area that allowed her to cheer their progress. After a relaxed picnic lunch in the park, they'd returned to the Grandspire so Anna could gather her things for an end-of-school celebratory sleepover at her friend Julia's apartment. Stefano planned to see Anna off, then retrieve his bag before heading to the airport.

Despite the alteration in what had become an easy routine, this weekend had been as trouble-free as all the others. Even now, as they strolled the boardwalk in the direction of the hotel parking lot, they appeared like any other family enjoying a sunny weekend. She'd chosen a simple sundress, while Stefano sported a plain white T-shirt, jeans, sungla.s.ses, and his usual battered Red Sox baseball hat. Nothing about them stood out. If pa.s.sersby glanced their direction, it was only to ensure Megan and Stefano had an eye on Anna, who'd run ahead to wait on the bench nearest the stairs to the parking lot. With as much gear as she carried for the sleepover, Anna looked like a runaway. Megan supposed she should've expected it when she allowed Anna to pack herself.

She sighed, thinking of how independent Anna had become in the last year. It was the age, Megan supposed. The girl seemed to be maturing in leaps and bounds. In no time at all, she'd be sending Anna off to college. At least it felt that way today, with another grade completed and summer upon them. Part of her loved seeing the changes in her daughter, while part wanted to grab Anna and hold on to her forever, to stop her from growing older so they enjoy more time together.

"She prefers to do things on her own, doesn't she?" Stefano asked, as if reading Megan's mind.

"She does."

The weekend visits had worked to bring Anna and Stefano closer together, to the point that Stefano could now antic.i.p.ate Anna's reaction to any given situation. He knew her likes and dislikes, appreciated her creative mind, and had discerned at least a dozen ways to make his daughter laugh. When she'd turned ten on the first of June, he'd even resisted the impulse to buy Anna a pricey gift, instead taking her to her favorite ice cream parlor for sundaes. By the same token, Anna had grown completely comfortable with Stefano and loved their time together. Sometimes too much, as evidenced by the loud burp Anna let out as they'd left the park this afternoon and Stefano's resulting applause, but Megan supposed she could live with that. Allowing Anna to build an honest relationship with her father was important. He'd be an anchor for Anna in the coming years should she ever need him.

Megan decided that she even could live with wanting the man herself. As much as she never wanted to want, she reminded herself that she met gorgeous, desirable men in her professional life every day. She never dated them, no matter how strong the temptation, no matter how the men might flirt.

But oh, Stefano was a master at the game of flirtation. He had enough experience with women to know she desired him and he played that to the hilt, coming just-so-close to touching her back or brushing an arm against hers without actually doing it. Catching her eye and flashing those dimples whenever they shared a laugh. Speaking in double entendres he knew Anna wouldn't catch but Megan would, then continuing on in a completely innocent manner, as if he hadn't said anything the slightest bit risque.

Giving her lingering goodbye kisses on the cheek when each weekend ended, but never attempting more intimate contact.

For days before he visited, she'd tell herself to regard him in the same light she did the attractive men who drifted through her professional life. No matter who they were, any desire she felt for those men eventually dulled over time by the simple fact they shared a business relationship; it was a pattern she'd learned to expect, which made it easier to resist their attempts at flirtation. The costs of not resisting were too high.

But over the last few weeks, Megan recognized that something more existed between her and Stefano, something far stronger than a case of l.u.s.t. Something she couldn't resist in the way she'd resisted the other men whom she'd had the opportunity to date. When she first laid eyes on Stefano after a week apart, it was as if a switch flipped inside her, lighting her soul. It was more than the fact they shared Anna. It was in the flash of his genuine smile, the one that reached all the way to his eyes when he and Anna conspired against her, or tried to convince her, to engage in a particular activity. It was in his walk. His affable manner with shopkeepers and waiters. His quick and offbeat wit. Even-though she hated to admit it, even to herself-his instinct to protect everyone who entered his...o...b..t.

Each hour they spent together brought out some new facet of his personality for her to appreciate. And each hour they spent together, it became harder and harder to resist-let alone hide-her growing feelings for him. She wasn't sure how many more of these so-called casual weekends she could take without having to physically sit on her hands to prevent herself from touching him.

On the other hand, he hadn't mentioned his marriage proposal in well over a month, meaning it was possible he'd changed his mind. In that case, maybe the situation would grow easier for her as time went on. They'd establish a visitation routine no different than that of other families with parents who lived separately.

As a bird swooped in front of them, then lit on a nearby trash receptacle, Stefano glanced sideways at Megan. Mischievous dimples deepened in his cheeks.

"Oh, no," she said. "I know that look and it's never good."

His smile widened. "While we were in the maze this morning, Anna asked me how old I was when I was allowed to have a computer of my own and whether I was allowed to keep it in my bedroom."

Megan harrumphed. "Well, you can guess why she asked that. What'd you say?"

Stefano pinched his lips as if considering his response. "Well, naturally I told her that in Sarcaccia, children may have computers whenever they want without having to ask their parents. I explained that the government pays for all the costs of-"

"You didn't!"

"Of course not." He chuckled. "I said, 'Anna, are you asking me because you've recently asked your mom if you could have a computer for your bedroom?' and she confessed that she had."

"Did she also tell you I said no on both counts?"