The Best Of February 2016. Catherine Mann
would expect nothing less from a man accustomed to bossing people around.”
His fear for her wouldn’t recede and she didn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously. “Stop joking. You fainted.”
“On a hot day, after not eating.” She smiled suddenly, pushed herself to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m fine.”
The unexpected kiss went through him like a warm spring breeze. He told himself not to make too much of it, but how could he not when color was returning to her cheeks and she was smiling, really smiling, for the first time since their argument that morning.
Wanting to get her home, Dominic said, “Let’s go.”
But before they could walk to the door, Marco hugged her and then Antonella hugged her. Dominic finally noticed the few stragglers sitting at the café tables, necks craned to see what was going on. One or two whispered, but in general, they’d given them privacy.
Leading her to the door, he addressed them, “Thank you all for your consideration.”
People nodded and smiled and a few said, “You’re welcome.” Then they reached the door. The lock clicked as Antonella sprang it.
He said, “Ready?”
Ginny nodded.
He opened the door to the whir of cameras and shouts of questions. “How are you?”
“Why did you faint?”
“What’s your last name?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Dominic’s steps faltered.
But Ginny slid her sunglasses on her face and smiled at them. “I didn’t eat lunch.” She turned to Dominic and entwined her arm with his. “Dom told me to eat lunch but—” She held out a leg. “Look at these jeans. They are to die for and I wanted them to fit.” She smiled again. “American girls, right? We love our jeans and we want them to look perfect.”
Then she turned them in the direction of his Mercedes. His bodyguards created a path for them to walk.
He opened the door for her.
She slid inside. Before Dom could close the door, she gave a final wave to the press. “I’m fine,” she called out to them. “And, I swear, I will eat before we come out again.”
Walking around the hood of his car, he heard the rumble of laughter. He peeked up to see the smiles of approval on the faces of those in the crowd. And why not? She was beautiful, approachable, likable.
But he also saw a few reporters frowning in his direction. He saw the ones on their cell phones talking feverishly.
He slid into the car. “You know your pregnancy’s out now, right?”
“Yup.” She caught his gaze. “Looks like we won’t need a second date.”
“You’re saying yes?”
She nodded.
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Thank you.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. I have a feeling we’re in for one hell of a ride.”
THEY SCHEDULED A press conference for nine o’clock the next morning in the press room of the palace. The king announced his son’s marriage to Virginia Jones of Texas in the United States, a former guidance counselor. Then he gave the podium to Dominic.
As Ginny expected, the resounding cry that rose from the crowd was... “Is Ginny pregnant?”
Another man might have been cowed, embarrassed or even unprepared. Ginny knew Dom had rehearsed every possible scenario of this moment into the wee hours of the morning with someone from his staff.
So she wasn’t surprised when he smiled and said, “Yes.”
The swish and whir of cameras filled the room. Several people called, “Ginny, look here.”
But she kept her eyes trained on Dominic because that’s what her two hours of training the night before had been about. That and choosing something to wear. After a doctor had seen her and pronounced her well, a clothier had arrived with swatches and catalogs. Sally from the protocol office had wanted her in a raspberry-colored suit. The king had thought she’d look more dignified in a white suit. But she’d reminded them that she’d fainted because she was pregnant and had gotten too hot. Her choice for the press conference had been a simple green dress with thin straps and a pale green cardigan—which she could remove, she reminded the king—if she got too hot.
The king had scowled, but Dominic had suddenly said, “I think she’s right.”
All eyes had turned to him. He’d shrugged. “You’re not the ones who had to watch her fall. I barely caught her. I don’t think we want to risk having that happen again.”
Nope. If there was one thing Ginny knew, it was that she did not want to faint again. Seeing ten pictures of herself crumpling to a coffee-shop floor in the newspapers that morning had been enough to cure her of ever wanting to faint in public again.
But Dominic standing up for her choice had caused her breath to quietly catch. Her simple pregnancy might impact an entire kingdom—and maybe someday even the world—but this was her baby. And Dom’s.
When he stood up for her, he caught her gaze, and in that second a wave of feeling had almost made her dizzy. They’d created a child and were getting married—temporarily. He’d warned her not to spin fantasies of permanency with him, and she wasn’t, but with a baby on the way and so many people telling them what to do, she didn’t see how they could get through the next few months without forming a team.
Which made it a terrible, terrible thing that she’d compared him to her father. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop doing it. Not because she genuinely believed Dom was like her dad, but because she was so afraid. Living with her dad had been a nightmare. Only a fool would deliberately enter that kind of situation again.
So he couldn’t be like her dad. He couldn’t. Yet something about this situation, and Dom, set off warning signals that would not let her relax.
Watching Dominic speak now, she waited for his signal for her to join him at the podium. He fielded a question or two about how they met, then, just as they’d practiced, he turned to her with a smile and said, “Why don’t we have Ginny join us to help answer some questions?”
In her high-heeled white sandals that perfectly offset the pretty green dress, she carefully walked to the podium. He slid his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to the microphones. Questions filled the air.
“Have you found a dress?”
“Are you having morning sickness?”
She heard the questions, but looking up at Dominic, all she saw were those onyx eyes filled with expectation. Could she stand up for him? Would she stand up for him? Would she protect his reputation as the future king the way he’d stood up for her the night before? Was she willing to fully commit to the charade?
Just as she couldn’t quite get herself to trust him, the question in his eyes told her he didn’t entirely trust her, either.
Which made them even.
If there was one thing she’d learned about partnerships, it was that they ran best when the partners really were even. Oddly, this deal would work not because they trusted each other, but because they didn’t.
“Are you a real live Cinderella?”
That question made her laugh and brought her out of her reverie. She faced the sea of press crowded into the small room.
“Yes. I do feel like Cinderella. No, I haven’t even chosen a designer