His Pregnant Royal Bride. Amy Ruttan
walked away from the bar, down a winding sandy path to the beach. It was tranquil and a bit deserted at the moment. It was perfect.
“Hold on,” she said. She let go of Dante’s hand.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Taking off my shoes. The sand is getting in and I hate that feeling of sand in your shoes.”
He chuckled. “Good idea.”
They kicked off their shoes and carried them as they headed down to the shore. The sun was almost gone, as if it were disappearing behind a curtain of water. It was picture-perfect. The water licked at their toes as they walked in silence along the shoreline.
It was the perfect end to the conference.
Tomorrow she’d be flying back to New Orleans for a short time and then off on her next assignment to the Middle East. Always moving, as she’d been doing her whole life. No stability. No roots. New Orleans was just a base for her, but it really wasn’t home since her mother died and she didn’t know why she kept returning to it.
“You seem sad all of a sudden, cara.”
The way he called her cara made her tremble with anticipation.
“I was just thinking how wonderful this week has been.” She bit her lip and sighed. “It’s been amazing getting to know you, Dante.”
He smiled and then ran his knuckles across her cheek. “I’ve enjoyed my time with you as well, cara.”
Shay’s pulse began to race and she closed her eyes, his touch making her heart skip a beat, and then, before she had a chance to say anything else, his lips claimed hers.
She dropped her shoes to the sand and sank into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.
Dante’s kiss deepened, his tongue pushing past her lips; it was a kiss that seared her soul.
“Shay,” he whispered, his mouth still close to her, his hands cupping her face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You’re so beautiful, so wonderful...” He kissed her again.
“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered against his ear as he held her close, his hands drifting down her back.
“Me neither.”
“Then let’s not let tonight end.” She took his hand. “Let’s go to your room...”
“Are you sure, cara?” he asked.
“Positive. We can just have tonight. I’m not looking for anything long-term, Dante.”
Just passion. Unforgettable passion.
That was what she craved right now.
He smiled. “I want tonight too.”
Dante took her hand and they picked up their shoes and headed back to the hotel, to his room and something wonderful that she’d always remember...
* * *
Dante didn’t know what he was thinking when he bent down to kiss Shay, other than that the need to connect with her was so totally overwhelming. With the tropical wind blowing wisps of her honey-blonde hair around her heart-shaped face, he couldn’t resist her siren call.
He didn’t know what possessed him, other than absolute desire and need, because he’d sworn when Olivia broke his heart he’d keep away from women. Love was a loss of control and he hated losing that loss of control.
Only from the moment he’d met Shay, when she’d reached out to help him, he couldn’t help himself. He knew he should’ve stayed away, but couldn’t. Her brown eyes were warm, friendly, and the more he got to know her, the more he felt completely at ease with her.
To the point where his carefully constructed walls came down.
“Cara, I want you so bad,” he whispered against her neck.
“I want you too,” she said, her breath hot against his skin. It drove him wild.
It’s only for one night.
And he had to keep reminding himself of that. That it was only one night.
She only wants tonight. I can give her tonight.
His heart didn’t have to get hurt.
You don’t have one-night stands, a little voice reminded him, but he shook that thought away. His brother did and he fared just fine. Dante was not his father. He wasn’t married, he wasn’t hurting anyone, they were both consenting adults.
This was what his younger brother, Enzo, lived by; he could do that too, if only for one night.
Shay sighed as he ran his fingers through her silky hair as she wrapped her arms around him. Her long, delicate fingers tickling at the nape of his neck.
Mio Dio. It was only for tonight.
He could give himself over to one night. One night didn’t mean forever.
It couldn’t.
DANTE CLENCHED HIS fists as he jammed them into the pockets of his crisp white lab coat. Everything about him was controlled and ordered. Only today his schedule was off, and he was not in the mood for meeting the practitioner from America and running a simulation lab with him. And it wasn’t just for one day; he’d then have him working under him as a surgical nurse in his operating room for twelve weeks.
Twelve weeks might not seem long in the grand scheme of things, but if Dante and this nurse practitioner didn’t get along, then twelve weeks would feel like an eternity.
He remembered the last American from the United World Wide Health Association he’d worked with two years ago and that had been a nightmare. She’d been totally unorganized and needed constant guidance, which had driven him crazy.
Not all Americans are bad.
And his mood lightened as he thought of Shay and that stolen night in Oahu. She was the first woman he’d been with since Olivia had crushed his heart. Shay was one American he could get used to having around. Even now, months later, he could still feel her lips on his.
Only she was off who knew where on her latest assignment and he had to make nice with a stranger. Someone he didn’t trust, and it brought back why he was in a bad mood.
His father. Someone else he absolutely didn’t trust.
At dinner last night with his younger brother, Enzo, Dante had learned that their father, Prince Marco Affini, had once again sold off more of the family land. And he was eyeing the land their late mother had left in trust for Dante and Enzo until they married and produced an heir. At least their father couldn’t sell it off yet. Unless they married before they turned thirty-five and produced an heir within a year of that marriage. Last night Enzo had reminded Dante once again that soon Dante would be turning thirty-five in a matter of months, without a marriage in sight.
Dante was painfully aware that his villa on Lido di Venezia was in danger of being sold as well, because that had been his maternal grandfather’s home.
The villa on the sandbar, a ten-minute ferry ride from Venice proper, was part of Dante’s inheritance. It would be his as long as he married and produced an heir by the time he was thirty-five, according to the stipulations of the trust fund and the marriage contract between his parents, as his mother had been a commoner and his father of royal blood.
And his thirty-fifth birthday was approaching fast, without a wife or heir in sight.
And whose fault was that?
It was his. He knew it; he just didn’t have any desire to get married after what had happened with his ex, Olivia, and he didn’t want to have a child out of wedlock. Even if he did, that wouldn’t