The Prince's Secret Baby (4 page)

She loved that he’d planned ahead, that he’d taken that kind of care over the meal.
And
that he’d asked for her preference in the matter. “The food is always good here. Whatever you’ve planned will be perfect.”

“No…dietary rules or foods you hate?” His midnight gaze scanned her face as though committing it to memory.

“None. I trust you.”

Something flared in his eyes. “Fair enough, then.” His voice wrapped around her, warm and deep and so sweet. He nodded at the host. “Thank you, Neil.”

“Very good, then, your—” Neil paused almost imperceptibly, and then continued “—waiter will be with you shortly.” With a slight bow, he turned to go.

“Neil seems a little nervous,” she whispered, when the host had left them.

“I have no idea why,” Rule said lightly. And then his tone acquired a certain huskiness. “You should wear red all the time.”

“That might become boring.”

“You could never be boring. And what is that old song, the one about the lady in red?”

“That’s it. ‘Lady in Red.’”

“You bring that song to mind. You make me want to dance with you.”

How did he do it? He poured on the flattery—and yet, somehow, coming from him, the sweet talk sounded sincere. “Thank you for the flowers.”

He waved a lean hand. “I know I went overboard.”

“It was a beautiful gesture. And I hope you don’t mind, but I shared them—with the data entry girls and the paralegals and the crew down in Human Resources.”

“Why would I mind? They were yours, to do with as you wished. And sharing is good. You’re not only the most compelling woman I’ve ever met, you are kind. And generous, too.”

She shook her head. “You amaze me, Rule.”

He arched a raven-black eyebrow. “In a good way, I hope?”

“Oh, yeah. In a good way. You make me want to believe all the beautiful things that you say to me.”

He took her hand. Enchantment settled over her, at the warmth of his touch, at the lovely, lazy pulse of pleasure that seemed to move through her with every beat of her heart, just to be with him, to have her hand in his, flesh to flesh. “Would you prefer if I were cruel?”

The question shocked her a little. “No. Never. Why would you ask that?”

He turned her hand over, raised it to his lips, pressed a kiss in the heart of her palm. The pulse of pleasure within her went lower, grew hotter. “You fascinate me.” His breath fanned her palm. And then, tenderly, he lowered their hands to the snowy tablecloth and wove his fingers with hers. “I want to know all about you. And truthfully, some women like a little more spice from a man. They want to be kept guessing. ‘Does he care or not, will he call or not?’ They might say they’re looking for a good man who appreciates them. But they like…the dance of love, they revel in the uncertainty of it all.”

She leaned closer to him, because she wanted to. Because she could. “I like you as you are. Don’t pretend to be someone else. Please.”

“I wouldn’t. But I
can
be cruel.” He said it so casually, so easily. And she realized she believed him. She saw the shining blade of his intention beneath the velvet sheath that was his considerable charm.

“Please don’t. I’ve had enough of mean men. I…” She let the words trail off. The waiter was approaching their table. Perfect timing. The subject was one that desperately needed dropping.

But a flick of a glance from Rule and the waiter turned around and walked away. “Continue, please,” Rule prompted softly. “What men have been cruel to you?”

Way to ruin a beautiful evening, Syd.
“Seriously. You don’t need to hear it.”

“But I
want
to hear it. I meant what I said. I want to know about you, Sydney. I want to know everything.” His eyes were so dark. She could get lost in them, lost forever, never to be found. And the really scary thing was that she almost felt okay with being lost forever—as long as he was lost right along with her.

“What can I say? There’s just something about me…” Lord. She did not want to go there. She tried to wrap it up with a generalized explanation. “I seem to attract men who say they like me because I’m strong and intelligent and capable. And then they get to work trying to tear me down.”

Something flared in his eyes. Something…dangerous. “
Who
has tried to tear you down?”

“Do we have to get into this?”

“No. We don’t. But sometimes it’s better, I think, to go ahead and speak frankly of the past.” Now his eyes were tender again. Tender and somehow completely accepting.

She let out a slow, surrendering sigh. “I lived with a guy when I was in law school. His name was Ryan. He was fun and a little bit wild. On the day we moved in together, he quit his job. He would lie on the sofa drinking those great big cans of malt liquor, watching ESPN. When I tried to talk to him about showing a little motivation, things got ugly fast. He said that I had enough ambition and drive for both of us and next to me he felt like a failure, that I had as good as emasculated him—and would I get out of the damn way, I was blocking his view of the TV?”

Rule gave one of those so-European shrugs of his. “So you got rid of him.”

“Yes, I did. When I kicked him out, he told me he’d been screwing around on me. He’d had to, he said. In order to try and feel at least a little like a man again. So he was a cheater and a liar, too. After Ryan, I took a break from men. I stayed away from serious entanglements for the next five years. Then I met Peter. He was an attorney, like me. Worked for a different firm, a smaller one. We started going out. I thought he was nothing like Ryan, not a user or runaround or a slacker in any way. He never formally moved in with me. But he was…with me, at my house, most nights. And then he started pressuring me to get him in at Teale, Gayle and Prosser.” She said the name of her firm with another long sigh.

“You weren’t comfortable with that?”

“No, I wasn’t. And I told him so. I believe in networking, in helping the other guy out. But I didn’t want my boyfriend working at the same firm with me, especially not if he was hired on my say-so. There are just too many ways that could spell trouble. He said he understood.”

Rule still had his fingers laced with hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “But he didn’t understand.”

“Not in the least. He was angry that I wouldn’t give him ‘a hand up,’ as he put it. Things kind of devolved from there. He said a lot of brutal things to me. I was still an associate at the firm then. At a party, Peter got drunk and complained about me to one of the partners. By the time he and I were over, I…” She sought the right way to say it.

He said it for her. “You decided you were through with men.” She glanced away. He caught her chin, lightly, gently, and guided it back around so that she met his eyes again. “Are you all right?” He sounded honestly concerned. She realized that her answer really mattered to him.

She swallowed, nodded. “I’m okay. It’s just…when I talk about all that, I feel like such a loser, you know?”

“Those men. Ryan and Peter.
They
are the losers.” He held her gaze. “I notice you haven’t told me their last names.”

“And I’m not going to. As I said, it’s long over for me, with both of them.”

He gave her his beautiful smile. “There. That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He let go of her hand—but only to touch her in another way. With his index finger, he traced the line of her jaw, stirring shivers as he went. He caught one of the loose curls of hair that Lani had pulled free of her French twist, and rubbed it between his fingers. “Soft,” he whispered. “Like your skin. Like your tender heart…”

“Don’t be too sure about that. I’m not only prickly, I can be a raving bitch,” she whispered back. “Just ask Ryan and Peter.”

“Give me their last names. Ryan and Peter and I will have a long talk.”

“Hah. I don’t think so.”

He touched her cheek then, a brushing caress of such clear erotic intent that her toes curled inside her Jimmy Choos. “As long as you’re willing to give men another chance.”

“I could be. If the
right
man ever came along.”

He took her untouched champagne flute and handed it to her. Then he picked up his own. “To the right man.”

She touched her glass to his, echoed, “The right man.” It was excellent champagne, each tiny bubble like a burst of magic on her tongue. And when she set the glass down again, she said, “I always wanted to have children.”

He answered teasingly, “However, not nine of them.”

Suddenly, it came to her. She realized where she’d been going with her grim little tale of disappointed love. It hadn’t really been a case of total over-sharing, after all.

“Actually,” she said. “This is serious.”

“All right.”

“There’s something I really do need to tell you.”

His expression changed, became…so still. Waiting. Listening. He tipped his head to the side in that strangely familiar way he had. “Tell me.”

She wanted—needed—for him to know about Trevor. If learning about Trev turned him off, well, she absolutely
had
to know that now, tonight. Before she got in any deeper with him. Before she let herself drown in those beautiful black eyes. “I…” Her mouth had gone desert-dry. She swallowed, hard.

This shouldn’t be so difficult, shouldn’t matter so very much. She hardly knew this man. Holding his interest and his high regard shouldn’t be this important to her.

Yet it
was
important. Already. She cared. A lot. Way, way too much.

He seemed too perfect. He
was
too perfect. He was her dream man come to vivid, vibrant, tempting life. The first minute she saw him, she’d felt as though she already knew him.

Yes, she should be more wary. It wasn’t like her to be so easily drawn in.

And yet she was. She couldn’t stop herself.

She thought of her grandmother, who had been a true believer in love at first sight. Grandma Ellen claimed she had fallen for Sydney’s grandfather the first time she met him. She’d also insisted that Sydney’s father had fallen in love with her mother at first sight.

Could falling in love at first sight be a genetic trait? Sydney almost smiled at the thought. She’d believed herself to be in love before—and been wrong, wrong, wrong.

But with Ryan, it hadn’t been like this. Or with Peter. Nothing like this, with either of them.

Both of those relationships had developed in the logical, sensible way. She’d come to believe that she loved those men over a reasonable period of time, after getting to know them well—or so she had thought.

And look what had happened. She learned in the end that she hadn’t really known either Ryan or Peter. Not well enough, she hadn’t. With both men, it had ended in heartbreak. Those failures should have made her more wary. Those failures
had
made her more wary.

Until today. Until she met Rule.

With Rule, her heart seemed to have a will of its own. With him, she wanted to just go for it. To take the leap, take a chance. She didn’t want to be wary with him. With him, she could almost become a believer in love at first sight.

If only he wasn’t put off by learning that she already had a child… .

“It’s all right,” he said so gently. “Go on.”

And she did. “I was almost thirty, when it ended with Peter. I wanted to make partner in my firm and I wanted a family. I knew I could do both.”

He gave a slow nod. “But the men were not cooperating.”

“Exactly. So I decided…to have a family anyway. A family without a man. I went to a top cryobank—a sperm bank, at a fertility clinic?”

“Yes,” he said in a way that could only be called cautious. “I know what a cryobank is.”

“Well, all right.” Her hands were shaking. She lowered them to her lap so he wouldn’t see. “I went to a sperm bank. I had artificial insemination. The procedure was successful. I got pregnant. And now I have a beautiful, healthy two-year-old son.”

“You have a child,” he repeated, carefully. “A boy.”

She folded her hands good and tight in her lap to still the shaking. And her heart seemed to have stopped dead in her chest—and then commenced beating way too hard and too fast. It hurt, her own heart, the way it pounded away in there. Because she
knew,
absolutely, that it was over, between her and Rule, over before it had even really begun. And it didn’t matter
how
perfect he was for her. It didn’t matter if he just happened to be her dream-come-true. It didn’t matter that he made her want to believe in love at first sight. She was absolutely certain at that moment that he wouldn’t accept Trevor. And if he didn’t accept her son, she wanted nothing to do with him.

In a moment, she would be rising, saying good-night. Walking away from him and refusing to look back.

She drew her shoulders tall. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Yes, Rule. I have a son, a son who’s everything to me.”

Chapter Three

A
nd then, just as she was dead certain that it was finished between them, Rule smiled.

A
real
smile. He laid his warm, lean hand along the side of her face. “How wonderful. I love children, Sydney—but I already said that, didn’t I? When can I meet him? Tomorrow, I hope.”

She blinked, swallowed. Almost sick with emotion, she put her hand against her churning stomach. “I… You what?”

He laughed, a beautiful, low, sexy sound. “You thought I wouldn’t want to meet your son?” And then he frowned. “You don’t know me very well.”

“I… You’re right. I don’t know you.” She took slow, deep breaths, ordering her stomach to settle down, stunned at how much it mattered, that he wasn’t rejecting Trevor. That it wasn’t over after all, that she didn’t have to rise and walk away and not look back. She could stay right here, in this beautiful restaurant, at this private table, with this incredible man. She chided, “I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t know you well, that we only met this afternoon.”

“Unbelievable.” His frown had faded. “I had forgotten. Somehow, it seems that I’ve known you forever.”

She confessed, “I have that feeling, too.” And then she laughed, a laugh that felt as light and bubbly as the excellent champagne. “I had it the first moment I saw you.”

“You did?” He wore that boyish look, the one that made her think of Trev.

“Yes. I thought how you couldn’t be looking at me. And then I thought how familiar you looked, that I must have met you before… .”

“Of course I was looking at you,” he said it with a definite note of reproach. “But you were very busy reminding yourself that you were through with men.”

“I was. I admit it. How dumb was that?”

“It’s all right. Now that you’ve told me why you gave up men, I thoroughly understand. And I’m not complaining. If you hadn’t decided to stay away from the male sex, you might have found someone else by now and I wouldn’t have a chance with you.”

“And that would have been a tragedy,” she teased.

“Yes, it would. A true catastrophe. But you did give up men. Now all I have to do is convince you to give one more man a chance.” He raised his glass again. She clinked hers against it. “Are you ready for the first course?”

Suddenly, she was starving. “I am, yes.”

He cast a glance beyond the open curtain. That was all. Just a glance. The waiter appeared again and made straight for their table.

* * *

Two hours later, Rule walked her out to the valet stand and had her car brought around. He tipped the valet generously and then took her hand and led her away from her waiting Mercedes. “Just for a moment…”

She went with him, down the sloping front entrance, to a shadowed area next to a large brick planter thick with greenery, beneath a beautiful old oak. The spring night felt warm and close around them.

He turned to face her. His eyes gleamed like polished stones through the darkness and his fingers trailed up her bare arm, a long, slow, dancing caress that left her strangely weak and slightly breathless. “Sydney…” He clasped her shoulders, and then framed her face between both wonderful hands. “Sydney O’Shea. I was becoming frightened.”

His words confused her. She scanned his shadowed features. “But why?”

“That I would never find you. Never meet you…”

“Oh. That.” She felt a glad smile curve her lips.

“Yes. That.” His sweet breath stirred the loose curls at her temples as he bent his head closer to her.

A kiss.
His
kiss. Their first kiss. She tipped her face up to him, offering her mouth.

He held her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.

Warm. Soft. Easy…

Her eyes drifted shut as his mouth touched hers, lightly, cherishingly. And she trembled, the moment was so exactly as she’d imagined it might be during their lunch that afternoon, during the long, glorious meal just past.

“Sydney…” He whispered her name against her mouth and she opened for him.

Instantly, she wanted more, wanted to be closer.
Had
to be closer.

Surging up, she wrapped her arms around him. A tiny, hungry cry escaped her at the sheer glory of such a perfect moment.

He took her cue and deepened the kiss, gathering her into him, cradling her against his body, so that she felt his warmth and solidness all along the length of her. He tasted of coffee and the heavenly pistachio mascarpone cake they’d shared for dessert. And the way he kissed her, the way his warm, rough-tender tongue caressed her…oh, there was nothing, ever, in her experience, to compare to it.

Nothing to compare.

To his kiss…

She wished it would never end.

But of course, it had to end. He took her shoulders again and reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers.

“Tomorrow,” he said, gazing down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, holding her a willing captive with his light touch at her shoulders, with his tender glance.

“Yes,” she vowed, though she didn’t even know yet what he planned for tomorrow.

He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and then up to her temple, causing those lovely shivers to course across her skin. “In the morning? I could come and collect you and your little boy. We could…visit a park, maybe. A park with swings and slides, so he’ll have a chance to play. My little niece and nephew love nothing so much as a few hours in the sunshine, with a sandbox and a slide.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a niece and a nephew.”

He nodded. “My older brother, Max, has two children—say yes to tomorrow.”

“But I already did, didn’t I?”

“Say it again.”

“Yes—and why don’t you come for breakfast first? You can meet my best friend, Lani, who has a degree in English literature, is a fabulous cook and takes care of Trevor while I’m at work.”

“I would love breakfast. And to meet your friend, Lani.”

“I have to warn you. Breakfast comes early at my house.”

“Early it is.”

“Seven-thirty, then.” She took his hand, automatically threading her fingers with his, feeling the thrill of touching him—and also a certain rightness. Her hand fit perfectly in his. “Come on.” She pulled him back toward her car. “I’ll give you my address and phone number.”

* * *

“Where’s Michael?” Sydney asked, when she let herself in the house at quarter of eleven and found Lani sitting on the sofa alone, wearing Tweety Bird flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow cami top.

“How was the big date?” Lani asked, with a too-bright smile.

Sydney slipped off her red shoes and dropped to the sofa beside her friend. “It was better than…anything. Wonderful. I’m crazy about him. He’s coming for breakfast at seven-thirty.”

“Good. I can check him out. See if he’s good enough for you.”

“He’s good enough. You’ll see. I thought maybe one of your fabulous frittatas…”

“You got it.” Lani took off her glasses and set them on the side table.

“Hey.” Sydney waited until her friend looked at her again. Then she guided a thick swatch of Lani’s dark, curly hair behind her ear. “You didn’t answer my question about Michael.”

Lani’s big eyes were a little sad, and her full mouth curved slightly down. “Tonight, when I watched you getting ready to meet this new guy, putting on your makeup, fixing your hair, waffling over that perfect red dress…”

“Yeah? Tonight, what?”

“I thought, ‘
That.
What Syd’s feeling. I want
that.
’”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Lani’s shoulders drooped. “And then you left and Michael came over and I thought what a nice guy he is…but I couldn’t go on with him. Because he’s not
the
guy.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Do you know what I mean?”

Sydney reached out. Lani sagged against her and they held each other. “Yeah,” Sydney whispered into her friend’s thick, fragrant hair. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

* * *

The next morning, the doorbell rang at seven-thirty on the nose.

“I get it!” Trevor fisted his plump hand and tapped the table twice. “Knock, knock!” he shouted. “Who’s there?”

Sydney kissed his milk-smeared cheek. “Eat your cereal, Bosco.”

“Banana!” Trev giggled. “Banana who?”

Lani said, “The coffee’s ready and the frittata’s in the oven. Answer the door, Syd.”

“Orange. Banana.” Trevor was totally entranced with his never-quite-right knock-knock joke. He banged his spoon gleefully against the tabletop. “Orange your…banana…”

Lani took his spoon from him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to feed you, since you’re not doing it.”

“Lani, no! I eat. I do it myself.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

She handed him back the spoon. “Go,” she said to Sydney, canting her head in the general direction of the front door.

Her heart doing somersaults inside her chest, Sydney went to let Rule in.

“Hi.” She said it in the most ridiculous, breathy little voice.

“Sydney,” he replied in wonderful melted-caramel tones. Could a man get more handsome every time a woman saw him? Rule did. The bright April sunshine made his hair gleam black as a crow’s wing, and his smile had her heart performing a forward roll. He had a big yellow Tonka dump truck in one hand and a red ball in the other.

“I see you’ve come armed for battle,” she said.

He shrugged. “In my experience, little boys like trucks. And balls.”

“They do. Both. A lot.” She stared at him. And he stared back at her. Time stopped. The walls of her foyer seemed to disappear. There was only the man on the other side of the open door. He filled up the world.

Then, from back in the kitchen, she heard her son calling out gleefully, “Orange. Banana. Banana. Orange…”

Lani said something. Probably, “Eat your cereal.”

“It’s the never-ending knock-knock joke,” she said, and then wondered if they even had knock-knock jokes in his country. “Come in, come in…”

He did. She shut the door behind him. “This way…”

He caught her elbow. Somehow he had managed to shift the toy truck to the arm with the ball in it. “Wait.” He said it softly.

She turned back to him and he looked down at her and…

Was there anything like this feeling she had with him? So fine and shining and full of possibility. He pulled her to him.

She went willingly, eagerly. Close to him was where she wanted to be. She moved right up, snug and cozy against his broad chest, sharing his strong arms with the red ball and the yellow truck. “What?”

“This.” And he kissed her. A brushing kiss, tender and teasing. Just right for early on a sunny Saturday morning. She felt his smile against her own.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes were soft as black velvet and full of promise. “May I meet your son now?”

“Right this way.”

* * *

Trevor was shy with Rule at first.

Her little boy stared with big, solemn dark eyes as Sydney introduced Rule to Lani.

“And this is Trevor,” Sydney said.

“Hello, Trevor. My name is Rule.”

Trevor only stared some more and stuck a big spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“Say hello,” Sydney instructed him.

But Trevor turned his head away.

Rule sent her an oblique glance and a slight smile that said he knew about kids, and also knew how to be patient. He put the ball and the truck under the side table against the wall and accepted coffee, taking the empty chair between Lani and Sydney.

Lani served the frittata and they ate. Rule praised the food and said how much he liked the coffee, which Lani prepared to her own exacting tastes, grinding the beans with a top-quality grinder and brewing only with a French press.

He asked Lani about her degree in literature. The two of them seemed to hit it off, Sydney thought. Lani was easy with him, and friendly, from the first. She told him her favorite Shakespeare play was
The Tempest.
He confessed to a fondness for
King Lear,
which had Lani groaning that she might love
Lear,
too. But she had no patience for thickheaded, foolish kings. Sydney didn’t know a lot about Shakespeare, but it did kind of please her, that Rule seemed well-read, that he could carry on a conversation about something other than the Mavericks and the Cowboys.

He turned to her. “And what about you, Sydney? Do you have a favorite Shakespeare play?”

She shrugged. “I saw
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
once. And I enjoyed it. Everybody falling in love with the wrong person, but then it all worked out in the end.”

“You prefer a happy ending?”

“Absolutely,” she told him. “I like it when it all works out. That doesn’t happen often enough in real life.”