Royal Affair (8 page)

“Don't,” she said on a ragged breath.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I like teasing you. Even a prince needs someone to share a lighter moment with. There could be other moments, too,” he said huskily, thinking of all the things they could do.

When her nipples contracted and stood out against the soft knit top, he had to swallow hard and think of icy mountain streams. Not that it did any good.

He gently cupped the alluring mound. “You respond so naturally. Your body knows what it wants,” he said. “I love the way your breasts flush with desire, the tips as pink and firm as miniature rosebuds. I like to run my tongue over them and feel their hardness. I like to hear you gasp my name and feel your hands on me, urging me closer.”

Twin flags of color flew to her cheeks. He brushed the back of a finger over the smooth, flushed skin.

“I like the satin softness of you, the slick dew of passion that draws me like a bee to nectar when you're ready for me.”

“Please,” she whispered.

He inhaled deeply, let it out heavily, but, granting mercy on both of them, settled against the seat as she turned onto the exit ramp at her apartment complex.

When she'd come to a complete stop in her parking space and turned off the engine, she faced him. “This is a game to you. You're the hunter. I'm the prey.”

“The chase is fun,” he admitted, then regretted the words when something akin to pain flashed
through her eyes. The rose took love and marriage and family very seriously. For that matter, so did he. He had to make her see that.

When she got out of the vehicle, he followed suit and went with her up the sidewalk with its attractive border of flowers. He took her hand and was gratified when she didn't pull away.

“But life is more than that,” he continued. “Some people waste their time dashing from one romance to another. They don't stick it out through the hard times, and they never know the pride and contentment of building a life with one person over the long haul.”

She stopped at the door, key in hand, and studied him as if trying to discover what made him tick. He held still and let her look. She was the only person he'd ever let himself be vulnerable to—a difficult thing to do.

Shaking her head slightly, she turned back to the door. When she inserted the key into the bolt, the door swung open on its own.

“Stay put,” he ordered, pushing Ivy behind him.

Kicking the door open with his foot, he surveyed the living room and kitchen. Going inside, he peered behind the sofa, checked the draperies and the shadows behind a potted plant, then went into the kitchen.

“What is it?” she asked, right behind him. “Do you think someone broke in?”

“Yes, I think someone broke in,” he told her, his jaw muscles stiff with worry. “Don't you ever do as you're told?”

“Not often,” she admitted, going to the pantry and opening the door. “There's no one in here.”

He controlled his exasperation with effort and knew a moment of sympathy for Chuck in trying to guard him when he was being pigheaded. “Let's check the bedrooms. Do you want to go first or shall I?”

“You.” She managed to look contrite.

Leading the way, he checked the apartment thoroughly, Ivy on his heels the entire time. The place was vacant.

“Empty,” he said, satisfied this was true.

“But someone has been here,” she told him, folding her arms over her waist. “I feel a sense of violation.” Her laughter was feeble. “Probably overre- action.”

“Maybe not. Chuck believes in gut instinct. He thinks you subconsciously pick up clues that don't immediately make an impact on your mind. A faint trace of another's scent, something moved an inch to the side, that sort of thing.”

“Should we call the police?”

Max made a decision and shook his head. “I'll call Chuck. He's the best investigator I know.”

An hour later the security advisor laid two tiny devices on the dining room table where Max and Ivy waited while he checked out the apartment. “The place has been bugged, I'm afraid.”

“Who?” Ivy questioned, puzzlement in her eyes. “Why?”

“That's what we need to find out,” Chuck told them. “Is it because of Max? Or you?”

“Why would anyone be interested in me?” she asked, then glanced at Max.

Chuck answered. “Because of Crosby Systems. Competition is fierce in the computer industry. Your company is involved in several lucrative contracts.
You
are heading up a multimillion-dollar project. If an enemy could find a way to discredit you, that might bring the whole enterprise into question or cause a government investigation.”

“Especially if it was whispered in the right ears that the project involves sensitive technology,” Max added. “That could stop everything in its tracks.”

“The project was approved by the State Department,” Ivy told the two men. “It was all cleared before we did the detail planning.”

“All's fair in politics and international intrigue,” Chuck said with a shrug.

Max observed as Ivy absorbed this information. When her eyes darted to him, he held her gaze.
Yes, this is what my life is like,
he silently told her.
Yes, you would be part of the rumors and intrigues as my wife.

When she looked away, he rose and paced restlessly to the patio door. Gazing at the lovely September landscape, he wished he were free to love as he pleased without giving a thought to kingdoms and international relationships.

With a sigh, he turned toward the room once
more. Even a small country such as his was a player on the world stage. His queen would have to learn to live with that.

Heaviness descended on his spirits. His internal landscape darkened, like a night without even the moon's pale gleam to brighten his way.

“What now?” Chuck asked, looking at him.

“We can't leave Ivy here alone.”

His security chief nodded. “Do we stay here or take her to the hotel? The latter would be the best, I think.”

Ivy held up a hand to stop the discussion. “Wait a minute. I'm not going anywhere.”

Max glanced at Chuck and shrugged. “Okay. We'll stay here.” He gave her a hard look. “Either way, there'll be no arguing.”

She didn't back down. “What do you think is going to happen to me? No one would dare hurt Jack Crosby's kid.”

“Years ago someone kidnapped one of the Logan boys. He was playing with your brother at the time,” Chuck reminded her. He turned to Max. “We'd better tell her what happened in Lantanya the past few weeks.”

“There was a trial for treason,” she said. “It was on the news one night. I guess they couldn't get any experts to talk about it because it never came up again.”

Max nodded. “I had to sentence my uncle and one of our ministers to prison.”

A stricken expression came into her lovely eyes. “That's what you were doing before coming here?”

“Before coming for you,” he said softly. “Yes.”

“They tried to kill you.”

He lifted a hand to caress her cheek and allay her fears. “You saved my life. I was with you the night the attempt was made.”

“How horrible,” she whispered.

He smiled, although it was with sadness. “No, that part was good. It was the trial and sentencing that was horrible. I'd trusted those men, you see.”

Tears brimmed on her lashes. The pain she felt was for him, he realized. He pulled her to his chest and felt the hot tears soak through his shirt.

“I'll, uh, leave you two to, uh, discuss things,” Chuck said, moving toward the door. “I don't think there's any immediate danger, but you should come to the hotel to spend the night.”

“We will,” Max assured him.

Chuck exited, closing the door and making sure it locked. Ivy tilted her head back and stared at him with her tear-washed eyes.

“I couldn't bear it if you died.”

Max couldn't bear her grief. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her hotly, urgently. “Come with me,” he said. “I won't be able to rest until you do.”

“To the hotel?” she asked.

He hesitated, then nodded. “For now.” Before she could speak, he added, “We'll decide other things at other times. Get what you need, and let's go.”

“I can go to my sister's place. Or my father's.”

“I need you with me.”

To his surprised relief, she didn't argue, but packed a bag and handed him the keys to her car when she was ready. Something turned over in his heart, demanding attention, but there was no time at the present.

At the hotel he whisked Ivy to the top floor and the corner suite he and Chuck shared. A large living area, complete with a kitchen and dining table, separated the two bedrooms. Max had the one with the king-size bed.

He carried Ivy's luggage to his room. “You'll sleep in here.”

“Where will you sleep?” she asked.

“Chuck has two beds in his room. The sofa makes a bed, too, I think.” He gave her a deliberately lascivious stare meant to dispel the worry in her face. “Or I can sleep in here with you.”

He found himself waiting anxiously for her next words.

“Men,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. The worry was still there, but so was a smile. “You may as well stay here, too. Otherwise, I'd never get any sleep for worrying.”

Max caught her to him. He had to control his strength in order not to hold her too tightly. He didn't want to leave bruises on her fair skin.

“Thanks,” he said lightly, although he couldn't stop his voice dropping to a husky note as hunger
shot through him like a blaze from a flame thrower. He cupped her face and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You just want to be in the thick of things,” he accused.

She gazed up at him, her manner earnest, her honesty so tangible he could feel it surrounding her like a force field. When she laid both hands on his chest—not to hold him off, but because she wanted to touch him, he realized—it did things to his insides.

“My lovely, compassionate princess,” he whispered. “It would be so easy to take advantage of your tender heart.”

She shook her head in brief denial, then took a deep breath that caused her breasts to brush his chest. “I will marry you,” she said, looking him in the eye. “On one condition.”

For a moment he couldn't believe he was hearing correctly, but her steadfast gaze told him she was serious. “What is the condition?”

“You told my family you were courting me….”

When her voice trailed off, he nodded to encourage her to go on.

She swallowed, then said, “I want you to do that. Court me. And mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he told her, somewhat puzzled. “What are you asking?”

“I want you to court me as if…as if we were madly in love.”

It would be very easy to murmur the words. He
had only to open his mouth and say the three words she wanted from him and she would accept him. But she was too fine, too honorable for him to treat her needs cavalierly.

“I have feelings for you.” That much was very true.

“But not love,” she concluded.

“Foul deeds have been excused in the name of love. I have heard people declare love, then stab the supposed loved one in the back. It is a word that is much used and little honored, I'm afraid.”

Her gaze flickered down, then back to his. A veil had been drawn across her emotions. “I see,” she said quietly.

It hurt him someplace deep inside to see that shield erected between them. “Love has not served me well of late,” he tried to explain. “My father's half brother, a man I trusted and, with a child's faith, assumed would never betray me, did just that—”

“He arranged the assassination attempt the night you stayed with me?” she interrupted, looking so fierce on his behalf he wanted to kiss her until they were both senseless.

Holding the swirl of emotions in check, he nodded. “Yes. So I find I'm somewhat skeptical about declarations of devotion at the moment. Words are cheap. It is action that speaks of the intent of the heart. I asked you to be my wife and my queen. It is something I've never done.”

“Because of the child.”

“That and other things.” He gazed into her eyes. “We are physically attracted to each other. I admire you for your intelligence and for your integrity. More than all those, though, I like you as a person. I like being with you even without making love. Even when we quarrel.”

He couldn't help but grin as she obviously tried to sort through all this and decide if he was telling the truth. He laughed when she frowned in exasperation.

“I will court you, my lovely, delicate rose,” he whispered, leaning close so that he smelled the sweet scent of her. “And it will be done with honesty and sincerity. If you consent to marriage, upon my honor, I will respect our vows. All of them.”

There. He had made his pledge. It was up to her whether she would accept his word.

Her sudden smile dazzled him. Raising both hands to his face, she held him gently and said, “Then let the courtship begin.”

Her kiss surprised and pleased him. For ten seconds he tried to keep it light, but that was as long as his control lasted. He wrapped her in his arms until he could feel every curve of her luscious body.

She broke the kiss. “A courtship,” she said with ragged determination, “must be platonic. If we make love, it will confuse things.”

He groaned, then valiantly released her and wondered if she knew what she was asking. A platonic courtship? He doubted he would live through it.

I
vy woke with a jerk. She was disoriented, but it took only a glance at the luxurious suite to remind her where she was. Max was nowhere in sight. After checking all exits last night as if he were doing a crime scene investigation, he'd left her and slept on the bed hidden in a cherry armoire in the elegant living room.

After a moment's thought, she recalled it was Tuesday and a workday. It was hard for her to believe it had been a mere week since she'd bought the pregnancy test kit and the tabloid that had identified the father of her child.

She felt she'd lived several lifetimes in seven days. In some ways she had. First there'd been the preg
nancy test, then a lover who'd turned into a prince—but not due to her magical kiss.

Ha. She mocked the turbulent feelings this thought evoked.

And finally there had been the meeting on the jogging trail and the dramatic faint.

She groaned, then rose carefully, mindful of the unpredictability of her tummy these days. She showered and dressed, ran the stream of hot air from the blow dryer over her hair for two minutes, then went into the other room.

No one was there. A note from Max told her he and Chuck were out jogging. He'd ordered breakfast to be brought to the suite at eight. She checked the clock on the wall in the tiny kitchen. Fifteen minutes before the hour.

Spotting the coffeemaker, she put on a pot to brew and nibbled on a package of peanut butter crackers she found in a cabinet. That got her through the queasy part of the day. By the time the coffee was done, she felt ready to face any problem.

Until Max walked in the door.

The freshness of the day seemed to cling to his muscular form as he entered. He saw her and headed toward the counter that separated the kitchen from the large living and dining area. His jogging clothes were soaked with perspiration, and the heated scent of his body enfolded her in warmth and a trill of excitement.

She couldn't help but look him over. He exuded all
the alluring assets of the alpha male. He was virile, confident and courageous. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep, his arms and legs laced with muscles. Handsome. Powerful. A leader among men. Literally.

At the counter, he leaned forward, took her cup and stole a sip, then kissed her with such tender passion, it drove the breath right from her body.

“I missed you last night,” he murmured, handing the cup back and letting his gaze drift over her face, skim her breasts that jutted wantonly against her white sweater, and finally sweep down her blue slacks to her loafers before returning to rest on her abdomen. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“No nausea?”

“No.” She refused to blush at the intimate questions.

“Breakfast should be here soon. I'll be back.” He headed for his room and closed the door behind him.

Feeling weak and foolish, she topped up the coffee and took a seat in a comfortable club chair. She'd hardly gotten settled when the doorbell rang.

“Keep your seat,” Chuck advised, coming out of the other bedroom that was part of the suite. He opened the door and greeted the room service waiter.

Chuck was freshly showered, Ivy noted, and dressed in dark slacks, a white shirt and a tie. He directed the waiter to place the food on the gleaming cherry dining table, his manner almost brusque. The waiter got busy, and by the time he exited, Max returned.

“Did I hear someone say food?” he asked, striding across the room as if he commanded the world.

His smile was dazzling when he offered her his arm and escorted her to the table. He seated her to his right while Chuck took the chair to the left of the head of the table.

“I've spoken with your brother,” Max told her.

“Trent? Why?”

“Because you may be in danger. He agrees that you should stay under my watchful eye while Chuck and your company's security agents check out your place.”

“Check it for what?” She was beginning to feel she was playing a scene in a B-rated movie and her lines were the worst ones.

“Fingerprints. He thinks we should notify the FBI.”

“I agree,” Chuck said. “They need to know what's at stake here.”

“What?” Ivy asked. “What's at stake?”

Those thick, black eyebrows that she loved to stroke rose slightly in patient irony. “I think he's referring to us and the child.”

“To your life,” Chuck stated without a trace of a smile to his boss. “You are to be crowned king in November. It would be awkward if I should have to protect your unborn child until he or she is old enough to take your place.”

Ivy felt such a hitch in her body she had to lay a hand over her middle to ease the tightness. It was as if the baby had heard and understood the importance
of its existence. For the first time, the fact that her child was heir to a throne became real to her.

“But you would do it,” Max said quietly.

“Yes,” Chuck replied.

The depth of friendship and loyalty between the two men became evident by the simple exchange. When they both looked at her, she realized she was the center of their concern—she and the baby she carried. A tremor shook her to the core of her being.

“No one will hurt the child if I can prevent it,” she said, joining in the pledge to protect the little one.

“Then you will do exactly as we say?” Max asked, pinning her with a hard stare.

She frowned, not sure what she was willing to commit herself to doing. “I'm not inclined to follow orders blindly, but I have given some thought to the situation.”

She pushed her empty plate aside and poured a fresh cup of coffee from the room service cart.

“What was your conclusion?” Max asked, his eyes roaming over her in a sexy, lazy perusal. “By the way, Chuck, you should know that Ivy and I are engaged.”

She started to deny it, but on second thought, decided that was what she'd agreed to. “A sort of trial engagement,” she quickly clarified.

“A courtship, as it were,” Max agreed. “Then we will be married at the end of the month.”

“If it works out.” She amended his statement to indicate it wasn't a sure thing.

Max grinned at her. His earlier kiss had nearly driven any idea of a platonic relationship right out of her mind.

“You are dangerously close to arrogance,” she warned.

Chuck made a strangled sound, then laughed out loud. Max merely lifted his dark eyebrows in a definitely arrogant manner and finished his eggs and waffle.

“Anyway, I've thought about the listening devices.” She looked at Chuck, all playfulness aside. “Someone could have searched my place looking for the educational system plans, specifically the new router design. Maybe they thought they could find out more by listening in on my calls. It wouldn't be the first time industrial espionage has been a factor in our company.”

She paused, recalling the bitterness of her father over an employee who had taken a breakthrough discovery from Crosby Systems to their enemy, Terrence Logan. That technology had been worth millions of dollars and had doubled the market share of the Logan Corporation.

Chuck nodded. “I've talked to the assistant security chief in Lantanya. All is quiet and under control. The head of the national guard has finished the interrogation of the palace security force. Nothing new. I'm sure we have all the conspirators, or else I would never have left the country.”

“Nor would I,” Max said. “Not even for the rose.”

When both men looked at Ivy, she became somewhat self-conscious. She assumed her code name was “the rose” with the security chief. Recalling the rose that Max had plucked for her and slipped into the bosom of her blouse, she couldn't prevent the wave of heat that swept into her face.

“I understand national security must come before all else,” she told them. “I accept that.”

“Good,” Chuck declared with an approving nod. “I think we should discuss this with your brother. We may have to bring in the American FBI on the case.”

“And the CIA, if it's determined to be an international affair,” Max murmured, his manner one of deep thought. He glanced at Ivy. “If so, you will have no privacy, either from the government or the news media.”

She nodded. At some point yesterday she had realized that in agreeing to a…a sort of trial engagement she had also agreed to all that went with being the fiancée of a prince.

Princess Ivy.

It sounded just too ridiculous! She pressed a hand to her throat, afraid of breaking into laughter at the ridiculous idea and not being able to stop.

Max touched her arm. “I will protect you as well as I can from those who will pester you for news and those who would harm you because of me.”

“I know,” she said softly, her heart swelling until it filled her with hope and eagerness and yearning. “I trust you.” She glanced at Chuck. “I trust you both.
I'll try to listen and follow your instructions about what is best, but I must be included in the planning and in the decision making.”

When Chuck got up to answer the telephone, Max said for her ears alone, “It would be best if you shared a bed with me.” He lifted her hand and kissed each knuckle, his smile teasing, his eyes daring her to deny it. “I will be assured of your safety that way.”

“Platonic,” she said firmly. “Sex complicates things.”

“So you indicated last night,” he said dryly, looking so grumpy she had to laugh.

She adopted a prim manner. “Putting off gratification is good for one's character, Your Highness.”

“Or it may drive one to desperate acts,” he retorted, and looked her over as if thinking of seizing her and making off for parts unknown.

Even if the danger was real, she thought, it was worth it for these moments and the closeness she felt to this man. She suddenly wanted to say yes to the marriage and to making love and to anything else he had in mind.

 

Ivy had a voice mail from Trent when she arrived at her office. “See me” was the terse message. She put her purse and jacket away, picked up a notepad and went to the CEO's office. The secretary waved her in as soon as she appeared.

In addition to her brother, Katie was there. Ivy was
surprised. Was this a family meeting? Trent indicated she should close the door.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked after she'd greeted them and taken a seat in a leather chair next to Katie's.

“Please.” She considered her tummy, which was acting up somewhat. Odd, but this week she'd felt more nauseated about an hour after breakfast than any other time. The only thing she was doing differently was taking a prenatal vitamin right after breakfast. “Do you have any crackers?” she asked. Those always made her feel better.

Trent gave her a sharp glance from shrewd brown eyes. Their father had trained him to take over the company, and her big brother had developed the necessary skills, including sizing up a situation on the spot.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked, getting right to the point of the meeting. He handed her a cup of coffee, then stood by the chair as if to mete out punishment.

She sighed. “Yes.” The aroma of the coffee added to the turmoil in her stomach. “Crackers,” she said.

Trent frowned, but went to his credenza. He opened a door and removed an acrylic canister filled with trail mix. He set it on the lamp table between her and Katie.

Ivy selected several pretzels and munched on those. “Ah,” she said, feeling better at once, then realized her brother and sister were staring at her. “Is my being pregnant the topic of this meeting?” she
asked, trying for a light tone, which was a success, and a smile, which wasn't.

“One of them,” Trent told her.

He thrust a hand through his hair as he resumed his seat. Ivy tried to remember who also used that gesture, but it was only a fleeting thought. She had other things to deal with. “What are the others?”

“What is Max Hughes to you?”

Ivy glanced at Katie, who smiled solemnly but reassuringly at her. So Katie hadn't told all. That left it up to her. She hesitated, not sure where to begin.

With the night of grand passion nearly two months ago? No, that wasn't something she was prepared to discuss with her brother. She tried to think of a tactful beginning.

“Is he the father?” Trent demanded, sparing her the necessity.

“Yes.”

“My God,” her brother said in fatalistic tones.

Katie and Ivy glanced at each other uneasily. Ivy took a breath and prepared to tell him exactly who Max was.

Trent leaned forward. “Do you know who he is?”

“Who?” Ivy said, afraid he was going to announce that Max was an ax murderer or something equally awful.

“The king of Lantanya. Or he will be when he's officially crowned in November, I understand.”

“Oh, well, yes, I know that.”

“You went over there on business. For this company,” Trent stated grimly. “And you slept with the king?”

“I didn't know that at the time.”

“He told her he was Max Hughes, there on business the same as she was,” Katie said, coming to her defense.

“How did you know about…the baby?” Ivy asked.

Rising, Trent paced to the window and turned, his dark blond hair backlighted by the sun into a halo effect. His face was grim. “Apparently everyone in the Western world knows. It's in all the tabloids that the royal prince is searching for his Cinderella, who ran off and left him with a broken heart.”

“Oh” was all Ivy could say. The uncertainty of the past two months swept over her in a wave. She pressed a hand to her stomach and desperately reached into the snack jar with the other.

Trent came to her and dropped to his haunches. “I'm sorry,” he said in a softer manner. “I didn't mean to browbeat you. It's just that…” He made a helpless gesture, as if words failed him.

Ivy could identify with that. “It's complicated,” she finished his thought.