Scandal With a Prince (15 page)

Megan’s face lit with pride.
 
“That’s all my mother.
 
Anna loves cooking with her.
 
My parents have come to Barcelona five times since I moved here, but they have yet to visit the Picasso Museum because my mother ends up spending so much time in the kitchen.”

He felt a pang of jealousy.
 
Cooking with Anna would make for an entertaining afternoon.
 
How many of them had he missed?
 
How many might there be left?
 
“I bet she enjoys every second of it.”
 

“I hope so.
 
It’s a long flight from Minnesota just to make pizza.”

“True.”
 
A thought occurred to him.
 
“Have you considered cooking lessons?
 
There’s a world-class culinary school right here in Barcelona.
 
I know Anna’s too young for a formal program, but I’m sure they offer classes for children.
 
If they saw her talent—“
 
The expression on Megan’s face stopped him.
 
“Bad idea?”
 

“She doesn’t need cooking school.”

He spread his hands wide.
 
“Why not give it a try, if it’s an option?
 
I’ve heard that the facilities are spectacular.
 
In fact, the head chef at the palace studied there, as have several other members of my family’s staff.
 
Anna would love it.”

“I’m sure she would.
 
But she doesn’t need it.”

“She doesn’t
need
a lot of things.
 
But if it interests her and it’s within your capability to provide it, why wouldn’t you?”

A bemused smile perked up the edges of her mouth.
 
When Stefano asked what was so funny, she laughed as if she’d heard a terrific joke but Stefano had missed the punch line, making it all the funnier.
 

“Oh.”
 
He ran his hand along the back of the sofa, feeling the bumpy texture of the fabric’s tight weave. He shouldn’t make assumptions about what Megan could and couldn’t provide.
 
“Well, I’d certainly be happy to pay for the lessons.”

That only made her laugh so hard she couldn’t speak.
 
A tear ran out the corner of one of her eyes, which she swiped away.
 
He stared at her, befuddled, then spread his hands wide.
 
“I give up.
 
What’s so funny?”

“What do you think?”
 
she managed.
 
“You’re doing it again.”

Ah.
 
Now he understood.
 
He relaxed into the cushions, his knee bumping against hers as he did so. “You think I’m trying to take over her parenting?
 
Or, excuse me, ‘contribute something of value’ to her upbringing?
 
Weren’t those were your words yesterday when I questioned your parenting choices?”

“Good memory.”

“That wasn’t my intent.
 
It’s clear to me now that you’ve made good choices with her.
 
I only want her to have the best, if the best is within reach.”

“I realize that.
 
But suggesting culinary lessons at the place your head chef studied after Anna served you pizza on a kiddie party plate?
 
Tell me that’s not hilarious.”
 
She leaned forward, the movement allowing him a breath of her light, citrusy perfume.
 
“Look, I’m glad you care about her well being.
 
The fact you didn’t know she existed until this weekend, yet you feel compelled to ensure she’s happy speaks volumes about the kind of man you are.
 
And I deeply appreciate that.
 
But she doesn’t need to be handed everything on a silver platter to be happy.
 
She’s happy already.”

“Cooking lessons aren’t being handed everything on a silver platter.”
 
He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to argue.
 
“But I understand your point.
 
Cooking is off the table.
 
So to speak.”

That earned him another smile.
 
“So to speak.”

“Still, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to give her everything it’s within my power to give.
 
And by that, I don’t mean material things.
 
I mean experiences that will enrich her life and satisfy her intellectual curiosity.
 
It’s no different than what you said you did by accepting a job in Barcelona.”
 

Megan sucked in a breath, making him wonder if he’d overstepped.
 
“We need to take this slowly.
 
She may have been fairly comfortable with you today, but there’s going to be a period of adjustment for her.”

“I know.”
 
He thought of the way Anna held her breath as he’d first tasted her pizza, waiting for his reaction, then trying to disguise her pride by looking down at her own slice when he’d complimented her.
 
“I like her.
 
A lot.
 
Not simply because she’s my daughter—or because she’s yours—but for who she is.
 
She’s entertaining.
 
And direct.”

“Like when she asked you why you aren’t married, despite the fact she knows better than to ask a question like that?”
 
She screwed up her mouth.
 
“It’s tough sometimes, given her age, but she’s been working on thinking first, speaking and acting second.
 
I’m sorry if she offended you.
 
I figured she’d have questions, but not precisely
those
questions.”

Megan wrapped her hands around her knees as she spoke.
 
The sun highlighted the beading in her red bracelet, making him think of that red bikini all over again.
 
He wondered if he’d ever get that image out of his head.
 

He hoped not.
 

“She didn’t offend me at all.”
 
He forced his gaze from Megan’s hands and wrists to her face.
 
“I’m afraid she gets any impetuousness from me, at least according to my parents.”

“You must be joking.
 
Calling you a whirlwind of activity, that I understand.
 
Within five minutes of meeting you, I realized you couldn’t stand to be still.”

He frowned at her.
 
“How so?”
 

“Whenever you found yourself with a free minute, you’d track down extra parts for a water pump or you’d jump to help someone else finish their project.
 
You spent hours and hours playing stickball or soccer with the local kids rather than relax during your time off.”
 
Her eyes sparkled at the memory.
 
“But impetuous?
 
No.
 
You always think before you speak or act.”

“In public, and then only because the instinct was drummed out of me.
 
Years of etiquette lessons, you know.”

“Bet you’d have preferred cooking lessons.”
 
Her flirtatious smile sent a jolt of heat clear to his belly, then to his groin.
 

“No doubt.”
 
But right now, he wanted her.
 
Her wit.
 
Her warmth.
 
Her passion.
 

Nothing was going to drum that instinct out of him.
 

He covered one of her hands with his own, exploring her soft skin, taking in the texture of the bones and joints beneath.
 
Wondering at all her beautiful hands had accomplished, both at work and in her personal life with Anna.
 
He expected her to pull away, but she remained motionless.
 
“I can still be impetuous.
 
For instance, it would be a shame not to take advantage of the fact that we’re alone for the first time in a decade, with no one to see us, no one to hear us.
 
Don’t you think?”

He slowly circled one of her nails with the pad of his index finger, then raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist where it peeked out from the cuff of her shirt.
 
Still, she didn’t pull away.
 
She felt warm and alive, and he wanted her as never before.
 
With his mouth still pressed to her wrist, he looked into her wide blue eyes and whispered, “We can do whatever we’d like.”

Chapter Eleven

Impetuous.
 
That was one word for what Stefano was doing to her wrist.
 
Others came to mind first, each supplanting the other as the heat of his mouth seared into her very veins, coursing straight to her heart:
 
Divine.
 
Sensuous.
 
Rapturous.
 

If this was what he could do to her wrist, what would his touch do to the rest of her?

Orgasmic
.

Before the thought could settle, Megan turned her energy to keeping her breath even and her expression neutral.
 
Mustering her most unaffected tone, she said, “You’re a terrible flirt, you know.
 
It’s why you draw so much media attention.”
 
His skill at it also meant he likely wasn’t fooled by her attempt at composure.
 
He knew exactly what to say and do to make any woman swoon.
 
Her most of all.
 

She should stop him now, before he detected the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against his lips, which remained pressed to her pulse point.
 
She should be responsible, ask questions about what he expected from his relationship with Anna.
 
Set some parameters.

She should
not
be thinking about the way the nerves in her wrist seemed connected to every other fiber in her body.
 
Or the way he set them all to flame with nothing more than a quick caress of his mouth.

“This isn’t flirting, Megan.
 
Flirting is nothing more than banter intended to pass the time or to bolster the ego.
 
I want far more than that.”
 

Her heartbeat moved to her throat at his words.
 
He was moving so fast…and yet, not.
 
They’d shared a bond for years, even if he hadn’t known the full extent of that bond.
 
And he was a man used to getting what he wanted.

He moved her hand to rest on his shoulder as he eased his mouth along her arm in a slow, agonizing path, pausing to kiss the inside of her elbow through the sheer lace of her shirt.
 
Her legs remained folded between them, serving as a final defense against his assault, but where he’d placed her hand on his shoulder, she betrayed herself by spreading her fingertips to explore the firm ridges of muscle hidden beneath his shirt.
 

Her hand felt as if it belonged there.

His voice low and sensuous, he said, “I’ve wanted more than flirting from you from the first day we met, but it took me too long to realize it.
 
I want you.
 
And I think you want me.
 
Unless there’s someone else?”
 
His sea green eyes bewitched her as he studied her from beneath his dark lashes.
 
“If there’s another man in your life, tell me now.”

She shook her head.
 
With that small movement, something inside her cracked, as deeply and powerfully as ice splitting from a glacier.
 
She slid her hand around the back of his neck and moved her knees out of the way so she could pull him toward her, so close she could feel the wash of his breath against her skin and smell the crisp, clean fabric of his shirt.

For a split second, fear enveloped her.
 
She nearly drew back, but then his lips met hers, washing away everything but the sensation that this was right. He kissed her softly at first, sending waves of electric heat through every part of her, then more passionately as his hands came to frame her face.
 
A murmur of pleasure escaped her, turning his kiss seductive, hungry, and full of the same pent-up need she’d felt from the moment she’d laid eyes on him in the cocktail lounge.
 
He pulled her closer, the heat of his hands searing her skin through her thin top, warming her clear to her spine.
 

He smelled like heaven.
 
Tasted better.
 
All thought of parameters dissolved as his tongue flicked against hers.
 
She pressed into him, craving more.

He eased her back against the sofa, deepening their kiss, tangling one hand in her hair as the other caressed her side in slow worship before cupping her breast.
 
She welcomed his weight, reveling in the feeling of his large, hard body against her smaller one.
 
When his thumb found her nipple through her top, she gasped.
 

He smiled against her mouth in response.
 
“Still sends you?”

“Mmmm—”
 
She melted in his hands, stunned that he remembered details she’d long ago let blur out of a sense of self-preservation.