His Thirty-Day Fiancée

She eyed him warily, surreptitiously hitching up the sinking neckline of her gown. “Then what kind of trade are we talking about here?”

He watched her every move. The way she picked at her painted thumbnail with her forefinger. How she rubbed her heel over the silly little anklet she wore. He savored up every bit of reeling her in, the plan growing more fulfilling by the second.

This was the best way. The only way. “I have a bit of a, uh, shall we say ‘family situation.’ My father is in ill health—as the world now knows thanks to your invasive investigative skills.”

She winced visibly for the first time. “I’m very sorry about that. Truly.” Then her nervousness fell away and her azure-blues gleamed with intelligence. “About the trade?”

“My father wants to see me settled down, married and ready to produce the next Medina heir. He even has a woman chosen—”

Her eyes went wide. “You have a fiancée?”

“My, how you reporters gobble up tidbits like fish snapping at crumbs on the water. But no. I do not have a fiancée.” Irritation nipped, annoying him all the more since it signaled a bit of control sliding to her side. “If you want another bread crumb, don’t anger me.”

“My apologies again.” She fingered her empty ear-lobe. “What about our trade?”

Back to the intriguing problem in front of him.

He would indulge those impulses with her later. When she was ready. And gauging by her air of desperation, it wouldn’t take much persuasion. Just a little time he could buy while settling a score and easing his father’s concerns about future heirs.

“As I said, my father is quite ill.” Near death from the damage caused by hepatitis contracted during his days on the run. The doctors feared liver failure at any time. He shut off distracting images of his pale father. “Obviously I don’t want to upset him while his health is so delicate.”

“Of course not. Family is important.” Her eyes filled with sympathy.

Ah. He’d found her weakness. The rest would be easy.

“Exactly. So, I have something you want, and you can give me something in return.” He lifted her chilly hand and kissed her short red nails. Judging by the way her pupils dilated, this revenge would be a pleasure for them both. “You cost our family much with your photos, destroying our carefully crafted anonymity. Now, let’s discuss how you’re going to repay that debt.”

Two

“Repay the debt,” Kate repeated, certain he couldn’t be implying what she’d thought. And she would look like a fool if she let him know what she’d assumed. She inched her chilly hand from his encompassing grip. “I’m going to work for you?”

“Nice try.” He stepped closer, his ninja workout pants whispering a dark, sexy hello.

Holding her silence, she crossed her arms to hide her shivery response and keep him from moving closer. This man’s magnetism was mighty inconvenient. Her toes curled into the Aubusson rug.

He tipped his head regally, drawing her attention to the strong column of his neck, his pulse steady and strong. “I want you to be my fiancée.”

Shock unfurled her toes. “Are you smoking crack?”

“Never have. Never intend to.” He clasped her wrists and unfolded her arms slowly, deliberately until they stood closer still. His eyes bored into hers. “I’m stone-cold sober and completely serious. In case you haven’t noticed, I do not joke.”

Her breasts strained against the bodice of her dress with each breath growing deeper, more erratic. She didn’t know what he was up to. Right now, he held all the cards, including all her photos.

Any hope of salvaging an article from this required playing with fire. “Seems to me like you have a fine sense of humor to suggest something as ridiculous as this. What do you really hope to accomplish?”

“If my father thinks I’m already locked into a relationship—” he skimmed his knuckles up her arm “—with you, he will quit pressing me to hook up with one of the daughters of his old pals from San Rinaldo.”

“Why choose me?” She plucked his hand away with a nonchalance she certainly didn’t feel inside. “Surely there must be plenty of women who would be quite happy to pretend to be your fiancée.”

He leaned on the back of the sofa, muscular legs mouth-wateringly showcased in his ninja pants. “There are women who want to be my fiancée, but not pretend.”

“What a shame you’re suffering from such ego problems.” She playfully kicked his bare foot with hers.

Oops. Wrong move. Her skin flamed from the simple touch. An answering heat sparked in his eyes.

It was just their feet, for pity’s sake. Still, she’d never felt such an intense and instantaneous draw to a man in her life, and she resented her body’s betrayal.

Heels staying on the ground, Duarte toed her anklet, flicking at the beads. “I fully realize my bank balance offers a hefty enticer. With you, however, we both know where we stand.”

Her yarn and plastic contrasted sharply with his suite sporting exclusive artwork. The seascape paintings weren’t from some roadside stand bought simply to accent a Martha’s Vineyard decor. She recognized the distinctive brushstrokes of Spanish master painter Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida from her college art classes.

She forced herself not to twitch away from Duarte’s power play, not too tough actually since the simple strokes felt so good against her adrenaline-pumped nerves. “Won’t your father wonder why he’s never heard you mention me before now?”

“We’re not a Sunday-dinners sort of family. You can use that as a quote for articles if you wish, once we’re finished.”

Articles. Plural. But would they be timely enough to generate the money to settle her sister’s bill for next month? “How long from now until that finish date?”

“My father has asked for thirty days of my time to handle estate business around the country while he’s ill. You can accompany and compile notes for your exclusive. I’ll be hitting a number of hot spots around the U.S., including a stop in Washington, D.C., for a black-tie dinner with some politicians who could put your name on the map. And of course you’ll get to meet my family along the way. I ask only that I get to approve any material you plan to submit.”

Thirty days?

She did a quick mental calculation of her finances and Jennifer’s bills. With some pinching she could squeak through until then. Except what kind of scoop would she have when every news industry out there could have jumped in ahead of her? “The story could be cold by then. I need some assurance of a payoff—at work—that will help advance my career.”

Bleck, but that made her sound money-grubbing. How come men struck hard bargains and they were corporate wizards, but the same standards didn’t apply to women? She had a career to look after and responsibilities to her sister.

Duarte’s eyes brimmed with cynicism. “So we’re going to barter here? Quite bold on your part.”

“Arrest me, then. I’ll text a story from my jail cell. I’ll describe the inside of your personal suite along with details about your aftershave and that birthmark right above your belly button. People can draw their own conclusions and believe me, the click-throughs will be plentiful.”

“You’re willing to insinuate we had an affair? You’re prepared to compromise your journalistic integrity?”

For her sister? She didn’t have any choice. “I work for the Global Intruder. Obviously journalistic integrity isn’t a high priority.”

A glint of respect flecked his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain. Good for you.” He straightened, topping her by at least half a foot. “Let’s get down to business, then. There’s going to be a family wedding at the end of the month at my father’s estate. If you hold up your end of the bargain for the next thirty days, you get exclusive photos of the private ceremony. The payoff from those photos should be more than adequate to meet your needs.”

A Medina wedding? Wow. Just. Wow.

Before she could push a resounding yes past her lips, he continued, “And in a show of good faith, you can submit a short personal interview about our engagement.”

“All I have to do is pretend to be your fiancée?” It sounded too good to be true. Could this Hail Mary pass for Jennifer work out just right?

“Of course it’s pretend. I most certainly do not want you to be my real fiancée.”

“You’re serious here. You’re actually going to take me with you to your father’s estate?” And give her photos of a family wedding.

“Ah, I can see the dollar signs in your lovely eyes.”

“Sure I want a story and I have bills to pay like anybody else—well, anybody other than Medinas—but I work for that payday.” Hey wait, he thought her eyes were lovely? “What reporter in their right mind would say no to this? But what’s the catch? Because I can’t imagine anyone would willingly invite a reporter into the intimate circle of their lives. Especially someone with as many secrets as you.”

“Let’s call it a preemptive strike. Better to know the snake’s identity rather than wonder. And I also gain four weeks of your charming presence.”

Suddenly an ugly suspicion bloomed in her mind. “I’m not going to sleep with you to land this exclusive.”

Her eyes darted back to the bed, an image blossoming in her brain of the two of them tangled together in the sheets, their discarded clothes mating on the floor in a silky blend of green and black.

A humorless chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You really are obsessed with having sex with me. First, you believe I’ve mistaken you for a prostitute. Then, you think I want to trade my story for time in your bed. Truly, I’m not that hard up.”

She blinked away the dizzying fantasy he’d painted of the two of them together. “This just seems so… bizarre.”

“My life is far from normal.” The luxury that wrapped so effortlessly around him confirmed that.

“I should simply accept what you’re offering at face value?”

“It’s a month of your life to make appearances with a prince while I settle Dad’s estate. Our family is rather well connected. You’ll have some very influential new contacts for future stories.”

Now, didn’t he know how to tempt a girl? On too many levels. “If we’re not sleeping together, what do you get out of this?”

He held up one finger, tapping it on her shoulder. “I give my father peace.” He added a second touch, thumbing her collarbone. “I retain control of my own personal life. And three—” he curled his whole hand around her in a hold that was both arousing and a little dangerous “—I manage all cameras, all the time. You don’t have access to any shots unless I okay them. The press hears nothing without my approval. And before you get too excited, when we go to my father’s, you will not know where he lives.”

She laughed in hopes of dispersing the tingles tightening her breasts. “Do you intend to put a bag over my head before you stuff me in a limo?”

“Nothing so plebian, my dear.” His thumb continued to work its magic. “Suffice it to say, you will get on an airplane and then land on a private island, somewhere warmer than here in Massachusetts. Beyond that…” He shrugged, sliding past her, a hint of cedar drifting along with him.

Pivoting, she watched him stride across the room, his steps silent, his hips trim and decidedly hot. “You’re taking me to an untraceable island so you can kill me and dump my body in the ocean for exposing your family—which, for the record, is just my job. Nothing personal.”

Shaking his head, he stopped in front of a painting of a wooden sailboat beached on its side. “Pull a bag over your head? Feed you to the sharks? You are a bloodthirsty one.” Pulling back the gold-framed artwork, he revealed a wall safe. Duarte punched in numbers and the door hissed open. “Nobody is going to kill anyone. We’re going to let the world know we’re engaged right away. Then if you disappear, all fingers will point to me.”

“If they can find you on that ‘warm island.’”

“Thanks to you, I’m sure my father’s secluded hide-away will be found sooner or later.” He pulled out one flat velvet box after another, each with an exclusive jeweler’s name imprinted on the top. “One last point. If you break any of my rules about distribution of information, I will turn over the security footage of you breaking into my estate and press charges for unlawful entry. It won’t matter that you’ve been my fiancée. The world will believe the tape was taken after our breakup and that you were a scorned woman bent on revenge.”

The unrelenting line of his back, strong column of his neck exposed by closely shorn hair spoke of cool determination. She wasn’t dealing with a rookie. “You would really send me to jail?”

“Only if you betray me. If you didn’t want to play in the big leagues, then you shouldn’t have climbed onto my balcony. You can always just walk away free and clear now.” He plucked the smallest jewelry box from the back and creaked it open to reveal an emerald-cut ruby flanked with diamond baguettes. “Negotiations are over. Take it or leave it. That’s my deal.”

She eyed the platinum-set engagement ring, jewels clearly perfect yet curiously understated. No gaudy Hollywood flash, but rather old-money class that appealed to her more than some princess-cut satellite dish in a six-pronged setting. For Jennifer’s sake, she would make this work. She had to. She would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t take this risk, a chance to provide for her sister forever.

Decision made, Kate extended her hand. “Why on earth would I betray you when we’ve obviously come to a mutually beneficial agreement?”

Duarte hardened his focus as he did in the workout room and plucked the ring out of the cushiony bed. Best not to think about any other kind of bed.

Cradling her left hand in his, he slid the ring in place, a ruby-and-diamond antique from the Medina family collection. He could buy her something more contemporary and ornate later, but now that he had Kate’s agreement, he wasn’t going to give her time to wriggle out. He had a month to exact revenge on her. And no, he wasn’t going to dump her in the ocean or cause her any bodily harm.

Instead, he would seduce her completely, thoroughly and satisfyingly. He wanted this woman and would have pursued her regardless of how they’d crossed paths. But they hadn’t met under normal circumstances. He couldn’t forget what she’d done to his family. The best way to discredit any future reports from her would come from casting her in the role of a bitter ex.

A month should be plenty of time to accomplish all of his goals.

Closing his hand around hers, he sealed the ring in place. “The bride and groom have left the rehearsal dinner downstairs, so we will not be stealing their spotlight by showing up together.”

“Together? Tonight?”

“Within the hour.” He thumbed the ring until the ruby centered on top of her delicate finger. “I told you I wanted to spread the word soon.”

“This is more than soon.” She rubbed her foot against the yarn anklet, betraying nerves she didn’t let show on her face.

“It’s in your best interest that we establish ourselves as a couple right away.” Just saying the word couple brought to mind images of how thoroughly he intended to couple with her. “Especially if you’re still concerned about me feeding you to the fishes.”

“Then, uh, okay. I guess there’s no time like the present.” She tugged up the bodice of her dress, drawing his eyes right back to her cleavage.

His teeth ached, he wanted her so much. He liked to think he appreciated the whole package when it came to women, mind as well as body. But good God, this woman had a chest that could send a strong man to his knees. He burned with the urge to ease down the sides of her gown and reveal each creamy swell, slowly taking his time to explore and appreciate with his hands, with his mouth.

Patience. “There’s a large party downstairs with plenty of movers and shakers from social and political scenes. You’ll get to share details with your boss. My word. Fifteen minutes downstairs and then I’ll have the reassurance that you’re committed. You’ll have the reassurance that I can’t kill you without pinging police radar.”

“Okay, okay, I see your point.” Her laughter tickled his ears. “It’s just all moving so fast I want to make sure I think of everything. I need to make one call before we go public.”

“To your editor? I think not.” He tugged her closer, the soft curves of her breasts grazing his chest. He could almost taste the milky softness of her skin. “I need your commitment to this plan first. Can’t have you going rogue on me out there.”

The fight crept back into her eyes, chasing away the nervousness he’d seen earlier. Her grit fired his insides every bit as much as her pinup-girl curves.

She locked his hand in a firm hold, her eyes meeting his dead-on. “I need to call my sister. We can put her on speakerphone if you don’t trust me about what’s being said, but I have to speak to her first. It’s nonnegotiable. If the answer’s no, then I’ll accept your offer to walk away and settle for an exposé on your birthmark.”

With the top of her head at nose level, he could smell the apple-fresh scent of her shampoo, see the rapid pulse in her neck bared by her upswept do. A simple slide of his hands around her back and he would be able to cup her bottom and cradle her between his legs before he kissed her. He couldn’t remember when he’d wanted a woman this much. And although he tried to tell himself it had something to do with a stretch of abstinence since the Medina story broke, he knew full well he would have ached to have her anytime. Anywhere.

Why hadn’t photos of her in the private investigator’s report captured his attention the way she did now? He’d registered she was an attractive woman, but hadn’t felt this gut-leveling kick. She chewed her bottom lip, and he realized he was staring.

His fingers tightened around her hand wearing his ring. “What about speaking to the rest of your family?”

“Just my sister,” she said softly. Her eyes were wary but she didn’t pull away. “What about your family?”

And would he tell his brothers the truth? He would have to decide on the best strategy for approaching them later. “They’ll get the memo. You could call your sister immediately after we make our announcement downstairs.”

She shook her head quickly, a light brown lock sliding loose to caress her cheek the way he longed to. “I don’t want to risk any chance of her hearing it from someone else first.” Kate tipped her chin defiantly, as if prepping for battle. “My sister is a special-needs adult. Okay? She will be confused if this leaks before I can speak to her. It’s not like I would lie about something you can easily verify.”

Every word she shared was so obviously against her will that his conscience engaged for the first time. But that couldn’t change his course. Kate had set this in motion when she’d climbed onto the ledge, in fact back when she’d identified his face in a picture that launched an exposé on his family. Still, his inconvenient kick of conscience could be silenced by acquiescing to her request for a call.

“Fine, then.” He unclipped his cell from his waistband and passed it to her. “Feel free to phone your sister before she finds out on Facebook. But I would hurry if I were you. We all know how quickly internet news can spread.”

She scrunched her nose. “You cut me to the quick with your not-so-subtle reference to my news story of the century.”

God, she was hot. And he wanted her.

While he would have to wait to have her, before the night was over, he would claim a seal-the-deal kiss from his new fiancée.

Meanwhile, it wouldn’t hurt to keep her on her toes. “Make your call quickly. You have until I’ve changed for our appearance downstairs.”

With slow and unmistakably sexual deliberation, he untied the belt on his workout clothes.

Kate damn near swallowed her tongue. “Uh, do you want me to step into the hall?”

“You promised to use speakerphone, remember?” Duarte turned his back to her but he didn’t leave. He simply strode toward the mahogany armoire.

The jacket slid from his shoulders.

Holy hell.

He draped the black silk over one of the open cabinet doors, muscles shifting along his back. She saw sparks like a camera flash snapping behind her retinas.

Oh. Right. She needed to breathe.

God, this man was ripped with long, lean—lethal—definition. She’d felt those muscles up close when she’d fallen against him on the balcony.

How much further would he carry this little display? Her fingers had been wowed, for sure, but her photographer eyes picked up everything she’d missed in that frantic moment earlier.

She was female. With a heartbeat. And swaying on her feet. The cell phone bit into her tight grip, reminding her of the reason she’d come here in the first place. Keeping Jennifer happy and secure was top priority.

Thumbing in her sister’s number, she considered blowing off the whole speakerphone issue. But she’d probably pushed her luck far enough tonight. There was no reason not to let him hear and he would have Jennifer’s number anyway now that it was stored in his cell history…. And hey, might Jennifer have his as well after this call? Interesting. She would have to check once she could steal a moment away from him. She activated the speaker phone just as her sister picked up.

“Hello?” Jennifer’s voice came through, hesitant, confused. “Who’s this?”

“Jennifer? It’s Katie, calling from a, uh, friend’s phone.” Her eyes zipped back to Duarte and his silky pants riding low on his trim hips. “I have some important news for you.”

“Are you coming to see me?” She pictured Jennifer in her pj’s, eating popcorn with other residents at the first-rate facility outside Boston.

“Not tonight, sweetie.” She had a date with an honest-to-God prince. The absurdity of it all bubbled hysteria in her throat.

“Then when?”

That depended on a certain sexy stranger who was currently getting mouth-wateringly naked.

“I’m not sure, Jennifer, but I promise to try my best to make it as soon as possible.”

Duarte pulled out a tuxedo and hung it on the door. She caught the reflection of his chest in the mirror inside the wardrobe. The expanse of chest she’d only seen a slice of from his open jacket—

“Katie?” Jennifer’s voice cut through the airwaves. “What’s your news?”

“Oh, uh…” She gulped in air for confidence—and to still her stuttering heart as Duarte knelt to select shoes. “I’m engaged.”

“To be married?” Jennifer squealed. “When?”

Wincing, Kate opted to deliberately misunderstand the whole timing question since there wasn’t going to be a wedding. “He gave me a ring tonight.”

“And you said yes.” Her sister squealed again, her high-pitched excitement echoing around the room. “Who is he?”

At least she could answer the second question honestly. “He’s someone I met through work. His name is Duarte.”

“Duarte? That’s a funny name. I’ve never heard it before. Do you think he would mind if I call him Artie? I like art class.”

He glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow arched, his first sign that he even noticed or cared that she was still in the room while he stripped.

Kate cradled the phone. “Artie is a nice name, but I think he prefers Duarte.”

A quick smile chased across his face before he turned back to the tux. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of his whispery black workout pants. Oh, boy. Her breath went heavy in her lungs and she couldn’t peel her eyes off him to save her soul. So silly. So wrong. And so compelling in his arrogant confidence.

Then she realized he was watching her watch him in the mirror. His eyes were dark and unreadable. But he wasn’t laughing or mocking, because that would have shown, surely.

Silence stretched between them, his thumbs still hooked on the waistband. His biceps flexed in anticipation of motion.

She spun away, zeroing in on the conversation instead of the man. “You will probably see something in the paper, so I want you to understand. Duarte is a real-life Prince Charming.”