A Royal Temptation

With luck, he could salvage the evening.

* * *

Portia had been stood up. She’d been delivered to the palace minutes before seven, only to be informed that the king had visitors and to please be patient and wait. She was shown to the dining room and shortly after, the palace chef himself had set dishes of appetizers on the table before her.

Candles were lit and soft music filtered into the room.

The only problem? Her date wasn’t here. And she wasn’t about to eat a thing until he showed. Call her stubborn.

It was after eight. She knew because her stomach refused to stop growling and finally, she’d glanced at her watch.

She’d already taken in the paintings on the walls, assessing them and noting that they weren’t up to par with usual palatial art. Oh, they were lovely pieces, but from contemporary artists. Many of them were replicas of the real thing. It was a curiosity. The monarchy stretched way beyond the years of the dictatorship. There should be older, more authentic works on the walls. But this was only one room. Maybe for security reasons, the gallery held the most valuable pieces.

After wandering the dining hall, she picked a particular patch of space near the fireplace and began pacing.

She couldn’t fault Juan Carlos. His secretary had taken the blame, explaining that she’d failed to remind the king of his visitors. She’d tried her best to cancel the meetings, but she was afraid she wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped.

But the more Portia thought about it, the more pangs of anger replaced her patience.

How long would he keep her waiting?

Travis is in a meeting. He won’t be available for hours. He’d like you to wait, though.

This isn’t the same thing, she reminded herself. Her ex-boyfriend wasn’t a king. Well, maybe the king of late-night television. And she’d fallen for him. He was funny and charming and kind. It was like a regular Cinderella story, the poor broke comedian hooks up with a real live princess. Travis was far from poor now, although he’d come from humble beginnings and the press loved their story and ate it up.

A new American fairy tale, they’d called it.

Travis had been on top of the world when they were together. Everyone loved him and thought he was worthy of a princess from an obscure little country. Only dating a supermodel would have given him more credibility.

And here she was, doing the same thing. Another American fairy tale, only this time with a real king.

Stupid of her.

Her nerves were jumpy and by the time eight-thirty rolled around, she was royally pissed.

Juan Carlos had twisted her arm to accept this dinner date, the way charming men did. He’d trapped her and then kissed her until every brain cell was lulled into capitulation. God, she’d been looking forward to being alone with him again. That kiss was good. Better than good. It was the best kiss she’d ever had. Not even Travis could kiss like that, and he’d been plenty experienced in that department.

“Sorry, so sorry, Portia.”

She jumped. “Oh!” Juan Carlos entered the room, looking dashing in a dark buttoned-up suit but no tie. Another growl emitted from her stomach, this time not due to hunger.

“Did Alicia explain what happened? It was my fault. This is the first chance I’ve had to—”

“It’s been over ninety minutes,” was all she could think to say.

“I would’ve cancelled with you and sent you home, but this is your last night in Alma. Selfishly, I wanted to see you again.”

Guilt rose like bile in her throat. She remained silent.

He glanced at the feast of food that had been put before her. “You didn’t touch anything Chef prepared. You must be famished.”

“I’m not hungry anymore, Your Majesty.”

His lips pursed in disapproval.

She still couldn’t bring herself to call him by his given name.

“You’ve been so patient. There’s just one more meeting I have to get through. Will you wait?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I think I’d like to go.”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m tired and, and...”

“Angry.”

She didn’t respond. “Will you have your driver take me back to the hotel?”

Juan Carlos closed his eyes briefly. “Yes, of course. I just assumed after we kissed, you’d... Never mind. You’re right. I shouldn’t have made you wait.”

A man who admitted when he was wrong? How rare.

“Duty called. I’m afraid it always will.”

That’s how it had worked with Travis. The difference? Travis had been building his own personal dynasty, while Juan Carlos was trying to build one for his country. But that still left Portia with the same end result. She’d never be a top priority and while she liked Juan Carlos, she had vowed, after many disappointments with Travis, to never get herself in that situation again.

With that, she wished Juan Carlos a good evening, assured him she wasn’t angry and put enough distance between them that he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t plant his delicious lips on hers again and make her change her mind.

Three

The beach at Playa del Onda was one of the most stunning Portia had ever visited. Warm sand squeezed between her toes as she sat on a lounge chair, reading a book. This morning she’d gotten up early and taken a long jog along the shoreline, the October sun warming her through and through. She’d met a lovely family of tourists and had breakfast with them at a terrace café that overlooked the Atlantic. But their two little children, aged five and three, reminded her that it would probably be a long time before she was blessed with motherhood.

Often, she thought of having a family. She’d been orphaned at a young age. Aside from her great-aunt Margreta, she had no other family. Her grandmother Joanna had died during Portia’s sophomore year in college. But she had her work and it fulfilled her, and she had good friends. She wasn’t complaining. Yet being here on this beautiful beach was not only relaxing, it was...lonely.

Face it, Portia. How many books can you read this week? How many hot stone spa treatments can you indulge in? How many solo dinners in your room can you enjoy?

It had been three days of torturous relaxation. And it didn’t compute. How odd for her to realize while on a vacation in a beautiful locale that she wasn’t made for inactivity. She liked to keep active, to busy herself with things that mattered. Yesterday, she’d given herself a mental slap. You deserve this vacation, so shut up, sit back and enjoy yourself.

Today, the mental slaps weren’t working. Her relaxation was even more forced. She fidgeted in her chair; the book in her hands no longer held her interest. Sunglasses shading her eyes, she watched others frolicking on the sand, tossing a Frisbee, their laughter drifting over to her, reminding her how lonely she was. How bored.

She wished Jasmine was here. They would’ve had a good time with shopping, spa dates and maybe a nightclub or two.

The Frisbee landed at her feet and a teenage boy trotted over and stopped abruptly, blasting sand onto her legs. “Excuse me,” he said. He reached for the Frisbee slowly, eyeing her legs, then her bikini-clad body. “Want to play with us?” he asked.

He had Spanish good looks, dark hair, bronzed skin and a charming smile. He was sixteen tops, and she would’ve actually considered tossing the Frisbee around with him, if he hadn’t been so blatant about ogling her breasts.

She was saved from refusing, when the concierge from the Villa Delgado approached. “Excuse me, Princess.”

The boy blinked at her title, turned a lovely shade of cherry-blossom pink and bowed, before dashing off. She chuckled under her breath. Her royal status did have some advantages. “Yes,” she said to the concierge, removing her sunglasses.

“You have a phone call at the desk. A woman named Jasmine. She says she works for you. Apparently, she hasn’t been able to reach you on your cell phone.”

“I left my cell in my room,” she replied. She didn’t want to be interrupted in her state of lonely boredom. Now she realized how silly that seemed. “Sorry you had to track me down.”

“Not a problem, Princess Portia.”

“Will you tell her that I’ll call her as soon as I get to my room?”

“My pleasure,” he said.

When he walked off, she gathered up her beach bag, hat and sunglasses and promptly made her way toward the villa. Her suite with its second-floor terrace came into view. It was really quite picturesque, the columns and archways suggesting old-world grace and style. Why couldn’t she like being here more? Why wasn’t she okay with being idle? Maybe things had changed with Jasmine. Maybe her friend would come join her, after all. Her hope in her throat, Portia hiked a little faster to reach her suite of rooms.

Once inside, she set her things down on the dining table and headed for the bedroom, where she was sure she’d left her phone. It was charging on her nightstand. She unhooked the charger, just as she heard a knock at the door.

She belted her cover-up a little tighter and moved to the door. With a gentle tug on the knob, the door opened and she came face to face with Juan Carlos Salazar. The king.

She blinked and a rush of heat rose up her neck. She trembled at the sight of him, the gorgeous, unexpected, surprising sight of him. The phone slipped slightly in her hand and she grabbed at it before it crashed onto the floor.

His eyes were on her, and those dark raised brows made her flush even hotter. With guilt. Piercing disappointment flickered in his eyes. She hadn’t told him the absolute truth when she’d left Del Sol.

“Princess,” he said.

“Your Majesty,” she responded.

His lips twitched. “I see you’ve decided to stay on in Alma, after all.”

“I, uh, yes.” She didn’t owe him an explanation. One heart-robbing kiss didn’t give him that right. “My plans changed.”

“Quite unexpectedly, I assume.”

“Yes, that’s right.” The movement of two bodyguards caught her attention. They stayed back, at least five feet away, but she was certain they could hear every word. “Would you like to come in?”

His gaze dipped down to her bikini-clad body, covered only by a soft robe of silk that reached her thighs. “Yes.”

She backed up a few steps and he nodded to his bodyguards and then entered. They stood face-to-face again, alone in her suite.

Despite her guilt and a sense of being caught red-handed, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in three days. But how did he find out where she was and what did he want from her?

Her cell phone buzzed and she looked down at the screen. A text was coming through from Jasmine. She hadn’t had time to call her back yet. Quickly, she scanned the message.

Heads up. I might’ve made a mistake by giving King Montoro your location. He was charming and said it was a business thing. Apologizing in advance. Love you!

She lifted her lids to him. Okay, so he wasn’t psychic. But he was thorough.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

Warmth swelled inside her like an overflowing river. He had too much of an effect on her.

“It’s nice to see you, but I do admit, it’s quite a surprise.”

On this warm day, he was wearing dark trousers and a tan shirt, sleeves rolled up with his hands in his pockets, looking as casual and delicious as any man she’d ever met. Man, not king. But she couldn’t forget who he was. “I have to admit, I was also surprised to learn you hadn’t left the country.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes, I spoke with your assistant. She’s very nice, by the way, and she’s loyal to you. But the fact is, I have something of a business venture for you. And after I told her a little about it, she was willing to let me get in touch with you.”

His eyes skimmed over Portia’s body. Another wave of heat shimmied down to her belly and she turned away from his hot, assessing stare. Man or king, he was dangerous. “Would you like to sit down?” She waved him over to a latte-colored leather chair by the window that faced the Atlantic. “Please give me a minute to change my clothes.”

“Only if you have to.”

There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes that tweaked something lusty and recently unleashed in her body. It made her run, not walk toward her bedroom. “I’ll be a minute, Your Majesty,” she called over her shoulder.

His chuckle followed her into her room.

She scrubbed her face clean of sunscreen and removed her hair fastener, combing the tangles away and then gathering the strands back up into a long ponytail. She put on a pair of white capris and an off-the-shoulder cornflower-blue blouse.

A hint of lip gloss, some shading to her eyelids and she was ready. And more than mildly curious as to what was so important that King Juan Carlos had come all the way here to seek her out. She gave a last glance in the mirror and nodded. She felt a little less vulnerable to the king’s hungry eyes now.

* * *

Juan Carlos stood when Portia entered the room. His heart hammered in his chest at the sight of her. She didn’t know it yet, but he was determined to possess her. Aside from his newfound reign over Alma and his duties here, she’d become the most important thing in his life.

In such a short time.

It wasn’t rational. He had no explanation for it. He’d never experienced anything quite like this. When she’d left the palace the other night, remorse had plagued him and lingered for days. Was he pathetic? Or simply a man who knows what he wants.

She was perfect, his ideal woman. She was royal, beautiful, smart, but at the moment...quite unattainable.

“Princess,” he said.

“Would you like something cold to drink?” she asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, then maybe we should sit down and you can tell me what this is all about.”

She took a seat, her eyes widening as she waited for him to explain.

“It seems I might have need for your services.”

“My services? As an art advisor?”

“Well, yes. In a way. It would be something quite adventurous. You did say you liked adventure, didn’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, then, let me explain. I don’t know how much you know about the history of Alma, but it’s been rumored that right before my family fled the country, they hid artwork dating back before World War II on the grounds of their abandoned farm. It’s very run-down and Tantaberra never went there, so it was the perfect hiding place. Now that I’m king, I want to find those treasured pieces belonging to the royal family. It would go a long way in helping the country heal and bring new hope to our people. Imagine what a find that would be.”

“It would be monumental,” she agreed. Fireworks lit in her eyes at the mention of hidden art.

Good. He had her attention.

“But I see that you’re vacationing here, so maybe you’d be too busy to help me locate the treasure.”

“You want my help in locating the artwork?”

“Yes, I would need someone to help me hunt for it, and then assess its value. You’d be able to look at something and determine if it’s authentic, I would imagine.”

“Yes, for the most part. It’s what I do. But you plan on doing this by yourself?”

“I can donate a few days of my time, yes. I wouldn’t want word to leak out about what I was doing. If I come up empty, or if there are other issues regarding the artwork we find, I would rather it not become public knowledge immediately. Bella and her husband had already begun renovations on the property but given the site’s historical significance, they’ve agreed to allow me to take over and devote the full resources of the crown to the project. As we speak, there is a team working on the grounds, getting it ready for my arrival. So Princess Portia, would you consider helping me? Of course, you’d be paid for your time.”

“So, this is a job offer?”

“Yes, I’m offering you a job and an adventure.”

She smiled, leaning forward and placing her hands on her crossed knee. “Who else will be there?”

He gathered his brows. “No one but my bodyguards. As I said, I plan to do this discreetly.”

“It’s intriguing, Your Majesty. But the two us alone, all that time?”

“Is that a problem for you?” God only knew, it was a problem for him. How could he keep his hands off her? It would be a living hell, but not worse than having her living a continent away. A few days was all he was asking of her.

“Maybe. Answer one thing for me, please.”

He extended his arms, palms up. “Anything.”

“Do you have an ulterior motive in offering me this opportunity? And please don’t make me spell it out.”

He smiled. She’d made her point and he wouldn’t do her a disservice by lying to her. “If you mean, do I value a few more days in your company, then yes. I suppose. But I do honestly have good reason to be asking this of you. You are an expert, are you not?”

“I am.”

The sparkle in her eyes evaporated.

“What is it?”

She rose from her seat, and good manners had him rising, too. She walked behind the chair, putting distance between them, and leaned her elbows on the back, a battle raging in her eyes, on her face. “I’m not presuming anything here, but I do have to tell you where I stand. It’s...it’s complicated. Because I do like you.”

Encouraging. He nodded.

“And that kiss we shared...well, it bordered on amazing.”

He nodded again. She had something to say and he wanted to hear it.

Or maybe not.

“But the truth is, you’re King Montoro of Alma. You’re new to this king thing, but you’ll find out how demanding a job it will be. And you’ll be in the spotlight. All. The. Time.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Yes. You see, I’m not one to share heartbreak stories, but in this case, I should probably share with you, why I’ve been—”

“Playing hard to get?” He couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Yes. Only I’m not playing. I’m seriously not interested in getting involved with a man with so much...glitter.”

“Glitter?” He laughed. “What’s that?”

“You’re always going to shine. No matter what.” His smile faded. She was dead serious. “And any woman who gets involved with you, will be giving up her identity, her dreams, her heart, to someone who has pledged his life to his country.”

“Who was he, Portia? Surely, someone has broken your heart.”

“Yes, my heart was broken. I don’t like talking about it, but since it’s important to our conversation, I’ll tell you about Travis Miles. He’s like a king in America, a big time Hollywood celebrity.”

Juan Carlos nodded. “Of course I know of him. I don’t go in much for entertainment news, but he sure has quite a résumé.”

“Travis knows everyone of substance in the country from sports figures and superstars to high-ranking politicians. We ran hot for a short time, and then...I became old news to him. He didn’t have time for me and we began seeing less and less of each other. Shortly after, I found out he’d been cheating on me with a woman on the staff of his TV show for a long time. Seems that everyone knew about it but poor little gullible me. He’d made me out to be a fool and my career and credibility suffered. It’s taken me three years to get my reputation back. Princess or not, I wasn’t immune to the blonde-bimbo stigma and so now, I’m cautious. Which is why your royal status isn’t a plus in my book.”

He stood with hands on hips, silent, taking it all in. He understood her caution. The pain in her eyes, the tremor in her voice were telling, and his heart hurt hearing her confession. He should leave and let her resume her vacation. He shouldn’t press her. But his feet were planted and they weren’t moving. He couldn’t face not seeing her again.

“If things were different, would you accept my offer?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes clear now. “I wouldn’t hesitate. It sounds far too exciting to pass up.”

“Then let’s pretend that we’ve just met. There was no amazing kiss from before. We haven’t danced and spent time together. This is a business meeting. And I promise to keep things completely professional between us.”

“Why is it so important to you?” she asked.

“Because, I...I see how much you want to say yes. I see that you’d love to locate the secret artworks.”

“And you promise that after we discover this wonderful treasure, we’ll just be friends?”

He let a split second go by. He was a man of his word. If he promised, he’d have to adhere to his vow, regardless of how much he wanted things to be different.

“I promise, Princess.”

She nodded. “I know you mean what you say. So yes, I accept your offer.”

* * *

The next morning, Portia informed the concierge that she’d be checking out earlier than expected from Villa Delgado and offered her thanks for his accommodations. He’d questioned her, hoping she hadn’t been disappointed in her stay, and she assured him that was not the case. She’d been called away unexpectedly, she explained. And his brows arched as if he’d suspected King Montoro had something to do with her sudden departure.

And so, her adventure was beginning. Dressed for the search, wearing a pair of Gucci jeans and a red plaid shirt tucked in and belted at the waist, she swopped out her Bruno Magli shoes for tall leather boots and stood outside the villa at precisely eight o’clock. Sunglasses shielding her eyes, her bags packed and ready to go, she gave one last glance to the Atlantic shoreline and the clear azure waters lapping the sands. There would be no five-star accommodations where she was going. She was told to expect rustic and that was fine with her. She’d gone camping before; she knew how to rough it.

Sort of. Jasmine had convinced her once to rent a motor home and they’d trekked as far as Pismo Beach, California. They’d parked the giant thing facing the ocean, and then had gone out for lunch and dinner every night. They’d hit a few clubs, too, dancing until dawn. So maybe that wasn’t roughing it per se.

But they had cooked their own breakfasts and hiked the beach in the mornings. Did that count?

One of Juan Carlos’s bodyguards drove up in a black SUV, right on time. Poker-faced, he promptly opened the door for her and she got into the backseat as he hoisted her luggage into the cargo space.

As they drove off, she sat quietly in the car, enjoying the sounds of morning, excitement flowing through her veins.

She’d taken Juan Carlos at his word. He would treat her as a professional and so she had nothing to fear and everything to look forward to. Her little heartfelt speech seemed to convince him that she wasn’t looking for romantic involvement. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been hard admitting her failings to him. He’d put her at ease and that was saying something, since she didn’t go around revealing her innermost feelings to anyone but her best friend.

They drove away from the shore, through the streets of Playa del Onda and onto a highway that led inland. “Excuse me. When will we be picking up King Montoro?” she asked Eduardo, the driver-slash-bodyguard.

“His Majesty will be meeting you there,” he said.

Ah...discretion.

“Is it a long drive?”

“Not overly so. We should arrive in less than an hour. Is there anything you need, Princess?”

“No, no. I’m perfectly comfortable.”

She gazed out the window taking in the scenery, where residential streets were soon replaced by more rural-looking spaces. As the minutes ticked by, the groomed vegetation bordering the road gave way to untamed brush and wildflowers. There was a certain neglected beauty to the land that inspired her. The road though was becoming less and less car friendly. The tires spit broken gravel as they traveled along a bumpy country road.

“Sorry, Princess,” Eduardo said. “The road is washed out from here on.”

“Is it much longer?”

“No, just another mile or two.”

And shortly, he turned onto a path and drove through wrought-iron gates clawed by fingers of dead branches and vines. Weeds and overgrown scrub led to a two-story house in desperate need of a good solid paint job. Banging sounds reached her ears and she searched for the source as the car came to a stop in front of the house. Juan Carlos appeared on the porch holding a hammer, his shirt slung open and sweat glistening on his beautiful bronzed chest. His dark hair gleaming under the October sunshine, he gave her a wide welcoming smile.