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“I didn’t see him again after your left. I did see a few patients after I typed Cecile’s blood.”
“Then you have the results?”
“Yes, and I also have a message for you.” Her tone was clipped and cool, devoid of welcome.
“A message?”
“From Elsa, darling. She called a few minutes ago. I answered the phone because I thought it might be you.”
Why in the devil was Elsa calling him? He’d made it quite clear that he wanted no contact from her, not that his demands had ever stopped her. “What did she want?”
Kate strolled around the room for a moment before facing him again. “She wanted to know if you received her gift, the one with blue eyes and blond hair. She had it delivered to the palace. So I suppose you could say the mystery of Cecile’s mother is solved.”
At first Marc was perplexed, until he realized what Elsa had been referring to. He couldn’t stop the chuckle, not a good thing to do considering the acid look Kate sent him. If her eyes were dueling pistols, he’d be a dead man.
Marc pushed away from the door, crossed the room and reached behind the armoire to retrieve the “gift” in hopes of clearing up this whole misunderstanding.
Grabbing the edge of the frame, he withdrew the photograph and presented it to Kate. “This is Elsa’s gift. An eleven-by-fourteen glossy from her recent photo shoot. You will note that she has blond hair and blue eyes.” And practically no clothes on aside from a skimpy swimsuit.
Kate took the picture from him and stared at it for a time before bringing her gaze back to Marc. “She considers this a gift?”
“Elsa considers herself a gift to all mankind.” He took the photo back and hid it away again behind the armoire before returning to Kate, maintaining some distance even though he wanted to kiss away her doubts. “She thought I would be interested enough to keep it as a reminder of our brief association. She was mistaken. I’ve meant to have Nicholas discard it, but I’ve not had the time with everything that’s been happening of late.”
“But you don’t deny you were lovers.”
“No, I cannot deny that.” He also couldn’t deny the jealousy in Kate’s tone, nor could he deny that on some level that pleased him.
She narrowed her eyes. “And there’s no way she could be Cecile’s mother?”
“There is as much chance of Elsa being a mother as there is a chance that her breasts are real.”
A hint of a smile teased at Kate’s full lips, but it didn’t quite form. “How can you be so sure?”
He offered his own smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “I happen to know when a woman has natural attributes.”
She frowned. “I meant about her not being Cecile’s mother.”
So much for his attempt at humor. “If Elsa had been pregnant, she would not have abandoned the baby. That much I know.”
“Then she’s not just another pretty ego?”
“Elsa is very self-absorbed and she would not risk an end to her modeling career with an unplanned pregnancy. She made it quite clear she never wanted any children. And if by some chance she’d chosen to have a baby, she would have turned it into a publicity campaign, especially if that baby were mine.”
Kate remained silent for a few moments as if attempting to digest the information. “Okay, I guess I believe you.”
She might as well have slapped him. “You guess? Have I not given you enough proof?”
“You’ve provided proof that Elsa probably isn’t Cecile’s mother. But I have the proof that odds are Cecile is either yours or Philippe’s child.”
As he’d suspected. “Then she has our blood type.”
“Yes. I confirmed the results with Dr. Martine.”
He saw mistrust in Kate’s eyes, and he hated that. “You must believe me when I tell you that Elsa was the last woman in my life for well over a year, and I have exercised the greatest care. The baby is not mine.”
“It doesn’t really matter what I believe.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
A difficult question, and one he had avoided asking himself. “Because you’re a very special person, Kate. I need you to trust me. I know that you hold the truth in very high esteem.”
Kate’s gaze faltered. “I’m not beyond telling a lie, Marc. In fact, I told one today. A big one.”
“You’ve lied to me?”
“Not you. Renault. When he came into the exam room, he started asking questions. I told him Cecile is my daughter.”
He could not have asked for a better plan. “That’s brilliant, Kate.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Perhaps now there won’t be any speculation in terms of Cecile’s parentage until someone comes forward with the truth.”
“If someone comes forward.”
Marc did not foresee that happening, at least not soon. It would be up to him to clear his name. “I doubt that will be the case, but it’s still imperative that we find out who the mother is. Chances are, my perfect brother was not so perfect after all.”
She sent him a severe look. “Are you doing this for Cecile or for yourself? Do you want to prove that Philippe wasn’t as innocent as he seemed? And if you do that, how will it affect your family?”
Kate’s honesty threw Marc mentally off balance. He hadn’t considered how the truth might affect his mother if they proved Philippe was Cecile’s father. “I need to put this issue to bed once and for all, for everyone’s sake. How I’ll handle the rest remains to be seen. First, I must attempt to find out the mother’s identity.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
He had no right to ask, but Kate was his only hope. “With your help.”
“My help?”
“I’m only asking that you keep your ears open for any gossip. Perhaps search the hospital’s records for any mysterious woman who gave birth six to eight months ago. The staff in the palace might be forthcoming with information about my brother since you’re—”
“A commoner.”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“Then you’re asking me to do a little investigating in my spare time.”
“Only if you feel comfortable in doing so.”
“As long as we’ve absolutely ruled out your lover.”
He took a step forward. “Former lover. It’s over between us, Kate.”
She slowly ran a fingertip along the edge of the desk, fueling Marc’s all-consuming desire for her. “Obviously you still have something she wants.”
“She wants attention and not necessarily only from me.”
Kate leaned back against the desk, using her arms as a brace, thrusting her breasts forward, driving Marc to distraction. “Are you sure about that? She’s very vocal about your skills as a lover. So are you, Marc?”
A fool? A man too weak to resist her charms? “Am I what?”
“A skilled lover?”
Marc was only certain about one thing—he couldn’t ignore Kate’s query, asked in a sensual voice that threatened his control. Couldn’t ignore her simple black slacks and plain white blouse that would be easy to remove. Couldn’t ignore the tightness in his groin when she streaked her tongue over her lower lip.
“I do not make it a habit to speculate on my skill,” he said, clinging to his last strand of restraint.
“Maybe I should judge for myself.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking, Kate.” He did know all too well she recognized the power she had over him at that moment, and he found that incredibly hard to resist.
She swept her dark hair away from her face with one hand. “You’re wrong, Marc. I know exactly what I’m asking, and so do you. Does your expertise live up to the hype? Are you a good lover?”
“Good is an interesting term. Good only comes when you do not aspire to be great.”
“Do you aspire to be a great lover, Marc DeLoria?”
“I refuse to settle for mediocrity in any of my endeavors.”
She challenged him with a look, dared him with a sultry smile, enticed him with words when she said, “Then prove it.”
Marc was losing his tenuous hold on his common sense. He only knew that if he didn’t get away from Kate now, he would kiss her—deeply and without reservation. Touch her without hesitation. Without consideration of the consequences. He had no call to want her as much as he did. He had too much to consider in light of his position and too little to offer her beyond mutual pleasure. But he did want her, and he’d be damned if he had her—or damned if he didn’t.
Propelled by his weakness for this woman, Marc closed the distance between them in two strides and braced his palms on the desk on either side of her. He sought her mouth in a rush, as if he couldn’t survive without exploring the territory once more. She opened to him, played her tongue against his, pushed him to a point where he could easily dispense with all formality and clothing to get inside her immediately. But he rejected that notion. If he could touch her, taste her, tempt her, then that would be enough. It would have to be enough.
After breaking the kiss, he settled his face in the hollow below her throat, pressing his lips there while inhaling her enticing fragrance.
“Marc, I thought you said we couldn’t.” Her voice was a teasing, breathy caress at his ear.
“Shouldn’t,” he murmured then slid his tongue down the cleft between her breasts, stopping where the opening of her blouse ended and buttons began, knowing he should not go any farther. But knowing what he shouldn’t do did nothing to quell the urge to do what he wanted to do. To her, with her.
Kate threaded her hands through his hair, back and forth in long, torturous strokes. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”
He straightened and slipped the first button on her blouse, ignoring the persistent voice telling him to stop. “I’ve locked the door.” He released two more buttons, keeping his gaze fixed on Kate’s eyes, searching for any sign of protest. He saw nothing but need. “I gave orders that we are not to be disturbed.”
“Very resourceful,” she said, followed by a shaky smile that indicated nervousness, but not reluctance.
Finally, Marc parted her blouse, exposing her bra, which he unhooked with a quick flip of one finger beneath the front closure before pushing it aside with both hands. His gaze roved over her breasts, round and pink tinged to match the flush on her face when he lifted her up and seated her on the desk’s edge.
As he traced a path around one rosy tip with his finger, Kate watched his movements, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. “Tu es parfaite,” he whispered. “Perfect.”
Dipping his head, he drew one nipple into his mouth, relishing the feel of her against his tongue. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted to undo her slacks, slip his hand inside, experience her wet heat. He wanted to open his own fly, give himself some blessed relief, and thrust inside her.
When Kate released a soft, sexual sound, reality forced its way into his psyche and he took a step back. “We have to stop this, Kate.”
“Why?”
Marc had so many reasons, but he began with the most important. “I have nothing to protect you against pregnancy, and God knows I do not need another complication.”
Kate’s face fell as if it had the weight of the world attached. “Complication? So that’s what I am to you?”
“No…that’s not…” What in the hell could he say? Yes, she was a complication. His overwhelming desire was very complicated, as were his feelings for her that he did not dare examine. “Look, Kate, I’ve done what I said I would not do. I’ve proven my weakness for you against my better judgment.”
“Weakness for me, or for women in general?”
That brought seething anger to the surface of Marc’s attempts at a calm facade. “I’ve spent almost a year being celibate, and it was not due to a lack of propositions. I’ve met many women over that time, in many different places, and not one has tempted me the way that you do. Only you, Kate, and no one else.”
She looked a bit more relaxed, if not totally pleased, as she redid her bra. “And what do you propose we do now? Ignore our attraction to each other?” She paused with a hand on the blouse and looked at him thoughtfully. “Or were you just trying to prove a point?”
“If that were true, Kate, I would not have stopped.”
She sent a direct look at his distended fly. “Then you’re determined to be the king of steel, is that correct?”
Steel would be a more-than-adequate description in terms of his erection, but not when it came to his strength as far as Kate was concerned. “I cannot make love to you Kate. If I do, then I am in danger of hurting you in the process.”
“You can’t hurt me, Marc. I know what this is all about. Chemistry. Attraction. Not ever-after.”
“But you have no idea what my life is about. If anyone even suspects we’re involved, you will suffer for it.”
“I’m not a wilting flower. And as I told you before, I’m only looking for some adventure.” She didn’t sound all that convincing. “But I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Right then, he would have gladly taken her down to the floor and finished what they’d started—what he had started. Instead, he turned away and headed for the door.
He needed to remember who he was—a king with a consuming need to be accepted. But his need for Kate was beginning to overshadow everything else.
He could not let that happen. It might destroy everything he had sought to accomplish in terms of his reputation. But worse, it could destroy her.
Without facing her again, he said, “I will see that Nicholas returns you safely to the hotel.”
And then he would retire for the evening, alone, to chastise himself for his complete lack of control.
Even after Marc had been gone for several minutes, Kate could still feel his mouth and hands on her breasts, could still hear him say that he couldn’t make love to her, that she was a complication. She refused to be a complication.
Probably just as well he’d stopped, Kate decided as she adjusted her clothing before leaving the office. And she was crazy to think that she didn’t want him with every fiber of her being. She did take some comfort in knowing that he wanted her, too. At least from a physical standpoint. Unfortunately, she had tried to fool herself into thinking that she only wanted some adventure with Marc, a few goes at hot and fast lovemaking. In reality, she wanted to be more than his friend, more than his lover. Yet Marc wasn’t the kind of man who required more than temporary affairs—without complications.
Kate’s feelings for Marc were very complicated and she would have to analyze them later. Right now she needed to put aside her predicament, will away the shakes and see about Cecile. With that thought, she opened the door only to be met head-on by the queen mother.
“Hi, Mary,” Kate said in a too-loud voice laden with fake cheerfulness.
