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“Oh, I’m disappointed. I’d set the entire week aside to work with him, but I’m glad you’re on the ball and rescheduled with him. Text me that date and I’ll mark it on my calendar.”
“Will do. So, now you don’t have to rush back. There’s really nothing else going on this week.”
“Right.”
“You’ve worked hard these past few months and you’ve been meaning to pencil in a vacation. Seems like a perfect opportunity.”
“It is beautiful here.”
“From the pictures I’m seeing, the beaches are to die for. I wish I could join you. I’d come in an instant.”
“Why don’t you come? We could have spa days together.”
“I can’t. I’m flying to Maryland for my cousin’s wedding at the end of the week. “
“I’d forgotten about that. Darn.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t stay on. I can book you a villa suite in Playa del Onda. The beach resort is top notch. You’ll get lots of R&R.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you later on today.”
After she ended the call, she stripped off her pajamas and entered the shower. The pounding water rained down and woke her up to the possibility of an actual vacation: away from phones, away from the hectic pace of gallery openings, away from the pressures of making art selections for her obscenely rich or drastically eccentric clients. Her schedule was a busy one, and this did seem like a perfect opportunity to unwind.
When she was finished with her shower, she slipped into a white dress with red polka dots that belted at the waist, slid on navy patent leather shoes and tossed her hair up into a ponytail. She applied light makeup, including eyeliner and soft pink lip gloss.
The jewelry she chose was delicate: a thin strand of pearls around her neck and wrist. She fastened her watch on her left arm and noted the time. Juan Carlos was sending a car for her in ten minutes. She grabbed her purse and left the hotel room.
In the lobby, she was greeted by a uniformed driver who escorted her to an ink-black limousine. She played the role of princess well, but she would rather be wearing a pair of jeans and going to the local café for a bite of breakfast.
“Your Highness,” the driver said, as he opened the door for her, “allow me.”
She slid into the backseat and bumped legs with Juan Carlos. Her breath hitched in her throat. He took in her wide-eyed surprise and grinned. “Good morning, Portia.”
“Excuse me, but I didn’t expect you to come to pick me up.”
Should she worry about the implications? This wasn’t a date. At least, not in any real sense.
“It’s a nice morning for a drive. After yesterday’s events, I thought you might like to join me to see some of the city. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve changed our brunch plans for today.”
He wore dark slacks and a casual white silk shirt, opened slightly at the collar. She glimpsed his tanned chest and gulped for air.
“Of course not.”
“Great. You look very pretty this morning.”
“Thank you.” And you look dynamic, powerful and gorgeous.
He issued directions to the driver and they took off.
“How were your first twenty-four hours as king?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin, thinking for a second. “It’s strange that I don’t feel any different. I keep expecting a big transformation, but I’m just me.”
She smiled at his earnest answer. “I thought it would be an adjustment for you. Every move you make now will be documented somehow.” She glanced out the window, expecting to see photographers following the limo, snapping pictures. She’d had experience with her ex-boyfriend’s fame and it had gotten old very fast. No one should be followed and photographed at every turn for entertainment’s sake. “How did you escape the palace?”
He chuckled. “You make it seem like prison.”
“No, no. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant, Portia.” Her name slid effortlessly from his lips. “There are some advantages to being king.”
“Such as?” she probed.
“Such as, I didn’t make my intentions known. No one expected me to take a drive this morning. No one questioned me. I had the car ready to pick you up, and then I merely slipped into the backseat before anyone at the palace got wind of it.”
“You snuck out.”
He laughed again and she joined in. “Okay, yes. I snuck out.”
Speaking to him put her at ease and she settled back in her seat. “Do you have bodyguards?”
“Yes, they are following behind somewhere.”
“You’re not worried?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not worried. And neither should you be.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you.” She’d never traveled with bodyguards, but her situation was quite different. As an exiled princess, she’d grown up in America and never had what Juan Carlos now had: a citizenry eager to reinstate their monarchy. “But you must have dozens of dignitaries and family members waiting to speak with you at the palace.”
“Which I will do later. But for now,” he said, reaching for her hand, “I find being with you more important.”
* * *
Juan Carlos held her hand during the tour of the city. He showed her sites of great historical significance and some trendy new hot spots that were cropping up. The rise of democracy was good for enterprise, he explained.
As he spoke, the tone of his deep and sincere voice brought a smile to her lips more times than she could count. It was intimate in a way, hearing the love he had for a country that was almost as new to him as it was to her. He kept her hand locked in his as if it was precious. As if he needed the connection. To hear him say that being with her was important did wonders for her ego.
Yet she only indulged him because nothing could possibly come of it. And because it had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a man’s company so much.
Tomorrow, she would leave Del Sol.
The limo stopped at a tiny café off the main street of town. “I hear Matteo’s is fantastic.”
“You’ve never eaten here before?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t. We’ll experience it together. Do you mind?”
“I love adventure.”
He nodded, a satisfied glimmer in his eyes. “I thought you might.”
They exited the limo, which looked out of place on the backstreets of the royal city. Once inside, they were escorted to their table by the owner. He was sweating, nervous and fidgety. Juan Carlos clapped him on the back gently to reassure him. “Bring us your specials, Matteo. I hear they are the best in all of Del Sol.”
“Si, si. I will be glad to serve you myself, Your Majesty.”
Juan Carlos nodded. “Thank you.”
Though the café walls showed signs of age, it was a clean, modest place. “Are you sure the food is good here?” she asked.
His brows gathered. “It comes highly recommended. Why?”
“We’re the only ones seated.”
Juan Carlos looked around the empty café. “My bodyguards. They called ahead to announce my arrival. I’ll make it up to Matteo. I can’t have him losing business on my account.”
“I’m sure he’ll be boasting that King Montoro of Alma dined in his café. His business will double by next week.”
Juan Carlos sharpened his gaze on her. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You’re new to this royal thing.”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
Just wait, she wanted to say. He was an intelligent man, from all she’d read about him. He managed the sizable personal accounts of the Montoros and had helped build a fortune for the family. He had wits and smarts, but nothing would prepare him for the limelight he’d just entered. He’d have to experience it himself, the good, the bad, the ugly. His life would be under a microscope now.
And she didn’t want to be the amoeba next to him.
Coffee was served, along with fresh handmade tortillas, butter and a bowl of cut fruit. “Looks delicious,” Juan Carlos said to Matteo.
“Please, is there anything else I can bring you while the meal is cooking?”
“This is perfect. Don’t you agree, Portia?”
She nodded and smiled at the owner.
When Matteo left the room she continued to smile. “You’re kind. He will always remember this day because you put him at ease.”
Travis Miles had been kind, too, in the beginning.
“Now who is being kind?” he asked.
“I’m just speaking the truth. You’ll impact a great many lives.”
“In a positive way, I hope and pray.”
“Kind,” she repeated. “You care about the people in the country.”
“Thank you.” His incredibly warm brown eyes softened and her stomach did a little flip.
She buttered a tortilla, rolled it up and took a few bites. She sipped coffee and asked Juan Carlos a few pointed questions about his life to keep the conversation flowing and her mind off the fact that King Montoro was a hunk.
The meal was delivered with fanfare. Matteo and his staff put out the dishes in sweeping motions and finally left them to dine privately. The food was delicious. The main dish consisted of bits of sautéed pork topped with eggs and lathered with a creamy, mildly spicy sauce. There was also some type of sweet corn soufflé served inside the husks, as well as caramelized plantains. Every bite she took rewarded her taste buds. “Mmm...this is heavenly.”
Juan Carlos nodded, his mouth full.
As he chewed, his gaze remained on her. He had warm, luxurious, intense eyes that didn’t stray. Goose bumps rode up and down her arms. As far as men went, Juan Carlos had it all, except for one thing. His fatal flaw. He was king. And that meant after today, she couldn’t see him again.
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m, uh, going to...” She really didn’t have any plans. Maybe do a little shopping. Check out the only art museum in the city. “I’ll be packing.”
“That can’t take all day.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Would you consider having dinner with me?”
No. No. No. “I really shouldn’t.”
Juan Carlos leaned back in his seat, studying her. “Do you have a man in your life, Portia?”
Slowly, she shook her head. She felt a trap coming.
“No one? I find that hard to believe. Do you date?”
“Rarely. My career is demanding. And it’s very important to me. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”
“Admirable. Are you working tonight?”
“No, but I...”
He grinned. “I’m only asking for a dinner date, Portia.”
Her shoulders sagged an inch. A barely noticeable move, but she felt the defeat all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t insult the king. “Then, yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”
After the meal, Juan Carlos escorted her to the limo. She took a seat at the far window and he climbed in after her. To his credit, he didn’t crowd her, leaving a modest amount of space between them. But as the car took off, he placed his hand over hers on the empty seat, and wild pings of awareness shot through her body.
Don’t let him get to you, Portia.
He’s not the man for you.
As the limo pulled up to the hotel, Juan Carlos spoke to the driver. “Give us a minute please, Roberto.”
The driver’s door opened and closed quietly. Silence filled the air and suddenly she did feel crowded, though Juan Carlos hadn’t made a move toward her. “I cannot walk you to your door, Princess.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Do you know how much I want to?” His eyes were down, gazing at her hand as his thumb worked circles over her fingers. Her nerves jumped, like kernels of corn popping in a fry pan, one right after the other. “I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience.”
