“Bath time and story?” Rowan’s question to his son drew Eric’s attention back to the scene in the library.
“Story!” Matthew repeated with enthusiasm.
“After the bath,” his mother interjected firmly.
Matthew scowled as Rowan rose with him in his arms.
Eric chuckled. “What is it about little boys that makes them inherently allergic to bathwater?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Lara said, crossing the room to settle into the chair her husband had vacated. The baby rubbed his face on his mother’s shoulder, then popped his thumb in his mouth and snuggled in with a sigh.
Eric felt an unexpected pang as he watched Lara cuddle her infant son. Children were something else he hadn’t thought much about because he’d never been in a position to be a father, but spending time with his brothers’ children had changed that, too. He wanted a family of his own—a wife and children to come home to at the end of the day, to make plans and share dreams with and to simply be with.
Dios, that sounded pathetic, as if he couldn’t endure his own company. Or maybe he’d just been enduring his own company for too long. After unsuccessful romances, it had seemed easier to accept solitude than yet another relationship failure. But maybe it was finally time to reconsider that position.
“You and Rowan sure do make beautiful babies,” he commented to his sister-in-law now.
Lara smiled. “As much as I want to take credit, the dark hair and eyes are trademark Santiago.”
“But Matthew has your mouth and your smile, and William’s bone structure is just like yours.”
“Do you think so?” She seemed pleased that he would notice such details.
“As I said, you make beautiful babies.”
“And you’re a flatterer as much as both of your brothers,” she mused. “So what deep conversation between you and Rowan did I interrupt?”
“Nothing deep,” he assured her.
“You’ve met a woman,” she guessed.
He stared at her, baffled.
She laughed, and automatically rubbed the baby’s back when he started to stir. “I heard you ask your brother how he knew I was the right woman for him—it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that you’ve met someone who has you thinking in those terms.”
“I’ve just been thinking a lot about my life and my future,” he hedged. “And I wanted to tell Rowan about my plan to go back to Texas. It occurred to me that, as the best man, I should be available to help Scott with anything that needs to be done in the last few weeks before the wedding.”
Lara’s smile was just a little smug. “She’s in Texas, isn’t she?”
“Whatever you want to believe,” he said, knowing it was pointless to deny it.
The widening of her smile only proved she knew she was right. “When are you leaving?”
Molly pulled a brush through her hair and wrapped an elastic band around it to hold the heavy mass off of her neck. It was only the end of May, not even officially summer yet, but even three days of almost steady rain had done little to alleviate the humidity and forecasters were warning that the season was going to be a brutal one.
As she stripped out of her shorts and T-shirt to change for work, she thought she could use a change of scenery and a break from the oppressive heat—a week or two away from the never-ending problems at home. And she found herself wondering what the weather was like in Tesoro del Mar, if the summers were hot or if there were cool ocean breezes to regulate the temperature.
She wondered if Eric lived somewhere on the coast or in a crowded apartment in the city—or even if there were cities in Tesoro del Mar. She didn’t really know anything about the country, or even how big it was, and she didn’t know—if she decided to take a trip to the island, as she’d been thinking she might do—if there was any chance her path would cross with his.
It was a crazy idea—almost as crazy as spending the night with a man she didn’t know—and yet it was an idea that refused to be discarded.
She’d thought about him a lot since that single night they’d spent together, and not just since she’d learned that she was carrying his child.
But five days after her appointment with Dr. Morgan, she’d still made no effort to find her baby’s father and she knew it was past time she did so. She had plenty of legitimate excuses for the delay—including the hundred-and-one daily tasks that kept her at the restaurant for ten or more hours a day.
But the truth was, not one of those things had made her forget about the child she carried or the obligation she had to notify her baby’s father. She just didn’t know how she was going to track him down.
She booted up the computer and considered what she knew about Eric. Beyond his name, she knew that he lived in a country called Tesoro del Mar and that he’d been in the navy. It wasn’t much, but at least it was a start.
A swarm of butterflies winged around in her stomach as she logged onto the Internet and typed the words “Tesoro del Mar,” “Eric” and “naval accident” into the search engine.
She’d barely clicked Enter when the results filled the page.
Tesorian Navy News. Coast Guard Newsletter. Navy News—International Edition. MedSeaSecurityReport. Royal Watch. Naval Briefs. The Spanish Sailor.
She clicked on the first result, scanned the headline.
Prince Eric Injured in Naval Training Accident.
Prince Eric?
Definitely not the right Eric, she decided, and started to close the document when she noted the photo a little bit farther down on the page.
Her breath caught and her brow furrowed as she leaned closer to the screen for a better look.
It was him.
Her heart started to beat harder, faster.
She skimmed the article, barely noting any details of the accident that had resulted in the end of his career. Nothing seemed to matter beyond the title that jumped out at her from beneath his picture. “First Officer Prince Eric Santiago.”
It occurred to her that maybe “prince” wasn’t a royal title but a naval title. It certainly seemed a more feasible explanation than a member of a royal family wandering into her restaurant—and ending up in her bed.
She tried a different search this type, entering only “prince eric” and “tesoro del mar.”
Again, the results were almost instantaneous, and her hand trembled as she clicked on “theroyalhouseofsantiago.”
The site opened to a home page that showed a stunning castle of gleaming white stone in front of a backdrop of brilliant blue sky. She clicked on a link labeled “Members of the Royal Family,” which popped up a row of photos with names and links beneath them—one of which was Eric, “Principe de la Ciudad del Norte.”
She stared at the image, stunned by this confirmation that Eric wasn’t just a guy in a bar—he was a member of the royal family of Tesoro del Mar.
She’d slept with a prince.
And now she was pregnant with his child.
She had to tell him—the logical, rational part of her brain wouldn’t let her consider anything else. And now she knew where