“In here,” he said.
He tugged her into a spacious office and shut the door. It was black as coal at first, but the light of the full moon streamed in and his eyes adjusted so that he could make out Portia’s silhouette. He took her gently into his arms and overwhelming sensations rushed through his body. Silently, with a look, she questioned his actions, but with his eyes he assured her she had nothing to fear. Then the orchestra began playing and as music piped into the room through the air ducts, he began to move her along to the beat. She tossed her head back and laughed. “You aren’t serious.”
He grinned. “It’s the only way I can assure us not being interrupted again.”
“You are resourceful, Your Highness. We have an entire dance floor all to ourselves.”
“What would make it perfect would be if you’d call me Juan Carlos.”
“But you’ve earned the right to be called king.”
“Tonight, for now, think of me as a man, and not a king.”
“I’ll try, but you have to understand, after all the adoration, the photos and parades and galas in your honor, it’s not easy for me.”
He did understand, but pressed his reasoning a little further. “Think of it this way. How would you like it if everyone you knew called you Princess Portia?”
She gave it some thought and nodded. “I see your point.”
He drew her inches closer, so that her sweet breaths touched his face, but he didn’t dare do more. Though he wanted to crush her against him, feel her body sway with his, he couldn’t rush her or scare her off. These feelings pulsed through him with near desperation. He’d never been so...besotted. Such an old-world word, but that’s exactly how he felt.
“How long will you be in Alma?” he asked.
“I leave for the States in two days. I’m due back at work.”
News he didn’t want to hear. “Are you working with a client?”
“Yes, he’s someone very influential and I’m thrilled to have the chance to meet with him for the first time. He’s new to collecting, and I have an interview with him to see where his tastes lie.”
“I see. It’s a good opportunity for you. I would imagine being Princess Portia of Samforstand carries some weight in your line of work.”
“I’ll admit, using my royal heritage has helped me attain clients, but it’s my expertise that has earned their trust.”
“Trust is important,” he said.
“You have the trust of the entire country right now.”
“Yes,” he said, sighing. “It’s a big responsibility. I’m sure you take your responsibility seriously.”
“I do. My reputation earns me that trust and I guard it like a mother would her child.”
He smiled at the image gathering in his mind, of Portia, mother of his child.
Dios. He was in deep. How was it possible? He had known her less than a day.
And already, he was naming their first-born child.
Stately and grand, Portia’s hotel in Del Sol was just a short distance from the palace. The big bed in her room was cushy and comfy. The morning sunlight streamed in to warm her and the air was sweetened by a bouquet of roses, compliments of the hotel manager. It was all fit for a princess. Yet she hadn’t slept well.
Last night, as Juan Carlos bid her farewell, he’d almost kissed her. She was sure he would have if they hadn’t been surrounded by his guests. She’d thought about that nonkiss during the night. How would his lips feel against hers? Heavens, she hadn’t had so much as a date with a man in almost a year, and it had been even longer since she was ravaged by a kiss. Which, she was sure, would have happened had they been alone.
She was thankful that he hadn’t locked lips with her in front of the attendees at the gala. Yet, lightbulbs had flashed and pictures had been snapped of the two of them. It was last thing she needed and she’d dashed out as rapidly as Cinderella racing against the midnight hour.
When he’d asked her to join him for brunch this morning, she’d quickly agreed, despite her tingling nerves and fuzzy brain.
Her brunch “date” with the King of Montoro would happen precisely at ten o’clock and he’d promised they wouldn’t be interrupted.
She heard the familiar Bruno Mars ringtone of her cell phone and grabbed it from the nightstand. Her assistant’s name popped up on the screen and she smiled. From the very beginning, her assistant had been her closest friend. “Hello, Jasmine.”
“Hi, Portia. I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“No, not at all. I’m getting ready to have brunch. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Did you survive the coronation?” Jasmine Farr never minced words. “I know you weren’t thrilled about attending.”
“Actually, it wasn’t so bad.” The newly named king was quite a man. “And it’s my lot in life to attend these functions every so often.”
“That’s what you get for being a princess.” She chuckled. “I saw some of the coronation on YouTube.”
“That was fast.”
“It always is. Anyway, I’m calling to tell you that Mr. Greenboro had to cancel your meeting this week. He’s flying out of the country and won’t be back for three months. He sends his apologies, of course, and he did reschedule. I hope it’s okay that I took the liberty of making that appointment. I didn’t think you’d want to let him get away.”
“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