The Prince's Ultimate Deception

Two

“This is a mistake, if I may say so, Dominic.” Only in the privacy of their suite did Ian dare use Dominic’s given name. Seventeen years together had built not only familiarity, but friendship.

“Damon. Damon Rossi,” Dominic corrected as he packed for his first outing with Madeline Spencer.

“How am I to remember that?”

“D.A. Rossi is the name I sign on official documents, including the hotel registration. Damon is but a combination of my initials and an abbreviation of our country.”

“Clever. But if the paparazzi catch you with a woman on the eve of your engagement…”

“As of this morning there is no engagement. A woman has not been selected, and if the council continues to argue as they have done for the past four months over birthing hips, pedigrees and whatever other absurd qualities they deem necessary for a princess, they will never come to an agreement, and I will not be forced to propose to a woman I know or care nothing about.”

The council members had dehumanized the entire process. Not once had they asked Dominic’s preferences. They might as well be choosing animals to breed from a bloodline chart.

Dominic had been nineteen when the council had chosen Giselle as his future bride, and he had not objected for he’d known her since they were children. His parents and hers had been friends for decades. He had convinced their families to postpone the marriage until after he obtained his university degree, and in those intervening years he and Giselle had become friends and then lovers before becoming husband and wife.

In the nine years since her death he had not met one single woman who made an effort to see the man behind the title and fortune.

And now once again the council would decide his fate as the traditions of his country decreed, a circumstance which did not please him, but one he was duty-bound to accept. But this time the idea of the group of predominantly old men choosing a stranger to be his wife did not sit well.

Dominic threw a change of clothing on top of the towels, masks and fins already in his dive bag. “Mademoiselle Spencer wishes to see Monaco. I wish to explore the tourist venues as a vacationer instead of as a visiting prince. Perhaps I will see a different side to the enterprises than I have seen before. The knowledge will benefit Montagnarde’s tourist development plan which, as you know, I will present to the economic board again in two months. This time I will not accept defeat. They will back my development plan.”

He had spent the years since he’d left university studying successful tourist destinations and laying the groundwork to replicate similar enterprises in his homeland. He wanted to model Montagnarde’s travel industry after Monaco’s, but the older members of the board refused to accept that the country had to grow its economic base or continue to lose its youth to jobs overseas. His father had sworn to lend his support in return for Dominic agreeing to marry before the end of his thirty-fifth year. With sovereign backing Dominic’s plan would be passed.

“You know nothing about this woman,” Ian insisted.

“A circumstance I am sure you have already begun to rectify.” Any acquaintance with whom Dominic spent more than a passing amount of time was thoroughly investigated.

“I have initiated an inquiry, yes. Nevertheless, an affair would not be wise.”

“Not an affair, Ian. A harmless flirtation. I cannot have sex with a woman to whom I am lying.”

We’ll see if you have what it takes to tempt me.

His heart rate quickened at the memory of Madeline’s enticing banter and vibrant eyes. He would very much like to be her lover, but for the first time in years he found himself savoring the idea of being merely a man whom a beautiful woman found attractive. He didn’t want to ruin that unique experience by revealing his identity, but he couldn’t sleep with Madeline until he did. “I am aware of the risks.”

“How will you explain my presence?”

Dominic zipped the bag and faced Ian, knowing his decision would not be a popular one. “The Larvotto underwater reserve is well patrolled by the Monaco police. No other boats or watercraft are allowed in the area. You can rest easy knowing the only dangers I face while snorkeling are that of the fish and the artificial reef. You will wait on the shore and keep your distance.”

“I am charged with your well-being. If something should happen—”

“Ian, I have not given you reason to worry about my safety in years, and I won’t now. I am a skilled diver. I have tracking devices in my watch and my swim trunks, and no one knows our plan. I will be fine.” He hefted the bag. “Now come. I wish to see if Mademoiselle Spencer looks as good in a swimsuit as I anticipate.”

Getting practically naked with a guy on your first date certainly moved things right along, Madeline decided as she removed the lemon-yellow sundress she’d worn as a cover-up over her swimsuit and placed it on the lounge chair beside her sandals and sunglasses.

Her black bikini wasn’t nearly as skimpy as the thong suits so popular on the public beach around them. She scanned the sunbathers, shook her head and smothered a smile. The women here thought nothing of dropping their tops on the beach, but they didn’t dare lie in the sun without their jewels. Bet that makes for some interesting tan lines.

To give him credit, Damon had stalked right past the bare breasts on display without pause. When his attention turned to her, raking her from braid to garnet-red toenail polish, she said a silent thank-you for the discounted gym membership the hospital offered its employees and the sweat and weight she’d shed over the past two years. Her body was tight and toned. It hadn’t always been. But she wished Damon would lose the sunglasses. The thinning of his lips and the flare of his nostrils could signify anything from disgust to desire. She needed to see his eyes.

In the meantime, she did a little inspecting of her own as he untied the drawstring waist of the white linen pants he’d worn over his swimsuit due to Monaco’s strict rules about no beachwear, bare chests or bare feet on the streets.

Damon’s white T-shirt hugged well-developed pectorals and a flat abdomen. And then he dropped his pants. Nice. His long legs were deeply tanned, muscular and dusted with burnished blond hair beneath his brief trunks. “You must spend a lot of time outdoors.”

He paused and gave her a puzzled look.

“The sun has bleached your body hair and the tips of your lashes,” she explained.

“I enjoy water sports.” He handed her a snorkel, mask and fins that looked new. “You have snorkeled before?”

“Yes, off the coast back home.”

“And where is home?”

“North Carolina. On the eastern coast of the U.S. I live hours from the beach, but I used to vacation there every summer.” She missed those boisterous vacations with Mike’s family more than she missed Mike. The devious, dishonest rat. How could such a great family spawn a complete schmuck?

She dug her toes into the fine grains beneath her feet. “Is it true that all this white sand is brought in by barge?”

“Yes. That is the case for many of the Riviera beaches. Of the nations bordering the Mediterranean Sea, Monaco has the cleanest and safest beaches because the government is the most eco-conscious. Thanks to the Grimaldi family, the country is almost pollution free. In recent years the government has expanded its territory by reclaiming land from the sea. The underwater reserve we are about to explore was built in the seventies to repair the damage of overfishing and excessive coral gathering. The reefs are home to many fish species and red coral.” He indicated the water with a nod. “Shall we?”

He’d certainly studied his guidebook. “Don’t you want to take off your T-shirt?”

He tossed his shades on the chair beside hers. “No.”

“Do you burn easily? I could put sunscreen on your back.” Her palms tingled in anticipation of touching him.

“I prefer to wear a shirt, thank you.”

Did he have scars or something? “Damon, I see shirtless men at work every day. If you’re worried that I can’t control myself…”

His chest expanded, and this time she received the full effect of those hot blue eyes. Arousal made her suck in her breath and her stomach. “It is not your control I question, Madeline. Come, the reef waits.”

She’d never get used to the way he said her name with a hint of that unidentifiable accent. It gave her goose bumps every time. And speaking of control, where was hers? She wanted to jump him. Here. Now. “Where did you say you were from?”

“I did not say.” He flashed a tight white smile and strode toward the water, where he dunked his fins and mask before donning both.

She mimicked his actions and then stared at him through the wet glass of her mask. “You like being a man of mystery, eh?”

He straightened and held her gaze. “I like being a man. The mystery is all in here.” He gently tapped her temple. “Stay close to me. Watch for jellyfish and sea urchins. Avoid both.”

Admiring the view of his taut buttocks and well-muscled legs, she followed him deeper into the water. For the next hour she swam and enjoyed the sea life. Each time Damon touched her to draw her attention to another sight she nearly sucked the briny water down her snorkel. Miraculously, she managed not to drown herself. By the time he led her back to shore her nerves were as tightly wound as the rubber band ball the emergency room staff tossed around on slow nights.

“That was great. Thanks.” And then she got a good look at the shirt adhered like shrink-wrap to his amazing chest, the tiny buttons of his nipples and his six-pack abs. An even better sight and definitely one she’d like to explore.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He dropped his mask and fins on the chair, donned his sunglasses and ruffled his hair to shake off the excess water and then finger-combed the dark strands over his forehead.

“What made you decide to become a tour guide?” She dried off as he bagged their diving gear.

“When a country has few natural resources and limited territory, its people and the tourism industry become its greatest assets.”

Surprised by his answer, she blinked. She’d expected a simple response such as he enjoyed meeting new people or the flexible hours, not something so deep. “Studied that, have you?”

“Yes.”

She dragged her knit sundress over her head. “Where? I mean, are there tourism schools or what?”

Holding her gaze—or at least she thought he was, beneath those dark lenses—he hesitated so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “I have a Travel Industry Management degree from the University of Hawaii at M

He seemed tense, as if he expected her to question his statement, and she should. If he had a college degree and spoke four languages fluently then why was he acting as a tour guide? It didn’t make sense. She reminded herself that not everyone was as career driven as she was, but Damon didn’t seem the type to kick back and let the fates determine his future. She’d seen enough type A guys to recognize the signs and he waved them all like flags. But that was his business. A string-free affair—if they had one—didn’t give her the right to interfere.

“The States? No kidding. What brings you to Monaco?”

“I am studying their tourism industry.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll apply what I’ve learned to my future endeavors.” He zipped the dive bag and grabbed the handles. Eager to go, was he? Before she could ask what kinds of endeavors, he said, “If we leave now we’ll have time to stop at the hotel café for a snack before I leave you. You have missed lunch.”

“I’m in no rush. I had hoped we could spend the rest of the afternoon together. Maybe play some beach volleyball or jump on the trampoline at the far end of the beach? And this place is surrounded by restaurants. We could grab a bite here.”

“I have another appointment.”

She tried to hide her disappointment. While she had enjoyed the day, it hadn’t gone quite as she’d hoped. Admittedly, she wasn’t a practiced seductress, but if she wanted a vacation romance it looked as though she’d have to work harder for it.

Time to initiate Plan B. First she freed and finger-combed her hair while trying to build up her courage, and then she reached beneath her dress, untied her damp bikini top and pulled it through the scooped neckline.

A muscle at the corner of Damon’s mouth ticked and his throat worked as he swallowed.

“You may change in one of the dressing rooms, as I will,” he said hoarsely. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“No need. Besides, I didn’t bring a change of clothing.” Her nipples tightened when he didn’t look away. Well, hallelujah. He’d been so professional and distant she’d begun to think she’d imagined the sparks between them.

And then in an act more brazen than anything she’d ever dared, she reached beneath her dress and shucked her bikini bottom. She twirled the wet black fabric once around her finger before tucking it along with her top in her tote. Take that, big guy. If Damon insisted on hustling her back to the hotel and dumping her, then he’d have to do so knowing she was naked except for a thin knit sheath.

Never let it be said that Madeline Spencer wouldn’t fight for what she wanted, and in her opinion, Damon Rossi was the perfect prescription to mend her bruised ego and heart. A few weeks with him and she’d return home whole and healed.

“I wonder what all the commotion’s about?”

Madeline’s question pulled Dominic from his complicated calculations of hotel occupancy rates as the taxi approached Hôtel Reynard. He’d been attempting to distract himself from the knowledge that she was completely nude beneath her dress and failing miserably.

A camera-carrying group of a dozen or so paparazzi stood sentry across the street from the hotel with their zoom lenses trained on the limo parked by the entrance. Dominic silently swore. His escape route had been sealed. He leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Rue Langlé, s’il vous plaît.”

Madeline’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Where are we going?”

“I do not wish to fight the crowd. We’ll dine in a quiet café instead of the hotel.” Ian would not like the unplanned detour, and Makos, the second bodyguard who kept in such deep cover that Dominic rarely spotted him, would like it even less.

“I thought you were in a hurry to get to another appointment.”

“It can wait.” There was no other appointment. He merely needed time away from the tempting woman beside him before he grabbed her and kissed that teasing smile from her lips. Even in the cool water, touching the wet silkiness of her skin had heated his blood. He’d wanted to flatten his palms over her waist, tangle his legs with her sleek limbs and pull her flush against him. A maneuver that probably would have drowned them both, he acknowledged wryly.

Dominic faced a conundrum. With each passing moment his desire for Madeline increased, and yet his lie stood between them. He ached for her, but he was reluctant to lose the unique relationship they had established. She looked at him, flirted with him, desired him. Not Prince Dominic. He was selfish enough to want to enjoy her attentions a while longer.

She twisted in her seat to stare out the taxi’s back window at the paparazzi as the driver took the roundabout away from the hotel. The shift slid her hem to the top of her thighs. A few more inches and he’d see what her bikini bottom should be covering. He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands against the urge to smooth his palm up her sleek thighs and over her bare buttocks.

“It’s probably just another celebrity,” she said. “Amelia says the hotel is crawling with them.”

“Who is Amelia?”

“My friend and one of the other bridesmaids. She’s a huge fan of entertainment magazines and shows. She claims the security inside the hotel makes it a celebrity hot spot. Supposedly paparazzi aren’t even allowed on the grounds, which would explain why they’re staked out across the street.”

He’d have to avoid her friend. “You are not interested in star gazing?”

She settled back in the seat and faced him. “No. I don’t have time to watch much TV or read gossip rags. I work four or five twelve-hour shifts each week, depending on how much overtime the hospital will allow me, and I usually go to the gym for another hour after work.”

That could explain why not even a flicker of recognition entered her eyes when she looked at him—not that he was a household name, but he was known unfortunately, thanks to a couple of wild years after Giselle’s death when he’d tried to smother his grief with women and parties. “Your diligence at the gym shows.”

She tilted her head, revealing the long line of her throat and the pulse fluttering rapidly at the base. “Is that a compliment, Damon?”

“I am sure you are aware of your incredible figure, Madeline. You do not need my accolades.” The words came out stiffly.

Her eyebrows dipped. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a little…tense.”

His gaze dropped pointedly to her hiked hem.

She glanced down and her eyes widened. A peachy glow darkened her cheeks, making him question whether the siren role was a new one for her. And then the hint of a smile curved her lips as she wiggled the fabric down to a more respectable level. The woman was driving him insane and relishing every moment of his discomfort.

“Monaco is small enough that we could have walked to the café, you know,” she said.

“You have had enough sun.” And he was less likely to be recognized in an anonymous taxi. The driver pulled over in the street and stopped. Dominic paid him and opened the door. He noted Ian climbing from a taxi a half a block away. Dominic subtly angled his head toward the Italian café as a signal.

Madeline curled her fingers around Dominic’s and allowed him to assist her from the car. She joined him on the sidewalk, but didn’t release his hand. The small gesture tightened something inside him. When had he last held hands with a woman? Such a simple pleasure. One he hadn’t realized he’d missed.

She tipped back her head. “Monaco has strict protocol. Are you sure we’re dressed appropriately?”

One of us is. He had pulled on trousers and a polo shirt before leaving the beach. His attire was acceptable, as was Madeline’s if one was unaware she wore nothing beneath the thin yellow sundress. The driver retrieved the dive bag from the trunk. Dominic took it from him. “The café is casual. I recommend the prosciutto and melon or the bruschetta.”

He’d prefer to feast on her, on her rosy lips, on her soft, supple skin, on the tight nipples pushing against her dress.

Wondering when his intelligence had deserted him, Dominic led her inside and requested a table in the back. Madeline didn’t release his hand until he seated her. He chose a chair facing away from the door. The fewer people who saw his face the better and Ian would cover his back.

The entire afternoon had been an exercise in restraint and a reminder that he was not an accomplished liar. He had been so distracted by his unexpected attraction to Madeline that he had almost blown his cover. Had she not commented on his blond body hair he would have removed his shirt and his secret would be out.

Your secret is keeping her out of your bed.

Without a doubt, he desired Madeline Spencer, but getting women to share his bed had never been difficult. Getting one to see him as a mere man, however, was nearly impossible. He would have to reveal his identity soon for he did not think his control would last much longer, and then if he could be certain Madeline could be happy with a short-term affair, he would explore every inch of her. Repeatedly.

But before he revealed his secret he needed to discover hers. Why had she renounced love?

After placing their orders Dominic asked, “Did you love him?”

Her smile wobbled and then faded. Her fingers found and tugged one dark coil of hair. He wanted to wind the spirals around his fingers, around his—

“Who?”

Her pretended ignorance didn’t fool him. The shadows darkening her eyes gave her discomfort away. He removed his sunglasses and looked into her eyes. “The man who disappointed you.”

She fussed with her cutlery. “Pfft. What makes you so sure there is one?” When he held her gaze without replying she bristled. “Is this twenty questions? Because if it is, you’ll have to give an answer for every one you get.”

Risky, but doable if he chose his words carefully. He nodded acceptance of her terms. “Did you love him?” he repeated.

“I thought I did.”

“You don’t know?”

She shifted in her seat, reminding him of her nakedness beneath the T-shirt thin layer of cotton. “Why don’t you tell me what you have planned for our next outing?”

“Because you are a far more interesting topic.” His voice came out in a lower pitch than normal as if he were dredging it up from the bottom of the sea. “Why do you question your feelings?”

She sighed. Resignation settled over her features. “My mother was forty-six when I was born and my father fifty. They were too old to keep up with a rambunctious child. I wanted to do things differently when I had children, so I made a plan to get married and start my family before I turned thirty. I met Mike right after college. He seemed like the perfect candidate and we got engaged. But it didn’t work out.”

“One failed relationship soured you?”

Another squirm of her naked bottom made him wish he could take the place of her chair. “My parents divorced. It wasn’t pretty. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”

“Yes.”

Her arched brows rose. “And?”

“My turn. Why did your relationship end?”

She frowned. “Lots of reasons. First, I spent too much time trying to be the woman I thought he and society expected me to be instead of the one I wanted to be. Second, he found someone else.”

“He is a fool.”

A smile twitched her lips. “Don’t expect me to argue with that brilliantly insightful conclusion.”

The waitress placed their meals on the table and departed.

“Have you ever been married?” Madeline asked before biting into her bruschetta.

“Yes.”

Her body stilled and her emerald gaze locked with his. She chewed quickly and then swallowed. “What happened?”

“She died.” The words came out without inflection. He’d learned long ago to keep the pain locked away behind a wall of numbness.

Sympathy darkened her eyes. “I’m sorry. How?”

“Ectopic pregnancy.”

She reached across the table and covered his hand. Her touch warmed him and surprisingly, soothed him. “That must have been hard, losing your wife and child at the same time. Did you even know she was pregnant?”

How could this virtual stranger understand what those closest to him had not?