Claiming His Royal Heir Read online

  “Hi, Stella.” His mouth flashed a mischievous grin.

  She blinked. “Hello, Vasco. Please come in.” Mercifully she sounded calmer than she felt. What did he have in all those shiny packages?

  “These are for you.” His gray gaze met hers as he handed her the bouquet. Her heart jumped and she snatched them from him and turned down the hallway. The arrangement was beautiful—a mix of wildflowers and exotic lilies. The scent wafted to her. “I’ll just put these in water.”

  “Where’s Nicky?”

  “He’s upstairs having a nap. He’ll wake up soon.” She wanted him to know she wasn’t going to disturb her son’s routine for an unscheduled visit.

  “That’s fine. It gives us a chance to talk.”

  She filled a green glass vase with water and slid the flowers into it. Later she’d take the time to trim the stalks and arrange them. Right now her hands were shaking too much. “Would you like some…tea?”

  It was impossible to imagine Vasco Montoya sipping tea. Swigging rum from an open bottle, maybe.

  He smiled as if he found the idea amusing, too. “No, thanks.” He unleashed the pile of packages onto the kitchen table, then pulled out a small rectangular present wrapped in dark red paper and ornamented with a slim white ribbon. “This is also for you.”

  She took the present from his outstretched hand, then realized she was frowning. Obviously he was trying to curry favor with her, which rubbed her the wrong way. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I’ve done a few things I shouldn’t have.” Humor danced in his eyes. “I’m trying to put that right. I appreciate your giving me the chance to try.”

  She softened a bit, more from his hopeful expression than his words. “Should I open it now?”

  “Please do.” He sat in a kitchen chair, apparently relaxed despite the strange situation.

  Her hands shook a bit as she plucked at the ribbon and carefully pulled the wrapping paper off by lifting the tape. She was constitutionally unable to rip paper. Probably an occupational hazard.

  The wrapping peeled back to reveal a black paper book jacket with an abstract picture. Her eyes widened as she realized that she now held in her hands a 1957 first edition of Jack Kerouac’s Beat Generation classic On the Road.

  “I know you like books.”

  “Where did you get this?” This edition retailed for nearly ten thousand dollars. In near-mint condition like this, possibly far more.

  “A friend.”

  “I can’t accept it. It’s far too valuable.” Still, she couldn’t help turning it over to look at the back, and peer inside. The pages were in such good condition, no yellowing or wear, that it must have been in a box for over fifty years.

  “I insist. I like finding the right gifts for people.”

  She stared at him. How could he know about her interest in that era—music and art as well as literature—and that her life revolved around rare books?

  His easy grin revealed that he knew he’d scored a hit. “I know you restore books, so I had to give you one in perfect condition or it would be like handing you work.” He had dimples in his right cheek and chin when he smiled.

  “How did you know what I do?”

  He shrugged. “I searched for your name on Google.”

  “Oh.” She’d done the same thing with his, which had informed her that not only was he the king of a tiny country in the Pyrenees, but that he’d amassed a fortune in the mining industry over the last ten years. At least he could afford the gift.

  It seemed a shame to even touch the cover, when she knew how every fingerprint caused fabric and paper to deteriorate. Still, what was the point of a book if not to be looked at and enjoyed? “Thank you.”

  Still, there were a lot of unanswered questions, most of them hard to ask and undoubtedly awkward to answer. Like this one: “Would you be willing to take a paternity test?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Oh.” For some reason she’d expected him to resist. “I found a lab locally. They said you and Nicky have to go in and they’ll take swabs from your cheek.”

  “I’d be glad to.” His expression was perfectly serious.

  “Why did you donate your sperm?” She was on a roll now.

  For once he looked uncomfortable. He leaned forward, frowned, shoved a tanned hand into his hair. “It’s complicated. Mostly it had to do with being turned away from the land and family that meant everything to me, and finding myself here in the land of plenty without fifty dollars to my name. Not very heroic, huh?”

  She shrugged. His honesty appealed to her. “I suspect money trouble is a pretty common reason. Most of the donors seemed to be college students. I guess it’s a painless way to earn some extra cash.”

  “Sure, until you grow up and realize the consequences.”

  He regretted it now. Somehow that hurt. “Your donation has brought the greatest joy into my life. Don’t wish that away.”

  He tilted his head, thoughtful. “You’re right. Nicky was meant to be here. It’s just a strange situation to find oneself in.” A smile lit his eyes.

  Stella’s toes curled as a hot sensation unfurled in her belly. She wished he’d stop looking at her like that. As if he’d found the woman of his dreams, or something.

  Definitely or something.

  “I’ve decided that you and Nicky should visit Montmajor. Then you can see and decide for yourselves whether it’s the right place for you to live.” His easy pose and confident expression suggested that he already knew what their decision would be.

  The urge to say no was flattened by the reality of her bleak economic prospects in California right now. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  His eyes widened. Apparently he’d expected at least some resistance. “Fantastic. I’ll arrange the flights. Is next week too soon to leave?”

  Should she pretend she needed to “take time off work” or did he already know her job was gone? She didn’t want to appear too much of a pushover. “Let me check my book.”

  She rose and walked into the living room, where she pretended to flip through her datebook, which was alarmingly empty. As she walked back into the kitchen his gaze drifted over her in a way that was both insolent and arousing and made her suck in her breath.

  “After Wednesday would be fine. How long would you like us to visit for?”

  He propped one ankle on his knee and his smile widened. “Forever would be ideal, but why don’t we start with a month.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t take a month away from work.” Or at least from looking for a job. Even if he was paying for everything in his country she needed something to come back to.

  Vasco’s expression softened. “I know you lost your job at the university.”

  “How do you know that?” Suspicion pricked her. Was he behind it somehow?

  He shrugged. “I called them to see if you were affected by the cuts. I’m sorry.”

  Her face heated. “Me, too. I need to find more work right away. I can’t have a big gap on my résumé.” He wasn’t behind it. Local finances were. All the stress was making her paranoid.

  “No need for any gap at all.” He leaned forward. “The palace library has over ten thousand books, some of them so old they were handwritten by monks. As far as I know they have seen no restoration efforts in generations, so you will be amply supplied with work if you’d be kind enough to turn your attentions to them.”

  Funny how his speech could get so formal and princely sometimes.

  “That does sound interesting.” She tried to contain her excitement. It sounded like every book restorer’s fantasy. Old libraries could contain gems that no one even knew existed. Visions of medieval manuscripts and elegant editions of, say, Dante’s Commedia danced in her mind.

  “You’d be well paid. Since I’m not familiar with the field you can set your own rate. Any supplies and equipment you need will be furnished.”

  “I’ll bring my own tools,” she said quickly, then realized she sounded a li
ttle too keen. “A month should give me time to assess the condition of the collection and plan preliminary repairs to those volumes most in need.”

  “Excellent.” His dimples deepened.

  Today Vasco wore faded jeans and black boots with a suit jacket and casual white shirt. He could have stepped right out of the pages in GQ. Stella became conscious of her less than scintillating ensemble of black yoga pants and a striped T-shirt that might well be stained with baby food. She resisted the urge to look down.

  Besides, one set of eyes on her body was quite enough. Vasco’s gaze heated her skin. Was he flirting with her? She was so out of practice she couldn’t even tell. Trevor had scoffed at romantic overtures and seductive gestures, and she’d grown to think of them as childish.

  But the way Vasco was looking at her right now felt anything but infantile. “Glass of water?” She didn’t know what else to say and the temperature in the room was becoming dangerously uncomfortable.

  “Why not?” He raised a brow.

  She busied herself filling a glass and was relieved to hear Nicky’s voice rising in a plea for freedom from upstairs. “He’s up.”

  At least now she wouldn’t be alone with Vasco, and those penetrating gray eyes would have someone else to look at. Vasco stood up to come with her.

  “Why don’t you wait here?” She didn’t want him upstairs in their personal space, knowing where Nicky’s crib was. She didn’t much like leaving him alone in the kitchen, either. Not because she had a bad feeling about him—at least not that she could put her finger on—but it was all way too much, too soon.

  She’d committed to visiting his country for a month. Which gave her a queasy feeling of being swept away on a tide of destiny. For now, at least, she wanted to keep her feet—and Nicky’s—firmly planted in their own little reality.

  He was still standing as she left the room, possibly ready to go snooping through the opened mail on the sideboard or peering into her fridge and discovering that she’d eaten three out of the six Boston cream donuts inside it. She grabbed Nicky out of his crib and hurried back down as fast as she could.

  The expression on Vasco’s face when he saw Nicky almost melted her suspicious heart. Delight and wonder softened his hard features. Part of her wanted to clutch Nicky to her chest and protect him from this stranger who hoped to love her son like she did, and part of her wanted to put Nicky in Vasco’s arms so he could experience the happiness she’d known since he came into her life.

  She lowered Nicky to the floor, where he took off at a high-speed crawl.

  “I think he’s been awake for a while. He seems full of beans.”

  “Maybe he was listening in on our conversation.” Vasco’s eyes didn’t leave Nicky. Apparently she was way less fascinating now that he was in the room.

  Stella’s stomach tightened. She’d actually agreed to head off to Montmajor with Nicky. “Will we stay in a hotel while we’re there?”

  “The royal palace has more than ample room. You’ll have your own suite—your own wing, if you like—and plenty of privacy.”

  A palace. Somehow she hadn’t thought of that part. A royal palace where Nicky might be heir to the throne. The whole idea made her feel nauseous. And Nicky’s diaper smelled. “He needs changing.”

  Karen’s idea of asking Vasco to change him crossed her mind but she quickly dismissed it. Far too intimate. She didn’t want Vasco assuming fatherly duties, at least not until after the DNA test proved he was Nicky’s father.

  And she suspected he’d be willing and able to rise to that and any other challenge she could throw at him.

  Vasco followed her into the dining room, where she had a changing mat on the floor. “When do they stop wearing those things?”

  “It depends. When we were kids our moms would be trying to take them off already. These days it’s common for kids to wear them until three or four. Everyone has a theory on what’s right.”

  Vasco seemed like the kind of guy who’d let his kid run around naked outdoors and discover things the old-fashioned way. She’d probably try that if she didn’t live in the corner lot on a busy street in full view of half the neighborhood. She wasn’t sure they’d appreciate the view.

  This thought reminded her how little she knew about Vasco and what his life in Montmajor was like. She’d seen plenty of pictures of him with his arm around different women on the internet, but no hard information about his personal life. “Are you married?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Why not?” The question was bold, but she couldn’t resist asking. He was old enough, over thirty, certainly. Wealthy, gorgeous and royal, Vasco Montoya must have women trailing him like stray cats after a fish truck.

  His throaty chuckle made her belly tighten. “Maybe I’m not the marrying kind. What about you? Why aren’t you married?”

  His question heated her face. “Maybe I’m not the marrying kind either.” It was hard to sound cool and hard-boiled while wiping a rosy bottom.

  “You do seem like the marrying kind.” His voice was soft, suggestive, even.

  “Maybe I would be if I ever met the right man. I was engaged for a long time, but eventually I decided I was better off on my own.”

  She’d probably still be engaged to Trevor, still childless and living alone, if she hadn’t made a clean break. It was an easy relationship, if not an exciting one.

  “You’re independent. Don’t need a man to take care of you. I like that.”

  Don’t I? The sudden evaporation of her income and career prospects had made her feel dangerously alone. It wasn’t just herself she needed to support—Nicky was counting on her, too.

  She fastened up his tiny dungarees and let him squirm off the mat and crawl away. She and Vasco both watched him scoot out of the dining room and back into the kitchen.

  “Wassat?” A delighted cry accompanied by rustling alerted them that he’d discovered the wrapped gifts Vasco brought.

  “Is he allowed to open them?”

  “That’s what they’re for.” They followed him into the kitchen where he’d already pulled the shiny silver paper off a large box containing a Thomas the Tank Engine starter set that must have cost almost as much as her book. Nicky put the corner of the box in his mouth.

  Vasco laughed. “I bought the most delicious train I could find.”

  “He’ll love it.” She pulled the box out of Nicky’s arms. “Let me open it up, sweetie.”

  Nicky reached for the next gift, a sparkly blue one.

  Vasco shrugged. “I missed his first birthday.” He watched with joy in his eyes as Nicky skinned the present, an elaborate construction set made from pieces of carved wood.

  “You’re good at picking age-appropriate stuff.” She was relieved nothing so far looked like a choking hazard.

  “I’m good at asking for and taking expert advice.” His eyes met hers, and an annoying shiver sizzled down her spine. Again his voice had been almost suggestive.

  Shame her body was so keen to pick up on the suggestion.

  He’d removed his jacket, and she was chagrined to discover that his jeans hugged his well-formed backside in an appetizing way. Unfortunately, every time she looked at him something inside her lit up like Christmas tree lights, which was not at all appropriate to the situation.

  Maybe Karen was right and she needed a little romance—or at least sex—in her life. Just to take the edge off, or something.

  But not with Vasco. Since he was the father of her child, that would be way too heavy. And it was unlikely that a dashing royal bachelor would be interested in a short, frumpy book restorer. He probably looked at everyone like that.

  The third gift, wrapped in green shimmery paper, proved to be a stuffed purple dinosaur. Not one with its own PBS show, happily, but rather an expensive, handmade-looking one with plush fur. “I don’t know what kind of toys he likes, so I got a mix.”

  “Very sensible.” She pulled apart the stiff plastic of the train packaging and set some cars down
on the floor. Nicky spun them across the polished wood with a whoop of glee. “That one’s a hit.”

  Vasco assembled the track, complete with bridges and a tunnel and two junctions, and helped Nicky get the train going around it.

  Stella watched with a mix of quiet joy and stone-cold terror. Nicky was already getting attached to Vasco. She could see from the look of curiosity in his big, gray eyes that he liked the large new man in his kitchen. So far Vasco seemed to be thoughtful and kind. She’d worried about Nicky not having a father in his life, particularly if he needed male guidance as he got older. Vasco’s appearance seemed to offer a lot of exciting possibilities for him. And some rather worrying ones, too. Was Nicky expected to be king of Montmajor someday?

  She’d better confirm that Vasco was Nicky’s biological father before this situation went any further. “I need to take Nicky out and run some errands. How about we stop by the lab on the way and drop off the DNA samples.”

  Would he go there with her? That way she’d know he was serious, and wasn’t going to pay someone off to produce the results he wanted.

  He stood up and his dark brows lowered over narrowed eyes. For a moment she thought he’d say no or find an excuse. Doubts sprang to her mind—who was this man she’d allowed to play on the floor with her son, who she’d promised to move in with for a full month?

  Then he nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  The DNA test results which arrived three days later confirmed what Vasco knew in his heart from the moment he saw Nicky—the boy was his flesh and blood.

  He arrived on their doorstep that afternoon laden with more packages. Not the silly toys he’d brought last time, but luggage for their journey. He knew Stella was strapped for cash and it was easier to give her things than offer her money. She’d already turned that down when he’d offered at their last meeting.

  He hadn’t bothered to phone ahead, so she was surprised, and answered the door in a rather fetching pair of bike shorts and a tank top. She gasped when she saw him. “I was working out.” She looked like she wanted to cover herself with her hands. “Pilates.” She blushed.