Chapter Two
Joseph couldn’t let her go. He didn’t know what he expected from the evening, but he wasn’t ready to let it end. He’d been astonished by the blinding attraction he’d felt when he’d first laid eyes on her. His only intention when he’d accepted Jean-Claude’s invitation to the benefit was to have a pleasant night out, away from duty and overattentive servants, away from having his every move watched.
Away from the expectations of an entire country.
Now, in the span of one night in Monte Carlo with a mystery woman, he’d felt his life change. He’d felt the shift of emotion, the stimulation of conversation, of flirting, of dancing close and feeling the warmth of a woman’s body next to his heart. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years and he didn’t want the evening to end. Didn’t want the feeling to end.
But his fantasy lady had become edgy. There were secrets in her emerald eyes—secrets he longed to uncover, layer by layer.
He watched the shimmering black of her dress as she hurried toward the door, and he experienced a flash of déjà vu.
In this principality where Princess Grace was legendary, he couldn’t help but feel that something special had occurred this night.
Without a doubt, Joseph knew that he had met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
She’s the one.
And she was about to slip through his fingers. He knew her name, knew her dreams—some of them, anyway. But he didn’t know her phone number or address. He didn’t know her body and soul as he longed to.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this enchanted, as if he were standing on the edge of something wonderful, something life altering.
He caught up with her, surprised her with a gentle hand on her bare arm.
“What is it, querida? Why do you run?”
She shook her head and sighed, then stood still, staring at the marbled walls of the elevator. “It’s better this way, Joseph.”
“Why?”
“Because. There are things about me....” Her voice trailed off. “It’s just better.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How do you know? You have no idea—”
“It is not important. It is only important that you stay. Please.”
She turned, searched his features in silence. A battle waged clearly in her green eyes. He took her hand in his, kissed her palm. He’d never had to beg for anything in his life. He would do it now in a heartbeat.
Strange that he felt this strongly after only one evening. But he was helpless to give it up. To give her up. He wanted to see her smile, listen to her voice, share her dreams, hear her unrestrained laughter.
He needed more time—time to see if he could make her fall in love with him.
“Stay with me.”
She wanted to say no; he saw it in the way her auburn brows drew together, in the subtle shake of her head.
“Please? I promise I will not take you anywhere you do not want to go.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about travel?”
His fingers tightened against hers. “There’s fire between us. I’m afraid if I let you go, I’ll never see you again. It may sound like a line to you, but if that happens, I’m not sure my heart will recover.”
She started to shake her head again. He stopped her with a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I’ve never felt so unsure, bella. As if I’m about to grasp something—something important—yet it is threatening to turn to smoke. Help me. Stay with me. Share your dreams with me and I’ll share mine with you.”
“It’s so soon. So fast.” Briana brushed a stray curl from her face. She was so tired of racking her brain to explain the unexplainable. She felt as though she were going insane.
How could she be pregnant with no memory of getting that way? One day when a reaction to an antihistamine had created a void in her recall, and now this. To meet a man so attentive, a man with whom, against all reason, she was half in love. The timing was absolutely rotten.
Why couldn’t she have met him three months ago?
He treated her like fine china, as if she were fragile, when in fact she was quite sturdy.
He simply swept her away.
What would the harm be? she wondered. To continue the magical evening with this magical man. Why not let fate chart its course? At least this memory would be one she could hold in her heart, a memory that nothing could wipe away.
She glanced at the marble elevator doors, felt her heart pound and her hands tremble, knew what her decision would be. What it had to be. What she needed it to be more than she needed her next breath of air.
“Are you staying here? At the hotel?” she whispered.
“Yes. The penthouse suite.”
She suffered a moment of doubt.
“I know what you’re thinking. Typical playboy lair.”
“No. No, the thought never crossed my mind.”
He smiled gently at her lie. “I am used to five-star accommodations. Will you come up with me, spend some time?”
She tried for flippancy. “Sure. I’ve always wanted to get a look at the penthouse.”
His fingertip barely grazed her cheek, then swept a path of fire along her bottom lip. “Just be yourself. Relax.”
So, he’d seen through her facade. The elevator doors swished closed. She wanted to just look at him for a lifetime. Yet she felt shy. Unable to hold his sensual gaze, she looked away and found their image glancing back at her from all four walls.
Her heart pumped harder. Her knees turned watery as they stepped out of the elevator and entered the elegant suite.
Briana moved to the wall of windows that looked out over the Riviera. Thousands of fairy-tale lights twinkled back at her. She was suddenly so nervous. She’d never gone home with a man on the first date. Never felt so strongly that something was so right. Deep in her bones, she felt the rightness.
Even if she couldn’t allow it to last.
But for tonight. Just for tonight, she would accept the journey, live the dream. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the choices that must be faced.
She saw his reflection in the glass and turned.
Joseph plucked a rose from the crystal vase on the table, held it out to her, remembered a similar act just days ago, in a different room, with a different woman—the wrong woman—whom everybody had expected him to marry.
“Roses and emeralds,” he said. “You should wear both.”
When she buried her face in the fragrant bud, the final combination clicked inside Joseph, fell into place as easily as a key in a well-oiled lock. Perfection. He couldn’t say why the action touched him, but it did—in a profound way that he didn’t even question.
“Ah, querida. You have my heart, I think.”
She smiled, pressed her lips softly to the velvet petals. “Do I?”
His fingers touched her hair, reached for the comb that held it off her neck, released it into a waterfall of soft curls. “Yes.”
“For tonight.”
“Forever.”
She shook her head, sending autumn curls swishing across shoulders lightly dusted with freckles. “What if I don’t believe in ‘forever’?”
“Ah, but you are a dreamer. And dreamers always believe in forever.”
“And fairy tales?”
“Those, too.”
She opened her mouth, prepared to deny. He placed a finger there, swept past any and all of her objections, played on the power between them that seemed unbreakable.
“You feel so good in my arms. Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“No.”
“You’re stunning.” He almost smiled at the way her breath hitched, at the way her head ducked. She was a goddess and the best part about it was that she didn’t even realize it. “I may be the luckiest man in Monte Carlo.”
“You may be the smoothest talker in Monte Carlo.”
“You doubt me?” He took the rose from her fingers, brushed it across her cheek, marveled at the way her lips parted as if she could taste its fragrance, as if the smallest thing could delight her.
“Maybe a little.”
He brought his lips a mere breath away from hers. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think I should warn you, I intend to marry you.”
He felt her jolt, felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his shirtfront.
Her voice was a bare whisper. “I feel it, too, Joseph. Whatever this is that’s between us. Magic—”
“Destiny.”
Her gaze locked onto his. “But I don’t need promises.”
“I’m willing to give them.”
“I’m not in a position to accept. Just give me now. Tonight.”
“Ah, querida, yes. As a beginning.”
His lips closed over hers and Briana ceased to think. It was too much, and not nearly enough. With his lips and tongue and fingertips, he seduced her. Worshiped her. He made her feel cherished and alive, both subdued and wild.
Unaccountably, tears backed up in her throat. The sensations he created with just a simple, featherlight touch were exquisite, unbearably so.
She felt the cushions of the sofa behind her knees without realizing they’d moved. He drew back, framed her face with his palms, celebrated her womanhood with the mere power of his dark gaze.
Weak, Briana sank onto the sofa, her heart beating like a runaway train. He bent down and removed her strappy gold sandals. Briana felt a moment of unease. Her feet were her least attractive feature. Yet he massaged them through the silk of her stockings, ran his palms up her calves, made her feel petite and fragile, like a world-class beauty.
Need built like steam in a pressure cooker, hot and explosive. She felt her back ease into the cushions, felt her eyes drift closed, marveled at the sensations created by his single-minded touch.
The material of his tuxedo pants brushed against her legs as he rose. Anticipation took flight like the delicate wings of a hummingbird.
Oh, yes, now, she thought, then frowned when he stepped behind her. Didn’t he realize she’d already said yes? Accepted the journey?
He stood behind the plush sofa, gently tilted her head back to rest against the pillowed fabric.
“Relax. Let me pamper you. Ease your worries.”
Briana groaned, unable to relax, wondering what good deed she’d done to deserve such exquisite treatment.
The fingertips of his left hand skimmed the curve of her neck, so lightly, in a butterfly touch, then rested beneath her upturned chin. His right hand combed through her hair, sending a burst of chills up her spine. Softly, reverently, he leaned over her and brushed his lips to her forehead.
The tenderness, the utterly focused attention on her pleasure was the most devastating gift he could have given her. Especially now, when her life felt so out of control, so chaotic.
There was no hesitation in his touch, no testing to see what she liked. He simply knew.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured against her brow. “Too fast for you?”
“Way too fast.”
He paused.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her neck arching in surrender.
Without breaking the contact of his sure touch, he came around the sofa, lifted her into his arms. Her breath snagged. She hadn’t been carried in a man’s arms since she was a child.
“There’s no need—”
“Shh.” His steps never faltered as he moved through the suite toward the bedroom, nor did his breath indicate that carrying her was a laborious act.
He paused just inside the doorway of the bedroom. “I’d like to tell you I’d be happy to talk the night away, but at this point I think it would be untrue. Tell me now if this is not what you want.”
“You can’t imagine how much I do want it...even though I shouldn’t.” The bold words heated her skin. She started to duck her head against his neck.
“Shh.” He brought his mouth to hers, sending her into a wash of desire, pleasure swimming giddily in her head.
Cool sheets touched the backs of her thighs. He laid her on the satin quilt and followed. Now there were breathless murmurs, and sighs, the thud of racing hearts as they touched and pressed and learned. She caressed his chest through the silk of his tuxedo shirt, felt the wild beat that matched her own, experienced a moment of power that she could affect him so.
With exquisite care he undressed her. She wanted to return the favor but didn’t trust her shaking fingers to accomplish the task. In silence she watched him, only looking away when the sight of his well-formed, bronze body threatened her sanity.
One entire wall of the room was of glass. A skylight let in the light of the moon, creating an ambience of romance. For tonight she was glad he hadn’t turned on the lamps. The play of shadows created from the heavens was enough. She was afraid if she saw too much, she would never again have any peace.
Because this was only one night out of her life. The only such night that she could allow.
He seemed to sense her thoughts. Fresh nerves crowded in her throat as he eased down beside her, studying her with an intensity that sent her blood speeding through her veins. The heat of his skin against hers was like fire, the cool satin beneath her a sharp contrast.
“What troubles you, querida?” he asked softly.
She shook her head, hooked her hand behind his neck and drew his lips to hers. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered against his mouth..
Joseph watched her eyes close, knew somehow that it did matter. Something was threatening this beautiful woman, twisting her insides into turmoil. He wanted to know what those secrets were, promised himself he would find out, find a way to repair whatever it was that caused her green eyes to grow distant and wary.
For now, though, he could only feel. And he was determined that she, too, would feel. Everything he had to give, and more if it was possible. She tasted like heaven, Joseph thought. He wanted to go slowly, discover her inch by fascinating inch, to savor each flavor and texture and contrast. He wasn’t absolutely certain he could wait.
He fought to keep his hands from taking too greedily, fought to keep his pace and his emotions easy, fought to steady fingers that suddenly wanted to tremble.
He’d never been so in tune to a woman—so turned on, so intensely nervous. So determined that his lady share the fierceness, the fire.
“We will not hurry,” he vowed in a voice that rasped like sandpaper, praying he didn’t say the words in vain. His hands skimmed over her delicate skin, teased the outsides of her breasts, rested over her slightly rounded stomach. She wasn’t a small woman and he found that incredibly erotic. She was soft in all the right places, firm where it counted.
“I’ve had all night to wonder.” He spoke the words against her cheek, taking a moment to appreciate the delicate shell of her ear, to test the pearl of her earring with his tongue. “All night to imagine what your skin would feel like.”
He felt her muscles quiver beneath his touch, heard her soft moan. Need, outrageous and keen, slammed through him. He buried his face in her fragrant hair, kept a firm grip on his control, gentled her when her restless limbs shifted against satin, brushed against him.
Her hips arched, helpless and seeking. Joseph took a deep breath, watched desire transform her, marveled at the contrast of his olive skin as his hand pressed against the creamy white of her stomach.
“Please,” she whispered, shattering something inside him.
Good intentions evaporated. His hands roamed over her, and when simple touch wasn’t enough, he used his mouth—tasting, caressing, worshiping.
Briana reached for him, unable to grasp a single sensation for longer than an instant. His lips and hands swept a path of fire unlike any she could have imagined. She felt weightless, almost like floating. The very air surrounding them shimmered with sensation, adding an ethereal dimension to the euphoria. Then that air took on an edge, like a razor-sharp knife heated beneath the rays of a scorching desert sun. She returned his touch, his kisses, hoarding the sensations, the impressions, the memories.
Lips clung as their bodies pressed. Faint tremors whispered along sensitized skin like taut live wires, the hum of desire buzzing in her head. Dark, desperate needs coiled in her belly, making her dizzy. She wanted to beg, yet didn’t know what to beg for.
Each new sensation rolled over her, snatching her breath. Her skin was slick with perspiration, as was his. She felt the slide of his chest against the fullness of her breasts, breasts so sensitized they almost hurt.
“No more, Joseph!”
He understood that she wasn’t asking him to stop.
“Look, querida. Watch me.”
Tears backed up in her throat as she held his intense gaze. She saw her own desperate need reflected in his deep brown eyes. Slowly, exquisitely, he entered her, still holding her with his eyes.
She moaned, might even have whimpered. She wasn’t sure. He filled her, rocked her, sent her spiraling into a stunning climax before she could even draw a breath.
She closed her eyes, images of love painted behind her lids. For endless moments she felt as if they’d actually touched the edge of heaven. She felt his breath quicken, felt a burst of blinding light behind . her closed eyes as sensation welled again, flooding her, frightening her, thrilling her. She cried out, dimly aware of the husky words of Spanish he uttered, dimly aware of his own shouted release.
Acutely aware that this small slice of paradise was all that she could allow.
She’d taken something for herself tonight and hoped to God the sweetness of these few precious hours would not haunt her for the rest of her life.
Because the bizarre reality of what she could not explain was still with her. She would not, could not drag this wonderful, tender man into her private hell.