Her Unforgettable Royal Lover(58)

“Sarah’s been so good to me,” she said, breaking the small silence. “I need to help put the final touches on her book.”

“Of course you do. I, too, must go back to work. I’ve been away from it too long.”

She plucked at the hem of her borrowed shirt. She should probably ask Dom to take her on a quick shopping run. She could hardly show up for a meeting with Sarah’s editor in jeans and a tank top, much less a man’s soccer shirt. Yet she hated to spend her last hours in Budapest cruising boutiques.

She tried to hide her misery at the thought of leaving, but Dom had to see it when he curled a knuckle under her chin and tipped her face to his.

“Perhaps this is for the best, drágám. You’ve had so much thrown at you in such a short time. The dive into the Danube. The memory loss. Me,” he said with a crooked grin. “You need to step back and take a breath.”

“You’re probably right,” she mumbled.

“I know I am. And when you’ve helped Sarah put her book to bed, you and I will decide where we go from there, yes?”

She wanted to believe him. Ached all over with the need to throw herself into his arms and make him swear this wasn’t the end. Unfortunately, all she could think of was Kiss Kiss Arabella’s outrageously expensive panties and Lovely Lisel’s effusive greeting and Gina’s laughing comments about her studly cousin and…

Dominic cut into those lowering thoughts by tugging her up and off the sofa with him. “So! Since this is your last night in Budapest for a while at least, we should make it one to remember.”

For a while at least. Natalie clung to the promise of that small phrase as Dom scooped up his phone and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. Taking time only to pull on the red-and-black soccer shirt with its distinctive logo on the sleeve, he insisted she throw on the jacket she’d pretty much claimed as her own before hustling her to the door.

“Where are we going?”

“My very favorite place in all the city.”

* * *

Since the city boasted spectacular architecture, a world-class opera house, soaring cathedrals, palatial spas and a moonlit, romantic castle perched high on its own hill, Natalie couldn’t begin to guess which was Dom’s favorite spot. She certainly wouldn’t have picked the café/bar he ushered her into on the Pest side of the river. It was tiny, just one odd-shaped room, and noisy and crammed with men decked out in red-and-black-striped shirts. Most were around Dom’s age, although Natalie saw a sprinkling of both freckles and gray hair among the men. Many stood with arms looped over the shoulders or around the waists of laughing, chatting women.

They were greeted with hearty welcomes and backslaps and more than one joking “His Grace” or “Grand Duke.” Dom made so many introductions Natalie didn’t even try to keep names and faces matched. As the beer flowed and his friends graciously switched to English to include her in the lively conversation, she learned she would have a ringside seat—via satellite and high-definition TV—at the World Cup European playoffs. Hungary’s team had been eliminated in the quarterfinals, much to the disgust of everyone in the bar, but they’d grudgingly shifted their allegiance to former rival Slovakia.

With such a large crowd and such limited seating, Natalie watched the game, nestled on Dom’s lap. Hoots and boos and foot-stomping thundered after every contested call. Cheers and ear-splitting whistles exploded when Slovakia scored halfway through the first quarter. Or was it the first half? Third? Natalie had no clue.

She was deafened by the noise, jammed knee to knee with strangers, breathing in the tang of beer and healthy male sweat, and she loved every minute of it! The noise, the excitement, the color, the casually possessive arm Dom hooked around her waist. She filed away every sensory impression, every scent and sound and vivid visual image, so she could retrieve them later. When she was back in New York or L.A. or wherever she landed after Sarah’s book hit the shelves.

She refused to dwell on the uncertain future during the down-to-the-wire game. Nor while she and Dom took the hound for a romp through the park at the base of the castle. Not even when they returned to the loft and he hooked his arms around her waist as she stood in front of the wall of windows, drinking in her last sight of the Parliament’s floodlit dome and spires across the river.

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

“Like you,” he said, nuzzling her ear.

“Ha! Not hardly.”

“You don’t see what I see.”

He turned her, keeping her in the circle of his arms, and cradled her hips against his. His touch was featherlight as he stroked her cheek.