Pregnant with a Royal Baby!(14)

She shook her head.

"So call them."

* * *

Ginny watched Dom leave the sitting room and head for his bedroom suite,  fighting that feeling again. Except this time, she named it. She wasn't  worried about liking him or even being attracted to him. What she was  feeling-or maybe recognizing-was that he was a nice guy. A good person.  She thanked God he'd reminded her that the wedding needed to "look"  authentic to serve his purpose. Otherwise, she might have melted right  there at his feet.

She could resist the solemn guy, the one who would be king someday, who  wanted everything to be perfect. The other guy, the sweet one who tried  to make her happy? That was the guy who had been staring at her in the  elevator. The one she'd wanted to kiss. He was the one she had to watch  out for.

She returned to her room, found her laptop and connected with her two  best friends on Skype. They knew she was pregnant, of course. She'd gone  to them for guidance. She'd also called them the day she'd fainted,  when she'd agreed to marry Dom. They were not surprised to be receiving  invitations to be bridesmaids.

That little piece of normalcy lifted her spirits. It wasn't going to be a  real marriage but it was going to be a real wedding, and she was going  to look pretty and have her friends with her. They would keep her  occupied the week before the big day. And, in a good mood, she'd be  better able to look happy for the ceremony.

The next morning at breakfast, she showed her appreciation to Dominic by asking him how his meetings had gone the night before.

He winced. "There are one or two people who fear we are making an  alliance with the United States by bringing you into the royal family."

She laughed. When he didn't, she said, "Really? Seriously? They think  marrying a commoner from the United States is a lead-in to a treaty?"

"My brother will be marrying a woman as part of a treaty. Why would you be surprised our government is questioning my marriage?"

She shook her head and went back to her oatmeal. "I forget that your country looks at marriage differently."

"It's not really my country that looks at marriage differently. It's the  royal family and what's expected of us. I'll be spending weeks  alleviating the fears of several members of parliament, assuring them  that our marriage is not part of a big master plan."                       
       
           



       

Taking a bite of oatmeal, she nodded. "I get it. It's something you  shouldn't think you have to do, but you will. Just like I'll be spending  two hours with Sally's staff today, learning how to curtsy."

"I thought curtsying was out. Old school. Something nobody did anymore."

"According to Sally's morning memo, there are some small eastern  European countries that still believe in it. I just hope we don't run  into any of those royal families when I'm big-as-a-house pregnant. I  can't imagine curtsying and balancing twenty-five pounds of stomach."

He laughed. "You're going to make an interesting princess."

"Lucky for you, it's only for a little over two years."

He said, "Uh-huh," and went back to reading his newspaper.

Ginny didn't care. Their conversation proved that she could talk to the  "nice" Dominic and not get carried away. They did not have to be best  friends. But they did have to get along. They had to look good together  in public. They needed to know enough about each other that their  charade appeared to be real. And this morning it was clear they were  succeeding.

If there was a little rumble in her heart about wasting her wedding, a  beautiful wedding, on a fake marriage, she silenced it. She'd never  imagined herself getting married. Living with her dad had scared her off  that. She'd never allow herself to let her guard down with a man enough  to get serious enough to get married. So this was her wedding. Her one  shot at being a bride. She'd be a fool not to make it as perfect as she  could.

At four o'clock that afternoon, Dom unexpectedly returned to the  apartment. As they had the day before, Joshua and Sally sat on the sofa  across from her. The photo arrays and designer lists were with them.

She faced the door with a smile. "I thought you had more glad-handing to do."

He walked in and said, "I do. But I was the one who told Sally and  Joshua to bring the designer lists up to you again. I wanted to make  sure we were all on the same page."

"They told me you said I wasn't sure about the designer." She bit her  lip, not happy that something she'd told him had become an issue.

He caught her gaze. "I want you to be sure."

The feeling whooshed through her again. The one that told her he was  looking out for her because he was a nice guy. He might not love her. He  might not even know her well enough to like her. But he was a nice  enough guy that he wanted her to be happy.

"Okay."

Even as she said that, the big double doors of Dominic's apartment opened. "Ginny?"

Ginny's head snapped up. "Mom?"

She blinked as she saw her tall, slim mother race into the sitting room  from the echoing foyer. Wearing a tan pantsuit that the king probably  would have loved for its dignity, she ran over to Ginny.

Ginny rose and was enfolded into her mom's hug. After a long squeeze, she said, "Let me look at you!"

"Why aren't you in school?"

"Dom called. He said you needed help with your gown."

Her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes. This act of Dominic's  was a little more difficult to call the actions of a nice guy trying to  keep her happy. Having her mother flown to Xaviera was so kind it made  her chest tight.

"I don't exactly need help. I just love your opinions."

Her mom said, "Even better." Then she faced Joshua and Sally, both of whom had risen. "And you must be Sally and Joshua."

Sally bowed slightly. Joshua said, "She's actually very clear about what she wants. I think she just needs your reassurance."

"Joshua, Sally, this is my mother, Rose Jones."

Ginny's mom smiled broadly. Her pretty blond hair had a hint of pink in  it, because-well, she was a Texas girl, who'd grown up dancing to the  Beach Boys and riding horses, and that crazy part of her had no  intention of dying. "Let me see the designers and the dresses."

Joshua immediately handed over the photo array panels, but Ginny stepped  away and slid around to the back of the couch where Dom stood.

He raised his eyebrows in question. "What?"

"You told my mom I needed help?"

He shook his head. "No, I called her and said I wanted you to be happy planning this wedding."

The sweetness of the gesture filled her heart. "I would have been okay."

"And the wedding would have looked fake."

This time the reminder that he didn't want the wedding to look fake  didn't go through her like a knife. It was their deal. He'd always been  up-front about their deal.                       
       
           



       

The crazy feeling she got around nice Dom morphed into something soft and happy. "We're going to have a beautiful wedding."

He smiled. "Yes, we are."

The air between them changed. For a few seconds, she debated springing  to her tiptoes and hugging him, but that wasn't really acceptable,  either.

Holding his gaze, she took a step back, then another, suddenly realizing  why she kept getting odd nudges. After decades of surface relationships  that she'd ended before she even knew the guy she was involved with,  she'd managed to never really know anyone, never get beyond platitudes.  But planning a fake wedding? Living in the same apartment with Dom?  Coconspirators to protect their child? She was getting to know him. And  she liked him. A lot more than she'd ever liked any man.

And he'd warned her not to spin a fairy-tale fantasy because he didn't want a marriage with emotion.





CHAPTER SIX

TWO DAYS LATER, Dom strode down the marble-floored hall to the double  doors of his apartment. Since Rose had arrived, his home had become like  a beehive. Where Ginny might be shy about creating a wardrobe, Rose had  taken to the task as if she was born to it. Designers had been called  in. Dresses and pants arrived for fittings. Two styles of wedding  dresses had been chosen and Alfredo Larenzo, an Italian designer, had  been hired to create them.

With a wince, he partially opened one of the two double doors, sticking  his head in far enough to see into the living room. Which was,  mercifully, empty. For a second, he hoped that Ginny and her mom had  gone out for lunch, but his chest pinched. Since Rose had arrived, he'd  also barely seen Ginny.

Not that he missed her. He didn't really know her. They were in a fake  situation. There was nothing to miss. The thing was, he liked seeing  her. Usually, she was funny. After four-hour sessions in parliament,  funny was welcome. So he didn't miss her. He missed her silliness.