Pregnant with a Royal Baby!(17)

"I'm mad at you because every day it becomes clearer and clearer that I'm going to hurt you."

She tilted her head, not quite understanding what he was getting at.

"You say you don't want to get drawn into this life and I believe you.  But you and I..." He downed the shot of Scotch and poured another. "We  sort of fit. You feel it as much as I do. It's not something we plan or  intend to do. It's that thing that happens at odd moments. The times  we're on the same page or thinking the same thought and we know it with  just a glance." He walked from behind the bar to stand directly in front  of her. "And pretty soon we're going to start remembering how good we  are together in other ways and then we're going to be sleeping  together."

Her heart thumped. He was feeling the same things she was. That  unexpected trust. That sense that everything was going to be okay. "You  thought we were good together?"

"You know we were good together."

"And you think we fit?"

"I see those little things happen every day. You liked fastening my cuff  links. I like fighting your simple battles over things like jeans  versus white suits."

She searched his gaze. Ridiculous hope filled her chest to capacity.  They really were getting to know each other and in knowing each other,  they were beginning to genuinely like each other.

For once, having more than a surface relationship didn't scare her.  Maybe because she knew it had a time limit. She could get close, make  love, get married, have a baby with Dom, knowing it was going to end.  Secure in the fact that they would part amicably, she wouldn't suffer  the pains of rejection. She would simply move on. And she would have had  a chance she never thought she'd get: a chance to really be in love. To  know what it felt like to share. To be part of something wonderful. All  under the protection of the knowledge that it wouldn't last forever.  She didn't have to be perfect forever. She didn't even have to be good  forever. Or to suit Dom forever. She only had to make this work for a  little over two years.

"And you don't think it's a good thing that we get along?"

"I have a job to do. I've told you that if you get in the way of that job, I will always pick the kingdom over you."

She swallowed and nodded, knowing exactly what he was saying, but her  stomach fluttered. When they first decided to marry, he had been sure  he'd always take the kingdom's side over hers. But this very argument  proved that he was changing. And he clearly wasn't happy about that.

"Is this the part where I say I'm sorry?"

He sniffed and looked away. "Sorry again? Why this time?"

"Because I think I tempt you. I think that's why you're really mad. I  think knowing me has made you feel that you'd like to be a real boy,  Pinocchio."

"So I'm a puppet?"

"No. I think you'd like the freedom to make up your own mind, to make  your own choices, but you're afraid of what will happen to your  kingdom."

He caught her gaze. "You make it sound like an idiotic dilemma. But it  isn't. We might be a small kingdom but we're an important one." He slid  his hand across her shoulder and to her long ponytail. He ran the fat  braid through his fingers as if it were spun gold. "One woman should not  change that."

Even as he said the words, he stepped closer. He wrapped the braid  around his knuckles and tugged her forward until they almost touched,  but not quite. The air between them crackled, not with memories of how  good they'd been together but with anticipation. If they kissed now,  changed the terms of their deal now, the next two years would be very  different.                       
       
           



       

And she wanted it. Not just for the sex. For the intimacy and the chance  to be genuinely close to someone, even as she had the magical out of a  two-year time limit.

He lowered his head slowly, giving her time, it seemed, to pull away if  she wanted. But, mesmerized by the desperation in his black eyes, she  stood perfectly still, barely breathing. He wanted this, too, and even  though she knew he was going to kiss her, she also knew he fought a  demon. He might want to be king, but he also wanted to be a man.

When his lips touched hers, she didn't think of that night two months  ago, she thought of this moment, of how he needed her, even if he didn't  see it.

She slid her arms around his neck as he released her braid, letting it  swing across her back. With his hand now free, he brought her closer  still. The press of her breasts to his chest knocked the air out of her  lungs as his lips moved across hers roughly.

He was angry, she knew, because she was upsetting his well-laid plans.  The irony of it was he'd been upsetting her plans, her life, from the  second she'd met him. It only seemed fitting that finally she was doing  the same to him.

Standing on tiptoe, she returned his kiss, as sure as he was. If he  wanted to talk about unfair, she would show him unfair. The only way she  could be intimate with someone was knowing she had an out. The  inability to trust that her dad had instilled in her had crippled her  for anything but a relationship that couldn't last. She wouldn't share  the joy of raising children. She was lucky to get a child. She wouldn't  grow old with someone. The best she would get would be memories of  whatever love, intimacy, happiness they could cobble together in the  next two years. And even as it gave her at least slight hope, it also  angered her mightily.

They dueled for a few seconds, each fighting for supremacy, until  suddenly his mouth softened over hers. His hands slid down her back to  her bottom, while his mouth lured her away from her anger and to that  place where the softness of their kisses spoke of their real feelings.

Like it or not, they were falling in love.

And it wasn't going to last.

But it was all Ginny Jones, high school guidance counselor from Texas with the alcoholic dad, was going to get in her lifetime.

So she wanted it. She wanted the intimacy, the friendship, the secrets and dreams.

The only problem was she had no idea how to go about getting any of it.





CHAPTER SEVEN

IT TOOK EVERY ounce of concentration Dom could muster to pull away from  Ginny. He'd never before felt the things he felt with her, but that was  the problem. He'd never experienced any of these things because he'd  avoided them. Not because he'd never met anyone like Ginny, but because  he'd always been strong.

So when he stepped away, it wasn't with regret. It was with  self-recrimination. He did not want what she seemed to be offering. And  if they didn't stop this idiotic game, just as he'd told her, he was  going to hurt her.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." He turned and walked to  his room, vowing to himself that something like that kiss would never  happen again.

The next day, he left before breakfast and didn't come back to his  quarters until long past time for supper. That worked so well he decided  to keep up that schedule.

At first, she'd waited for him on the sofa in the sitting room. So he'd  stride into the room, barely glancing at her, and walk right past the  bar, saying, "It was a long day. I'm going to shower and go right to  bed."

And pretty soon she stopped waiting up.

For two weeks, he managed to avoid her in their private times and keep  his distance when they were in public, but he could see something going  on in that crazy head of hers. Every time they got within two feet of  each other, she'd smile so prettily she'd temporarily throw him off  balance. But he'd always remind himself he was strong. And it worked,  but he wasn't superhuman. If something didn't give, they'd end up  talking again. Or kissing. Or just plain forming a team. And then she'd  get all the wrong ideas.

A week before the wedding, her bridesmaids arrived and he breathed a  sigh of relief. Jessica and Molly were two teachers from her school,  both of whom had just finished their semester. Dom smiled politely when  Ginny introduced them and he shook both of their hands, reminding them  they had met when he visited their school.

Molly laughed. "Of course, we remember you. We didn't think you'd remember us."

He smiled briefly. "It's my job to care for a country full of people.  Remembering names, really seeing people when I look at them, is part of  that."

Jessica nodded sagely as if she totally understood and agreed, but his  future bride tilted her head in a way that told him she was turning that  over in her mind, putting that statement up against other things he'd  said.                       
       
           



       

Good. He hoped she was. Because from here on out that was his main goal.  If she wanted to be part of his life, and for the next two years or so  she had to be, then she needed not just to hear that but to fully  understand it. His country came first. She would be second. And then  only for about two years. He did not intend to get personally involved  with her. God knew he'd sleep with her in a New York minute if he could  be sure nothing would come of it. But that ship had sailed. They were  getting to know each other, getting to like each other. If they went any  further, their breakup would be a disaster.