Olivia Gates - Best of Desire

He unstrapped Kolby from the seat and she didn’t argue. Her son was still sleeping anyway. The way Tony’s big hands managed the small buckles and shuffled the sleeping child onto his shoulder with such competence touched her heart as firmly as any hothouse full of roses.

Trailing him with a backpack of toy trains and trucks, she dimly registered the house that had grown familiar after their dates to restaurants, movies and the most amazing concerts. Her soul, so starved for music, gobbled up every note.

Her first dinner at his home had been a five-course catered meal with a violinist. She could almost hear the echoing strains bouncing lightly off the high-beamed ceiling, down to the marble floor, swirling along the inlay pattern to twine around her.

Binding her closer to him. They hadn’t had sex that night, but she’d known then it was inevitable.

That first time, Tony had been thoughtful enough to send out to a different restaurant than his favored Vernon’s, guessing accurately that when a person worked eight hours a day in one eating establishment, the food there lost its allure.

He’d opted for Italian cuisine. The meal and music and elegance had been so far removed from paper plate dinners of nuggets and fries. While she adored her son and treasured every second with him, she couldn’t help but be wooed by grown-up time to herself.

Limited time as she’d never spent the night here. Until now.

She followed Tony up the circular staircase, hand on the crafted iron banister. The sight of her son sleeping so limp and relaxed against Tony brought a lump to her throat again.

The tenderness she felt seeing him hold her child reminded her how special this new man in her life was. She’d chosen him so carefully after Nolan had died, seeing Tony’s innate strength and honor. Was she really ready to throw that away?

He stopped at the first bedroom, a suite decorated in hunter green with vintage maps framed on the walls. Striding through the sitting area to the next door, he flipped back the brocade spread and set her son in the middle of the high bed.

Quietly, she put a chair on either side as a makeshift bed rail, then tucked the covers over his shoulders. She kissed his little forehead and inhaled his baby-fresh scent. Her child.

The enormity of how their lives had changed tonight swelled inside her, pushing stinging tears to the surface. Tony’s hand fell to rest on her shoulder and she leaned back….

Holy crap.

She jolted away. How easily she fell into old habits around him. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” His hand fell away and tucked into his pocket. “I’ll carry up your bags in a minute. I gave the house staff the night off.”

She followed him, just to keep their conversation soft, not because she wasn’t ready to say good-night. “I thought you trusted them.”

“I do. To a point. It’s also easier for security to protect the house with fewer people inside.” He gestured into the sitting area. “I heard what you said about feeling cut off from the world going to my father’s and I understand.”

His empathy slipped past her defenses when they were already on shaky ground being here in his house again. Remembering all the times they’d made love under this very roof, she could almost smell the bath salts from last weekend. And with him being so understanding on top of everything else…

He’d lied. She needed to remember that.

“I realize I have to do what’s right for Kolby.” She sagged onto the striped sofa, her legs folding from an emotional and exhausting night. “It scares the hell out of me how close a random teenager already got to my child, and we’re only a couple of hours into this mess. It makes me ill to think about what someone with resources could do.”

“My brothers and I have attorneys. They’ll look into pressing charges against the teen.” He sat beside her with a casual familiarity of lovers.

Remember the fight. Not the bath salts. She inched toward the armrest. “Let me know what the attorneys’ fees are, please.”

“They’re on retainer. Those lawyers also help us communicate with each other. My attorney will know we’re going to see my father if you’re worried about making sure someone is aware of your plans.”

Someone under his employ, all of this bought with Tony’s money that she’d rejected a few short days ago. And she couldn’t think of any other way. “You trust this man, your lawyer?”

“I have to.” The surety in his voice left little room for doubt. “There are some transactions that can’t be avoided no matter how much we want to sever ties with the past.”

A darker note in his voice niggled at her. “Are you talking about yourself now?”

He shrugged, broad shoulders rippling the fabric of his fine suit.

Nuh-uh. She wasn’t giving up that easily. She’d trusted so much of her life to this man, only to find he’d misled her.

Now she needed something tangible, something honest from him to hold on to. Something to let her know if that honor and strength she’d perceived in him was real. “You said you didn’t want to break off our relationship. If that’s true, this would be a really good time to open up a little.”

Angling toward her, Tony’s knee pressed against hers, his eyes heating to molten dark. “Are you saying we’re good again?”

“I’m saying…” She cleared her throat that had suddenly gone cottony dry. “Maybe I could see my way clear to forgiving you if I knew more about you.”

He straightened, his eyes sharp. “What do you want to know?”

“Why Galveston?”

“Do you surf?”

What the hell? She watched the walls come up in his eyes. She could almost feel him distancing himself from her. “Tony, I’m not sure how sharing a Surf’s Up moment is going to make things all better here.”

“But have you ever been surfing?” He gestured, his hands riding imaginary waves. “The Atlantic doesn’t offer as wild a ride as the Pacific, but it gets the job done, especially in Spain. Something to do with the atmospheric pressure coming down from the U.K. I still remember the swells tubing.” He curled his fingers around into the cresting circle of a wave.

“You’re a surfer? ” She tried to merge the image of the sleek business shark with the vision of him carefree on a board. And instead an image emerged of his abandon when making love. Her breasts tingled and tightened, awash in the sensation of sea spray and Tony all over her skin.

“I’ve always been fascinated with waves.”

“Even when you were in San Rinaldo.” The picture of him began to make more sense. “It’s an island country, right?”

She’d always thought the nautical art on his walls was tied into his shipping empire. Now she realized the affinity for such pieces came from living on an island. So much about him made sense.

His surfing hand soared to rest on the gold flecked globe beside the sofa. Was it her imagination or was the gloss dimmer over the coast of Spain? As if he’d rubbed his finger along that area more often, taking away the sheen over time.

He spun the globe. “I thought you didn’t know much about the Medinas.”

“I researched you on Google on my phone while we were driving over.” Concrete info had been sparse compared to all the crazy gossip floating about, but there were some basics. Three sons. A monarch father. A mother who’d been killed as they were escaping. Her heart squeezed thinking of him losing a parent so young, not much older than Kolby.

She pulled a faltering smile. “There weren’t any surfer pictures among the few images that popped up.”

Only a couple of grainy formal family portraits of three young boys with their parents, everyone happy. Some earlier photos of King Enrique looking infinitely regal.