Olivia Gates - Best of Desire

Shannon gasped.

“What?” Tony looked fast. “Did you step on something? Are you getting chilly?”

Shaking her head, she pointed toward the trees, branches and leaves sweeping apart to reveal the small stone chapel. “Why didn’t I notice that when we drove here?”

“We approached the beach from a different angle.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Her eyes were wide and curious.

“No need to look so surprised. I told you that we lived here 24/7. My father outfitted the island with everything we would need, from a small medical clinic to that church.” He took in the white stone church, mission bell over the front doors. It wasn’t large, but big enough to accommodate everyone here. His older brother had told him once it was the only thing on the island built to resemble a part of their old life.

“Were you an altar server?”

Her voice pulled him back to the present.

“With a short-lived tenure.” He glanced down at her, so damn glad she was talking to him again. “I couldn’t sit still and the priest frowned on an altar server bringing a bag of books and Legos to keep himself entertained during the service.”

“Legos?” She started walking again. “Really?”

“Every Sunday as I sat out in the congregation. I would have brought more, but the nanny confiscated my squirt gun.”

“Don’t be giving Kolby any ideas.” She elbowed him lightly, then as if realizing what she’d done, picked up her pace.

Hell no, he wasn’t losing ground that fast. “The nanny didn’t find my knife though.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You brought a knife to church?”

“I carved my initials under the pew. Wanna go see if they’re still there?”

She eyed the church, then shook her head. “What’s all this about today? The surfing and then stories about Legos?”

Why? He hadn’t stopped to consider the reasons, just acting on instinct to keep up with the crazy, out-of-control relationship with Shannon. But he didn’t do things without a reason.

His gut had pointed him in this direction because… “So that you remember there’s a man in here.” He thumped his chest. “As well as a filthy rich prince.”

But no matter what he said or how far he got from this place, the Medina heritage coursed through his veins. Regardless of how many times he changed his name or started over, he was still Antonio Medina. And Shannon had made it clear time and time again, she didn’t want that kind of life. Finally, he heard her.

* * *

Several hours later, Shannon shoved her head deeper into the industrial sized refrigerator in search of a midnight snack. A glass of warm milk just wasn’t going to cut it.

Eyeing the plate of trufas con cognac and small cups of crema catalana, she debated whether to go for the brandy truffles or cold custard with caramel on top…. She picked one of each and dropped into a seat at the steel table.

Silence bounced and echoed in the cavernous kitchen. She was sleepy and cranky and edgy. And it was all Tony’s fault for tormenting her with charming stories and sexy encounters on the water—then shutting her out. She nipped an edge of the liqueur-flavored chocolate. Amazing. Sighing, she sagged back in the chair.

Since returning from their surfing outing, he’d kept his distance. She’d thought they were getting closer on a deeper level when he’d shared about his sister and even the Lego, then, wham. He’d turned into the perfect—distant—host at the stilted family dinner.

Not that she’d been able to eat a bite.

Now, she was hungry, in spite of the fact she’d finished off the truffle. She spooned a scoop of custard into her mouth, although she suspected no amount of gourmet pastries would satisfy the craving gnawing her inside.

When she’d started dating Tony, she’d taken a careful, calculated risk because her hormones had been hollering for him and she’d been a long, long time without sex. Okay, so her hormones hadn’t been shouting for just any man. Only Tony. A problem that didn’t seem to have abated in the least.

“Ah, hell.” Tony’s low curse startled her upright in her seat.

Filling the archway, he studied her cautiously. He wore jeans and an open button-down that appeared hastily tossed on. He fastened two buttons in the middle, slowly shielding the cut of his six-pack abs.

Cool custard melted in her mouth, her senses singing. But her heart was aching and confused. She toyed with the neck of her robe nervously. The blue peignoir set covered her from neck to toes, but the loose-fitting chiffon and lace brushed sensual decadence against her skin. The froufrou little kitten heels to match had seemed over-the-top in her room, but now felt sexy and fun.

Her hands shook. She pressed them against the steel topped table. “Don’t mind me. I’m just indulging in a midnight feeding frenzy. I highly recommend the custard cups in the back right corner of the refrigerator.”

He hesitated in the archway as if making up his mind, then walked deeper into the kitchen, passing her without touching. “I was thinking in terms of something more substantial, like a sandwich.”

“Are princes allowed to make their own snacks?”

“Who’s going to tell me no?” He kicked the fridge closed, his hands full of deli meat, cheese and lettuce, a jar of spread tucked under his elbow.

“Good point.” She swirled another spoonful. “I hope the cook doesn’t mind I’ve been foraging around. I actually used the stove, too, when I cooked a late night snack for Kolby. He woke up hungry.”

Tony glanced over from his sandwich prep. “Is he okay?”

“Just a little homesick.” Her eyes took in the sight of the Tony she remembered, a man who wore jeans low-slung on his hips. And rumpled hair…she enjoyed the disobedient swirls in his hair most.

“I’m sorry for that.” His shoulders tensed under the loose chambray.

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate how everyone has gone out of their way for him. The gourmet kid cuisine makes meals an adventure. I wish I had thought to tell him rolled tortillas are snakes and caterpillars.” Pasta was called worms or a nest. “I’m even becoming addicted to Nutella crepes. But sometimes, a kid just needs the familiar feel of home.”

“I understand.” His sandwich piled high on a plate, he took a seat—across from her rather than beside as he would have in the past.

“Of course you do.” She clenched her hands together to keep from reaching out to him. “Well, I’ll have to make sure the cook knows I tried to put everything back where I found it.”

“He’s more likely to be upset that you called him a cook rather than a chef.”

“Ah, a chef. Right. All those nuances between your world and mine.” How surreal to be having a conversation with a prince over a totally plebian hoagie.

Tony swiped at his mouth with a linen napkin and draped it over his knee again. “You ran in a pretty high-finance world with your husband.”

Her husband’s dirty money.

She shoved away the custard bowl. Thoughts of the media regurgitating that mess for public consumption made her nauseated. She wasn’t close to her in-laws, but they would suffer hearing their precious son’s reputation smeared again.

And God help them all if her own secrets were somehow discovered.

Best to lie low and keep to herself. Although she was finding it increasingly difficult to imagine how she would restart her life. Even if she was able to renew her teaching credentials, who was going to want to hire the infamous Medina Mistress who’d once been married to a crook? When this mess was over, she would have to dig deep to figure out how to recreate a life for herself and Kolby.

Could Tony be having second thoughts about their relationship? His strict code of honor would dictate he take care of her until the media storm passed, but she didn’t want to be his duty.