Brenda Harlen - The Prince's Holiday Baby

Molly’s breath caught. “I have never seen a sunset like that.”

“And I have never seen anything like you framed by the sunset,” he said.

Then his mouth covered hers.

His lips were warm and firm, confident in their mastery. And, once again, there was no hesitation in her response.

The warm strength of his arms around her wasn’t just familiar, it was right. And the explosion of sensations made her mind spin, her heart pound and her body yearn.

He found the pins that held her twist in place and slipped them out so that her hair spilled into his hands. His fingers sifted through the tresses, caught the ends to tip her head back, changing the angle and deepening the kiss.

She wanted him—there was no denying that fact. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up in the moment, the romance, the fantasy.

There was too much at stake now.

Brenda Harlengrew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practising as a lawyer (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In memory of Tom Torrance—January

28, 1951-March 6, 2008

A teacher and mentor and friend;

a genuine prince among men.

“You didn’t need to come over here, Grandma. I told you on the phone that I was fine.”

Theresa Shea plunked her purse on the bar and narrowed her gaze on her granddaughter behind the counter at Shea’s Bar & Grill. Yes, she certainly looked fine. But Molly had always been one to keep her chin up no matter how much her heart was breaking inside. And she’d had a lot of heartbreak to deal with over the past six months.

“Maybe I needed to see for myself.”

“And now you have.”

“And now that I’m here, maybe I’d like a cup of coffee.”

Molly poured her a cup of coffee, pushed it across the counter.

She’d been working there for so many years now, she didn’t even have to think about the tasks anymore. Everything was automatic, routine, and not at all what James Shea wanted for his daughter.

“What are you doing here?” Theresa asked softly.

“Right now? Trying to figure out the produce order for next week.”

“He wanted you to go to college, to do something more.”

Her granddaughter’s fingers tightened around the pencil in her hand, but there was no other outward sign of the emotions that were churning inside her. Molly didn’t talk about her father but Theresa knew he was in her thoughts almost constantly, especially here, at the restaurant that had been his livelihood and his life. And she knew that Molly was so determined to hold on to Shea’s because it was the only part of her father she had left.

“I’m happy here,” Molly finally said.

“Are you?”

Molly continued punching numbers into the calculator, frowned.

Theresa tried a different tack. “Do you ever write anymore?”

“I write checks to pay the bills.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s all I have time for right now.”

“You have to learn to take time for the things that are more enoyable than necessary.”

“I will,” Molly promised. “After all the necessary things are done.”

Theresa picked up her purse. She knew when she was banging her head against a wall and her granddaughter’s stubbornness was a brick wall.

“All right, I’ll go. But if you need anything—”

Molly leaned across the counter to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “I won’t. I’ll be fine.”

Which was exactly why Theresa was worried.

The phone rang as she turned away, and Molly reached for it. Theresa didn’t hear the words she spoke, but the tone gave her pause. When Molly hung up, she said only one word, “Abbey.”

Molly’s sister, Theresa’s youngest granddaughter, had disappeared ** a few days earlier after leaving a note that said only “don’t worry—I’ll be home in a few days” and absolutely nothing about where she was going or who she was with.

“Where is she?”

“Las Vegas.” Molly swallowed. “With Jason.”

Theresa didn’t want to ask, was certain she already knew, and her granddaughter’s next words confirmed it.

“She just married my fiancé.”

Nine years later —

Prince Eric Santiago lied when he told his best friend that he had a plane to catch. The truth was, his pilot wasn’t coming to pick him up for the return trip to Tesoro del Mar until the following morning, but after almost two weeks with Scott Delsey and his soon-to-be-wife, Eric needed some space. Spending so much time with the blissful couple and seeing how in love they were only made him more aware of what was missing from his own life.

When he’d accepted the invitation to visit Scott’s ranch in Texas, he’d thought his friend might want to offer him a job at DELconnex, his communications company. On more than one occasion in the past, Scott had mentioned that he could use someone with Eric’s education and experience, though they both knew Eric had no intention of leaving the Tesorian navy.

Now, of course, the situation had changed, and Eric was willing to consider any possibilities his friend presented. It turned out one of those possibilities was to stand up as the best man at Scott’s wedding.

It seemed that everywhere around him people were getting married and having babies. First it was his eldest brother, Rowan, who had been forced by tragedy and tradition to the altar. Luckily for him, he’d managed to fall in love along the way. After six years of marriage, he and Lara were happier than the day they’d exchanged their vows, even with—or maybe because of—the two active young sons who did their best to run their parents ragged.

Three years after Rowan pledged “till death do us part,” their youngest brother, Marcus, had found a woman who inspired him to do the same. Recently, he and Jewel had welcomed their first child into the world—a beautiful baby girl who looked just like her mother and already exhibited the legendary charm of her father.

Both of his brothers had lucked out, and Eric was genuinely happy for them. But the only mistress Eric had ever been committed to was the sea—and she’d tossed him aside, carelessly discarding everything he’d given her and taking away everything he was.

As he drove his rented Mercedes northeast toward San Antonio, he forced himself to acknowledge the truth he’d been avoiding for too long—he wasn’t just alone, he was lonely.

He envied what Rowan had with Lara, what Marcus had with Jewel, what Scott had with Fiona. And he wondered why he’d never met a woman who made him think in terms of marriage and forever. Okay, having spent the better part of the last twelve years on board a ship might have something to do with it. Add to that the uncertainty of never knowing if the women he’d been with were genuinely interested in him or only attracted to his title or his uniform, and it probably wasn’t surprising that he’d reached the age of thirty-six without ever having been in a long-term, committed relationship. Still, the realization wasn’t going to fill his life or keep him warm in bed at night.