His Thirty-Day Fiancée

The pharmaceutical heir smiled his welcome and reached for the microphone. “Dear friends and family,” he called for his guests’ attention.

Some still milled over their dinner of beef tenderloin, stuffed with crab and scallops. Others collected around the stage waiting for the band to return from their break.

Ramon continued, “—please welcome our special guest who has generously graced us with his presence—”

Bowing and scraping was highly overrated.

“—Prince Duarte Medina.”

Applause, gasps and the general crap he’d already grown weary of bounced around the half-toasted wedding guests who’d been whooping it up for a week’s worth of celebration. Times like these he almost understood his father’s decision to live in total seclusion.

Once the hubbub died down, Ramon pulled the mic to his mouth again. “A hearty welcome as well to his lovely date for the evening—”

Duarte stopped alongside Ramon and spoke, filling the room without artificial aid. “I hope you will all join me in celebrating a second happy event this evening. This lovely woman at my side, Kate Harper, has agreed to be my wife.”

Lifting her left hand, he kissed her fingers, strategically displaying the ring. Cameras flashed, thanks to the select media that had been invited. Kate had been on target by calling her sister. This news would be all over the internet within the hour—just as he intended.

Comments jumbled on top of each other from the partyers, while Kate stayed silent, a smile pasted on her face. Smart woman. The less said, the better.

“Congratulations!”

“How did you two m—?”

“No wonder he dumped Chelsea—”

“Oh, you both must come to our—”

“Why haven’t we heard anything about her before now?”

Duarte decided that last question deserved addressing. “Why would I let the press chew Kate alive before I could persuade her to marry me?”

Good-natured laughter increased, as did the curiosity in the sea of faces. He needed to divert their thoughts. And the best way?

Claim that kiss he’d been craving since the second he’d felt the give of Kate’s soft body against him on the balcony.

Her ring hand still clasped in his, he folded her arm against his chest. The pulse in her wrist beat faster under his thumb, her pupils widening with a clear signal of awakening desire. She didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her much either after what she’d put his family through.

But neither of them could look away.

The whispers and shuffling from the guests dulled in his ears as he focused only on her. He brushed his mouth across hers, lightly, only close enough to graze the barest friction across her bottom lip. She gasped, opening just enough to send a surge of success through him. As much as he wanted to draw this out and see how long it would take her to melt fully against him, they did have an audience and this kiss served a purpose other than seduction.

Time to seal the deal.

A second after Duarte sealed his mouth to hers, Kate had to grab the front of his tuxedo jacket to keep from stumbling. Shock. It must be shock.

But her tingling body called her a great big liar.

The seductive rasp of his calloused hand cupping her face, the light tug on her bottom lip between his teeth threatened her balance far more than any surprise. Her fingers twisted tighter in the fine weave of fabric. Tingles sparked until her eyes fluttered closed, blocking out their audience, the very reason for this display in the first place. But whatever the reason, she wanted his mouth on hers.

Sure, the attraction had been evident from the start, but still she hadn’t been prepared for this. There were kisses…

And then there were kisses.

Duarte’s slow and deliberate intensity clearly qualified as one of the latter. Tension from the whole crazy night unfurled inside her, flooding her body with a roaring need that blocked out the gawkers and whispers. The cool firm pressure of his lips to hers—confident and persuasive—had her swaying against him, her clenched hands between them.

Memories of his bronzed flesh flashed through her mind. How much more of him would she see in the coming month? And if she was this tempted after a mere couple of hours together, how much worse might the attraction become with a month of these pretend fiancée kisses and touches?

His mandarin-cedar scent enfolded her as seductively as his arms. She splayed her fingers on the hard wall of his chest. The twitch of muscles under her touch offered a cold splash of reality.

What in the world was wrong with her that she could be so thoroughly entranced by a guy she’d just met? Her bank balance, her career, her sister’s very future demanded she keep a level head.

Easier said than done when the stroke of his tongue along the seam of her lips sent a lightning bolt straight through her.

She pulled away sharply before she did something reckless, like ask him to continue this later. Kate scavenged a smile and gave Duarte a playful pat on the chest for the benefit of their witnesses, people dressed in designer clothes and wearing jewels that rivaled even those around her neck. This was his world, not hers. She was just a thirty-day guest and she would do well to remember that.

This party alone offered plenty of lavish reminders. Duarte took her arm and excused them both from the festivities. A legion of uniformed staff gathered the remains of the meal as she walked past. Her mouth watered at the leftover beef tenderloin, stuffed lobster tail…and wedding cake. Okay, technically it was a groom’s cake for the rehearsal dinner, but still.