The Prince's Secret Baby

Both of those relationships had developed in the logical, sensible way. She’d come to believe that she loved those men over a reasonable period of time, after getting to know them well—or so she had thought.

And look what had happened. She learned in the end that she hadn’t really known either Ryan or Peter. Not well enough, she hadn’t. With both men, it had ended in heartbreak. Those failures should have made her more wary. Those failures had made her more wary.

Until today. Until she met Rule.

With Rule, her heart seemed to have a will of its own. With him, she wanted to just go for it. To take the leap, take a chance. She didn’t want to be wary with him. With him, she could almost become a believer in love at first sight.

If only he wasn’t put off by learning that she already had a child….

“It’s all right,” he said so gently. “Go on.”

And she did. “I was almost thirty, when it ended with Peter. I wanted to make partner in my firm and I wanted a family. I knew I could do both.”

He gave a slow nod. “But the men were not cooperating.”

“Exactly. So I decided … to have a family anyway. A family without a man. I went to a top cryobank—a sperm bank, at a fertility clinic?”

“Yes,” he said in a way that could only be called cautious. “I know what a cryobank is.”

“Well, all right.” Her hands were shaking. She lowered them to her lap so he wouldn’t see. “I went to a sperm bank. I had artificial insemination. The procedure was successful. I got pregnant. And now I have a beautiful, healthy two-year-old son.”

“You have a child,” he repeated, carefully. “A boy.”

She folded her hands good and tight in her lap to still the shaking. And her heart seemed to have stopped dead in her chest—and then commenced beating way too hard and too fast. It hurt, her own heart, the way it pounded away in there. Because she knew, absolutely, that it was over, between her and Rule, over before it had even really begun. And it didn’t matter how perfect he was for her. It didn’t matter if he just happened to be her dream-come-true. It didn’t matter that he made her want to believe in love at first sight. She was absolutely certain at that moment that he wouldn’t accept Trevor. And if he didn’t accept her son, she wanted nothing to do with him.

In a moment, she would be rising, saying good-night. Walking away from him and refusing to look back.

She drew her shoulders tall. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Yes, Rule. I have a son, a son who’s everything to me.”

Chapter Three

And then, just as she was dead certain that it was finished between them, Rule smiled.

A real smile. He laid his warm, lean hand along the side of her face. “How wonderful. I love children, Sydney—but I already said that, didn’t I? When can I meet him? Tomorrow, I hope.”

She blinked, swallowed. Almost sick with emotion, she put her hand against her churning stomach. “I … You what?”

He laughed, a beautiful, low, sexy sound. “You thought I wouldn’t want to meet your son?” And then he frowned. “You don’t know me very well.”

“I … You’re right. I don’t know you.” She took slow, deep breaths, ordering her stomach to settle down, stunned at how much it mattered, that he wasn’t rejecting Trevor. That it wasn’t over after all, that she didn’t have to rise and walk away and not look back. She could stay right here, in this beautiful restaurant, at this private table, with this incredible man. She chided, “I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t know you well, that we only met this afternoon.”

“Unbelievable.” His frown had faded. “I had forgotten. Somehow, it seems that I’ve known you forever.”

She confessed, “I have that feeling, too.” And then she laughed, a laugh that felt as light and bubbly as the excellent champagne. “I had it the first moment I saw you.”

“You did?” He wore that boyish look, the one that made her think of Trev.

“Yes. I thought how you couldn’t be looking at me. And then I thought how familiar you looked, that I must have met you before….”

“Of course I was looking at you,” he said it with a definite note of reproach. “But you were very busy reminding yourself that you were through with men.”

“I was. I admit it. How dumb was that?”

“It’s all right. Now that you’ve told me why you gave up men, I thoroughly understand. And I’m not complaining. If you hadn’t decided to stay away from the male sex, you might have found someone else by now and I wouldn’t have a chance with you.”

“And that would have been a tragedy,” she teased.

“Yes, it would. A true catastrophe. But you did give up men. Now all I have to do is convince you to give one more man a chance.” He raised his glass again. She clinked hers against it. “Are you ready for the first course?”

Suddenly, she was starving. “I am, yes.”

He cast a glance beyond the open curtain. That was all. Just a glance. The waiter appeared again and made straight for their table.

Two hours later, Rule walked her out to the valet stand and had her car brought around. He tipped the valet generously and then took her hand and led her away from her waiting Mercedes. “Just for a moment …”

She went with him, down the sloping front entrance, to a shadowed area next to a large brick planter thick with greenery, beneath a beautiful old oak. The spring night felt warm and close around them.

He turned to face her. His eyes gleamed like polished stones through the darkness and his fingers trailed up her bare arm, a long, slow, dancing caress that left her strangely weak and slightly breathless. “Sydney …” He clasped her shoulders, and then framed her face between both wonderful hands. “Sydney O’Shea. I was becoming frightened.”

His words confused her. She scanned his shadowed features. “But why?”

“That I would never find you. Never meet you …”

“Oh. That.” She felt a glad smile curve her lips.

“Yes. That.” His sweet breath stirred the loose curls at her temples as he bent his head closer to her.

A kiss. His kiss. Their first kiss. She tipped her face up to him, offering her mouth.

He held her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.

Warm. Soft. Easy …

Her eyes drifted shut as his mouth touched hers, lightly, cherishingly. And she trembled, the moment was so exactly as she’d imagined it might be during their lunch that afternoon, during the long, glorious meal just past.

“Sydney …” He whispered her name against her mouth and she opened for him.

Instantly, she wanted more, wanted to be closer. Had to be closer.

Surging up, she wrapped her arms around him. A tiny, hungry cry escaped her at the sheer glory of such a perfect moment.

He took her cue and deepened the kiss, gathering her into him, cradling her against his body, so that she felt his warmth and solidness all along the length of her. He tasted of coffee and the heavenly pistachio mascarpone cake they’d shared for dessert. And the way he kissed her, the way his warm, rough-tender tongue caressed her … oh, there was nothing, ever, in her experience, to compare to it.

Nothing to compare.

To his kiss …

She wished it would never end.