The Duchess Diaries: The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride / Her Unforgettable Royal Lover / The Texan's Royal M.D.

“Two reasons. One, I didn’t like the way our weekend ended. I’m still kicking myself for letting you leave with little more than a peck on the cheek.”

“Oh. Well. I suppose we can correct that.”

“You suppose right.”

When he hooked her waist, she went into his arms eagerly, joyfully. He buried a hand in her hair and more than made up for any deficiencies in their parting.

Gina could have stayed there forever. The feel and the taste and the scent of him wrapped around her like warm silk. She felt his heart beating under her spread palms, breathed in the heady mix of aftershave and male.

When he raised his head, her heart was in her smile. “You said there were two reasons. What’s the second?”

The pause was brief, hardly more than half a breath, but still noticeable.

“I missed you.”

“Was it that hard to say?” she teased.

“You try it.”

“I missed you.” It came so easily she added a little embellishment. “Bunches.”

The murmur of voices inside the apartment snagged Jack’s attention. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, we finished dinner a while ago and are just sitting around the table talking. Come meet my cousins.”

She led him to the dining room and had time to note widely varied reactions before she made the introductions. Zia’s first glimpse of the newcomer brought her elbows off the table and a look of instant interest to her face. As her eyes raked Jack over, a slow, feline smile curved her lips.

Gina couldn’t help herself. She was bristling like a barnyard cat when she noticed Dominic’s expression. It was as shuttered as his sister’s was open. The duchess’s, on the other hand, was warm and welcoming.

“Good evening, Ambassador. It’s good to see you again.”

The title sent Zia’s brows soaring. Her gaze whipped from Jack to Gina and back again, while Dominic slowly pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

“It’s good to see you, too, Duchess.” Jack crossed the dining room to take her hand. “I’m sorry to barge in like this.”

“No need to apologize. Allow me to introduce my guests. They’re visiting from Hungary.”

“So Gina told me.”

“Anastazia, may I present Ambassador Jack Mason.”

He was at his most urbane with the sultry brunette. A smile, a lift of her hand, a light kiss on the fingers.

“You must call me Zia,” she purred. “And I will call you Jack, yes?”

“Igen.”

“How wonderful! You speak our language.”

“Only enough to order a drink in a bar.”

“In Hungary,” she laughed, “that is more than enough. This is my brother, Dominic.”

Jack rounded the table and extended his hand. It was a simple courtesy, a universal gesture recognized the world over. Yet there was something about the look accompanying it that made Gina pause. The message was subtle. Almost too subtle. She caught a hint of it, though, or thought she did.

So did Dominic. His smile took on a sardonic edge, his eyes a sudden glint as he shook Jack’s hand.

“We’ve met before, Ambassador, although I doubt you’ll remember.”

“I remember. I also remember you were using another name at the time.”

The two men ignored the surprise that produced among the women. Their gazes locked, they seemed to be engaged in a private and very personal duel.

“I was, indeed,” Dominic drawled. “And you, as I recall, had not yet acquired your so very impressive diplomatic credentials.”

The duchess’s notions of propriety didn’t include what was fast assuming the air of an Old West showdown in her dining room. With a touch of irritation, she thumped her hand on the table to get the combatant’s attention.

“Do sit down, both of you. Jack, would you care to try this very excellent cognac? Or there’s coffee if you prefer.”

“Cognac, please.”

“Gina, if you’ll get another snifter perhaps Jack or Dominic will condescend to tell us where or when they met before.”

The acidic comment found its mark. While Gina retrieved a cut crystal snifter from the graceful Louis XV china cabinet that took up almost an entire wall, the tension between the two men eased by imperceptible degrees. She brought the snifter to the table and splashed in the aromatic brandy as Dom yielded the floor to Jack with upturned palms.

“It’s more your story than mine, Ambassador.”

Jack accepted the snifter with a murmured thanks and addressed himself to the duchess. “Dominic and I met a number of years ago in Malta. I was on a UN fact-finding mission investigating the transshipment of young women kidnapped from Eastern Europe and sold to wealthy purchasers in the Arab world.”

“Dear Lord!” The duchess shot her guest a sharp, questioning look, but he merely gestured for Jack to continue.

“While the UN team was in Malta, we heard rumors of a shipment coming in from Albania. We worked with Interpol and the Maltese authorities to intercept the trawler transporting the merchandise. There were six girls aboard, all between the ages of fifteen and twenty, all drugged to the gills.”

Jack lifted the balloon goblet and swirled its contents. His gaze shifted from the duchess to the man sitting across of him.