Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (12 page)

He wondered how long she’d planned to stay on the island.
 

“I haven’t changed my mind if you haven’t,” he told her.

She eased out from under him and propped herself up on an elbow.
 
“Good, because I could use your muscle.
 
Help me fix the bed?”

He planted a wet, lingering kiss square on her mouth.
 
“Consider it done.”

Chapter Seven

Kelly snapped awake to the sound of books slamming to the floor.
 

Dazed, she put a hand to her chest as if the physical pressure would slow her heartbeat and put the world to rights, inhaled slowly, then rolled to her side and blinked.
 
Though darkness filled the space over her head, sunshine slivered its way through her cracked bedroom door, casting a thin wedge of light on the white-tiled floor beside the bed.
 

No, not her bedroom door.
 
The door of her vacation rental.
 

Not books
.
 
A bark.
 
Gaspare.

Using her elbows, she pushed to a sitting position and felt movement beside her.
 
Massimo.
 
He’d spent the night.
 
Not that there was much sleeping.

A satisfied smile flitted across her face at the thought.
 
He’d certainly kept his promise in that department.
 

They’d made leisurely, romantic love after their initial wild coupling.
 
She’d thought nothing could top their first romp.
 
She was wrong.
 
For hours, he’d practically worshipped her body, discovering every inch of her with strong, slow hands while doing downright sinful things to her with his tongue.
 
She’d done the same, indulging every desire as she stroked her fingertips across the ridges and planes of his magnificent body, exploring to her heart’s content.
 
Around three in the morning, they’d shared a soapy, warm shower before collapsing naked into the bed, but not without taking lingering tastes of each other’s bodies once more.

Never in her life had she experienced such unfettered pleasure.

She surveyed the bedroom, her eyes now adjusted to the dim light.
 
The white sheets were askew, half-hanging onto the floor.
 
Filtered light came through the curtains, too, but not enough to have awakened her.
 
Clothing littered the floor around the bed.
 
Even her sundress, which she’d finally taken off after they’d heaved the mattress back in place, lay in a heap in the corner.

The most notable thing in the room, though, was Massimo.

The man was buck naked and absolutely glorious, despite the fact he bore a dark shadow along his face and jaw.
 
She watched in languid fascination as he rolled to his side with catlike grace and eased his feet to the ground.
 
His hands came over his head as he stretched, then he scrubbed his palms over his hair and yawned.
 
The muscles in his shoulders rolled with the movement, making her want to reach out and touch him all over again.
 

Instead, she snuggled deeper into the bedding and allowed her gaze to travel his body, noting the tiny mole near his right shoulder blade, then the temporary red marks created by the crumpled sheets.

Finally, she studied the damaged skin she’d sussed out with her fingertips the night before.
 
During their shower, she’d seen his torso from the front as she’d run soap over his arms and shoulders, then teased at the light hair dusting his chest.
 
But she hadn’t yet had a good look at his back.
 
The contrast from the front was striking.
 
It looked as though his left side had been scraped away by a giant, fiery claw, leaving behind burned and tattered skin that was hurriedly plastered together without all the pieces necessary to make the repair.
 
Along the edges, the skin puckered, making her wonder how painful his healing process had been.
 
It wasn’t an old injury, either.
 
The raised areas were pink and shiny with new skin, not yet faded to the deep purple or white of old scar tissue.
 

No wonder he’d stilled when she’d discovered it.
 
Injuries like his were life-altering.

Funny…her initial impression of him had been beach bum.
 
A gorgeous beach bum with an extremely likable dog, but not much more.
 
Then they’d engaged in a bit of banter, and she’d been fascinated enough—and heck, deserving enough after all she’d been though—to indulge her curiosity.
 
But the longer she spent in his company, the more she saw a man constructed of complex layers.
 
One who’d traveled the world and had charisma to spare, yet appreciated simple pleasures like fishing, good wine, and good friends.
 
A man of substance.

So unlike Ted, whose substance clung like shiny lacquer to his surface, but went no deeper.

Then again, she’d misjudged Ted badly.
 
Perhaps she was misjudging Massimo and seeing attributes he didn’t truly possess.
 
Not that it mattered.
 
He’d likely disappear before she could utter the words, “Want to go for pancakes?”
 
Because suddenly she craved coffee and a hot, sticky, sweet stack of carbs.
 
There had to be a place to get them on Sarcaccia.

If she was hungry, he was likely ravenous.
 
Once his appetite for food was met, then perhaps she could satisfy his other appetites.
 
Again.

She scooted closer to touch the back of his waist.
 
He was still warm with sleep.
 
Instead of speaking, he reached around to put a hand on her forearm and raised the other to signal that he was listening.

She frowned, straining to hear what he heard.

“Gaspare, come.”
 
The words were spoken quietly.
 
A subdued, responding
woof
came from the living room.

“He doesn’t bark without reason.”
 
Massimo’s voice was low and firm, just as it was when he called the dog’s name.
 
Gaspare’s nose, then the rest of his large body pushed through the cracked bedroom door, sending a blast of sunlight spilling across the bed.
 
“What’s up, boy?
 
Someone on the beach get too close?”

As he spoke to the dog, Massimo reached down to the floor to retrieve his underwear and slacks, pulling them on with the deftness of a man used to dressing in seconds.
 

Aware her own nakedness was now on full display, Kelly lifted the top sheet to cover her breasts.
 
“You think there might be a person outside?
 
He’s not just asking to be let out?”

“If he needed to go, he’d have nudged me, not barked.
 
Plus, I let him out after our shower, so he shouldn’t have to yet.
 
But we’ll see.”
 
Massimo whipped on his shirt and was midway through buttoning the front when a pounding shook the front door.

“
Signor Robards!
 
Polizia!
”
 

A second voice, the accent thick, added, “Mr. Robards, this is the Cateri police.
 
Please now to open the door, or we will enter with the manager of this property.”

Massimo spun to look at her.
 
“Robards?”

Ted?
 
Her heart thrummed against the walls of her chest in a panic.
 
What in the world was going on?
 
Why would the police be looking for him here?

And geez, she was naked.

“Just a moment!
 
I’m getting dressed!” she called to the door.
 

“We will give you
one
minute, yes?” came the annoyed reply.

“Thank you, I’ll be right there!” She sprang from the bed and raced across the bedroom for her clothes.
 
Her suitcase was perched on a luggage rack beside the bathroom door.
 
Rummaging through, she located a clean bra and underwear, a T-shirt, and a pair of jeans, then began yanking them on.
 
The silence from the opposite side of the room felt like a knife to her back.

“I had this reservation under another name,” she explained as she put one foot, then the other into the jeans.
 
“I’m sure there’s some confusion is all.
 
Give me a second and I’ll straighten it out.”

“Of course,
Signor
.”

She whirled around as she pulled the T-shirt over her head.
 
Bemusement lit Massimo’s features as he strolled across the bedroom, then took a seat in the armchair beside the window.
 
His eyes never left her body as she pulled her hair out of the neck of the shirt and fluffed it over her shoulders.
 
Did he actually find this funny?
 
Or was his humor sarcastic?
 
Given that she had a more pressing concern at the front door, she wasn’t sure it mattered.

“It’s a long story.”
 
Because what else could she say?
 
That she was supposed to be here on her honeymoon?
 
“I’m shocked the police are here.
 
It makes no sense.”
 

“I’m sure they’re more than willing to explain it to you.”

Great.
 
She glanced at Gaspare as she crossed to the bedroom door, then said to Massimo, “You want to hang out in here with him so he doesn’t freak out the police?”

Massimo leaned back in the chair and made a wide gesture.
 
“Go right ahead.
 
But don’t take too long or Gaspare really will need to make use of the outdoors.”

When she reached the front hall, Kelly smoothed her hair as best she could before putting her eye to the peephole.
 
Sure enough, two uniformed police officers stood at the door.
 
Just behind them, an agitated-looking man in a pair of black slacks and a light gray shirt paced back and forth in front of the police car that now blocked in Massimo’s Jeep.

She closed her eyes, stepped back from the door and exhaled.
 
These gentlemen were serious.
 

The door shook with another pounding just as she reached for the handle, causing her to gasp.
 
Slowly, she opened it to the officers.
 
“Good morning,” she managed.
 
“How can I help you?”

“My name is Officer Scarpa.
 
I am with the Cateri police.
 
Is Mr. Robards here?”
 
This from the shorter of the two officers, the one who must’ve called out in English.
 

“No.
 
I’m Kelly Chase.
 
We booked this villa together.”

The man in the black slacks had stopped pacing to study her when she opened the door, but now he said something in rapid Italian she didn’t understand, though she did catch the words
Signor Robards
,
telefonato
, and
Euros
.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the officers, “but my Italian is very limited.
 
What is the problem, exactly?”

“The manager says that this villa was reserved by a Mr. Robards.
 
But yesterday afternoon, a man claiming to be Mr. Robards called and said that he had been unable to make his flight.
 
He said he would forfeit the deposit and cancel the reservation.
 
The manager, he explained to this man that his wife gave the key to a woman claiming to be Mrs. Robards yesterday morning.
 
Mr. Robards assured him that there is no Mrs. Robards and that he is unmarried.
 
He demanded that the manager accept the deposit and cancel the reservation, because this is what is in the contract.”

She stared at the officer, becoming more dumbfounded with every word he uttered.
 
She muttered, more to herself than to the officer, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“No.”
 
Officer Scarpa’s voice was level.
 
“There is no kidding.
 
This is why we are here.”

“I see.”
 
Anger boiled in her gut.
 
How dare he?
 

Ted had to have heard that she decided to take the honeymoon alone.
 
Even if he hadn’t, if he’d called to cancel and was told there was a Mrs. Robards who’d checked in to the villa, he should’ve known that it was her.
 

And what right did he have to cancel and forfeit the deposit, anyway?
 
She’d
paid for it.
 
With her own hard-earned money.
 
Money made from selling her business.
 
Her heart and soul.
 
How he had the nerve—