After saying goodbye to his friends, Nic took Summer down the boardwalk, near the hotel. It was lined with cute, touristy shops, cafes, and restaurants. It was still high end, especially with that proximity to the hotel, but it didn’t make her feel as out of place as the swanky gala had. Even though she was wearing a ball gown and he was wearing a tuxedo as they headed for a pizza place. Their bodyguard grabbed a small box of individual pizzas and handed them over before discretely hanging back, giving them some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye. Nic lead Summer to a bench overlooking the water, away from any curious onlookers who might recognize the Crown Prince. The moon glinted on the surf. They opened the box and dug in, laughing.

  “It’s no Santa Monica, huh?” she said, around a mouthful of cheesy goodness.

  He shook his head. “And it’s no Giovanni’s,” he admitted, referring to one of their favorite haunts. “But still—you can’t beat pizza and the beach.”

  She tilted her head, studying him as he mowed through his own slice. “You keep surprising me,” she murmured. “Mostly because you’re not surprising me.”

  He blinked, swallowing a mouthful of pizza. “That makes no sense.”

  “Tonight was the first time I saw you in full ‘prince’ mode,” she said. “People were gobsmacked. I mean, shouldn’t you have a bodyguard or something right now? How are you not swarmed with paparazzi?”

  “Mynia’s not that big a kingdom,” he answered, smiling. “For the most part, people are respectful. And I’ve been lucky. So how am I not surprising you?”

  She made a vague gesture around the promenade, the hotel, his tux, “I can still see the Nic I knew, you know? The guy with the dry sense of humor, the one who can eat his own body weight in pizza, the man who likes terrible horror movies with ridiculous special effects.”

  The man I fell in love with. But no way was she saying that out loud.

  He stared at her for a long second. “That’s what I always loved about you,” he said, and she had to force herself to ignore the sheer thrill those words shot through her. “You didn’t have all this… this royal stuff clouding the picture. You always saw me for me.”

  She thought that was one of the sweetest, and saddest, things she’d ever heard. “I just wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”

  “I should have.” His voice was sliced through with regret.

  “So. Where does that leave us?”

  She knew she probably shouldn’t be getting too heavy, if they were just getting to know each other again. And to be honest, the fellowship was only for a year. If she were being smart, she should keep in mind that he’d abandoned her once, and keep her distance. There was no telling what kind of relationship they’d have after a year. She had Harry to think about, too. She needed to protect her heart, and her kid.

  “There is something I want to say,” Nic said, as he wiped his hands and mouth with the napkins from the restaurant. His expression was serious. “It’s my fault that you couldn’t get a hold of me, and that made it hard for you to take care of Harry. I don’t ever, ever want you to be in that position again.”

  “Well, I know where you are now…”

  He held up a hand. “I’m going to give you a trust. Now, before you say no,” he continued, essentially cutting off her protest, “this has no strings attached. This is your money, to use however you see fit, to take care of our son.”

  She felt her back straighten. “Why?”

  “I want to see where things go with us,” he rasped, his light blue eyes glowing silver in the moonlight. “I want to be with you, Summer. But only when—and if—you’re ready. And even if, somehow, things don’t work out between us… I don’t want you to feel obligated to me, just to take care of Harry.”

  She swallowed against the knot of emotion in her throat. It was thoughtful. He so easily could’ve taken the power imbalance between them and used it as leverage, made her do what he wanted, made her fight for her own freedom. But instead, he took the most precious care to make sure she felt safe and independent… and that their son was looked after.

  She couldn’t help it. She melted a little, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “I’ll…” She huffed out a tiny, courageous breath. “I’ll try, Nic.”

  He smiled, and she leaned forward, just a little. He met her with a sweet, soft kiss that held more promise than urgency, focusing more on the future and less on regrets.

  “Small steps,” he said, with a sexy, lopsided smile.

  “Small steps,” she echoed, then smiled. “Now, let’s get back before Harry drives your parents up a wall.”

  8

  Summer had been in Mynia for a month now, and she felt like she was finally getting the hang of things. Not just the fellowship—although that was a challenge she relished in and of itself—but her life in general. Every morning, she got Harry ready for Alma, who now handled childcare out of Nic’s house. She spent the day working with her own patients or shadowing Dr. Buckham, who was gifted when it came to identifying tricky childhood illnesses. Her own talents as a diagnostician, which was already a strong point, were rapidly improving under his tutelage. Finally, at the end of the day, she’d head back to Nic’s large beach-front mansion, and get Harry fed, bathed, and tucked into bed.

  Nic was usually out of the house before she was, although he always sent Felix back for her. He didn’t return until later at night, either, looking exhausted. He put in a full shift and then some at the hospital, acting as both a doctor and part-time administrator, from the looks of it. They were usually too busy with their respective jobs to interact much, which was good—no one on the staff seemed to suspect that they were living under the same roof, even if it was platonically.

  “I’m sorry,” he often said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek when he arrived home. “Things have just been a bit crazed.”

  She’d taken to staying up later herself. After she’d gotten Harry down to sleep, she’d wait on Nic’s comfortable overstuffed couch, getting up to warm up the chef’s delicious dinners. She got the feeling that Nic, often over-tired and distracted, missed more meals than he realized. He always seemed grateful when she placed the dishes out on the table, insisting that he sit. He’d ask about Harry, which was gratifying, although not as much as if he’d actually get the chance to see his son. And he’d ask about her—how she was doing, what she was working on, how things were going with the fellowship. If she was comfortable in the house and on the island. If she needed anything.

  They’d inevitably end the evening with him going to his home office, needing to go over some sort of research or new policy initiatives for the kingdom before he’d finally go to sleep. And she’d pad off to her guest bedroom… alone.

  Considering the past they’d spent, she acknowledged that she might like to do more than sleep alone, and soon.

  She took a deep, fortifying breath and walked towards his hospital office, a room she rarely visited. It was six o’clock, and his shift ought to be ending. She was determined to get him to clock out on time for once, then bring him back to his house for a family meal with her and Harry. And then, once she got Harry to bed, she’d suggest that maybe he could take one day off from work—just a few hours—and relax. They could watch a movie, maybe.

  Netflix and chill.

  She felt a blush heat her cheeks. It wasn’t that she was trying to seduce him, per se. But she wasn’t taking getting physical off the table, either, if he decided there were other ways they might relax.

  She knocked on his door, and he answered with a gruff “come in.” She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, you.”

  He looked up at her, blinking owlishly over the papers strewn across his desk. “Hi,” he answered, his voice husky. “What are you doing here? Everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I just… it’s, um, six o’clock.”

  “Is it?” He glanced down at his watch. “I see. I got caught up, lost track of time. There was a scheduled surgery this morning, and then we had some new patients admitted…” He sighed. “The usual, I suppose. How are you doing?”

  “Better than you are,” she said, not wanting to beat around the bush. “You look tired, Nic.”

  His laugh was rough, and he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yes, well. If kids would stop jumping off the top rung of jungle gyms, and we could get ahead of some congenital diseases,” he said, “and if the health ministry would stop suggesting tweaks to the existing health care policy based on whims that I then need to research and write white papers on, explaining and justifying their existence…”

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate,” she said. Too much. He already seemed to do the work of two doctors, and now he was throwing the work of head of health care services for the country on top of it as part of his duty as Crown Prince. Did the guy ever sleep? “But it is possible to push a bit too hard, you know.”

  Now he focused on her, his gaze like sky blue frost. “I assure you, I can handle it.”

  She sighed. “Remember, back when we worked together in L.A., and you told me you liked how straightforward I was?”

  He pulled back slightly, puzzled by her sudden change of topic. “Yes?”

  “Here’s me being straightforward. You’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

  He blinked, then let out a short bark of laughter. “Well. That’s me told.”

  “I’m saying this because I genuinely care about you,” she said, trying to take the sting out of her words. “You spend the week working at the hospital, you’re up early and late, and weekends you have meetings and conference calls with cabinet members and health care system staff. You’re burning the candle at both ends. In fact, I think you’ve somehow added wicks sticking out of the middle.”

  He shook his head. “It looks bad from the outside,” he admitted. “But it’s simply the nature of the position. And you get used to it.”

  “Do you, though?” she asked doubtfully.

  “God, yes.” His mischievous grin was surprisingly boyish, reminding her of when she’d first gotten to know him. “Remember pulling those long shifts as residents? Eating stale granola bars and drinking that wretched, battery-acid hospital coffee, just to keep going for thirty-six hours?”

  She shook her head. “I was trying to block it out.”

  He chuckled. “It was like treading water in the middle of the ocean,” he said. “But you got used to it. After a while, you even learn to thrive.”

  “That’s because you learned to sneak in things,” she pointed out. “Food… naps…”

  Suddenly, his gaze heated, and his smile turned fierce. “Other things,” he said suggestively, his voice suddenly downright sinful.

  Her cheeks heated. Actually, her whole body heated, simmering with recently awoken need and quickly rising passion. She batted her eyes at him. “I definitely remember other things,” she breathed. “It’s amazing how creative you could be, with just a few minutes and a cramped little storage space.”

  She could see his breathing quicken, ever so slightly, and his eyes went low-lidded. Her whole body went taut.

  “Say,” she said, playfully, as if she’d just thought of it. “There’s a broom closet outside this office, isn’t there?”

  His smile went wider. “You know, I think there is.”

  “I think I need to find a, erm, broom.” Her smile was full of invitation. “Maybe you could show me your… supplies?”

  “Really.” His voice was warm, and he got to his feet. “I suppose I could take a minute. Wouldn’t want you to miss what you were looking for.”

  She felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through her like a firework. Like teenagers, they glanced up and down the hallway, then popped into the nearby broom closet, turning on the light and shutting the door. It felt ridiculous, and foolish, and simply fun.

  His hands were on her before the door completely shut, framing her face as his mouth closed hungrily over hers. She let out a low sigh of appreciation, then grabbed his shirt, her fingers bunching in the material and tugging him closer, closer. The mint and chocolate taste of him, suggesting he still had the same sweet tooth… the spicy, woodsy scent of him… the sheer heat coming off of his broad chest. It all added up to an intoxicating overwhelm of her senses, and she pressed herself against him, wishing that all their clothes weren’t in the way.

  The action seemed to spur him on. He slid his hands down her shoulders, around her waist, down the small of her back before tugging her hips to pull her body flush against his obvious hardness. She moaned softly against his mouth, and he took advantage of her lips parting, his tongue teasing hers. She ran her fingers along his square stubble-roughened jaw before linking them behind his neck, holding on for dear life as their mouths fused together and their breathing turned harsh with desire.

  “Nic,” she all but sobbed, her voice soft and urgent. His answering growl had her heart pounding in her chest.

  The confines of the closet were tight, the light dim. They almost knocked over a bundle of brooms and mops as he nudged her towards the wall, doing a full-body press and lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist. Feeling him nudge against her center was maddening, making her only want more of him. Her hips canted forward, eager for more. Eager for him.

  Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. Nic and Summer froze, jolted out of their passionate interlude. And Summer just as suddenly realized: oh my God, I am in a broom closet with the Crown Prince who is also a hospital administrator, making out like the world’s about to end. And we totally almost had sex.

  As her mother used to say, she had lost her ever-loving mind.

  “Whoever you are, I’ll give you two minutes to get out before Dr. Hansen finds out what you’re up to,” someone—Dr. Buckham, perhaps?—said with stern authority. Then they heard a muttered, “ugh, pesky residents” added to it as the footsteps retreated.

  Summer let out a surprised laugh, then buried her face against Nic’s neck before she could make more noise. She could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter, as well. Slowly, she placed her feet on the floor, getting her giggles under control.

  “Um… so. That was…?” Nic said, releasing her and adjusting himself, cursing softly under his breath.

  “That was very,” she answered with an embarrassed laugh, even as her body all but screamed with frustration. “But probably not the best location.”

  “Or timing,” Nic agreed, running his fingers through his hair to try to bring it back to some semblance of order.

  “Maybe it’d be better if we went back to your house,” she suggested slowly. “We can eat some dinner, and get Harry to sleep, and then, maybe…?”

  She let the invitation hang there, and held her breath.

  His resulting sigh sounded truly regretful; she’d give him that. He stroked her cheek, then leaned down to kiss her, softly, with just enough heat to let her know she wasn’t the only one affected by their two minutes in the closet.

  “I just need to handle some things from the ministry,” he said apologetically. “Things that will be easier done here, where I have access to the databases and can work from my office. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  She bit her lip, then nodded.

  This was going to be harder than she thought.

  9

  For the first time in a long time, Nic felt exhausted to the bone, but he was too much a royal prince and politician’s son to let that show. He knew he owed more time with Summer and Harry, getting closer to them, seeing if they could truly become a family. Summer’s fellowship was only for a few months more, and while she was doing a fantastic job, he knew that she wasn’t just making career decisions—she was making decisions about whether or not she would give Nic a chance, as a father and a partner. Now, he needed to step up and prove that he fit the bill, for both positions.

  So far, he’d only shown her the pitfalls in his life: a crushing amount of work, punctuated by the odd fancy dress party or a dinner at the palace. Oh, and that moment in the broom closet, which he had to fight not to remember because it made him grit his teeth with overpowering heat, as well as irritation with himself. He shouldn’t have let them go so far in a broom closet, for pity’s sake.

  But when had he had the time to do anything else? And how was he going to show her he was worth being with? He really needed to up his game, show her that he was trying to connect with her and Harry both.

  They’d spent an afternoon having tea with his parents, the head of Royal Communications, and a few ministers, to discuss a plan to introduce Harry… especially once people started connecting the dots. Frankly, he wanted to claim Harry. The kid was amazing. Even in the short burst of time he’d been able to spend with his son, Harry had made him smile and made his heart warm in a way he’d never felt before.

  And if he were being honest, he wouldn’t mind having things go further with Summer, as well. He just needed to somehow find the time.

  That was why he’d suggested Summer bring Harry to this fundraiser. It was for the royal orphanage, emphasizing awareness of the country’s foster system and their state-funded group housing. The fundraiser emphasized the importance of children, and there were games and a festival-styled atmosphere for the kids, staged on the palace’s enormous manicured grounds. He could see Summer and Harry running around, Harry chasing after bubbles being blown from an enormous bubble wand. His infectious laugh was just like his mother’s, and Nic found himself smiling despite his exhaustion.

  Alma was there, as well, helping watch over Harry. Nic tried not to draw undue attention to himself with Harry, not until Summer made a decision one way or another. But it was hard.

  Summer walked over to his side, smiling shyly. “Harry’s having a blast,” she said. “You’re right. It was a good idea, all of us attending. Thank you for thinking of it.”

  “Thank you for coming,” he said easily. “I know I haven’t had a lot of time to touch base. I thought perhaps this would be a good way for Harry to have fun, and to…”