“Prince Nicolas!” a booming male voice interrupted. “Prince Nicolas, do you have a moment?”

  Only the most Herculean of efforts kept Nic from grimacing. An older couple was heading towards them, dressed in clothing more formal than the garden party really required. He knew that for these two, their presence at the fundraiser was far more about networking and rubbing elbows with the royals than it was about providing money for the orphans.

  “Ah, yes,” Nic said, all polite smiles and good manners. “Augustine. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “We always enjoy time spent at the palace,” the man said with a grin. “Don’t we, darling?”

  The woman by his side smiled indulgently. “Of course.” She sized up Summer. “And who do we have here?”

  “I apologize. Let me introduce Dr. Summer Rand,” Nic said quickly. “She’s… ah, one of the fellows at the Royal Hospital.”

  He tried not to wince. This was how the publicists had suggested he introduce her, but it was so inadequate to how he felt. They had several plans in place, ready to go into action once they decided what the next step was.

  Which included the possibility of a “next step” that meant Summer leaving with Harry.

  The thought was disquieting enough that he quickly plowed forward. “Summer, this is State Treasurer Augustine Borre,” he said. “And his lovely wife…”

  For a second, he blanked. What the heck was the woman’s name?”

  “…Christina,” he said tentatively. Wasn’t that right? He seemed to remember. “Augustine and Christina” bandied about. Unfortunately, he got the feeling it absolutely wasn’t when the treasurer went pale and the wife’s lips pinched at the corners, her eyes going wider.

  And then, like a slap, he remembered.

  Christina was Augustine’s mistress… the one twenty years younger than Augustine, the one who had actually attended uni with Nic.

  Oh, shit.

  “Maria,” his wife corrected primly. Apparently, Maria was well aware of Christina.

  This is a disaster. Nic’s heart raced with humiliation. He’d never made a mistake like this. What was he thinking?

  To his surprise, Summer burst in with her sunshine-bright peal of laughter, her hazel eyes sparkling. “No, Christina’s my cousin’s name, the one we were just talking about. Sorry, Nic just worked a double shift at the hospital,” she interjected smoothly. “He’s lucky he remembers his own name at this point. I’m actually impressed he remembered mine, and we’ve known each other for a few years.”

  “You have?” Maria’s curiosity was piqued, and she quickly overlooked the mistake in pursuit of possible gossip.

  “Yes. He was a resident at the hospital where I worked in California,” Summer said. “I can’t believe he does all that, and does all these princely duties. He was just Nic when I knew him. One time, back in L.A.…”

  Nic watched in awe as Summer turned on the charm, distracting the couple and then smoothly redirecting the conversation to more casual conversation topics. Then she smiled. “I think the king and queen had something to discuss, so perhaps you should get back?” she suggested. “Augustine, Maria, it was lovely to meet you!” And she took his arm, guiding him away.

  He felt relief seep through him. He’d never screwed up this badly at a royal function before. It could’ve been a scandal, certainly a faux pas of noteworthy proportions. But she’d saved him.

  He’d never needed saving before, he realized with a slight cringe. More importantly, he’d never thought about who would save him if he had needed it.

  “Who is Christina, really?” Summer murmured, so low no one could overhear. “The guy looked like he ate a frog when you said it.”

  “His mistress,” Nic whispered back, shaking his head. “I wanted the floor to open up when I realized what I’d said. Thank you for saving the situation.”

  “Anytime,” she said, mirth twinkling in her expression. “I wasn’t kidding though—I think your parents are looking for you. I’m going to go back to Harry and the other kids.”

  He glanced around, then gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “Have I mentioned you’re awesome?”

  “Not recently, but it’s always nice to hear.” She sent him a quick wink over her shoulder, then retreated to where Harry was running around. Several of the kids appeared to be playing tag and hide-and-go-seek in the topiary hedges.

  Nic made his way to his parents, who were watching the children play and smiling benignly at the guests milling around. “Nic,” his father said, pulling him to the side and pitching his voice low. “Any chance we can babysit that grandchild of ours? We’ve got a royal nursery set up and everything.”

  Nic smiled, shaking his head. “You just saw him.”

  His mother’s responding smile was warm. “I’d see him every day, given the opportunity, but we don’t want to raise suspicions,” she said, with a hint of sadness. “Which brings up… well. I don’t mean to push…”

  “What’s going on with you and the girl?” His father had no such compunctions.

  Nic winced. Of course they’d ask, and with good reason. “We’re keeping things platonic for the time being,” he said carefully. Except for a brief and interrupted interlude in a broom closet. “I don’t want to rush her into anything, and I want her to get to know me and my life. Get to know her, and Harry.”

  His parents wore matching frowns. “How long is her fellowship?” his father asked.

  “Just a few more months.” Nic had been trying not to think about it.

  “And then… what?”

  Nic sighed. “And then Summer will be able to make whatever decision she feels is best for her and Harry.” He saw his mother’s expression fall. “Mother, it’s not like I can issue a royal decree and keep them here.”

  “Well, why wouldn’t they want to stay?” his father asked instead, with a touch of indignance. “You’re smart, handsome, well-mannered… a prince, for God’s sake. And a doctor to boot!”

  “One that spends all his time at the hospital,” Nic said. “When he’s not working on policy documents or wrangling with ministers about social programs and their intersection with health programs. I don’t regret it, not any of it. But it’s a lot to ask of her.”

  His parents went quiet again. “How is it at the hospital?” his mother asked finally.

  Nic bit the inside of his cheek, wondering how much to tell them. They didn’t like to talk about the hospital—they’d spent enough time there when his brother was struggling with his disease. It wasn’t that they resented his career choice… it was just that it was simply too painful to think about. Tom had been so enamored of the idea of being a doctor, and so smart. He would’ve been truly gifted as a surgeon, Nic just knew it. He’d been such a smart child; he’d probably have been a genius as an adult.

  So many days, it felt like Nic was simply struggling in his dead brother’s shadow. Lately, it was like he was sprinting just to keep up with the demands of the job.

  He’d had no misdiagnoses… not one. He’d saved every patient. And it still didn’t feel like enough.

  “The hospital work is going fine,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Let me ask if Summer’s okay with Harry spending the night. And thank you for helping keep Harry a secret for the time being. If Summer does plan on moving Harry away, I want to give her as much privacy and space as possible.”

  “What, you wouldn’t want joint custody?” his mother asked, shocked.

  He sighed, not wanting to explain that if Summer didn’t think he had enough time to be a parent while she was there, it wasn’t likely that he would have the time when he was being a part-time solo parent. “It will be what’s best for Harry, and Summer is in the best position to judge that right now.”

  His parents nodded, a little forlorn. He didn’t like the idea of Summer and Harry leaving, either, so he pushed the thought aside and went in search of the two of them.

  He found Harry running around, his high, squealing laughter abundant as an older child tickled him then chased him around a hedge that looked like… well, a hedgehog, ironically. Nic smiled at the tableaux. There were children playing, getting gift bags, enjoying ice cream cones and balloons. He spotted Summer, talking with an older girl, not quite a teen, but apparently a bit too old for the childish games that were going on. He moved in carefully, not wanting to disturb them.

  “My father left the island for work, but never came back,” the girl told Summer. “My mother died a few years ago of cancer. I’ve been in the home ever since.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Summer said, and her voice was rich with sorrow and sympathy.

  The girl shrugged, not meeting Summer’s eyes. “It’s just… it’s nice to have a day like this. But I hate being the older kid. I hate feeling left out. And it’s not like I’m ever going to be somewhere like this again. I’m never going to make anything of myself. I’ll get too old, and they’ll kick me out of the home, and then I’ll have to figure out everything. Get some crappy job like Mum had, maybe. I don’t even know how to do any of that.” She bit her lip nervously, swallowing hard.

  Nic was ready to leap in when Summer put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “My parents died in a car accident when I was thirteen.” She paused. “I was in foster care until I aged out at eighteen.”

  The girl’s eyes snapped to Summer’s. Nic held his breath.

  “And it was hard at times, I’m not going to pretend that it wasn’t. It hurt. And I felt alone. But I knew I could make it.” There was a fierceness in Summer’s voice that reminded Nic of what she was like when she worked: determined, empowered, brilliant. “I became a doctor, all on my own. You can do anything you want, if you want it badly enough. And I will see to it that you get all the help you need.”

  The girl’s eyes were wide, and just a bit teary. “Thank you.”

  Summer leaned down, giving the girl a hug, before the girl wandered back to the rest of the group of orphans who were being collected by the home administrators, ready to return to the orphanage. Summer turned, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips, then startled when she saw Nic. “Guess you heard all that, hmm?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t know you lost your parents,” he said, feeling out of his depth. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” she said, and he knew, better than anyone, that the years since a loss didn’t matter when it was someone you loved that much. “So, this orphanage—it’s state funded? And there’s a royal connection?”

  “Yes.”

  She set her jaw. “If we stay,” she said slowly. “If you and I were together, as a couple, married—would I have royal duties, too?”

  He felt his heart stop a beat, then pound hard with excitement. “Only if you wanted to,” he said carefully, hiding his response.

  “I’d want to make foster care a priority,” she said. “In the U.S., kids who age out often don’t have any sort of transitional assistance in place. The system assumes you’ll get adopted into a family who will help out, or you’ll somehow figure it out, and that’s just not the case for too many of them. I’m not sure what policies you have here, but based off of what she said, it sounds like they could use some improvement as well.”

  He felt his chest warm. It was so thoughtful. So insightful.

  So Summer.

  “So… my parents were wondering if they could steal Harry away for an overnighter,” he said, in a low voice.

  Summer looked surprised. “I’ve never been without him a whole night before.”

  “It could give us a little time together,” he added. “Hang out a bit. Talk.”

  Let me find out more about you.

  She smiled. “I guess we could do that,” she murmured, then put her hand in his.

  He smiled back, tugging her over to Harry. He liked the feel of her hand in his. He only hoped that, after everything was out in the open, that he could figure out how to keep her and Harry, with all the other commitments and promises he held in his life.

  10

  Nic smiled as Summer wiped her mouth and put her fork down. “That was amazing,” she said with a happy sigh, leaning back in the dining room chair.

  “Well, I’m just glad I didn’t mess it up,” he admitted. The chef had left roasted duck breast with caramelized pears to reheat, and a simple endive salad with some kind of dressing that tasted heavenly. All of it paired beautifully with a bottle of pinot noir that had been left in a wide, flat-bottomed decanter to breathe prior to their return. After finishing with a delicious flourless chocolate torte with a fresh raspberry sauce, they lingered over their glasses, enveloped in a warm, tipsy, gourmet haze.

  “That may be the best meal I’ve ever had in my life,” she said, with a languorous smile. “Although all the meals I’ve eaten here in Mynia have been amazing.”

  “They have plenty of stellar restaurants in California,” he pointed out.

  “Fine dining wasn’t really high on my list of priorities when I lived there,” she said gently, and he immediately felt like an idiot. She wasn’t resentful or bitter, though, just realistic. She smiled. “Harry’s idea of a great meal is mac and cheese, which I can appreciate. And before him, it was the high-octane schedule of a resident and a med student.”

  “What about when you were pre-med?” he asked, toying with the rim of his crystal wineglass. He wanted to know everything about her, and he realized they hadn’t had the time or space to discuss her background before. “Where did you go to college?”

  “I went to UCLA. I grew up in Torrence, but I knew that I wanted to be a Bruin,” she said, then grinned. “I’d visited the campus once in high school, and just fell in love. And I was a partial-scholarship student, so I wasn’t really eating at gourmet restaurants then, either. Ramen, and lots of it… that was more my speed.”

  He was starting to get the picture she was painting: that she’d been under financial hardship, that she’d been alone. She’d mentioned being a foster child to the kid at the garden party, but she was careful not to bring it up here.

  With the warmth of the wine in his veins, he sighed. “I was a Thai takeaway sort, myself,” he said. “With the occasional fish and chips.”

  “Fish and chips?” She chuckled, and his smile broadened. “Where did you go to college?”

  “I studied at Oxford,” he said. “Did medical studies at Harvard, then went to California for my residency—well, part of it, as you know. Finished that here, closer to Mynia.”

  “When you left,” she said simply, and he stopped short.

  They both took another long sip of wine. He wondered if now was the time to explain: His parents had started the process of overhauling the country’s health system, and he’d wanted in on the policies from the ground floor. It was too hard from that distance, so he’d rushed back. When they first became involved, he didn’t want Summer to know he was a prince. He didn’t want her to treat him differently—or worse, want him only for his wealth and royalty. Then, after getting closer to her, he’d justified that a clean break was best for both of them, rather than trying to wrestle with a long-distance relationship, their careers, his complicated history and future. Even now, he wasn’t sure how to tell her how much she’d meant to him at that time.

  How much she still meant to him.

  To his surprise, she let the issue slide, saying instead, “That’s a lot of time abroad. It must’ve been hard for you to leave Mynia. From what I’ve seen, it’s beautiful. And your family is great. You must have missed them terribly.”

  Her voice was full of such naked longing, such sorrow, that it was like a slash across his heart.

  “I… my brother, Tom,” he said, slowly, as if bracing himself. “He was younger than me. He died when I was in college. I think… I think I stayed away because it hurt too much to be here, for a while.”

  Her hazel eyes widened as she took in this new information. It occurred to him that he’d almost never talked about Tom to anyone outside the family, except Erik and Ben.

  He got to his feet, feeling a little unsteady. “That wine’s going to my head,” he said, as a cover for the emotions that were more responsible for his instability. “Want to go for a walk? The sun’s setting.”

  She nodded, taking the hand he offered her, and they strode out the back porch, onto the white sand. The waves lapped the private beach gently, and there was a light breeze.

  “You have the most stunning sunsets here,” she said.

  He took her hand. “I ordered them special, just for you,” he joked with a wink.

  “Laundry, chocolate cake, sunsets… you do know how to impress a girl.” She flirted back, looking at him through full, lowered lashes. She looked him over, from head to toe, and he felt his body tighten with sheer sensual awareness. “What else do you have to offer, I wonder?”

  He turned to her, stopping them on the water’s edge. In the setting sun, her eyes looked ablaze, her blonde hair glowing burnished gold, her cheeks pink, lips still tinged red from the wine. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, tasting her as he licked along the seam of her mouth. She gasped softly as his tongue danced along hers, and the feel of her went to his head, more intoxicating than the wine, more luxurious than the meal, more glorious than the sunset.

  He wanted her, all of her, all at once.

  If she’ll let me.

  She wove her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to her, and he devoured her. His hands roamed her back, then pulled her tight and flush against his hardening body.

  His attraction to her had only grown over time. They had been a powder keg, back in California, one that he’d thought he could ignore. Once he’d seen her at the royal hospital, it had all come roaring back. He’d tried keeping his distance, leaving the decision up to her, giving her all the space she needed. But their passionate kiss in the broom closet by his office had been a turning point. Now, he was more than aware of the empty house behind them, and an entire night, just waiting for them to fill it.