She paused, fumbling for the perfect response. For months she'd worked to eliminate anything that might throw a monkey wrench into tonight's event. Week after week had been spent poring over lists, holding staff meetings, making phone calls, and inspecting every inch of the hotel property to ensure that everything would go as planned. In the end, even those aspects of the evening Megan couldn't control, such as the pleasantly warm Mediterranean breeze and clear night sky, fell exactly into place. She'd been overwhelmed by the enthusiasm guests showed for the refurbished hotel and its conference facilities, and she knew Ramon would be thrilled with the resulting increase in business.

Then there'd been Stefano.

Despite her best efforts, Megan's attention had remained fixed on the prince the entire night. While engaging in witty banter with the creme de la creme of European society, she'd privately simmered over the fact he'd spent the evening at one end of the rooftop deck in what appeared to be a rather intimate conversation with the dark-haired woman from the lounge, the one with the model-perfect body clad in a skin-tight, plunging red designer gown.

She'd told herself to consider his behavior one more checkmark on the list of things that were going according to plan, as Stefano's preoccupation with the woman kept him from seeking her out, but Megan's heart didn't want to follow her brain. She might not have seen Stefano in the flesh in a decade, but for the first time in her life she found herself jealous of another woman. Her heart took her right back to Venezuela, to the feeling of his strong, capable hands pulling her to him on that beach, holding her as if he never wanted to touch another woman in his life.

Which is why she couldn't bring herself to step away from Stefano's possessive arm now, even as the last of the guests wished each other good night and entered the elevator. Only a few waiters and the manager remained on the roof, clearing up the last of the gla.s.sware and double-checking the padded benches for forgotten items.

"As I recall, you made the same promise, Your Highness," Megan finally replied. "Yet you were also quite busy. I imagine there were many guests who wanted to meet you tonight."

In a voice low enough only she could hear, he said, "I realize it has been a long time, but you can call me Stefano, as you once did. 'Your Highness' feels rather formal, don't you think?"

"Prince Stefano!" A male voice boomed behind them. "I apologize for not welcoming you to the Grandspire before now, Your Highness, but I see that you are in good hands."

At the greeting, Megan shifted to see Ramon approaching. Stefano's hand dropped from her back as he turned to exchange the necessary pleasantries with the hotel manager, commenting on the building's modern decor and welcoming atmosphere. Behind them, two waiters quietly rolled a cart with used linens and gla.s.sware toward service elevator.

Megan kept her expression as professional as possible while the men spoke, in spite of her inner tumult. As much as she missed Stefano's warm touch at her back-craved it, even-she took the manager's timing as a sign. If she wanted to protect her daughter, let alone her own heart, she needed to keep her distance from Stefano. She might spend much of her day catering to the elite, but she wasn't one of them and didn't care to be. Her life with Anna was idyllic in every way that counted.

She'd be an idiot to linger alone under the stars with him, pretending to be something she wasn't, simply to satisfy a pa.s.sing desire.

"Mahmoud Said a.s.sures me that your conference facilities are as well-designed as the Gaudi Ballroom," the prince said. "If that is the case, I imagine he and my father will be your guests again very soon."

"I'd be pleased to give you a private tour," Ramon said. "I realize it's late, so if you'd prefer another time, let me know what fits your schedule and I shall be at your disposal. I can provide you with an information package outlining our standard rates and array of services, but of course we're always happy to accommodate special requests."

Stefano shifted, his arm brushing against Megan's to send a jolt of awareness through her. "That's very kind of you. However, Ms. Hallberg-Megan-here is so efficient she's already made the same offer. We were just about to get started with the walk-through." His tone was relaxed as he added, "I know you must be anxious to get back to your family after such a long evening. Perhaps you'd be available tomorrow morning? I'm not due to fly home until noon. I'd be happy to pick up the information and pa.s.s it along to my father and his staff."

It was a polite response on the surface, but there was no mistaking the royal dismissal. Megan a.s.sumed Stefano and the rest of his family were skilled at such social maneuvering. It was the att.i.tude of a man used to getting his way. Ramon's quick nod of acceptance only reinforced it. "I'm afraid I am already engaged through the lunch hour, but if you're agreeable, Megan could meet with you."

"A breakfast meeting would be perfect." Stefano glanced at Megan. "Could you make it at nine?"

"I'll hold a window table for you at the Jardin Alba," Ramon replied before Megan could respond. "It's on the mezzanine level and very quiet at that hour, so you won't be interrupted."

Megan scrambled for a means to protest, but the manager had already extended his business card. "Here's my contact information. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call me day or night. The Grandspire would be honored to host the Barrali family."

Stefano slid the card into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket. "I'm sure my breakfast meeting with Megan will be quite informative. Thank you."

Stefano turned, but instead of brushing against Megan as he had before, he placed his hand on her lower back, then gestured toward the elevator with a flourish. "After you. I'm very much looking forward to the tour."

Megan nodded politely, more for the sake of her boss than for Stefano, then crossed the roof deck with Stefano's hand warming her skin through her thin dress. He didn't break contact until he punched the b.u.t.ton to call the elevator.

"How kind of you to offer the tour, Megan," he said as they stood in front of the doors.

Megan glanced over her shoulder, only then realizing that Ramon wasn't with them, but had moved across the deck to rescue a forgotten winegla.s.s from a planter ledge adjacent to the service elevator. She was about to suggest they invite Ramon to join them when the elevator doors opened. Stefano put one arm against the door to hold it while waving her inside with the other.

"I realize it's poor etiquette to contradict royalty, but I made no such offer," Megan said after the elevator doors closed. He stood within arm's reach of her in the enclosed s.p.a.ce. The breadth of his shoulders and the way he held himself reminded her of a large, well-muscled cat waiting to pounce upon a mouse that'd mistakenly wandered into its lair. Instinct told her to keep to the far side of the elevator so she wouldn't fall prey to him, but would he read that retreat as fear?

And if he did, given that they'd parted in Venezuela on such casual terms, would he ask what caused her trepidation now?

She thought better of taking him to the now-empty business center with its rabbit warren of computer stations and instead punched the b.u.t.ton for the floor just below the roof deck. It contained most of the hotel's larger conference rooms, including one with huge windows that faced both the beachfront and an adjacent high-rise condominium complex. If she took him there for his tour, Stefano might think twice before doing anything he wouldn't want to be seen in public. With the lights on in the conference rooms, anyone awake in the condominiums could see them.

"It is your job, isn't it?" he asked, making no effort to hide the desire lacing his tone. "To entice guests into staying?"

"For business, Your Highness."

He raised an eyebrow at her use of his t.i.tle and took a step toward her. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest, but instead of touching her, he reached past her hip to tap a small sign beside the elevator b.u.t.tons. "But the hotel is also geared toward pleasure travelers, is it not? This, for instance, says there is a pool, spa, and outdoor patio."

"Yes, of course." No matter what, she would not take him there. Not if there was a wisp of a chance her parents could still be on that level with Anna. "Most luxury hotels do have those types of facilities."

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to an empty hallway. Megan stepped out ahead of Stefano, quickly making a left turn to lead him to the largest of the conference rooms. "All of our meeting rooms are on this floor. I'm taking you to the one we use for groups of a hundred or more, since it offers both a lovely view of the sea and all the latest audio visual-"

"I don't know what to make of you, Megan Hallberg."

Stefano stopped walking and leaned against the wall. When Megan stopped walking as well, he made a show of looking her up and down. The slow smile that spread across his face sent a wave of fire through her abdomen. And lower.

He was making this very, very difficult. "What do you mean?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did we or did we not make wild, pa.s.sionate love to each other once upon a time?"

The words were so unexpected she couldn't form a response. He reached out and grabbed her left wrist, pulling her toward him in the quiet hall. "I know you remember. I could see it in your eyes when you shook my hand in the lobby. You remember it all, don't you? How close we became that summer?"

Unable to trust her voice, she gave him a small nod. Wow, but the man was direct. More so at thirty-two than he'd been at twenty-two.

His tone softened. "Then why so formal? I meant it earlier when I said I wanted to catch up. Last I knew, you were going back to Minnesota to finish your graduate degree. I a.s.sumed you'd be happily married and settled in a nine-to-five job, living a busy life with a slew of children running through your kitchen on a daily basis. Never in a million years did I expect to see you here."

"Nor I you."

His fingers eased from her wrist to her hand, which he raised between them, near his heart. His index finger slid up her bare ring finger. "I want to know everything about you. What's happened to you since Venezuela. How you came to Barcelona. Everything." His fingers tightened around hers while his green eyes, so much like Anna's, searched her face. "I've thought of you often."

The words warmed her cheeks, but how could she believe him? To him, their encounter had been only that-a brief encounter-carrying none of the emotion it had for her. Though she'd been on the same page as Stefano when they left Venezuela, knowing they each had their own lives and that it was best they go their separate ways, she'd been young and naive to think he'd felt the same depth of pa.s.sion she had during those heady days.

If he had, he wouldn't have ignored her attempts to contact him, let alone asked another woman to marry him less than a month later.

In one smooth motion, he pulled Megan into his arms, spinning her so her back was against the wall.

"Your Highness-"

"Stefano, please." His face was only inches from hers. He smelled of warm skin and masculine cologne mixed with a hint of cava. She closed her eyes against the rising wave of her own desire. Mustering what little remained of her willpower, she placed both palms against his chest to give herself s.p.a.ce.

Big. Mistake. Even through his finely-tailored jacket and shirt, she could feel the hard lines of his chest and the rat-a-tat thump of his heart.

Near her ear, he whispered, "Tell me you've thought of me, too, Megan. Tell me you've slipped into bed at night imagining a moment like this, one where we could pick up where we left off." Even though he spoke English as well as she did, thanks to growing up with an American nanny, his Italian accent and lush voice sent her reeling. She had to stop this. Now.

"This isn't-"

Then his lips were on hers, hot and demanding, a veritable s.e.xual weapon. Better than in her memory, better than in her dreams. Then, he'd been young and wild. He'd matured into a force of nature, intense and skilled, able to overwhelm her senses with the slightest touch of his strong hands, let alone his glorious mouth. He nipped at her lower lip, surprising her, and a whimper of longing escaped her. For a brief moment she realized it should mortify her, but the thought was forgotten as she kissed him back. He was right. She had spent nights lying awake, tossing in her bed, thinking of what it would be like to return to those days on the beach, making love to Stefano Barrali with the abandon of youth.

He pulled her tight against him, deepening their kiss and allowing her to feel his erection as he melded his body to hers. Just when she thought she could take no more, he shifted to kiss her neck, then the spot just below her ear he'd discovered all those years ago, the one that made her mad with want.

"Come to my suite," he whispered before his lips met hers once more, heating her to her core and sending her pulse into overdrive. Between kisses, he added, "We can take the stairs. It's only one flight down."

The world shifted around her as he whispered, "Please."

It would be so easy. Her parents and Anna weren't expecting her until late. Her parents likely wouldn't even be awake, let alone Anna. She and Stefano were alone. No one would ever know. It was the perfect opportunity to relive one of the best experiences of her life.

Better, judging from her body's reaction to his.

It would be wrong.

She squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the feel of his hot, talented mouth against her skin for a final moment before leaning back. Still trapped in the circle of his arms, she forced him to meet her gaze. "Stefano, I can't. Things are different for me now. Very different."

"You used my first name," he teased, running his fingers along the outside of her arm. With a wicked glint in his eye, he added, "And perhaps things are not so different. You want me as much as I want you."

"Believe me, I do. But...it's not so simple."

"It can be as simple-or as complex-as we choose."

Her gut twisted. Never in a million years had she imagined this moment, not like this. But now, facing Stefano, she knew what she had to do. "There's no easy way to say this. I wish I could've said it long ago, and I tried, I did. For months. But that night on the beach-"

"Was exactly what I told you then. A night I'd never forget."

She took another step backward, but it only gained her an inch. She was trapped between Stefano and the wall. "Especially for me."

Her serious tone finally seemed to register with him. His hands stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Stefano, I have a daughter. A wonderful, beautiful daughter named Anna."

"You have a baby?" His voice registered both surprise and resignation. "I see. You need to go home to your daughter, then."

She shook her head. "No, not a baby. Anna's in fourth grade."

"Fourth grade?" His eyes widened in shock, but Megan could tell he either hadn't made the connection or didn't want to. "That doesn't seem possible. That would make her-?"

Her jaw shook, but before he guessed at Anna's age, Megan managed to eke out the two words that needed to be said. "Our daughter."

Chapter Four.

Stefano's stomach seized at her words. "What?"

He couldn't have heard Megan correctly, given the slight tremble in her voice. And if he hadn't misheard, perhaps she'd misspoken when using that word. Our.

Her gaze flicked to his arms in a silent request for s.p.a.ce.

He let go, then took a step backward. The look in her eyes disturbed him as much as her words did. The adrenaline that pounded through his veins in antic.i.p.ation of bedding the s.e.xiest woman he'd been around in a long time stopped cold, leaving him ill at ease. "Clarify that last statement," he demanded.

This time Megan's voice didn't waver. "After we left Venezuela, I started the fall semester in Minnesota just as I'd planned. About six weeks into cla.s.ses, I stopped by the student health center. I'd been feeling nauseous and run down for nearly a month and didn't seem to be getting better. I expected the nurse to tell me I picked up a virus or infection of some kind, given that we'd been working in rather filthy conditions. Instead, she informed me I was pregnant." Megan paused, searching his face. "I imagine my expression when given the news was close to the way you look now. Stunned and horrified and upset. It was the last thing I expected. We'd used protection, we were careful."

"d.a.m.n straight we were." He rarely swore, but he'd been overwhelmingly careful in that regard his entire life.

"When I asked the nurse if she was certain, I received a rather curt lecture on the failure rate of various contraceptives. I walked back to my apartment in such a state of disbelief that I detoured to a pharmacy so I could buy a home pregnancy test to confirm it. When it came back positive, I went and bought two more and waited an entire week before I took them, in case something I'd eaten or been around had caused a false result. Of course, those also came back positive and...well, I couldn't deny it any more."

Stef swiped a hand over his face but said nothing as he tried to process her words. His knee-jerk reaction was to deny paternity. It wouldn't be the first time a woman claimed he'd gotten her pregnant and not once had it been true. In both previous cases, he'd never dated the women, much less slept with them. But there wasn't a shred of insincerity in Megan's tone or manner, and the Megan he'd once known would never be so devious. It wasn't in her nature. And after all these years-particularly in this situation-what would be the point?

She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. "Before you ask the obvious question, she's definitely yours. There was no one else. Besides, you only need to look at Anna to know where she gets her DNA. She has your coloring. Your eyes. She even moves the way you do when she walks. It's eerie."

His chest clenched at her words. He had a child, a living, breathing child, and he had no part of the girl's life. He couldn't identify her if she stood in front of him. He didn't know her middle name, let alone the names of her teachers, her friends, or her pets. If she had any pets. He huffed out a breath, trying to ease the pain gripping his chest, the sensation that he'd been hit square in the heart with a sledgehammer.

"I'm so sorry, Stefano. This isn't the way I wanted to tell you," Megan added, her voice quiet.

"Obviously not." As he studied her, took in her serious expression and the regret in her eyes, his pain turned to anger. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

"I wanted to, but it wasn't that easy-"

"The words, 'I'm pregnant' come to mind. See? Easy." He worked his jaw, trying to rein in his temper, but the enormity of the situation didn't allow it. "Were you ever going to tell me? If I have a child, I have a right to know about it!"

"About her."

"Her!" he thundered.

At the look of alarm on Megan's face, he lowered his voice. "I doubt anyone is on this floor to hear. As you said, it consists of conference rooms."

"Still." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Would you like to go to a more private location to talk? I want to explain about Anna's-"

"Now you want to explain?" He hated the bite in his voice, but d.a.m.n it, he was justified. No explanation could replace what had been willfully kept from him.

"I understand your anger." She held up her hands. "I'd be angry, too, if I were in your position. But it's not my fault and I would appreciate the chance to explain. Somewhere that allows me to tell you the full story without either of us being overheard. Please."

He shook his head in disgust. She'd hidden the girl for nearly a decade. There was no excuse for it.

And here he'd been dying to bed her again tonight.

"So my daughter, this Anna" -he paused, feeling the girl's name as it rolled off his tongue- "is here now, in Barcelona?"

Megan's lips thinned, as if she wanted to retort that Anna was her daughter, but thought better of the remark. After a moment's hesitation, she replied, "Of course. She lives with me."

"I want to see her."

"No." The answer was quick, decisive.

"If she's truly mine, I believe I'm ent.i.tled." How dare she refuse him?

"It's not that simple. As much as you may be ent.i.tled, I have to do what's best for her." A deep grinding sound emanated from down the hallway as the service elevator descended past their floor. She looked toward the sound, then back at him. "I'm sure I can find an empty room so we can sit down and discuss this without being disturbed."