The Prince's Second Chance Read online

  She wasn’t seventeen anymore, and yet, she’d let herself get caught up in the fairytale all over again. She’d fallen in love with Cameron and she’d trusted him when he’d told her that he wanted a future for them together. She’d believed that he was committed to her and their relationship, but his silence on the subject of marriage spoke volumes.

  Behind the scenes, the security force was filling vehicles for the return trip to the palace. Sierra rode with Lexi and her brothers, and Katrina had climbed into a vehicle with the prince regent and his family, leaving Gabriella to ride with Cameron.

  She settled back against the plush leather seat with dark-tinted windows and finally let herself breathe. No one could see her in here. No one could know that her heart was breaking. No one except Cameron—but he’d seen it all before.

  She didn’t realize the tears had spilled over until she felt the brush of Cameron’s knuckle on her cheek, wiping them away. His touch was gentle but she felt as if a fist was squeezing around her heart, and the ache was both painful and real.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m just relieved it’s finally over so I can go home.” Back to her own house, her own life. Reality.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to stay at the palace a few more days,” Cameron said. “You heard the questions the reporters were shouting—they don’t have all the answers they want yet.”

  “Yes, I heard the questions,” she agreed.

  “We knew it was going to be like that,” he reminded her. “No matter how much information we gave them, it wouldn’t be enough.”

  She nodded. “I know. It wasn’t the questions that bothered me—not really.”

  “Then what was it?”

  He sounded as if he really didn’t know, and she had no intention of enlightening him. “I understand that the media attention is a fact of life for you, and I know it will be for Sierra, too, but I can’t live like that.”

  “What, exactly, are you saying?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “That I don’t want a life in the spotlight so we should stop pretending that a relationship between us could ever work.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “At seventeen, you were pregnant and washing dishes in a restaurant kitchen so that you could afford to buy a crib for your baby. After you had the baby, you took night courses and you worked your way up from the circulation desk to columnist at La Noticia. I think you’ve already proven that you can do just about anything you want to, so if you think you can’t handle a few skirmishes with the media, maybe the truth is that you don’t want to,” he accused.

  “Maybe I don’t,” she agreed. “Or maybe I just don’t want to handle it all by myself.”

  He scowled. “What are you talking about? You weren’t by yourself. I was right there—”

  “Standing on the opposite side of Sierra.” She felt tears stinging her eyes again. “As if she was the only connection we had.”

  “What was I supposed to do—announce to the crowd that we’re lovers?”

  The words were a knife straight through her heart, the final, fatal strike to her illusions. She’d thought they were so much more than lovers. She’d thought they were in love, planning a future together, building a family.

  “No,” she finally said. “You weren’t supposed to do anything.”

  Cameron followed her out of the SUV and up to her room, where she immediately began tossing her things into a suitcase. “If you’re going to be mad, you could at least tell me why.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  It was obviously a lie, but he knew better than to call her on it. “Okay, then tell me how to fix whatever it is that I screwed up.”

  “There’s nothing to fix,” she said. “I’ve just decided that I won’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That’s how Chantal referred to Sierra, but the truth is, our daughter was simply the result of your youthful indiscretion. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of there.

  “But it’s not quite so easy to explain me, is it? And that’s why you haven’t even tried. That’s why you’re so careful not to be seen in public with me, and why, even today, you kept six feet of space between us.”

  “How can you blame me for trying to shelter you from the media when you said you didn’t want your name linked with mine in the tabloids?”

  “That was before we were sleeping together.”

  “Well, obviously I didn’t get the memo about the rule change.”

  “You had a chance to stand with me today,” she told him. “To show the world that you wanted to be with me, to tell them ‘yes—I do plan to marry her.’”

  He couldn’t help it. Afterward, he would agree that was no excuse for his action, but it was purely reflexive, completely instinctive—he stepped back.

  She turned away to zip up her suitcase.

  “Come on, Gabriella,” he said reasonably. “We’ve only been together for a few weeks.”

  She looked right at him, baring her true feelings. “I know. But I’ve loved you for seventeen years.”

  I’ve loved you… If you loved me… The words spun in circles in his mind, making him dizzy.

  He didn’t want to believe that she was trying to manipulate him. He knew that she wasn’t like that. And yet, he’d listened to those words too many times, and hearing them fall from her lips now, he froze.

  “Are you giving me an ultimatum?” he asked coolly, waiting for her to spell out her terms. Waiting for her to look at him, her eyes filled with pleading/fury/tears, and finally tell him what she wanted. What he needed to do to prove that he loved her.

  But she didn’t look at him at all. She only picked up her suitcase and said, “No, I’m leaving.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was rare for Cameron to have visitors at his office. And his days were usually so tightly scheduled that he wouldn’t have time to spend with anyone who just happened to drop by, anyway. But since he wasn’t yet supposed to be back from his trip, he had large blocks of unscheduled time—most of which he spent thinking about Gabriella and how thoroughly he’d ruined everything.

  So when his secretary buzzed through on Tuesday afternoon to tell him that someone was there to see him, Cameron was grateful for the reprieve. Even more so when he realized that his visitor was Sierra. He hadn’t seen her since the day of the press conference—the day that Gabriella had walked out on him.

  He hadn’t seen Gabriella, either, but only because he had yet to figure out the best way to grovel for her forgiveness.

  “Lexi told me that it would be okay if I stopped by,” Sierra said. “She didn’t tell me I’d have to present three pieces of ID and be subjected to a body scan in order to get past the front door.”

  “I’ll make sure you get security clearance so you can come here any time you want without going through all of that again,” Cameron told her.

  “That might be a good idea,” she agreed. “Since I’ve decided that I should probably get to know you a little better—because of the family connection thing.”

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  “But it would be a lot more convenient for me if you came around to the house again,” she told him.

  “I could talk to your mother about the possibility,” he said cautiously.

  “Or you could just show up,” she suggested. “I know she’d be happy to see you.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure about that.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Are all guys so dense?”

  “I’ll assume that’s a rhetorical question,” he said dryly.

  “Okay, answer this one—are you in love with my mother?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinked. “Wow. Not even a moment’s hesitation.”

  “I would have told her the same thing, if she’d given me a chance.” At least, he wanted to believe he would have told her, but she’d started talking about commitment and he’d st
arted feeling backed into a corner.

  He’d lived his whole life with his mother pulling his strings until he’d finally severed them. And then he’d been both relieved and determined that no one else would ever have that power over him again.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Gabriella had gone and he’d listened to himself pouring his heart out to Lara that he realized Gabriella had never tried to bend him to her will. She wasn’t looking for a commitment at any cost. She only wanted him if he wanted her, too.

  And he did want her—more than anything else in the world.

  “That’s good, but the words aren’t going to be enough,” Sierra warned him. “She needs to know that you’re going to stick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got a history, right? She fell in love with you when you were younger, you said you loved her, too, and then you were gone. Fast-forward sixteen years and some months, and you’re back again, saying you love her, blah-blah-blah.”

  “Blah-blah-blah?”

  “I’m trying not to think too much about the details,” she told him. “It’s kind of weird, you know, with her being my mom and you being my dad.”

  She said it casually, as if it was no big deal, but to Cameron, it was a very big deal. It was the first time she’d explicitly acknowledged their father-daughter relationship, and while he was tempted to haul her in his arms and hug her so tight she could barely breathe, he managed to restrain himself.

  “Your point?” he prompted instead.

  “It’s easy to say you love her, but she needs you to prove that you mean it.”

  “And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”

  Sierra smiled. “Why are you asking me for advice when you could go straight to the relationship expert?”

  Dear Gabby,

  I’m writing to you in the desperate hope that you can help me convince the woman I love of my feelings for her.

  I’m a thirty-six-year-old man who has fallen in love only twice—both times with the same woman. The first time, I was barely twenty years old, too young to under stand the depth of my feelings and too immature to appreciate how truly rare and special our love was. The second time was much more recent. After more than sixteen years apart, our paths happened to cross again and I realized that the feelings I had for her so long ago had never gone away.

  I’ve tried to show her how I feel, but I think she’s afraid to believe it, afraid that I’ll hurt her again.

  I’m more than willing to put my heart on the line. I’d happily hire skywriters or put a message on the big screen at a baseball game—whatever it takes to let her know that I’m going to stick around this time…forever.

  Should I set my plans in motion—or do you think a man who royally screwed up once doesn’t deserve a second chance?

  Signed,

  Lost in Love

  Gabriella reread the letter twice. At first, she hadn’t let herself believe Cameron had written it, but there were too many specific details to be able to disregard. And while hope flared in her heart, she forced herself to tamp it down. Because despite what he said in the letter, nothing had changed.

  Or maybe everything had changed. The princess royal had told her that Cameron would never marry her, but this letter suggested not only that he would but that he wanted to, that he really wanted to be with her forever.

  With that cautious hope in her heart, she settled her hands on the keyboard and began to type.

  Dear Lost,

  While I believe that everyone makes mistakes and everyone deserves second chances, I’d hold off on hiring the skywriters. Your willingness to put your heart on the line in a very public way is admirable, but not every woman wants or needs such a big statement. In fact, some women might worry that a man who goes to such extremes might be more flash than substance.

  Instead of shouting your feelings from the rooftops, take the time to show her what’s in your heart. As cliché as it sounds, it’s often the little things that mean the most. Pick her a bouquet of flowers. Hold hands. Walk with her in the rain. Cook her favorite meal. Call her at bedtime, just to say good-night.

  Give her some time to see and believe that you intend to stick around forever. It’s not easy to let go of past heartaches, so be patient, be understanding, and be there for her.

  Good luck,

  Gabby

  It happened to be raining the day that his letter and her response appeared in the newspaper, so Cameron snuck out of the office during his lunch and dropped by Gabriella’s house. His wipers were on full-speed to clear the water from his windshield, giving him a moment’s doubt about his plan, but he didn’t change his course.

  Gabriella was obviously surprised to see him, and more than a little wary when he suggested that she should put her coat and shoes on. But when she finally did, he took her by the hand and walked with her in the rain. They didn’t go far but they still ended up soaked through to the skin.

  He called her later that night, to see if she’d managed to dry out yet and to say good-night.

  The next night, he called her again. And then again the night after that. He never kept her on the phone for more than a few minutes—just long enough for him to let her know that he was thinking about her and, he hoped, to make sure that she was thinking about him.

  On the fourth night, he invited her to dinner. And after only a moment’s hesitation, she accepted.

  Gabriella was a nervous wreck as she got ready for her date with Cameron. Of course, it didn’t help that both her mother and her daughter were hanging out in her room, critiquing every outfit that she tried on. Too sexy. Too frumpy. Too young. Too old. Finally Katarina left to go to her hot yoga class, and when Jenna called to see if Sierra wanted to go out for an iced capp, Gabriella was relieved to shove her daughter out the door, too.

  Cameron showed up a short while later, with an enormous bunch of flowers in his hand. There were tall spikes of lavender, cheery pink anemones, fat white lilies and bobbing Spanish bluebells. But what she noticed, after the gorgeous array of colors, was that the stems of the flowers were uneven and broken…almost as if he’d picked them.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said, filling a vase with water. “But I’m not sure why you’re doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Bringing me flowers. Taking me to dinner.”

  “Because I don’t cook, either,” he told her. “I wanted to make your favorite meal, but I only know how to make reservations.”

  She smiled at that. “It wasn’t intended to be a checklist, you know, just a few suggestions.”

  “But those suggestions made me realize that we’d missed a lot of those basic getting-to-know-you rituals and I thought it was time we started following some more traditional conventions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, dating usually precedes courtship which precedes marriage.”

  The vase slipped out of her hands and clattered into the sink, splashing water all over the counter and Gabriella.

  He handed her a towel. “And marriage, of course, precedes children. Obviously, we’ve done some things backwards.”

  She dabbed at the wet splotches on the front of her dress. “Backwards implies a reverse order, but we actually skipped a couple of those steps.”

  “We’ll get to them,” he promised.

  “Is that was this is about? Are you…courting me?”

  “And apparently not doing a good job of it, if you have to ask.”

  She looked at the flowers again. She could only imagine where he’d picked them—probably from a stranger’s garden—and her heart completely melted. “Actually, I think you’re doing a wonderful job.”

  “Really?” he asked hopefully.

  “Really.” She set the vase on the counter, then turned to touch her lips to his cheek. “Thank you for the flowers.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and kissed her again.

  It was a kiss filled with hunger and frustration and longing, a
nd Gabriella responded with her whole heart.

  After what seemed like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough, he eased away. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, a slow sensual stroke that made her tremble. His eyes darkened and, for just a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again.

  Instead, he took a step back. “We should get going. We have a reservation at Tradewinds.”

  She drew in a long, slow breath and nodded. “Right. We wouldn’t want to miss our reservation.”

  But neither of them moved.

  “Although we’ve never worried much about conventions,” she reminded him.

  “No,” he agreed.

  “So maybe, instead of sitting through dinner wondering if the evening will end with sex, why don’t we start with sex and wonder if we’ll make it to dinner?”

  He drew her back into his arms, which was exactly where she wanted to be. “I really like the way you think.”

  It was a long time later that he looked at the clock beside her bed and said, “We missed our dinner reservation.”

  She sighed contentedly. “We could order pizza.”

  “Okay.” He kissed her. “One question first.”

  “Pepperoni,” she told him, belting her robe.

  He rummaged around on the floor, looking for his pants. “That wasn’t the question.”

  “Okay, what’s the question?”

  He found his pants and put them on. Apparently whatever the question was, he didn’t want to ask while he was naked. Then he shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out a small, square box. Her heart began to pound furiously inside her chest.