The Prince's Second Chance Page 5

  They’d had the occasional stolen moment together over the period of a few months, and then one glorious extended weekend at Cielo del Norte. When he’d dropped her off after their brief holiday was over, he’d promised that he would call her—but he never did. In fact, several weeks passed before he saw her again, before she tracked him down.

  He remembered the exact moment he’d spotted her standing beside the stone archway that guarded the entrance to his campus residence. His initial surprise had been replaced by pleasure, then guilt and regret.

  He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms, to tell her how much he’d missed her. Because he had, and every time he’d thought of her, he’d felt an aching emptiness deep inside. But he’d made up his mind—he was too young to get seriously involved with any one woman—and he’d been sure that, in time, he’d get over her. So instead of going to her, he walked right past, as if he didn’t even see her.

  He’d thought she would take the hint, that she would turn away. But she’d raced across the field, chasing after him.

  “Cameron, wait.”

  He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard her, so he halted, and tried to look vaguely puzzled. “Hi, uh, Gabriella, right?”

  Her eyes—those beautiful, fathomless dark eyes that haunted his dreams—went wide, her face drained of all color. But then she firmed her quivering lip and lifted her chin. “Yes, it’s Gabriella,” she told him. “We spent a weekend together at the beach last month.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, as if only now remembering. As if the memories hadn’t preoccupied his every waking thought and haunted his every dream since he’d said goodbye to her. “It was a good time.”

  She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure what else to say to him. Then she tilted her chin another fraction and met his gaze dead-on. “I think I might be pregnant.”

  He couldn’t see his own face, but he would have guessed that it was even whiter than hers now. He took an automatic step in retreat. “No. No way.”

  “I don’t know for sure,” she admitted, her gaze sliding away from his now. “But I thought you should know.”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to believe it was possible. They’d been careful. He was always careful. Except for that last morning. He’d realized that he’d run out of condoms, but he’d thought that it would be okay—he’d convinced her that it would be okay—just one time.

  “When—” he managed to clear his throat, but his mind remained fuzzy “—when will you know…for sure?”

  “I can pick up a test…on my way home.”

  He nodded and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He didn’t even count out the bills—he just pulled out all the money that he had and thrust it toward her.

  She stared at the money in his hand, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Just take it,” he said. “In case you need anything.”

  She knocked the money out of his hand and turned. “Gabriella.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, her usually warm voice colder than he’d ever heard it before. “I don’t need anything from you.”

  Then she’d walked away, but the tight, panicky feeling that had taken hold inside his chest didn’t go away, not for a long time. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months and he didn’t see her or hear from her again, he’d been relieved. He’d assumed that she’d made a mistake, that she hadn’t been pregnant. Now he knew otherwise.

  In retrospect, he could hardly blame her for refusing to name him on her child’s birth certificate. If anything, he should thank her. Because at twenty years of age, he hadn’t been ready to be a parent. He didn’t imagine that Gabriella had been any more ready than he, but she’d taken on the responsibility, anyway. She could have terminated her pregnancy or given the baby up for adoption, but she’d done neither. She’d given birth and raised their child on her own.

  Maybe not completely alone, since it seemed that her mother had stood by her. But as far as he knew, she’d never even attempted to contact him again. Not once in the past sixteen years had she tried to get in touch with him to let him know that he was a father.

  He knew he couldn’t blame her for that. And yet, when he looked at the young woman who reminded him so much of Gabriella when he’d first met her so many years before, he couldn’t help but resent having been excluded. Not just excluded but explicitly disavowed by that one little word: unknown.

  And what would have been different if she’d named him on the child’s birth certificate?

  He instinctively winced in response to the question that echoed in the back of his head. Even now, more than sixteen years later, he couldn’t pretend that everything wouldn’t have spun out of control. There would have been a media circus, at the very least. As soon as anyone had seen his name on the birth certificate, the existence of his illegitimate child would have been in the headlines. And he would have responded the same way he’d responded to every scandal that he’d faced: with bald-faced, blatant denials.

  He would have been instructed by his royal advisors to deny even the possibility that he was the father of Gabriella’s baby. If there had been any proof that she’d spent the weekend at Cielo del Norte with him, then he’d produce a dozen more witnesses to testify to the fact that they weren’t alone. She would have been portrayed as a girl of loose morals who’d gotten herself into trouble and was looking for a quick payoff by claiming he’d been with her. And if she’d tried to force the issue by demanding a paternity test, well, the Leandres name and money were more compelling than science.

  Yeah, he was still mad at Gabriella Vasquez, but he figured his residual anger couldn’t begin to compare to hers.

  She’d had sixteen years to resent who he was and what he’d done—how was he ever going to make up for that?

  Chapter Five

  Gabriella never considered not showing up at the museum. She didn’t dare disregard Cameron’s threat about returning to her home, and if they were going to have it out about Sierra she wanted to do it somewhere else. But a full week had passed since he’d knocked on her door, and she did let herself hope that he had forgotten about this meeting, that he’d forgotten about her daughter.

  Her daughter.

  She repeated the words to herself, a soft whisper that couldn’t be heard by anyone else, and found solace in them. Sierra was her daughter. From the very beginning, Gabriella had known it would only be the two of them, that they would have to make their own way together. Cameron had made his feelings very clear and if Gabriella had let herself imagine that he might change his mind once he’d had a chance to think about the possibility of their baby, the princess royal had disabused her of that ridiculous notion.

  Her own mother had been stunned when Gabriella told her that she was pregnant. Worse, she’d been disappointed. Gabriella had seen it in her eyes, and it had shamed her. Her father had passed away when Gabriella was only ten years old, and her mother had taken on a second job after his death in order to ensure they didn’t lose the house they’d always lived in. It hadn’t been easy for Katarina, working two jobs and trying to be both a mother and father to her only daughter, but she’d always been there for Gabriella.

  When Gabriella started showing an interest in boys, Katarina had sat down with her and talked to her about love and lust, impressing upon her the importance of respecting her body so that others would, too. Gabriella had assured her mother that she had no intentions of falling in love or falling into bed with anyone. She had plans for her life. She wanted to go to college and build a career before she even considered getting seriously involved.

  And then she’d met Cameron. Prior to the first time he walked into Marconi’s Restaurant, Gabriella hadn’t realized that lust could race through a woman’s body with such intensity, making her want with such desperation that there was no thought or reason. She’d tried to resist, but she’d been so completely inexperienced and totally unprepared to withstand his easy charm.

  Or
maybe she hadn’t tried as hard as she should have, because even then she’d thought it was more than lust. She’d convinced herself that she was in love with him, and she’d believed him when he’d said that he was in love with her. And though her mother’s warnings had echoed in the back of her mind, she didn’t think there was anything wrong with two people in love making love.

  It hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d been duped, by her own hormones as much as his words.

  But that was a lot of years ago—and she was a different woman now.

  A woman who glanced at her watch for the tenth time in half as many minutes. It was almost two o’clock.

  She shifted her gaze to the crowd of people who were milling around the entrance, but she didn’t see Cameron anywhere. Maybe he wasn’t going to show up. Maybe—

  “You look like you’re ready to bolt.”

  His voice, deep and warm and tinged with amusement, came from behind.

  Gabriella whirled around, her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. “Not before two-oh-five,” she assured him.

  He smiled, his teeth flashing white in contrast to his tanned skin, and her knees went weak. Silently she cursed him, then cursed herself louder and harder.

  “Where’s your entourage of bodyguards?”

  “I’m flying beneath the radar today,” he told her.

  She didn’t see how that was possible. Even as casually dressed as he was, in well-worn jeans and a faded Cambridge University T-shirt with a battered Baltimore Orioles baseball cap on his head, there was something about him that made him stand out from the crowd. Although he dwarfed her five-feet-four-inch frame, he was probably just about six feet tall, and he was more slender than muscular. But his shoulders were broad, and he carried himself with a confidence that edged into arrogance. He was the type of man who would never go anywhere unnoticed, and the realization made Gabriella wary.

  “The museum closes at three,” she told him, anxious to commence and conclude this unwanted meeting.

  “I didn’t actually plan on going inside,” he replied.

  She frowned. “Then why are we here?”

  “I thought we could take a walk.” He offered his arm to her.

  Gabriella only stared at him. “In the middle of downtown on a Saturday afternoon?”

  His lips curved again, and her heart pounded.

  “Are you worried about what the gossip columnists might say if we’re seen together?” he teased.

  “I’d think you should be the one to worry,” she said, unable to deny that being seen with the prince made her uneasy. Because his baseball cap really wasn’t much of a disguise.

  He just shrugged. “I stopped letting rumors and innuendo bother me years ago.”

  She wished she could say the same thing, but the truth was, she’d always hated the idea of anyone talking behind her back, spreading gossip and lies. She only had herself to blame for the worst of it. By refusing to name the father of her baby, she’d given people reason to talk, to speculate, to sneer.

  “Gabriella?”

  She pushed the painful memories aside. “Where are we walking to?”

  “The harbor front.”

  It would be even busier down by the water, but maybe that was his plan—to hide in plain sight. So she fell into step beside him, grateful that she was wearing low-heeled sandals. She’d changed her clothes four times before she’d left the house—not because she wanted to impress him but because she wanted to ensure that she didn’t give that impression.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asked her.

  “I had a late breakfast.” Truthfully, she’d barely nibbled on the omelet her mother had made for her, because her stomach was tied up in knots in anticipation of this meeting.

  “We could pick up some sandwiches at The Angel and take them to the park for a picnic.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for the picnicking type,” she said.

  “A lot changes in seventeen years.”

  “True enough,” she agreed.

  “Although you look the same,” he noted. “Aside from some subtle changes. Your hair’s a little shorter, your curves are a little fuller, but you still knock the breath out of me every time I see you.”

  “And you still have all the best lines,” she retorted.

  “You don’t believe it’s true?”

  “I learned a long time ago not to believe any words that come out of your mouth.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I guess I can’t blame you for that,” he finally said.

  Gabriella didn’t respond. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t let him get to her, that no matter what he said or did, she would remain cool and unruffled. But after less than ten minutes in his company, she was feeling decidedly uncool and extremely ruffled.

  He paused on the sidewalk outside of the café. “Proscuitto and provolone with mustard?”

  She was surprised that he remembered. She’d thought it was only a coincidence that he’d chosen to stop at The Angel. She wouldn’t have expected him to remember that they’d been there together once before—stopping in for provisions on the Friday afternoon before they’d stolen away for the weekend. Not only had he remembered that they’d stopped at this café, but he’d remembered what she’d ordered.

  But as he’d pointed out, they weren’t the same people now that they were then, and she’d changed a lot more than he could imagine. “Turkey and Swiss with mayo.”

  “Iced tea?”

  She nodded. While he ducked inside the café, she waited outside, watching the crowd.

  When Sierra was little, Gabriella would often bring her down here on weekends. They would browse through the little shops that lined the waterfront and eat sandwiches in the park, throwing their crusts to the ducks that paddled in circles around the pond. Then they’d walk a little farther, and she’d hold tightly to Sierra’s hand as she said a silent thank-you to the playboy prince who lived in the fancy house that was just barely visible at the top of the hill, because he’d given her the greatest gift in the world. Then they’d go back to Lorenzo’s for some lemon ice before they headed home.

  She smiled at the memory, the smile slipping as she remembered that Sierra still loved to spend Saturday afternoons at the harbor front, though she usually preferred to do her shopping with Jenna and Rachel now. Gabriella had a moment of panic then, when it occurred to her that she might run into her daughter here in town. She wasn’t sure what Sierra’s plans were for the day, but she figured it would be just her luck to meet Cameron downtown in order to avoid him seeing Sierra again—and then running into her anyway.

  “Gabriella?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, but she chided herself for the instinctive reaction. The deeply, masculine voice obviously didn’t belong to her daughter. As she turned to respond, the initial sense of relief was replaced by guilt and remorse when she found herself face-to-face with Rafe.

  Cameron walked out of the café with a paper bag in hand and a smile on his face. He wasn’t sure he could explain his good mood. He’d been furious beyond reason when he’d realized that Gabriella had given birth to his child and never bothered to tell him about his daughter, and even if he thought he understood why she’d kept that information to herself, he knew it was going to take them both some time to get past all of that history.

  But he also knew that he wanted to get past it. He wanted to get to know his daughter, he wanted Sierra to know that he was her father, and he wanted a second chance with Gabriella—a first chance for the three of them to be a family.

  Family. The word made his chest feel tight. At first, he’d thought his reaction was panic at the idea of being tied down to one woman and her child, but the more he thought about it, the more he’d realized what he was really feeling was a yearning. A yearning that had been stirring inside of him since he’d seen her standing in her boss’s office.

  Or maybe the yearning had been there for the past seventeen years. Maybe that was why he’d
never had a long-term relationship with any one woman—because he’d never gotten over Gabriella. Because he couldn’t help but compare every other woman he’d been with to her, and no one had ever measured up.

  He shook his head, banishing the ridiculously romantic notion from his mind. He’d barely been twenty years old when they’d had their brief affair so many years ago and he hadn’t been pining for her since. Truthfully, he’d hardly even let himself think about her during the intervening years. But when he’d realized she was the author of the offending “Around Town” column, he’d grasped the excuse to track her down. Yes, he’d been frustrated and angry—but he’d also been curious. He’d wanted to see her again, to find out what she’d been up to over the past seventeen years, and he was curious to know if there was anything left of the chemistry that had always sizzled between them.

  There was still sizzle—and a whole lot of baggage that he never could have anticipated. But he wasn’t going to worry about that today. Right now, he just wanted to spend a pleasant day with Gabriella, to learn about his daughter and convince her mother that he wanted to be part of her life again.

  And maybe, if he was lucky, he might have a chance to test the potency of that chemistry. He pushed open the door, his smile fading as soon as he saw that Gabriella wasn’t alone.

  She was with a man, holding his hand, and the man was smiling at her in a way that left Cameron in no doubt about the fact that they’d been lovers. Maybe they still were. His fingers automatically curled into fists, and it was only when he heard the crinkle of the paper bag that he remembered it was in his hand.

  “Ready, Gabriella?” His tone was deliberately casual.

  She started and turned, her cheeks flushing with color. He thought she tried to tug her hand from the other man’s grasp, but he held on, his smile looking a little strained now.

  “Oh. That was quick,” she said.

  He lifted a brow, silently questioning.

  “Cameron, this is Rafe Fulton. Rafe, this is Cameron.”