Scandal With a Prince (40 page)

A flash of movement in Anna’s room caught Megan’s attention, causing her to move to the window that separated their rooms.
 
Dr. Serrano was in with Anna again, listening to her chest with his stethoscope.
 
Megan waited, hoping to see a sign the doctor was satisfied with what he observed.
 
For now, however, it was tough to discern anything.
 
He had his back to her and was leaning over the bed, completely blocking her view of Anna.

“You’re awake,” Stefano’s luxuriant voice soothed her anxiety as he walked up behind her.
 
Judging from the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee that entered the room with him, he’d been true to his word to the nurse.

“And you brought me coffee,” she said, turning toward him.
 
He held a steaming coffee cup in each hand.
 
A brown paper bag dangled from beneath one of the cups.
 
“That officially makes it my best morning here yet.”

A wry smile lit his face as he handed her one of the large cups.
 
Despite the growth of beard and shadows under his eyes that came from a lack of sleep, his grin set her heart racing.
 
He held his own cup of coffee and the paper bag, which he switched to the hand that was now free of her cup. “I brought croissants, too.
 
Not the healthiest choice, but it’s all that was available this early.
 
I figured you could use some fortification.”
 

“You are a prince,” she whispered, but he still shushed her as he shook open the bag so she could select one.

His gaze moved past her to the window.
 
“Any word?”

“Not yet.
 
I’m trying to be patient.”
 
She took a sip of the coffee, which was surprisingly flavorful this morning, then turned back toward Anna.
 
Dr. Serrano appeared to be taking Anna’s pulse, though his position still blocked Megan’s view of her daughter.

“I suppose that’s all we can do.”
 
Stefano gestured for her to take a seat in the room’s sole chair.
 
“Come on.
 
Have breakfast.
 
It’ll kill a few minutes, at least.”

Reluctantly, she left the window and took the proffered seat.
 
Leaning back, she closed her eyes and allowed the aroma of the coffee to refresh her brain to the extent it could.
 

“Now there’s a look of ecstasy,” Stefano said.

“It’s a look of exhaustion,” she mumbled.

“Funny…this is the third time we’ve had breakfast together, yet this is the first time we’ve spent the night together beforehand.”
 
When she cracked an eye, he added, “It’s not how I envisioned it.”
 

“Please tell me you’re not flirting with me.”
 

She meant it to be teasing, but an expression of loss and confusion passed over his face before he stifled it and replied with a lighthearted, “Never.”

He stood abruptly and went to the window.

She fumbled for a way to diffuse the tension that suddenly seemed to fill the air.
 
“Stefano, you know—”

“She’s awake.”
 
Stefano’s face seemed to light from the inside as he grinned.
 
“Really awake this time.
 
Megan, come here…I think she’s talking.”

Chapter Thirty

Megan was at the window before Stefano finished speaking.
 
Dr. Serrano was holding up his fingers and Anna was telling him how many there were.
 
“Oh my gosh, Stefano!
 
She
is
talking!”

Both of them remained riveted on the scene before them.
 
After another minute of chatting with Anna, Dr. Serrano reached down and patted Anna’s arm, then turned and saw them watching from the window.
 
When he gestured that he’d come speak with them in a moment, Megan thought she’d burst.

“The antibiotics must be working,” she said as Dr. Serrano stood beside Anna’s bed, scribbling notes in his file while Anna closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
 
“Let’s hope.”

“Do you want to talk to the doctor in private?”
 

“Don’t be silly.
 
She’s your daughter, too.”
 
Even if no one else knew it.
 

He responded by giving her a quick, one-armed hug in silent thanks, releasing her before Dr. Serrano entered their room.
 

“As you can see, the news is good,” he said in his heavy accent as he removed the mask he’d worn into Anna’s room.
 
Though his words filled Megan with relief, the doctor’s tone remained professional.
 
“Her fever has come down in the last few hours.
 
She’s very tired and needs her sleep, but she is able to answer questions clearly.
 
She could tell me her name and address, she could count backwards from ten, she could tell how many fingers I showed her.
 
She even noticed the flowers on the stand beside her bed.
 
Best of all, she could tell me some of what she was doing the day before she was admitted.
 
She even said, ‘I wish hospitals let people wear real clothes because I look stupid.’
 
So her sense of humor is intact.
 
Those are all very good signs.”

Megan exhaled for what felt like the first time in days.
 
“That’s very, very good to hear.”

“She is not” —he glanced at the ceiling for a moment, as if drawing the words from an invisible source— “not out of the woods.
 
She still has a fever and she is very weak.
 
But the new course of antibiotics seems to be working.”

“Thank you, Dr. Serrano,” Stefano said.
 
He sounded as relieved as Megan felt.
 
“We appreciate the long hours you’ve spent with Anna.”

“Anything for my youngest patients.
 
I understand from Dr. Jenkins that you were the friend who called him.”
 
The doctor smiled as he shook hands with Stefano.
 
“Thank you for doing so, Mr. Jones.
 
His input was helpful and I was pleased to have him here yesterday.
 
He left earlier this morning to return to Madrid, but gave me his contact information to keep him updated.”

“He’ll be thrilled to hear about her progress,” Stefano replied.

Megan glanced toward the window.
 
Anna’s eyes remained closed.
 
“How soon can I go in again?”

“Whenever she wakes.
 
I would like her to sleep undisturbed as much as possible.
 
Be sure to scrub up first, just to be safe.”
 
He removed the stethoscope from around his neck and tucked it into his pocket.
 
“I will call Dr. Jenkins to give him the news, then I will be off for a few hours.
 
Dr. Santos will check on her throughout the day, then I will be back tonight.
 
If you need anything at all, let Dr. Santos know.
 
She’s been updated on Anna’s case.
 
The nurses are here to help, too.”

Megan thanked Dr. Serrano once more, then let him go.
 
The man had to be exhausted, perhaps even more exhausted than she.
 
To her surprise, Stefano walked to the door and closed it behind the doctor.

“Come here,” he said.
 
He opened his arms, inviting Megan to fall into his embrace.
 
“She’s going to be all right.
 
By the time your parents get here in a few hours, she may even be able to tell them hello.”

“I hope so.”
 
She allowed herself to relax against him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cradled her head to the spot where his strong, broad shoulder met the base of his neck.
 
His pulse beat there, a strong, steady thrum against her cheek.
 
“As he said, she’s not out of the woods yet.
 
But I’m feeling very positive.”

“Me, too.
 
I have to be.”
 
His lips pressed to the top of her head as he murmured into her hair, “I love her so much.”
 
Then so quietly she could barely hear it, “So much.”

The admission nearly felled Megan.
 
She knew, deep in her soul, that he’d meant it for her, too.
 
His palm spread across her back, warming her through her shirt, even as his other hand kept her head tucked against him.
 

Tentatively, she moved her lips to where Stefano’s pulse beat, just above his collarbone at the base of his throat.
 
At the intimate contact, his breathing became shallower, more heated.
 
His fingers flexed against her back, then slid lower.
 
Neither of them could mistake this for an embrace driven solely by relief.
 
Not anymore.

His mouth moved lower, kissing her forehead, her cheek, and then—as she shifted to allow him access—her lips.
 
He didn’t pretend to want gentleness.
 
His kiss was hard, rough as the whiskers dotting his jaw, filled with need.
 
She responded with the same hunger, opening to him, encouraging him to touch and feel and taste every part of her.
 
To give him what he needed, even if he refused to acknowledge to himself that he did, in fact, need it.

Suddenly, his hands went lax against her back.
 
Once again, it was as if he could read her mind.
 
He eased his mouth away from hers.
 
“We shouldn’t.
 
No matter how good this feels, we—”

“The nurses aren’t going to come in.”
 
Though as she said it, she realized that they very well could walk right into Anna’s room and see them through the window.

“It’s not that.”

He took a step back.
 
Slowly, he moved his hands to her shoulders, then down her arms, until only their fingertips touched.
 
Sounds drifted to them from the hallway: a mop bucket being rolled by a maintenance worker, a phone ringing, the distant ping of an elevator.
 
With a sigh, he broke contact.
 

He scrubbed a hand from his forehead to his chin, a blend of sadness and frustration darkening his face as he looked at her.
 

“I know,” she admitted.
 

“Do you?
 
Can you understand?”

“The last thing you’re afraid of is the nurses.
 
You’re far more afraid of what’s outside the hospital walls.
 
That’s what makes you afraid to love me.
 
And” —her chest tightened as she said the words— “I think you do.
 
Love me.”

Stefano’s mouth opened as if he wanted to argue, but she reached to cover his lips with her index finger.
 
“I know why you’re doing what you’re doing.
 
Why you essentially took back your marriage proposal.
 
Why you’re dying to kiss me now but feel it’s wrong.”

He brushed her hand aside.
 
“You’re not—”

“You promised me that you’d never hurt Anna.
 
And I know you keep your promises.
 
But Stefano, that’s an
impossible
promise.
 
At least in this situation.
 
You can’t stop living your life for fear you’ll get hurt, or that someone around you might get hurt.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he considered her words.
 
“Megan, you know my situation is different than most.
 
You’re guaranteed
to
get hurt if you’re in my life.
 
You have an unbelievable job offer right here, working with people who care about you.
 
Even Jack Gladwell—”
 

“There are no guarantees with anything.
 
Ever.”
 
She didn’t want to discuss Jack or the Grandspire.
 
Instead, she gestured toward the window, toward what really mattered in her life.
 
“If there were guarantees, a perfectly healthy girl wouldn’t suddenly be lying there so sick she could die.
 
There weren’t guarantees the antibiotics would work, either.
 
Nothing
is guaranteed.”

His jaw continued to work for a moment as he looked at her, then at the floor, then back at her.
 
“It’s impossible.”

What a stubborn, stubborn man.
 
She loved him so much she could burst, and simultaneously wanted to throttle him.

“Stefano—”
 

“No.”
 
He waved her off.
 
“No discussion.
 
In time, you’ll see that I’m right about this.
 
And now that Anna’s fever has broken, I should go before Dr. Serrano or the nurses realize who I am.
 
It’s only a matter of time.
 
As it is, my secretary will soon have difficulty holding off inquiries regarding my whereabouts.”