LITMIR.BIZ

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Eric since they’d arrived in Tesoro del Mar. Though she tried not to dwell on the fact of his title, he was a prince and, as such, obviously had royal duties to fulfill. What those duties were she couldn’t even begin to guess, but obviously they took up a lot of his time.

      Not that she’d left her own responsibilities behind. She called the restaurant daily for an update, usually talking to Karen rather than Jason because Karen had been at Shea’s a long time. Molly trusted that she would tell her if there were any problems with the nighttime shifts. So far, everything was running smoothly, which should have reassured Molly but somehow made her feel extraneous instead—and left her with far too much time to think about Eric.

      Aside from being wildly attracted to him, during the past couple of weeks in Texas, she’d actually started to like him and enjoy spending time with him—or she would if she could only forget he was a prince.

      Since landing in Tesoro del Mar, she hadn’t been able to forget that for a minute.

      Upon their arrival at the palace, he’d been bowed and curtsied to more times than she could count. He didn’t seem to demand or even expect such deference, but he accepted it. As the second oldest son—no, he was the third born, she remembered now. Fiona had briefed her on the history of the royal family, including the tragic story of how Prince Julian—who had ruled the country prior to Rowan becoming prince regent—and his wife, Princess Catherine, had been killed by a freak explosion on their yacht. As a result, Prince Rowan had inherited not only the throne but custody of his older brother’s three children.

      He seemed to have adapted to sudden parenthood well, as evidenced by the close bond he shared with Christian, Lexi and Damon, as well as his two children with Lara—the former royal nanny.

      Matthew and William were two of the most adorable kids Molly had ever seen. When introduced to Rowan and Lara’s children, her first thought had been that they both bore a strong resemblance to their uncle Eric. Then she met Rowan and realized the dark hair and eyes and strong bone structure weren’t specific to Eric but were family traits.

      In fact, she nearly did a double take the first time she saw the prince regent, which prompted Scott to say, “Marcus and Eric look even more alike. When we were kids, people were constantly getting the two of them confused—which we learned to exploit whenever possible.”

      Eric had smiled at that. “Remember when the gardener swore he’d seen me running through his freshly planted flowerbeds and Nanny Adele argued, just as vehemently, that I’d been in the pool with you when it happened?”

      “Marcus was the one who raced through the dirt,” Molly guessed.

      “No, it was Eric,” Scott admitted now. “But seeing Marcus in the pool—conveniently wearing Eric’s bathing suit to confuse everyone further—made the gardener question his conviction, which meant that Prince Eduardo couldn’t be sure who should be punished.”

      “So you got away with trampling the flowers?” she asked Eric.

      He shook his head. “No—we all got punished. My father was a big believer in taking responsibility for one’s actions, and he personally supervised while Marcus and I replanted the whole garden. And he made Scott water the flowers, because he was an accessory.”

      She’d smiled as she’d listened to their retelling of the story, amused by their boyhood antics and pleased to hear the respect and affection in his voice when he talked about his father, confident that he would want to develop that same solid relationship with his own child.

      But she still didn’t know how he would react to the news that he was going to be a father himself, and she still hadn’t figured out how to share that news when the wedding was finally over.

      Right now, however, she was more concerned about what she was going to wear for dinner with Fiona and Scott and Eric because tonight, for the first time since the night of their arrival of the palace, he was free of whatever obligations had kept him occupied and was taking them all out.

      She was scanning the meager contents of her closet when her cousin slipped into her room. Fiona held up the dress she was carrying so that Molly could appreciate the simple sheath style in a silky fabric that was somewhere between blue and green and absolutely stunning.

      “How did you know I’d have nothing to wear?”

      “Because I know you and you wouldn’t have thought to pack much beyond your bridesmaid dress, a bathing suit and a toothbrush.”

      “I thought you were bringing the bridesmaid dress.”

      Fiona’s face actually paled. “You didn’t—”

      “Kidding,” Molly interrupted, and grinned.

      Her cousin huffed out a breath. “Not funny.”

      “It was funny,” she countered. “It just wasn’t very nice, so I’ll apologize and say ‘thank you’—not just for knowing me so well but for having excellent taste and wearing the same dress size I do.”

      “And the same shoe size,” Fiona said, holding out a pair of low-heeled sandals to go with the dress.

      “Thanks,” Molly said again.

      “You can thank me by putting it on—I’m dying to see it on you.”

      So Molly stripped out of her robe and slipped into the dress, sighing as the silky fabric floated over her body. “I might not ever give this back.”

      Fiona sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to want it back—it looks so much better on you than it ever did on me.”

      Molly knew that couldn’t be true—she’d never seen her cousin look anything less than stunning—but she appreciated the compliment.

      Fiona settled back on the bed and they chatted casually while Molly finished getting ready. She didn’t know if they would be dining inside or out and she didn’t want her hair tangling around her face if it was windy, so she fashioned a quick French twist and secured it with a handful of pins.

      “Does it work?” she asked, turning to her cousin for approval.

      “It works,” Fiona agreed. “In fact, it looks fabulous.”

      “And you look a little underdressed,” she suddenly realized.

      Fiona looked down at the cover-up she wore over her bikini and smiled as she slid off the bed, already making her way toward the door. “Actually, I’m dressed exactly right for a romantic picnic on the beach.”

      “We’re having a picnic on the beach?”

      Her cousin shook her head. “Scott and I are having a picnic. You’re going out for dinner with Eric.”

      “Fiona…”

      It was all she managed before her cousin slipped out the door, closing it firmly between them.

       Chapter Seven

      Molly stared at the back of the door for a long minute, considering her options. She knew she’d been set up and even knowing her cousin had the best of intentions, she didn’t appreciate it. She was tempted to refuse to go out, just to prove that she wouldn’t be manipulated, but that seemed both petty and spiteful and she wasn’t, as a rule, either of those things. At the moment, however, she was apprehensive about spending time with Eric.

      Her nervousness escalated when she left her room and found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

      She felt her cheeks flush as his gaze skimmed over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between. She trailed a hand down the smoothly polished banister, grateful for its solid support as she descended toward him. When she neared the bottom step, he offered her his hand, and she took it.

      “You look…incredible.”

      “Thank

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