Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,35
met her?” he retorted.
“Of course not! That is why I worry.”
“Stop worrying! You’ve hovered over me like an old woman for years.”
“I am not hovering over you like an old woman,” George protested.
“Okay, like a mother hen. Cluck, cluck, cluck.”
George’s gasp of outrage did sound rather like a chicken. “Frank!”
“George!” he mimicked.
They both fell silent and then started to laugh at the ridiculous exchange.
“Ah, Frank, I do tend to fuss over people, don’t I? Stevie and my grandmother will testify to that.”
“And once upon a time, I did need you to look after me. But that was a long time ago.”
“I know.” George sighed. “So, you and Julia,” he continued cheerfully. “An island vacation in your lovely villa.”
“I promise, it will be beautiful for Stevie and her husband,” Frank said hastily.
“Huh, we both know how little time they will take to appreciate their surroundings. But the privacy for them will be priceless. Between Stevie’s royalty and Dieter’s football fame, they will have few opportunities to be alone. I must thank you for that.”
“You’re most welcome. Have you talked with Jack lately? I received a couple texts from him, but he has been busy with his farm and managing the lavender perfume sales for Stevie’s charity.”
“The sales are going very well, Frank. Stevie will have more money to save the world, one woman and child at a time.”
Frank smiled. “We’re lucky to have her. And Dieter is a lucky man.”
“And he better realize that,” George growled.
“Or else we’ll convene a multinational task force to convince him of the error of his ways.”
“Count me in.”
“Good.” They both laughed, knowing they weren’t kidding.
Frank was so tuned in to Julia, he could tell when she stirred in the bedroom behind him. “I have to go start the coffeepot now, George.”
“Have a good time, Frank. Keep me posted. About you, not the villa,” he clarified.
“And you, too.” They said goodbye and Frank stepped back into the bedroom.
Julia rolled over and gave him a sleepy smile. “Sunny day?”
He grinned at her, his chest as warm as if the sun had risen inside him. “With you, every day is sunny.”
JULIA FLIPPED THE LAST pancake onto her plate and sat down across from Frank at the kitchen island.
“This is such a treat for me, Julia. I can’t tell you how much I miss American food sometimes.” Frank was eating his third pancake along with chouriço and fresh fruit.
Julia suppressed a smile. Portuguese sausage on the side and local honey on top weren’t typically American additions, but she was happy to cook for him, happy to have an appetite. Just happy to share a life with him.
Breakfast. Share a breakfast with him. She shook her head and poured some honey onto her pancake.
“What would you like to do today, Julia? We could go to the beach or hang out next to the pool.”
She wiggled her fork at him. “Those walls aren’t going to get painted on their own.”
“We have a couple more days before I need to get the workmen from São Miguel.”
Julia shook her head. “Frank, I thought you had a long list of items to fix on your to-do list for Stefania’s honeymoon. We can’t spend the whole time in bed.”
“We can’t?” He gave her a disappointed look.
It did sound wonderful, but she drew on her deep-seated sense of responsibility. “No, we can’t. Not unless you want Stefania and Dieter to have a red-and-pink cabbage-rose bedroom and leaky faucet.”
He lifted a black brow. “Stefania and Dieter are madly in love, will be newly married and alone for the first time in several weeks. I don’t think they will be worrying about ugly bedspreads and plumbing deficiencies.”
Julia shook her head. “But doesn’t she deserve a beautifully romantic hideaway?”
He crumbled, just like she knew he would. He loved Stefania as much as one of his own sisters. “Of course.” He stood and pulled her into his arms. “I just hate to have the island overrun with workmen yet.” He nuzzled her neck.
She tipped her head to the side to allow him easier access. “Then we’ll do some of it ourselves.”
“Ourselves?” He looked skeptical, as if she meant “himself” while she stood around being decoratively useless.
“Yes, ourselves. My condo in Boston was a wreck when I bought it and I was the one who did most of the rehab. My dad did the electrical, but taught me to do the plumbing. After that, painting and carpentry work was a breeze.”
“Really?”
“I’m a handy girl.”
“And I’m a handy man.” He demonstrated that