His Heir, Her Honor Read online

  “I’m Pregnant. Over Two Months

  Along, And You’re The Father.”

  Pregnant?

  Shock hit him square in the solar plexus. Followed by disbelief. Then jaded acceptance of her betrayal. Just when he’d thought he couldn’t be any more disillusioned by how easily people could deceive others. A bitter laugh rolled around in his gut and burned a bilious path up his throat.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts defensively. “If this is some kind of payback for my laughter earlier, I don’t appreciate it. I don’t find this in the least amusing.”

  “Believe me, neither do I.”

  Her mouth went tight, her anger palpable. “This isn’t going to make much of a story to tell our child some day.”

  “Our child? I think not.”

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the final book in my Rich, Rugged & Royal series! In The Maverick Prince, we were introduced to Antonio, the shipping magnate and youngest of the Medina men. In His Thirty-Day Fiancée, we saw the second Medina son, Duarte, meet his match. And now it’s time to learn more about the oldest son, Carlos, dedicated doctor and heir to a defunct kingdom.

  During the violent coup to overthrow the Medina monarchy, Carlos sustained injuries that left him with a permanent limp and no hope of ever having a family of his own. Or so he thinks! His preconceptions are blown out of the water when his long-time friend and one-time lover surprises him with the news that she is carrying his child, his heir, their future.

  I hope you enjoy the last installment to my Medina trilogy. As always, I enjoy hearing from readers and can be reached through my website, www.catherinemann.com, or at my mailing address, P.O. Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566.

  Happy Reading!

  Catherine Mann

  CATHERINE MANN

  HIS HEIR, HER HONOR

  To my children, my own little princes and princesses, even though they’re not so little anymore.

  Brice, Haley, Robbie and Maggie—I love you!

  Books by Catherine Mann

  Silhouette Desire

  Baby, I’m Yours #1721

  Under the Millionaire’s Influence #1787

  The Executive’s Surprise Baby #1837

  †Rich Man’s Fake Fiancée #1878

  †His Expectant Ex #1895

  Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair #1941

  †Millionaire in Command #1969

  Bossman’s Baby Scandal #1988

  †The Tycoon Takes a Wife #2013

  Winning It All #2031

  “Pregnant with the Playboy’s Baby”

  *The Maverick Prince #2047

  *His Thirty-Day Fiancée 2061

  *His Heir, Her Honor 2071

  CATHERINE MANN

  USA TODAY bestselling author Catherine Mann is living out her own fairy-tale ending on a sunny Florida beach with her Prince Charming husband and their four children. With more than thirty-five books in print in more than twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA® Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the wireless internet that allows her to network with her laptop by the water! To learn more about her work, visit her website, www.catherinemann.com, or reach her by snail mail at P.O. Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566.

  Dear Reader,

  Yes, it’s true. We’re changing our name! After more than twenty-five years of being part of Harlequin Enterprises, Silhouette Books will officially seal the merger by taking the company’s name.

  So if you notice a few changes on the covers starting April 2011—Silhouette Special Edition becoming Harlequin Special Edition, Silhouette Desire becoming Harlequin Desire, and Silhouette Romantic Suspense becoming Harlequin Romantic Suspense—don’t be concerned.

  We’ll continue to have the same fantastic authors, wonderful stories, eye-catching covers and emotional, compelling reads. We’re just going to be moving under the overall company name, which will make us even easier for you to see in the stores, on the internet and wherever you usually find us!

  So look for the new logo, but remember, beneath the image will be the same promise of romantic stories of love, passion, adventure, family and a whole lot more. Just the way you like them!

  Sincerely,

  The Editors at Harlequin Books

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  One

  “Cover the family jewels, gentlemen,” Lilah Anderson called into the men’s locker room at St. Mary’s Hospital. “Female coming through.”

  High heels clicking on tile, Lilah charged past a male nurse yanking on scrubs and an anesthesiologist wrestling with a too-small towel, barely registering the flash of male flank here, masculine chest there. Smothered coughs and chuckles echoed around her in the steamy tiled area, but she remained undeterred.

  Completely focused on locating him.

  No one dared stop her on her way past benches and lockers. As chief administrator of Tacoma’s leading surgical facility, she could have any of them fired faster than someone could say “Who dropped the soap?”

  Her only problem? A particularly stubborn employee who seemed determined to avoid her every attempt to speak with him over the past couple of weeks. Therefore, she’d chosen the one place she could be certain of having Dr. Carlos Medina’s complete attention—a public shower.

  The stall tactics would end here and now. And speaking of stalls…

  Lilah stepped deeper into the swell of steam puffing around a cream-colored plastic curtain. His secretary, Wanda, had warned that he couldn’t be reached since he was washing up after a lengthy surgery. He would be exhausted and cranky.

  Not deterred in the least, Lilah saw this as the perfect opportunity she’d been seeking to corner him. She’d grown up with two brothers, and she would have been left out of everything if she didn’t occasionally invade their male inner sanctums. She eyed the line of showers.

  Three of the five were in use. The first sported a shadowy, short and round male figure. Not Carlos.

  From the second, a balding head peeked around the industrial curtain with shocked green eyes. Also not her surgeon in question.

  She nodded to the head of pediatrics. “Good afternoon, Jim.”

  Jim ducked back into his stall, which left her to focus on the third tiled cubicle. She marched forward, heels tapping almost as fast as her heart.

  Stopping, she planted her feet and checked first. Through the plastic folds, she studied the lean outline standing under the spray, scrubbing his hands over his head. Without even pulling aside the curtain, she knew that body well, intimately so.

  She’d found him, Carlos Medina—doctor, lover and, as if the guy didn’t already have enough going for him, also the eldest son of a former European monarch. His princely pedigree, however, didn’t impress her. Long before she knew about his royal roots, she’d been drawn to his brilliance, his compassion for his patients….

  And a backside that looked damn fine in scrubs. Or wearing nothing at all. Definitely not what she needed to think about right now.

  Lilah gathered her nerve as firmly as she clenched the curtain and swept it aside, metal rings clink, clink, clinking along the rod.

  A wall of steam rolled out, momentarily clouding her vision until the mist dispersed and exposed an eyeful of mouthwateringly magnificent man. Water sluiced down Carlos’s naked body turned sideways, revealing
long lean muscles flexing and bunching. And heaven help her, she had a perfect view of the curve of his taut butt.

  Beads of moisture clung to his bronzed skin, arms and legs sprinkled with dark hair. No tan lines marked him since he spent most of his time indoors either in surgery or asleep. But his natural olive coloring gave him an allover tanned look, as if he’d bared himself unabashedly to the sun.

  As he turned his head toward her in a slow, deliberate move, not even a whisper of surprise showed on Carlos’s face. His eyes shone nearly black…heavy lidded…darkly enigmatic. She couldn’t suppress a shiver of desire as his intense gaze held hers. Her stomach knotted with a traitorous ache that could only serve to distract her from her mission today.

  He raised one thick eyebrow, slashing upward into his forehead. “Yes?”

  His subtle Spanish accent saturated the lone syllable like the steam in the air, so hot she felt the urge to ditch the jacket on her power suit.

  In the next stall, water shut off in a hurry as the head of pediatrics made a hasty departure from the locker room. Others lingered, backs studiously turned as they retrieved clothing.

  Lilah tugged her jacket more firmly in place. “I need to talk to you.”

  “A telephone conversation would have saved my coworkers some embarrassment.” He spoke softly as always, never raising his voice as if he knew innately that people would hang on his every word.

  “What I have to say isn’t for an impersonal call.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? What she needed to tell him also wasn’t for the curious ears behind her, but she would have Carlos alone soon.

  All alone?

  Static-like awareness popped along her nerves until the hair on her arms rose. Was that an answering spark lighting his dark eyes? Then he blinked away any hint of emotion.

  “It does not get much more personal than this, boss lady.” He turned off the shower. “Could you pass me that towel?”

  She snagged the white cotton draped on a hook. The hospital name and logo were stamped along the bottom. She pitched the towel to him rather than risk an accidental touch. As he looped it around his waist, she couldn’t resist staring for a stolen second.

  Water soaked his hair even blacker, shiny and swept back from his face. Every hard and hunky angle of his aristocratic cheekbones and nose was revealed. Dark brows slashed over brown eyes that rarely carried humor, but turned lava lush when he made love to her.

  Pivoting, his back to her for the first time, he snagged his shampoo. Her eyes quickly left his slim hips and taut butt, drawn more to the scars along his lower back. In the four years she’d known him, he’d chalked up his permanent limp to a teenage riding accident. The one time she’d pressed him, the first time she’d seen those scars, he’d brushed aside further questions with distracting kisses along her bare skin.

  While she was a lawyer and not a doctor, her tenure working at the hospital—and flat-out common sense—clued her in that he’d suffered a major physical trauma.

  Toiletries bag tucked under his arm, he leaned toward her. His shoulders, then his eyes, drew her in until the rest of the space faded away. She swallowed hard.

  He stared back, unblinking, unflinching. “Let’s make this quick.”

  “Your charm never ceases to impress me.”

  “If you’re looking for charm, you hired the wrong man four years ago.” He’d been thirty-six then to her thirty-one, a lifetime ago. “I’ve spent most of the day repairing the spine of a seven-year-old Afghani girl injured by a roadside bomb. I’m beat.”

  Unwanted sympathy whispered through her. Of course he was exhausted from the drawn-out, tragic surgery. Even when he caved to his pride and used a chair during extended operations, the toll it took on him was always evident. But she couldn’t afford to weaken now.

  They’d been friends for years only to have him turn into a cold jackass because of an impulsive one-night stand together after a Christmas fundraiser. It wasn’t like she’d dropped a wedding planner in his lap five seconds after the third orgasm waned.

  Yep, three. Her toes curled inside her pumps at just the memory of each shimmering release.

  The sex had been amazing. Beyond amazing actually, and after that impulsive hookup, she’d envisioned them transitioning into a relationship of friends with kick-ass benefits. A nerve-tingling, safe option. But he’d pulled away as fast as he’d pulled on his pants the next morning. He was cold, withdrawn and painfully polite.

  But she wasn’t backing down. “I don’t have the time for niceties. I’m just here to say my piece. So grab some clothes and let’s talk.”

  He ducked his head until his voice heated her ear. “You’re not the type to create a scene. Let’s set up a time to talk when you’re calmer. This is already awkward enough.”

  Her nose twitched at his fresh-washed scent. Yes, she’d chosen an unconventional route for her confrontation, but Carlos Medina’s tenacious—stubborn—reputation was legendary. She felt confident the hospital board would cut her a little slack for her scene. And if they didn’t? Then so be it. Sometimes a woman had to make a stand.

  This was her time. She couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

  “I’m not setting up an appointment. I’m not delaying this conversation.” She lowered her voice, although from the sound of retreating footsteps behind her there must not be many people left. “We talk. Today. The only matter up for discussion is whether we chat right here in front of everyone or if we speak in an office. And believe me, if we stay here, it’s going to get a lot more awkward very quickly.”

  Carlos cocked an eyebrow.

  From behind her, a cleared throat echoed, or a stifled laugh perhaps. She looked up at Carlos, suddenly painfully aware of just how close they stood to each other with nothing but a towel covering his oh-so-generous family jewels.

  Whispering, she struggled not to back away—or move closer still. Carlos had ignored her for nearly three months, hurtful and flat-out insulting given their friendship. Or rather, their prior friendship.

  One way or another, she would get a reaction from him. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you before. In fact, I recall in great—”

  “Enough,” he silenced her with a word.

  “The almighty Medina prince has spoken,” she mocked, backing a step to snag surgical scrubs from the top of a stack. “Get dressed. I’ll wait.”

  She thrust the folded green set his way and turned away. A trio of half-dressed men faced her, their jaws slack and eyes wide. The magnitude of the scene she’d caused hit her full on for the first time. She resisted the urge to squirm.

  This was too important to show any vulnerability. She just hoped she could maintain enough distance to get through the conversation during their first time alone together in so long. She pressed her fingers to her lips, still unable to forget the rush of passion from their first impetuous kiss, a clench that had led to so much more with lasting consequences.

  Once Carlos put on his clothes and they moved to another room, he would learn the truth she’d only just begun to accept herself. A truth she could no longer avoid.

  Dr. Carlos Medina was a little over six months away from becoming a princely papa.

  Carlos Medina was about six seconds away from losing his temper, something he never, never allowed to happen.

  Of course, he was the person who needed chewing out for foolishly allowing himself to sleep with Lilah nearly three months ago. He’d wrecked a top-notch working relationship.

  Sidestepping a janitor slopping an ammonia-saturated mop over the floor, Carlos followed her down the otherwise empty hospital walkway, wearing fresh surgical scrubs, tennis shoes and ten tons of frustration. Fluorescent lights overhead lined the path down the corridor. Windows flanked either side. Murky late day sun fought to pierce the dreary drizzle outdoors. But his focus was locked in on the woman two steps ahead of him on the way to his office.

  His office. Not hers. His territory.

  She may have tipped the c
ontrols in her favor with the shower confrontation, but he wasn’t giving ground again. His office would also provide guaranteed privacy. Once his Medina name had been exposed, the hospital had been flooded with paparazzi. He’d feared he might have to resign his position in order to ensure the safety of his patients.

  But he’d underestimated Lilah.

  She’d slapped restraining orders and injunctions on the press in a flash. She’d increased security at the hospital. And she’d moved his office to the farthest corner of the building. Overzealous paparazzi would have to run a gauntlet of two layers of security and a half-dozen heavily populated nurses’ stations before reaching his newly relocated inner sanctum. No one in the press had succeeded to date.

  Yes, he’d underestimated her then, something he wouldn’t do now. He needed every edge he could muster around this woman when all he could think about was her bold entrance into his shower, her gaze raking over his body as if she wouldn’t mind a touch. A taste. Maybe even a bite. Damn, but he hadn’t expected to see her again without the defense of even a pair of boxers.

  The understated twitch of her hips encased in a black power suit held his gaze far longer than any simple passing interest. His eyes glided up the rigid brace of her spine to the vulnerable curve of her neck, exposed with her auburn hair swept into a tight twist. One stubborn curl escaped to caress her ear the way he burned to do even now when he was angry as hell with her.

  He’d wanted her for years, but knew she was the one woman he had to keep his hands well off. She was too insightful, too good of a friend and one who mirrored his workaholic ways. Anything more than a professional friendship would be disastrous. For a man who’d had precious few friends in his life, he’d valued the unexpected camaraderie he’d found with Lilah.

  Clearing the hall and entering his reception area, he tore his eyes away from the enticing curve of her butt and nodded to his secretary, an efficient woman with photos of her twelve grandchildren neatly lined up on her desk. “Hold my calls, Wanda, unless it’s about the Afghani girl in recovery.”