That afternoon set the pattern for the days ahead. Diego found himself increasingly busy between checking in at the stables and his office, and he had no trouble sleeping at night, except that he thought far too often of Rose just before nodding off.

On the day of his return, he’d awakened from the shared siesta after an hour, his shirt sticky from where Max’s head rested. Carefully he’d extricated himself from the awkward position and tiptoed out to the main room where Rose and Emilia were doing lessons.

Emilia’s little head had been bent over her work, and Rose was watching, a smile of encouragement on her face as Emilia printed and spelled aloud as she went. They hadn’t seen him yet, and he let the scene before him sink into his memory. She cared about the children. He’d hoped that whoever they hired would, of course, but with Rose it was genuine affection. Her honey-gold hair was twisted up into a knot at the back of her head, and her ivory complexion had already mellowed a little from the Mediterranean sun, giving her a glow. She’d relaxed from her plain black trousers and white blouses too, opting for softer, pale linens in deference to the heat.

She was beautiful. She was damn near perfect. And that scared the hell out of him almost as much as it drew him to her.

“Very good,” she praised softly, and Emilia looked up at her with something akin to hero worship.

Max was asleep, Emilia was studying, and both were happy. He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was because they were getting attention, and the good kind of attention. What children needed were two parents. In the absence of that, they were getting Rose and Diego as substitutions for the real thing.

In that moment he promised himself that as long as he was needed, he’d be there for the children.

The first thing he’d done was go to Raoul and make his case. Raoul had dark circles beneath his eyes and he’d been short with Diego, firing back that a bachelor who was rarely at home had no business telling him how to raise his children. It was no less than Diego had expected. He stopped at Raoul’s secretary’s desk on the way out. “Stephani, is he getting any sleep?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, frowning. “He won’t talk to me either. I know I’m just his assistant . . .”

“You’re more than that. He trusts you. We both need to keep trying, I guess.”

Her dark eyes met Diego’s. “I hate seeing him so unhappy.”

“If you ever have any concerns, come to me, will you?”

“Of course.”

That day, and every day since, he’d crammed his working hours into the morning and spent his afternoons with the children. The trip to Argentina had been very profitable for the stables, and several deals were in progress that would see new additions to their polo stock as well as the sale of breeding rights. Being able to claim connection to the royal bloodline was a big thing for many breeders.

In the evenings he worked until dinner on business involving his charities, and then after dinner he sometimes worked until nearly midnight if something was pressing and couldn’t wait. Each morning he had a to-do list for his assistant, Camila, to carry out while he was involved in his day.

But today he was playing hooky. The children had been fussing more and more about being bored and not getting out of the palace as they used to.

Ceci had been gone two months. As far as Diego knew, the kids hadn’t left the palace grounds in all that time. Ceci had taken them places quite often. Of course they missed it.

So he’d arranged a car and proper security, and they were going into the city for lunch and some shopping. Max wanted toys. Emilia wanted everything. The day was sunny and perfect for this sort of an outing.

They were dressed and waiting for him just past noon when he came to get them at the nursery. Rose had dressed them appropriately, in casual but spotless and pressed clothing. She was looking very pretty too, he realized. Her dress was a floral print on an ivory background, with a wide belt at her small waist and ivory flats on her feet—sensible, he thought, for the walking they’d be doing. A wide-brimmed hat hung from her fingers, along the side of her thigh. There was an innocence about her that filled him with a sense of goodness.

“Are we ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together.

Max ran up and pulled on Diego’s hand. “Let’s go! I’m hungry.”

They were laughing as they piled into the waiting car, the driver shutting the door behind them. It wasn’t until Rose was buckling them into their seats that the atmosphere suddenly got quiet. He looked at Max and saw the boy’s eyes were wide. A glance at Emilia showed her blinking rather quickly. Rose noticed too, and when she turned to Diego for help, he gave a small shake of his head.

“Okay, what do you want to eat? I think we should eat as soon as we get there.” Diego forced a note of cheerfulness, hoping to distract the children from what he suspected was a very bad memory.

Emilia shrugged.

“Come on, you two. You must have some favorites,” Rose nudged.

Diego wasn’t sure if she’d figured out why they were suddenly so silent, but she leaned forward and smiled at them, trying again. “I don’t know what I’d like,” she said. “The food here is very different. Perhaps the two of you will help me decide.”

Max mumbled something.

“I’m sorry?” She peered into his face. “I didn’t quite catch that, Max.”

“He said churros,” Emilia replied. “They’re fried and have cinnamon on them.”

“That’s for dessert,” Diego said, as the driver negotiated the way down the lane toward the gates and then the street.

“At school, we sometimes had ‘Backwards Dinner,’” Rose said, smiling a little. “Forks on the right. Knives on the left. And dessert first.” She wiggled her eyebrows, coaxing a smile out of Max.

“May we really have dessert first, Miss Rose?” Emilia asked, her eyes lighting up.

“We’ll see, shall we?”

The mood seemed to have lightened a bit, and on the way into the city Diego sat back and watched as she engaged in some subtle prodding to get the children to confess to their favorite activities.

It came as no surprise to Diego that Max’s mostly consisted of food and outdoor activities, while Emilia liked shopping of all sorts. “I think we should visit the market in the square,” he suggested. “We can have lunch at one of the tavernas nearby, visit a few shops, and then haggle with the vendors.”

“Yes!” Max’s face lit up. “It is so loud and bright. Last time I saw jugglers.”

Rose nodded, and Diego was happy they’d decided to take the children on an outing today.

“Jugglers? That’s exciting,” she said, keeping the conversation going.

“Si,” he answered. “It was just before . . .”

Max suddenly stopped, and the car was quiet.

Diego knew the moment she understood. She looked quickly at the children, then back at him. The funeral for their mother had been on the palace grounds, in the chapel. He suspected they hadn’t been in the limousine since the night of the accident.

The moment passed, and Max and Emilia were talking to each other now in their excitement for the afternoon’s events. Rose looked up at Diego once more and he gave a brief nod. “Now you understand,” he said quietly.

“Is this why you haven’t traveled lately?”

He spared a glance at the children and then looked back at her. “I thought it was time I focused on family.”

“So the bad boy’s reformed?” she asked.

“Maybe the bad boy needed a purpose,” he answered, and her gaze of approval went straight to his heart. He didn’t often feel as if his choices were appreciated, but this time he knew he was doing the right thing and for the right reasons. The time for playing around was over.

* * *

Rose was still considering Diego’s last statement when they entered the city. As flattering as it was to think she had captured his attention, it was far more gratifying to know that he was focused on the well-being of his family. She nearly asked him what he had planned, but her attention was diverted by the bright sights of tall houses, balconies made colorful by plants and flowers, and even lines of clothing strung between poles in some of the poorer areas. Pedestrians stopped and pointed at the car as they passed, not only because of the sleek black stretch but because of the royal flags adorning the hood.

“We’re making a bit of a spectacle,” Rose observed, peering out the tinted window.

“It’s hard to go incognito,” Diego said. “But really, there’s not much to worry about. Besides, Father would hardly agree to us jumping in a plain old car for an afternoon in town.”

She looked behind them. One of those “plain old cars” was behind them—black, expensive, new. Palace security.

“Don’t worry. They won’t intrude unless they’re needed. You’ll hardly know they’re there.”

“Do you always have security?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. But then, I’m a big boy. I’m not the heir. And Marazur is pretty small, considering. Today it’s just because . . .” The sentence trailed off and she knew he meant the children.

“I see.” She did, or at least she thought she did.

She learned very quickly over the next thirty minutes as they parked and headed into what she would call the equivalent of a pub. It was light and airy, though, with delicious smells wafting out the door, and gorgeous flowers spilling out of pots along the windows. No dark interior and heavy wood furniture here; instead there were colorful chairs and tables with bright tablecloths. They were led straight through to the back where they could have privacy, and Rose saw a number of heads follow their progress through the little restaurant.

The children sat together on one side, their backs to the door and the other patrons, while she and Diego faced forward, with everything and everyone in full view.

It dawned on her that this was on purpose. For protection. She didn’t see any of their security, though. Wherever they were, they were doing a good job of being inconspicuous.

Rose was true to her word about dessert first, and they ordered churros to start. A basket of them came and Rose dutifully munched on one and found it delicious . . . and addictive. Max looked at her as if to say “I told you so,” while Emilia licked all the cinnamon off her crispy piece before eating the pastry.

They ordered lunch and talked about their plans for the afternoon while they were waiting. Once Rose saw, with some alarm, that a woman with a camera was angling along a wall for a picture. The man who’d shown them to their table, however, stepped forward and guided her back to her table. Diego acted as if nothing had happened, but Rose frowned. She’d never had to deal with any sort of celebrity attention before.

The food arrived and the rich, spicy scent of her paella—ordered on Diego’s recommendation—made her stomach growl. Emilia giggled, Rose rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed. Max’s eyes bulged at the size of his bocadillo, which Diego explained was a sandwich made with specially cured ham. Since Max tended to head straight for the meat at any teatime or meal, she wasn’t surprised by his choice. Emilia, on the other hand, had what appeared to be a potato and egg omelet.

“Tortilla Española, Miss Rose. My favorite.” Her ponytail bobbed as she reached for her napkin and spread it gently on her lap. She was a six-year-old girl but also a princess. There was no forgetting it, even in a little taverna.

Diego’s meal seemed somewhat lighter than she’d expected. It looked like some sort of vegetable combination, with a fried egg on the top of it. “What’s that?”

“Pisto,” he replied. “Roasted vegetables. Kind of like a, what’s the dish . . .” He frowned. “Like the one that has eggplant in it.”

“Ratatouille?”

He nodded. “That’s it. Only no eggplant.”

Next to it, her bowl of paella looked huge—and rich.

They dug in and she was delighted as flavors burst over her tongue. Rice, saffron, vegetables, gorgeous shrimp, and spicy chorizo. There was no way she’d be able to finish it all. “Pardon my manners,” she said lightly, “but would anyone like some? There’s too much for just me.”

The children stared at her for a moment. Clearly this was not a done thing at the dinner table.

“Max,” she said, “would you like to try a bite of the sausage?”

He nodded. Carnivore all the way, that one. In return, he offered her a sliver of the ham from his sandwich. She’d never tasted anything like it. Dry-cured was very different than what she was used to.

Then Emilia insisted she try some of her tortilla and a narrow slice of it made it across the table. By the time she’d tested everyone’s choices, she was stuffed, but loving all the different flavors. More than that, she’d enjoyed the whole meal, being with the three of them and knowing they were relaxed and happy.

“Dessert?” Diego asked, but she patted her belly and shook her head.

“That’s what the churros were for,” she said. “I couldn’t eat another bite. That was delicious.”

Diego nodded at someone and a few minutes later he leaned over. “We’re fine to leave now.”

They made their way back out into the sunshine. It wasn’t far to the market; the taverna was just off the main square. “It’s busy in here,” Diego said, his voice firm. “Max, you need to take my hand, and Emilia, you take Miss Rose’s. We don’t want anyone getting separated, do we?”

Emilia slipped her hand into Rose’s, then looked up and smiled. Rose smiled back, feeling her heart catch. Emilia was so trusting. Since the first day when she’d taken Rose through the gardens, she’d abandoned her resentful attitude. She’d been hurt, but Rose could see she simply wanted love and affection. Well, Rose had both of those in abundance. She squeezed Emilia’s hand lightly, reassuring her.

Max, on the other hand, was tugging at Diego’s arm. In no time flat he’d pulled them over to a clothing vendor where football shirts were for sale.

“How does he do that?” Rose leaned over and spoke in Diego’s ear, quite loudly to be heard over the shopping bustle. “He’s only three feet tall!”

“We’ve been here a time or two. He has a good memory, I guess.” Already Max was pointing at a red and black jersey that was about six sizes too big.

The vendor clearly remembered them, too. “Ah, Your Highness,” he said, bowing quickly. “And the young Prince Max. How may I help you today?”

They dithered over shirts, and Rose hid a smile as Max, in all his four-year-old authority, haggled with the vendor while having no idea about the numbers he was saying. But the vendor went along with him, frowning and thoughtfully bargaining until he threw up his hands at an agreed price. Diego took bills out of his wallet, and Rose noticed that it was for the original price listed on the sign. Diego winked at the vendor, took the shirt, and grinned widely as Max shook the vendor’s hand at a bargain well struck.

Since they were at the clothing stalls, Emilia found a pretty skirt and then a little purse among the leather goods, as fine as Rose had ever seen. Rose looked longingly at a soft-as-butter handbag, but decided not to spend the money today. There would be other days. Today was for the children to enjoy.

But then there was a stall with the most stunning silver jewelry. Accented with gemstones and mother-of-pearl, the display glittered and she couldn’t stop herself from going to look.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” she said, sparing a glance at Emilia. “Don’t you think?”

Emilia nodded, and pointed at a particularly lovely bracelet. It was about half an inch wide, solid silver with little pale pink stones inlaid in a pretty leaf pattern. “How much?” Rose asked.

The vendor named a number of euros that made Rose blink. “Oh.”

Emilia, who’d been rather quiet during the purchase of her skirt, stepped up to the stall table. “No, nononono,” she said, making it sound like all one word. She let go of Rose’s hand and wagged a finger at him, and then let loose with a flurry of Spanish that had Rose gaping.

The vendor stood back, raised his eyebrows, and then to Rose’s surprise, came back with what she thought was another offer. And back and forth they went, while Rose felt both abashed and fiercely proud that the girl was holding her own. Thank goodness the vendor didn’t know who he was haggling with.

Emilia looked up at Rose with triumph in her dark eyes, and gave the vendor’s final offer. There was no way Rose could turn it down now, not after all of Emilia’s hard work. She began to reach for her pocket book when a large hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Allow me,” Diego said, reaching for his wallet once again.

The look on the vendor’s face was utterly priceless. Shock, embarrassment, confusion . . . Diego handed over the negotiated amount and the vendor handed her the bracelet. Then he plucked a small pair of earrings from the display and handed them to Emilia. He said something to her and she smiled and thanked him. Rose looked at Diego, and his face was full of pride.

Max was getting tired, so they only went a few steps from the vendor and then Diego hefted the boy on to his shoulders. “What did that man say to Emilia?” she asked, back to holding Emilia’s hand again.

“He said she drove a hard bargain and she was going to make a great queen someday.”

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

“I think so, too.”

“You could have knocked him over with a feather when he realized who we were.”

Diego laughed. “It’s nice that he didn’t at first. And by the way, you have great taste. The bracelet is beautiful.”

“Em picked it out. And thank you for buying it for me.”

“It’s my pleasure. The children are very happy with you, Rose. It means a lot to know that.”

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back.

They made a stop for a small ice cream, at Max’s request. When they were done, they began making their way to the car. Rose had gotten accustomed to seeing their security now, and felt both secure and strange about being watched so closely. A little girl started straight toward them, and one of the guards stepped forward, but Diego shook his head. The girl couldn’t be more than seven or eight, just a little older than Emilia. She carried a basket with red carnations.

Diego waved off the security.

When the girl was within a few feet, he squatted down so he was closer to her height. “Hola, chiquita.”

She curtsied and then stood and greeted him in return. Rose could barely hear what they said, but she caught him asking the girl’s name. She missed the reply, but Diego immediately introduced Max and Emilia. The darling curtsied to both. Lord, she was adorable.

But it went beyond adorable into heartstrings territory when she took out two carnations and gave one to each of the children. She said something in Spanish—again, Rose was frustrated at not being fluent enough to keep up. Emilia answered back, and Max’s face was dead sober. They spoke for another few moments, and she did catch Emilia saying “Thank you very much.”

Rose looked at Diego, questioning. But any words she might have said died on her lips. His eyes were full of tears. He looked away and cleared his throat, then turned back with a smile.

“Well, here we are, nearly to the car. What a day! Did everyone have fun?”

The children nodded, but their earlier exuberance was gone. Rose was perplexed.

Max fell asleep on the drive home, his carnation clutched in his hand. Emilia was exhausted as well, so she decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon on her bed with a pile of storybooks. Rose gave it fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before Emilia would snuggle down with one of her stuffed animals and be asleep too.

Diego had helped her with the children, carrying Max upstairs, so she went to the little kitchenette in the suite that she used for snacks and teatime and heated a kettle for making coffee. “Would you like one?”

He shrugged. “I’d prefer a glass of wine.”

She laughed. “None here, I’m afraid. I’m on duty.”

“Right. Well, coffee will do.”

She was fairly handy with the press, and before long the fresh brew was in cups and she added her customary milk and sugar. Diego frowned. “Really? It’s not even coffee after you do that.”

She took a sip and smacked her lips, mocking, and finally coaxed a smile from him.

They sat down on the sofa, at either end as was appropriate. Rose let out a long breath, starting to wind down from the busy day. “So,” she said quietly, “do you want to tell me what happened with the carnations?” The flowers were now trimmed and in a tiny vase one of the maids had brought up, and were sitting on the table where the children did their lessons.

“She was sweet, wasn’t she?”

“I couldn’t follow the conversation. It was too fast and there were too many other voices around.”

He took a drink of his coffee before replying. “She gave each of them a flower, and said that she and her mother were very sorry about their mother. That was all. Just an expression of sympathy. But it was . . . I don’t know. She was a stranger but it meant something to them, couldn’t you tell?”

“Maybe because it was from someone their own age,” Rose suggested. “Or because adults tend to give each other platitudes and don’t know what to say to children.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to not bring it up.” Diego slumped into the cushions. “It always upsets them.”

Rose could understand his feelings, but she shook her head. “Maybe, but if I were a child who’d lost a parent, I’d want to feel free to talk about them. So they wouldn’t be forgotten. Expressing grief is important. Feeling like you can have happy memories without upsetting other people helps, too.”

“How do you know so much?” he asked. She looked over at him and tried to stay detached, not get caught in his gaze. He was so completely open. It was a surprise, considering what she’d thought she knew of him.

“It’s not from personal experience,” she replied. “I just . . . I don’t know. I’ve always tried to put myself in other people’s shoes and empathize with them. How would I feel in their situation? It’s served me well at times, but it can be a bit burdensome.”

“I don’t understand.”

She swallowed against a lump forming in her throat. “When you put yourself in the position of someone else, even if it’s just imagined, you take on their feelings, too. And their pain. And you’d do anything to make it better.”

She looked down into her coffee cup and blinked. She’d never really admitted that to anyone before. Apparently they both tended to let down their guard with each other. And that tendency to want to fix things was the very reason why her relationship with her sister was strained. She helped, but she hadn’t given Hayley what she’d really wanted. Rose had put her foot down and Hayley saw that as tantamount to a betrayal.

“I’ve always been an ostrich,” Diego admitted. “I pretend it’s not happening. I go on another trip or visit friends or whatever.”

“Why, do you suppose?”

He thought for several seconds. “I suppose because someone’s always looked after things for me so I haven’t had to deal with them at all.”

“Like when your mother died?”

Silence settled over the room, intimate and slightly uncomfortable. “Wow,” he whispered.

“You’re so attentive to the kids. Is it because you want to help them through what you already went through?”

“Of course it is.” His voice was sharp and his brow furrowed. She’d struck a nerve.

“But Diego, you can’t go through their grief for them. You should know that, especially if someone did that for you. Were you allowed to grieve for your mum?”

He looked away. “Damn, Rose . . .”

She put down her coffee and slid over on the sofa. It was probably not the best idea, but he was in pain. She could sense it and knew she should stop questioning him. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake. And right now as much her boss as Raoul. But she slid over anyway. “You know what they’re going through. And I think you’re going through it again, maybe finally dealing with what you had to shutter away when you were little. I’m sorry, Diego. I’m sorry about Cecilia and Mariana, and I’m sorry about your mum. It’s okay for you to feel loss too, you know.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He put his cup down too and put his hands on his knees. Rose simply waited. It had been a bold suggestion on her part. Very possibly treading into insubordinate territory. For some reason they were becoming friends, even though they shouldn’t.

“I get frustrated,” he admitted finally. “I was so small I couldn’t see what Raoul and father were doing. I know they were trying to protect me, but I ended up so spoiled. So . . . unequipped to deal with stuff. It got better when I went to England to study, you know. My best friend decked me my first day at polo club and it was something I needed desperately. Never upset an Irishman who’s bigger than you.”

She chuckled. She could picture it.

“Then I came back and I wanted to roll up my sleeves and help and I just . . . wasn’t needed. I know what they say about me. I know what Raoul and Father think, but they don’t help me change it. So I look after the stables and I run charities.”

“Those are important things.”

“I know they are. But put me anywhere near state business? I’m kept strictly hands off. They have no idea how capable I am, because they don’t want to see it. Anytime I try to talk to them about it . . .”

He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s like they just give me another toy. Send me on another public appearance. The same way they did anytime I asked about Mother or cried.”

He looked over at her. “Okay, this is getting out of hand. I must sound like an idiot. Forget it.”

She put her hand on his knee. “They tried to distract you,” she said, “so they wouldn’t have to deal with your grief, and theirs too. And you got cheated.”

Diego laid his hand over hers. “I’m a prince. How can I possibly be cheated out of anything?”

“Because you’re human, first and foremost. Maybe being a prince makes it even harder. Different rules apply.”

She would not turn her hand over. She would not link her fingers with his, no matter how badly she wanted to.

But his thumb rubbed along the side of her hand, sending delicious tremors through her stomach. She needed to set boundaries like she had that night in the garden. She needed to remember that she was the nanny. They were not equals . . .

Except she’d just put them on a level playing field with her last sentence. They were both human, with feelings and needs and . . .

“Why,” he murmured, “do I find it so easy to open up to you?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “We shouldn’t. It’s not proper . . .”

“I have never been, nor am I likely ever to be, proper,” he answered, and he did what she could not. He turned her hand over and twined his fingers with hers.

The tremors became full-on quaking as the tension shimmered between them. He was looking at her now, and she couldn’t look away from the intensity in his eyes. She caught her lip in her teeth as her nervousness peaked, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Oh, she thought to herself. Oh please. Don’t . . . but please do.

“Rosalie,” he whispered, her full name sounding like music on his lips.

He leaned closer, and she drifted in, unable to stop herself. Just one, she thought. Just one kiss. So I know what it’s like.

His lips were warm, soft, beguiling. Rose’s heart slammed against her ribs at the first contact, her breath squeezed in her lungs as she kissed him back, lightly, softly. As kisses went it was tentative, shy, sweet. And utterly, utterly devastating. Not what she would have expected from a playboy like Diego Navarro. It was better. Much, much better.

He shifted on the sofa, still holding her hand but moving closer. The kiss deepened, too, as anticipation waned and excitement took over. Gentle persuasion had her opening her lips, and the kiss blossomed until their breath came faster and Rose’s whole body felt sensitive to the smallest touch and sound.

“Rose, he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You’re so sweet. So . . .”

He never finished the sentence. Their mouths fused again, more urgent now, and when his hand pressed to the back of her head, controlling and guiding, she acquiesced. At this moment, the world didn’t exist outside this room.

Their lips parted, somewhat reluctantly, Rose thought, her heart still pounding. Diego moved his hand from her hair to her face, tracing his fingers down her cheek.

He was Diego Navarro, she realized, still dazed but aware enough to know that what had just happened was surreal at best and both unadvised and potentially jeopardizing to her employment.

He was a world-class playboy with loads of experience. She was a British nanny who’d had exactly one lover.

God, she was so outmatched.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That shouldn’t have happened. We just . . . I just . . . got caught up in the emotion of the moment.” She slid out of his embrace. She’d been in his arms, her mind shouted at her. Kissing him. Hearing him say her name . . .

“Don’t back away,” he replied, grabbing at her hand before she could get away. “Please. You’re the only one who has ever understood. And don’t point out our differences,” he said, halting her contradiction before it could get out of her mouth.

“You have to know we can’t do this,” she said, slightly breathless. They absolutely couldn’t. If she lost this job . . . if they ended up in the tabloids or something she’d never be hired again, and people depended on her for so much. “If anyone found out . . .”

“I know. It’s a mess.” He went from running his hand over his hair to rubbing his face. “Why couldn’t you have been an heiress or aristocracy or something?”

She laughed a little. “Well, you can trace ancestors on my mum’s side back as far as King Charles the Second. Of course, that doesn’t say much for legitimacy . . .”

He rolled his eyes. “I know this is hard for you. And I don’t want to make it more difficult. I really don’t. And yet . . . being with you right now is the only thing that really makes sense. You see me, Rose.”

But he didn’t see her. Not really. He didn’t understand what drove her, what her fears were, what her longings were. He was, she realized, focused on the children’s needs, and focused on his own. But not focused on hers. And it wasn’t that he was wrong in those priorities. It just gave her a dollop of perspective and the realization that she had to protect herself as well.

“We can be friends,” she said firmly. “I think we’ve gone beyond the ‘strictly business’ distinction, despite my best efforts. But no more kissing, Diego. I can’t. Please don’t put me in that position.” No matter how desperately she’d like to be in that position—and others—with him. She couldn’t be that selfish. “This can’t be a palace affair.” She emphasized it with the one point she knew would hit home. “I can’t lose this job. Emilia and Max need stability and consistency.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Raoul has the final say in their care, Diego. You wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

He frowned. “I hate it when you’re right. And I hate it even more when it goes against what I want.”

She laughed. “That’s because you’re used to getting your own way. In some things, anyway,” she added, in deference to his earlier confidence.

“I’m not sorry,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “Not for the talk and not for the kiss.”

“Me either,” she admitted, though she knew she probably shouldn’t.

Emilia came out of the bedroom, stretching and yawning loudly enough that Diego immediately dropped Rose’s hand.

“Tio Diego?”

“Si, Emilia?”

She came over and crawled up on his lap. She looked at Rose, then back at her uncle. “The girl today,” she said, choosing English. “She was very nice. No one mentions Mama or Mariana. Sometimes I want to talk about them.”

Diego met Rose’s gaze, and she smiled back at him. She was glad they’d talked. Maybe now he was better equipped to talk to Emilia about this. The distraction of the trip to the city was over, and real conversations had to happen.

“I miss them too, chiquita,” he answered, snuggling her close.

“Papa won’t talk about Mama. But I don’t want to forget about her. She . . .” Emilia’s lip quivered and she started to cry a little.

“You will never forget her,” Diego assured her. “Your Papa misses her a lot too. It hurts him to talk about her, but it won’t always. And you can talk to me or Miss Rose whenever you like.”

“But you always go away,” she answered, picking at a fingernail and sniffling.

“Not now,” he said firmly. “I’m doing everything I need to from here, so I can spend more time with you and Max.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if deliberating if she should speak or not. When she did, it was in Spanish, and Rose picked out Mariana’s name, and her own, and amo—the Spanish word for love.

Whatever she’d said, Diego kissed the top of her head and smiled as he answered her back. To Rose’s surprise, Emilia crawled off Diego’s lap and stepped over to Rose and hugged her.

“Gracias, Emilia,” Rose said, squeezing her in return.

“May I watch a movie?” Emilia asked.

Rose agreed. “Tea will be here soon, too.”

Emilia found a DVD and, in the way of all young children, knew how to turn everything on and set it up to play. Diego stood, preparing to leave, and Max came tottering out of the bedroom at the sound of the movie.

“You don’t want to stay for tea?” Rose asked Diego, following him to the door.

“I’ve got work to do tonight. I’ve had to start delegating with some of the charity duties. I can’t put off travel indefinitely, but for now I’m managing.”

Rose paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Do they know how hard you work? Or do they think you just play?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned, and she knew the answer. Diego the playboy. She felt annoyed on his behalf, but this wasn’t her battle to fight.

“Thank you for today. We all needed it. It was a lot of fun.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s have fun. Ask anybody.”

“Diego,” she chided softly.

She was gazing into his eyes again when a maid came down the hall bearing the tea tray. Rose backed off and Diego bid her a far more formal goodbye than he normally would have. So he too was worried about appearances, she thought.

Tea was served, and Rose sat on the sofa with two very mellow children, one on either side of her.

But what she was thinking about was the feel of Diego’s lips on hers, his fingers on her face, and how it was completely impossible.