The Prince dropped his bag in his room and took a deep breath. In almost two years of service, he’d forgotten what luxury looked like. He wanted nothing more than to take a long, long shower, then sleep for four days.

For the past twenty-one months, Raffaele had lived in a bunk house with too many other people; the peace and quiet of his own home was both welcome and a little disconcerting.

He had appreciated his time in service. It had given him a perspective he never would have found otherwise, both of his fellow citizens and of the world at large. He’d done a lot of thinking over the past almost two years, and he knew what he wanted now.

Most of his thoughts off-duty had been occupied by the woman he hadn’t seen in far too long. The unit he’d served with had been under strict orders to keep his presence a secret, and even though the people he’d served with had been able to call home from time to time, Raffaele had been forbidden from calling anyone but his parents and his uncle.

He’d pushed back only once, the previous Christmas, when he’d insisted that he needed to send a letter to Maggie. He’d promised his uncle and his father that he wouldn’t bring up contacting anyone again for the rest of his time as long as he was allowed to send that one note.

Raffaele had stuck to that bargain, and although he’d thought of Maggie every day, he hadn’t said anything about contacting her again for the next year. He’d hated not being able to contact her, but it had been the right thing to do.

He wanted to call her now, but digging around his room, he realized he no longer had her number. His cellphone had been replaced by a newer model, but no one had thought to transfer the contacts list.

Raffaele wondered if his secretary would have her number. He doubted it—he’d made all of his calls to Maggie directly from his cell. But, there might a record of BienVille’s number, or, if nothing else, he could find that online.

Raffaele did some research in the small office attached to his bedroom and discovered the restaurant’s number in an old calendar in a desk drawer. Feeling a great sense of relief, he calculated the time difference and realized Maggie wouldn’t have started dinner service yet. She was probably deep into prep for that evening. But if she couldn’t talk, at least he could speak with the maître d’ and leave a message for her.

Raffaele dialed the number quickly and waited impatiently for the phone to ring. There was one ring, then a click, and then a recorded voice stated that the number he had reached was disconnected.

He tried again, and got the same recording. He was sure it was the correct number, but he couldn’t think why it would be disconnected. The possibilities worried him.

Raffaele shook his head. He needed to figure out a way to contact Maggie, but he couldn’t think how. He returned to his bedroom and sat heavily on the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands.

There was a soft knock on his door, and his mother entered the room. Raffaele stood quickly, and embraced his mother for the first time in almost two years.

She held him for a long moment, then stepped back to study him. “You look tired, my dear.”

Raffaele found a smile for her. “It was a long flight.”

Elena nodded. “And you were away a long time.”

“Not too long, I hope.” Raffaele hoped his mother could help him. “Mother, do you remember Maggie Bechet, the chef from New Orleans?”

If his mother was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Of course. A lovely woman and an excellent chef. As I recall, you two were rather close.”

“We were.” Raffaele asked a question he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to. “Did she try to contact me after I left?”

His mother thought about it. “I don’t believe so, or at least not that I’m aware of.”

Raffaele sat down heavily.

“I’d hoped she called and left a message, or at least her number.” He looked up and found his mother watching him with a questioning look. “I lost her number and the restaurant’s phone is disconnected.”

His mother laid a hand on his head, stroking his hair. “You love her, don’t you?”

Raffaele laughed bitterly. “Yes. A fact which does me no good if I can’t talk to her. I left Maggie alone, Mother. I disappeared without a word.”

Elena sat next to him. “She’s in New Orleans?”

Raffaele nodded and shrugged, saying, “I think so.”

“Then go find her. Go to the restaurant and see her.”

“You don’t want me to stay home?”

His mother smiled. “Of course I do. But if Maggie means that much to you, then you need to find her.”

Raffaele kissed his mother on her cheek. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I’ve talked to her and worked things out.”

* * *

Raffaele wasn’t able to leave until the next morning, but he was on the jet at the earliest opportunity. He’d slept a few hours, said hello to his father, and repacked a bag. He actually beat the pilots to the hangar and was waiting for them with coffee when they arrived.

He arrived in at the small airport outside New Orleans early that afternoon and rented a car. He could have had a driver and a limo, but it would be easier to get around the city this way, and time was of the essence.

The Prince drove to BienVille as quickly as he could. He hoped that Maggie would be happy to see him. Raffaele knew it was a real possibility that she had moved on, but he hoped that she had figured out what happened and had waited for him.

Surprisingly, there wasn’t a crowd outside the restaurant, and it looked like the lights were off. Maybe Maggie had changed the day they were closed?

Raffaele parked the car on the street, and walked up to the front door. As he got closer, he saw a sign hanging in the window that read ‘For Lease.’

He looked around wildly, suddenly noticing that the sign with the restaurant’s name was gone, and the furniture he could see through the window was covered with drop cloths.

Raffaele returned to the car in shock. Maggie had closed the restaurant. She would not have done that unless something serious had happened. He was worried even more now, and was unsure of how he would find her.

He sat behind the wheel of the car, thinking. Where else would she be? They’d talked about her favorite places, making plans to visit some of them. Maybe one of those…

Raffaele suddenly realized that it was only a few days until Christmas.

There’s a place Maggie loves to go during the holiday…with the lights and the carousel, Raffaele remembered.

Maggie had talked about it after the first time they’d made love, and he’d promised to spend Christmas with her.

Raffaele quickly looked up directions to City Park and drove there. The place was crowded and he wasn’t sure where to start, so he simply started walking, looking through the crowd of people to try to find her.

An hour later, he was losing hope. He’d covered the park twice, and had waited in some places where the crowds were the thickest for long minutes, hoping that she would walk around the corner or cross on the path in front of him.

He stopped and leaned against a tree. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He’d walk through the park one more time, and then go regroup. Maybe if he waited outside the entrance…

A movement caught the corner of his eye, and something about it was familiar. He took a step forward, then another, and then he recognized a petite woman with beautiful brown hair tumbling down her back.

“Maggie!”

Raffaele took off running before he lost her again. He called again, louder, and this time she turned. Raffaele caught the surprised expression on her face, and then he looked more closely at what was in her arms.

A baby?

He almost stumbled but kept his feet. His eyes widened and he kept moving, though all he could think about was why the woman he loved was holding a baby.