Royally Claimed by Marie Donovan Page A

chair,” he said with a devilish grin, reminding her of her fantasy. “Anything you want. And I mean anything .”
    â€œAnything?” That sounded slightly scary but delicious.
    â€œWhenever you want. Or whenever I want,” he added. “You and I, we are fantastic together. When will life again give us this opportunity?”
    He had a good point. Life was so unpredictable.
    â€œWouldn’t you like, just for once, to be a total hedonist? We eat what we want, we drink what we want. If we want to be naked all day, who cares? We can swim naked, lie in the sun, drink wine and make love to each other. Hell, do all of that at the same time.”
    â€œAll right,” she said slowly. “It sounds wonderful, but what about the end of our hedonism?”
    He shrugged with a Mediterranean fatalism. “We see what happens then. Carpe diem as my Roman ancestors used to say. ‘Seize the day.’”
    â€œSeize the day.” How many days had slipped away while she was slogging through her gray life in Boston? Over four thousand. What was a week or ten days if she could live them like this? “Yes, Frank, I’ll stay with you here. But if either one of us has had enough, that’s it.”
    â€œOf course. Along with oppressing peasants, we gave up kidnapping beautiful maidens a long time ago.” He kissed her again. “You can go back whenever you want. But I hope not too soon.”
    â€œYou’ve got a deal.” She kissed him back, having the conflicting feelings of both coming home and standing at the edge of a precipice.

7
    T HE NEXT MORNING DAWNED bright and sunny. Julia yawned and stretched in their nest of blankets. Frank was nowhere to be seen, but she figured he was probably outside checking any storm damage. He was such a creature of the outdoors, unhappy if cooped up for too long inside. Unless, of course, he was distracted by something more interesting.
    She sat up and giggled, giddy as a teenager with her first crush, but satisfied as only an adult woman could be. She rolled her neck and tentatively touched her hair, amazed to find that although messy, it wasn’t wildly frizzy. Good grief, what did those women put in it? She didn’t know whether to be pleased or worry that she would need the hair equivalent of paint stripper to wash the product out.
    Ah, well, too nice a day to worry about hair gel. She needed to find something to wear so she could cook up a big breakfast for Frank. He’d be hungry.
    She found her top but not her bra, her pants but not her underwear. A theme. She wrapped up in a sheet and headed for the bathroom with her available clothing.If Frank was serious about having her stay, she’d need to make a trip back to her parents’ apartment for more things. And she’d need to call them so they wouldn’t worry about her disappearing for several days.
    Julia grimaced. It had been a long time since she’d needed to check in with her parents, but they deserved the courtesy of knowing where she was. They worried a bit more than they used to. She’d make it sound as if there were a bunch of people working at the villa and she was doing it to keep from dying of boredom rather than dying of lust.
    She hopped in the upstairs shower for a quick wash but was in the kitchen a few minutes later chopping up Portuguese sausage, onions, chives, peppers and tomatoes. She heated some olive oil in a skillet and tossed the mix in to start cooking down. The day-old crusty bread was perfect for French toast, so she beat a bunch of eggs, added cinnamon and a spoonful of sugar so the bread would brown nicely.
    She soaked the bread in the egg mix and began frying the slices. The vegetable mix went into a yellow ceramic bowl. She wanted to wait for Frank to cook the omelets, since reheated eggs were terrible.
    Almost forgot the coffee. It was perking along nicely when Frank came in a couple minutes later. He sniffed the air