The Duchess Diaries: The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride / Her Unforgettable Royal Lover / The Texan's Royal M.D.

At three-ten, she was reiterating that same grim list. She’d been sitting in Nicole Tremayne’s ultramodern outer office for more than half an hour while a harried receptionist fielded phone calls and a succession of subordinates rushed in and out of the boss’s office. Any other time Gina would have walked out after the first fifteen or twenty minutes. She didn’t have that luxury now.

Instead, she’d used the time to reread the information she’d found on Google about the Tremayne Group. She also studied every page in the slick, glossy brochure given out to prospective clients. Even then she had to unlock her jaw and force a smile when the receptionist finally ushered her into the inner sanctum.

Stunned, Gina stopped dead. This dark cavern was the command center of a company that hosted more than two thousand events a year at a dozen different venues? And this tiny whirlwind erupting from behind her marble slab of a desk was the famed Nicole Tremayne?

She couldn’t have been more than five-one, and she owed at least four of those inches to her needle-heeled ankle boots. Gina was still trying to marry the bloodred ankle boots to her salt-and-pepper corkscrew curls when Nicole thrust out a hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You’re Eugenia, right? Eugenia St. Sebastian?”

“Yes, I...”

“My father had a thing for your grandmother. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember he talked about leaving my mother for her.”

“Oh. Well, uh...”

“He should have. My mother was a world-class ball-breaker.” Swooping a thick book of fabric swatches off one of the chairs in front of her desk, Tremayne dumped it on the floor. “Sit, sit.”

Still slightly stunned, Gina sat. Nicole cleared the chair next to hers and perched on its edge with the nervous energy of a hummingbird.

“I looked at the digital portfolio of your sister’s wedding. Classy job. You did all the arrangements?”

“With some help.”

“Who from?”

“Andrew, at the Plaza. And Patrick Donovan. He’s...”

“Dev Hunter’s right-hand man. I know. We coordinated a major charity event for Hunter’s corporation last year. Three thousand attendees at two thousand a pop. So when can you start?”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the assistant event planners at our midtown venue just got busted for possession. She’s out on bail, but I can’t have a user working for TTG.” Her bird-bright eyes narrowed on Gina. “You don’t do dope, do you?”

“No.”

“I’d better not find out otherwise.”

“You won’t.”

Tremayne nodded. “Here’s the thing. You have a lousy work record but a terrific pedigree. If you inherited half your grandmother’s class and a quarter of her smarts, you should be able to handle this job.”

Gina wasn’t sure whether she’d just been complimented or insulted. She was still trying to decide when her prospective boss continued briskly.

“You also grew up here in the city. You know your way around and you know how to interact with the kind of customers we attract. Plus, the classy digital portfolio you sent me shows you’ve got a flair for design and know computers. Whether you can handle vendors and show yourself as a team player remains to be seen, but I’m willing to give you a shot. When can you start?”

Tomorrow!

The joyous reply was almost out before Gina caught it. Gulping, she throttled back her exhilaration.

“I can start anytime but there’s something I need to tell you before we go any further.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“And I’m Episcopalian. So?”

Could it really be this easy? Gina didn’t think so. Suspicion wormed through her elation.

“Did my grandmother call you?” she asked. “Or Pat Donovan?”

“No.”

Her jaw locked. Dammit! It had to have been Jack.

“Then I assume you talked to the ambassador,” she said stiffly.

“What ambassador?”

“Jack Mason.”

“Jack Mason.” Tremayne tapped her chin with a nail shellacked the same red as her ankle boots. “Why do I know that name?”

Gina didn’t mention that TTG had coordinated Jack’s wedding. For reasons she would have to sort out later, that cut too close to the bone.

“Who is he,” Tremayne asked, “and why would he call me?”

“He’s a friend.” That was the best she could come up with. “I told him about our interview and...and thought he might have called to weigh in.”

“Well, it certainly never hurts to have an ambassador in your corner, but no, he didn’t call me. So what’s the deal here? Do you want the job or not?”

There were probably a dozen different questions she should ask before jumping into the fray. Like how much the job paid, for one. And what her hours would be. And whether the position came with benefits. At the moment, though, Gina was too jazzed to voice any of the questions buzzing around in her head.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“Good. Have my assistant direct you to the woman who handles our personnel matters. You can fill out all the necessary forms there. And call me Nikki,” she added as her new employee sprang out of her chair to shake on the deal.

* * *

Gina left the Tremayne Group’s personnel office thirty or forty forms later. The salary was less than she’d hoped for but the description of her duties made her grin. As assistant events coordinator she would be involved in all phases of operation for TTG’s midtown venue. Scheduling parties and banquets and trade shows. Devising themes to fit the clients’ desires. Creating menus. Contracting with vendors to supply food and decorations and bar stock. Arranging for limos, for security, for parking.

Even better, the personnel officer had stressed that there was plenty of room for advancement within TTG. The tantalizing prospect of a promotion danced before Gina’s eyes as she exited the high-rise housing the company’s headquarters. When she hit the still glorious May sunshine, she had to tell someone her news. Her first, almost instinctive, impulse was to call Jack. She actually had her iPhone in hand before she stopped to wonder why.

Simple answer. She wanted to crow a little.

Not so simple answer. She wanted to prove she wasn’t all fun and fluff.

With a wry grimace, she acknowledged that she should probably wait until she’d actually performed in her new position for a few weeks or months before she made that claim. She decided to text Sarah instead. The message was short and sweet.

I’m now a working mom-to-be. Call when you and Dev come up for air.

She took a cab back to the Upper West Side and popped out at a deli a few blocks from the Dakota. Osterman’s had occupied the same choice corner location since the Great Depression. Gina and Sarah had developed their passion for corned beef at the deli’s tiny, six-table eating area. The sisters still indulged whenever they were in the city, but Gina’s target tonight was the case displaying Osterman’s world famous cheesecakes. With unerring accuracy, she went for a selection that included her own, her grandmother’s and Maria’s favorites.

“One slice each of the white chocolate raspberry truffle, the key lime and the Dutch apple caramel, please. And one pineapple upside down,” she added on an afterthought.

The boxed cheesecake wedges in hand, she plucked a bottle of chilled champagne from the cooler in the wine corner. She had to search for a nonalcoholic counterpart but finally found it in with the fruit juices. Driven by the urge to celebrate, she added a wedge of aged brie and a loaf of crusty bread to her basket. On her way to check out she passed a shelf containing the deli’s selection of caviars.

The sticker price of a four-ounce jar of Caspian Sea Osetra made her gasp. Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself it was Grandmama’s caviar of choice. The duchess considered Beluga too salty and Sevruga too fishy. Gina made a quick calculation and decided her credit card would cover the cost of one jar. Maybe.

“Oh, what the hell.”

To her relief, she got out of Osterman’s without having the credit card confiscated. A block and a half later she approached the Dakota with all her purchases.

“Let me help you with those!”

The doorman who’d held his post for as long as she could remember leaped forward. Although she would never say so to his face, Gina suspected Jerome assumed his present duties about the same time Osterman’s opened its doors.

“You should have called a cab, Lady Eugenia.”

Sarah and Gina had spent most of their adult years trying to get Jerome to drop their empty titles. They’d finally agreed it was a wasted effort.

“I’m okay,” Gina protested as he tried to relieve her of her burdens. “Except for this.”

She sorted through her purchases and fished out a wedge-shaped box. Jerome peeked inside and broke into a grin.

“Pineapple upside down! Trust you to remember my favorite.”

Gina’s emotions jumped on the roller coaster again as she thought about his devoted loyalty to her and Grandmama over the years.

“How could I forget?” she said with a suspicious catch to her voice. “You slipped me an extra few dollars every time I said I was going to Osterman’s.”

For a moment she thought the embarrassed doorman would pat her on the head as he’d done so many times when she was a child. He controlled the impulse and commented instead on the bottles poking out of her bag.

“Still celebrating Lady Sarah’s wedding?”

“Nope. This celebration is in my honor.”

Riding her emotional roller coaster to its gravity-defying apex, she poured out her news.

“I’m moving back to New York, Jerome.”

“Lady Eugenia! That’s wonderful news. I admit I was a bit worried about the duchess.”

“There’s more. I’ve got a job.”

“Good for you.”

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder as she made for the lobby. “I’m also pregnant.”

Four

Gina walked into the Tremayne Group’s midtown venue at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. She didn’t drag out again until well past midnight.

Her first impression was wow! What had once been a crumbling brick warehouse overlooking the East River was now a glass-fronted, ultra-high-rent complex of offices, restaurants and entertainment venues. TTG occupied a slightly recessed four-story suite smack in the center of the complex. The primo location allowed into a private ground-floor courtyard with bubbling fountains and a top-floor terrace that had to offer magnificent views of the river.

A young woman with wings of blue in her otherwise lipstick-red hair sat at a curved glass reception desk and fielded phone calls. Gina waited until she finished with one caller and put two others on hold to introduce herself.

“I’m Gina St. Sebastian. I’m the new...”

“Assistant coordinator. Thank God you’re here! I’m Kallie. Samuel’s in the banquet hall. He said to send you right up. Third floor. The elevators are to your right.”

Gina used the ride to do a quick check in mirrored panels. She’d left her hair down today but confined the silky curls behind a wide fuchsia headband studded with crystals. A belt in the same hot pink circled the waist of her apple-green J. Crew tunic. Since this was her first day on the job she’d gone with sedate black tights instead of the colorful prints she preferred. She made a quick swipe with her lip gloss and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Then the elevator door glided open and she stepped out into a vortex of sound and fury.

What looked like a small army of workers in blue overalls was yanking folded chairs from metal-sided carrier racks, popping them open and thumping them around a room full of circluar tables. Another crew, this one in black pants and white shirts, scurried after the first. They draped each chair in shimmering green, the tables in cloth of gold. Right behind them came yet another crew rattling down place settings of china and crystal. The rat-tat-tat of staple guns fired by intent set designers erecting a fantastic Emerald City added to the barrage of noise, while the heady scent of magnolias wafted from dozens of tall topiaries stacked on carts waiting to be rolled to the tables.

Soaking up the energy like a sponge, Gina wove her way through the tables to a wild-haired broomstick with a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other and a Bluetooth headset hooked over one ear. “Not The Wizard of Oz,” he was shouting into the headset. “Christ, who does Judy Garland anymore? This is the new movie. Oz the... Oz the...”

Scowling, he snapped his fingers at Gina.

“Oz the Great and Powerful,” she dutifully asserted.

“Right. Oz the Great and Powerful. It’s a Disney flick starring Rachel Weisz and...”

More finger snaps.

“Mila Kunis.”

“Right. Mila Kunis. That’s the music the clients requested.” The scowl deepened. “Hell, no, I don’t! Hold on.”

He whipped his head around and barked at Gina. “You the new AC?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Samuel DeGrange.”

“Nice to...”

He brushed aside the pleasantries with an impatient hand. “Go upstairs and tell the DJ to pull his head out of his ass. The clients don’t want Dorothy and Toto, for God’s sake! Then make sure the bar supervisor knows how to mix the fizzy green juice concoction that’s supposed to make the kids think they’re dancing down a new, improved Yellow Brick Road.”

* * *

Eight and a half hours later Gina was zipped into the Glinda the Good Witch costume that had been rented for her predecessor and making frantic last-minute changes to seating charts. Kallie the receptionist—now garbed as a munchkin—wielded a calligraphy pen to scribble out place cards for the twenty additional guests the honoree’s mother had somehow forgotten she’d invited until she was in the limo and on her way from Temple with the newly bat mitzvahed Rachel.

* * *

Another six hours later, Gina collapsed into a green-draped chair and gazed at the rubble. Iridescent streamers in green and gold littered the dance floor. Scattered among them was a forgotten emerald tiara here, an empty party-favors box there. The booths where the seventy-five kids invited to celebrate Rachel’s coming of age had fired green lasers and demolished video villains were being dismantled. Only a few crumbs remained of the fourteen-layer cake with its glittering towers and turrets. The kids invited to the party had devoured it with almost as much gusto as the more than two hundred parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends had drained the open bar upstairs.

Gina stretched out her feet in their glittery silver slippers and aimed a grin at the toothpick-thin Tin Man who flopped into the chair beside her.

“This party business is fun.”

“You think?” Samuel shoved back his tin hat and gave her a jaundiced smile. “Talk to me again after you’ve had an inebriated best man puke all over you. Or spent two hours sifting through piles of garbage to find a guest’s diamond-and-sapphire earrings. Which, incidentally, she calls to tell you she found in her purse.”

“At least she let you know she found it,” Gina replied, laughing.

“She’s one of the few. Seems like our insurance rates take another jump after every event.” He slanted her a sideways glance. “You did good tonight, St. Sebastian. Better than I expected when I read your resumé.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You need to keep a closer finger on the pulse of the party, though. The natives got a little restless before the cake was brought out.”

Gina bit her lip. No need to remind her new boss that he’d sent her out to the terrace to shepherd some underage smokers back inside right when the cake was supposed to have been presented.

“I’ll watch the timing,” she promised.

“So go home now. I’ll do the final bar count and leave this mess to the cleaning crew.”

She wasn’t about to argue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Nine sharp,” he warned. “We’ve got a preliminary wedding consult. I’ll talk, you listen and learn.”

She popped a salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Christ! You got enough energy left for that?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just shooed her away. “Get out of here.”

* * *

The Oz the Great and Powerful bat mitzvah set the stage for the dozens of events that followed during the busy, busy month of May. Almost before she knew it Gina was caught up in a whirl of wedding and engagement and anniversary and graduation and coming-of-age parties. She gained both experience and confidence with each event.

So much so that Samuel soon delegated full responsibility for computing and placing orders with the subs for everything from decorations to bar stock. He also tapped her for fresh ideas for themes and settings. In rapid succession she helped plan a white-on-white wedding, a red-and-black “Puttin’ on the Ritz” debutante ball and a barefoot-on-the-beach engagement party at a private Hamptons estate. And then there was her grand coup—snaring Justin Bieber for a brief appearance at the national Girl Scout banquet to be held in the fall. He was in town for another event and Gina played shamelessly on his agent’s heartstrings until every teen’s favorite heartthrob agreed.

Not all events went smoothly. Frantically working her cell phone and walkie-talkie, Gina learned to cope with minor crises like a forgotten kosher meal for the rabbi, a groom caught frolicking in the fourth-floor bridal suite shower with the maid of honor and a drunken guest held hostage by an irate limo driver demanding payment for damage done to the vehicle’s leather seats.

In the midst of all the craziness she unpacked the boxes Dev’s assistant had shipped back from L.A. and welcomed her sister and her new brother-in-law home from their honeymoon. Gina and Sarah and the duchess were all teary-eyed when the newlyweds departed again, this time to look at homes for sale close to Dev’s corporate headquarters in California.

Miracle of miracles, Gina also managed to snag an appointment with the top OB doc on the short list of three Jack had emailed. She suspected he’d used his influence or family clout to make sure she got in to see one of them. She didn’t object to outside help in this instance. The health of her baby took precedence over pride.

As promised, she called Jack’s office to let him know about the appointment. A secretary routed her to his chief of staff.

“This is Dale Vickers, Ms. St. Sebastian. The ambassador is in conference. May I help you?”

“Jack asked me to let him know the date and time of my prenatal appointment. It’s Thursday of next week, at three-fifteen, with Dr. Sondra Martinson.”

“I’m looking at his calendar now. The ambassador is unavailable next Thursday. Please reschedule the appointment and call me back.”

The reply was as curt as it was officious. Gina held out the phone and looked at it in surprise for a moment before putting it to her ear again.

“Tell you what,” she said, oozing sweetness and light, “just tell Jack to call me. We’ll take it from there.”

The man must have realized his mistake. Softening his tone, he tried to regain lost ground.

“I’m sorry if I sounded abrupt, Ms. St. Sebastian. It’s just that the ambassador is participating all next week in a conference with senior State Department officials. They’re assessing U.S. embassy security in light of recent terrorist attacks. I can’t overstate the importance of this conference to the safety and security of our consular personnel abroad.”

Properly put in her place, Gina was about to concede the point when he made a suggestion.

“Why don’t I call Dr. Martinson’s office and arrange an appointment that fits with the ambassador’s schedule?”

“That won’t work. We need to work around my schedule, too.”

“I’m sure you can squeeze something in between parties for twelve-year-olds.”

The barely disguised put-down dropped Gina’s jaw. What was with this character? Sheer obstinacy had her oozing even more saccharine.

“I’m sure I can. After all, the tab for our last twelve-year-old’s party only ran to sixty-five thousand dollars and change. Just have Jack call me. We’ll work something out.”

“Really, Ms. St. Sebastian, we don’t have to trouble the ambassador with such a trivial matter.”

Heat shot to every one of Gina’s extremities. Given her normally sunny and fun-loving disposition, she’d never believed that old cliché about seeing red. She did now.

“Listen, asshole, you may consider the ambassador’s baby a trivial matter. I’m pretty sure he won’t agree. The appointment is for three-fifteen next Thursday. End of discussion.”

* * *

As instructed, she arrived at Dr. Martinson’s office a half hour prior to her scheduled appointment. The time was required for a final review and signature on the forms she’d downloaded from the office website. She hadn’t heard from Jack or from his stick-up-the-butt chief of staff. So when she walked into the reception area and didn’t spot a familiar face, she wasn’t surprised.

What did surprise her was how deep the disappointment went. She’d been so busy she hadn’t had time to dwell on the confused feelings Jack Mason stirred in her. Except at night, when she dropped into bed exhausted and exhilarated and wishing she had someone to share the moments of her day with. Or when her body reminded her that she wasn’t its sole inhabitant anymore. Or when she happened to spot a tall, tanned male across the room or on the street or in the subway.

“Don’t be stupid,” she muttered as she signed form after form. “He’s making the world safer for our embassy people. That has to take precedence.”

She was concentrating so fiercely on the clipboard in her hand that she didn’t hear the door to the reception area open.

“Good, I’m not late.”

The relieved exclamation brought her head up with a jerk.

“Jack! I thought... Vickers said...”

Of all the idiotic times to get teary-eyed! How could she handle every crisis at work with a cheerful smile and turn into such a weepy wimp around this man? She had to jump off this emotional roller coaster.

“Vickers told me what he said.” Grinning, he dropped into the chair beside hers. “He also told me what you said.”

“Yes, well, you shouldn’t piss off a preggo. The results aren’t pretty.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Guilt wormed through the simple, hedonistic pleasure of looking at his handsome face. She let the clipboard drop to her lap and made a wry face.

“You shouldn’t have come. Vickers said you had a top-level conference going on all week.”

“We wrapped up the last of the key issues this morning. All that’s left is to approve the report once it gets drafted. I can do that by secure email. Which means,” he said as he took the clipboard and flipped through the forms, “I don’t have to fly back to D.C. right away. Here, you forgot to sign this one.”

She scribbled her signature and tried not to read too much into his casual comment about extending his trip up from D.C. Didn’t work. When he tacked on an equally casual invitation, her heart gave a little bump.

“If you don’t have plans, I thought I might take you and the duchess to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t. I’m working a fiftieth anniversary party. I had to sneak out for this appointment.”

“How about tomorrow?”

The bump was bigger this time. “Are you staying over that long?”

“Actually, I told Dale to clear the entire weekend.”

“Ha! Bet he loved that.”

“He’s not so bad, Gina. You two just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Wrong foot, wrong knee, wrong hip and elbow. How long has he worked for you, anyway?”

“Five years.”

“And no one’s ever told you he’s officious or condescending?”

“No.”

“It has to be me, then.” Grimacing, she rolled out the reason she suspected might be behind his aide’s less-than-enthusiastic response to her call. “Or the fact that the paparazzi will have a field day when they hear you knocked me up.”

“They probably will,” he replied, not quite suppressing a wince. “But when they do, you might want to use a different phrase to describe the circumstances.”

“Really? What phrase do you suggest I use, Mr. Ambassador?”

He must have seen the chasm yawning at his feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as such a pompous jerk.”

The apology soothed Gina’s ruffled feathers enough for her to acknowledge his point. “I’m sorry, too. I know the pregnancy will cause you some embarrassment. I’ll try not to add to it.”

“The only embarrassing aspect to this whole situation is that I can’t convince the beautiful and very stubborn mother of my child to marry me.”

She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t that naive. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before voicing the worry that had nagged her since Switzerland.

“Tell me the truth, Jack. Is this going to impact your career?”

“No.”

“Maybe not at the State Department, but what about afterward? I read somewhere that certain powerful PACs think you have a good shot at the presidency in the not-too-distant future.”

“Gina, listen to me.” He curled a knuckle under her chin and tipped her face to make sure he had her complete attention. “We met, we were attracted to each other, we spent some time together. Since neither of us were then, or are now, otherwise committed, the only ones impacted by the result of that meeting are you, me and our baby.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “That was some speech, Mr. Ambassador. Those PACs may be right. You should make a bid for the Oval Office. You’d get my vote.”

He feathered the side of her jaw with his thumb. “I’d rather get your signature on a marriage license.”

Maybe...maybe she was being blind and pigheaded and all wrong about this marriage thing. So he didn’t love her? He wanted her, and God knew she wanted him. Couldn’t their child be the bridge to something more?

The thought made her cringe inside. What kind of mother would pile her hopes and dreams on a baby’s tiny shoulders?

“We’ve had this discussion.” Shrugging, she pulled away from his touch. “Let’s not get into it again.”

Surprise darkened his brown eyes, followed by a touch of what could have been either disappointment or irritation. Before Gina could decide which, a nurse in pink-and-blue scrubs decorated with storks delivering bundles of joy popped into the waiting room.

“Ms. St. Sebastian?”

“Right here.”

“If you’ll come with me, I’ll get your height and weight and show you to an exam room.”

Gina pushed out her chair. Jack rose with her. The nurse stopped him with a friendly smile. “Please wait here, Mr. St. Sebastian. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”

The look on his face was more than enough to disperse Gina’s glum thoughts. Choking back a laugh, she floated after the nurse. When Jack joined her in the exam room five minutes later, she was wearing a blue paper gown tied loosely in the front and a fat grin.

“I set her straight on the names.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Come on,” she teased. “You have to admit it was funny.”

The only thing in Jack’s mind at the moment was not something he could admit. How could he have forgotten how full and lush and ripe her breasts were? Or had her pregnancy enhanced the creamy slopes he glimpsed through the front opening of her gown?

Whatever! That one glimpse was more than enough to put him in a sweat. Thoroughly disgusted, he was calling himself all kinds of a pig when the doctor walked in.

“Hello, Ms. St. Sebastian. I’m Dr. Martinson.”

Petite and gray-haired, she shook hands with her patient before turning to Jack. “And you’re Ambassador Mason, the baby’s father?”

“That’s right.”

“I read through your medical and family histories. I’m so pleased neither of you smoke, use drugs, or drink to excess. That makes my job so much easier.”

She included Jack in her approving smile before addressing Gina.

“I’m going to order lab tests to confirm your blood type and Rh status. We’ll also check for anemia, syphilis, hepatitis B and the HIV virus, as well as your immunity to rubella and chicken pox. I want you to give a urine sample, as well.”

Her down-to-earth manner put her patient instantly at ease...right up until the moment she extracted a pair of rubber gloves from a dispenser mounted on the wall.

“Let’s get the pelvic exam out of the way, then we’ll talk about what to expect in the next few weeks and months.”

She must have caught the consternation that flooded into Gina’s china blue eyes. Without missing a beat, the doc snapped on the gloves and issued a casual order.

“Why don’t you wait outside, Ambassador Mason? This will only take a few moments.”