He circled the counter before crouching beside her to peek through the oven's window. Inside, a perfectly browned pizza occupied each of the two racks, their surfaces bubbling with cheese, green peppers, and mushrooms. He looked sideways at her, noting the satisfaction in her expression as she inspected her creations. "Did your mother tell you what to put on these?"

"No. Why? You don't like mushrooms, do you? I knew it." She stared at the pizza in dismay. "Well, I left half of one pizza plain, just in case. The mushrooms never even touched it, so you're safe if you still want it."

"No way." He took a risk in using her phrase, then gave her a gentle elbow to the side. "My favorite pizza is mushroom with green peppers."

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. "You're only saying that to get me to like you."

"Like me or not, it's true. Maybe it's hereditary." Still crouched in front of the oven, he frowned over his shoulder at Megan. "Though apparently your mother and I like the same kind of omelets for breakfast."

"What can I say?" Megan spread her hands. "Anna and I have good taste. I told her to pick whatever she wanted from the fridge to put on the pizza."

"I like sausage, too," Stefano confided, giving Anna a sideways just-between-us look. "Do you have a sausage pizza hiding in there?"

When she shook her head and told him she couldn't stand sausage, he said, "I doubt the three of us could eat a third pizza, anyway."

"You haven't tried my pizza, so you never know."

"Think I'm about to find out."

"Timer says six seconds left, so...here goes!" She straightened, then pulled a pair of oven mitts from a nearby drawer and asked Megan to help her take out the pizza. Stefano sidled out of the narrow kitchen, watching as the pair removed the pizzas and made quick work of slicing them. When he noticed a festive-looking stack of napkins and plates at the counter's edge, he took them and went about setting the table.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd set a table, let alone with confetti-specked paper plates. It felt odd, but good.

"Oh, Stefano, I was going to use real plates," Megan said, glancing over at him from the kitchen. "Those were left over from one of Anna's cla.s.s events. I can't imagine you'd-"

"I seem to recall the two of us eating off old, peeling plastic plates while sitting on a dirt floor in a family's shanty. I think I can handle paper."

That drew a cautious smile from her. "If it's fine with you, it's fine with me."

A few minutes later, as they ate the pizza, which was every bit as delicious as it smelled, along with a salad Megan prepared, Anna asked him what it was like to live in a palace.

He glanced at Megan before giving his answer. "Well, it's certainly beautiful. There are chandeliers in nearly every room, and Persian rugs so thick you can curl your toes in them. Since it was built in the days before electric heat, the fireplaces are so tall and wide you can walk into them." He tried to imagine what Anna would notice, were she to walk the palace's wide halls or sleep in its rooms. "The palace has gorgeous gardens on three sides. I played there all the time when I was a child. Then there's a parade ground in the front where tourists come to see equestrian demonstrations in the summer. There's also a giant clock tower beside the front gate that tolls every hour. When I was growing up, I would lie in bed at night and count the strikes, then listen for the last reverberation to fade away. I liked timing it, because the sound could change depending on the weather."

Her mouth dropped into an O. He could virtually see the wheels spinning in her mind, imagining life in a palace as if it were a fairy tale come true. "That sounds fantastic!"

"In many ways, it is. But have you ever heard the phrase, 'living in a fishbowl'?"

She hesitated. "Like, living underwater?"

"Not quite." He explained the meaning, then said, "Sometimes, it's like that for me. When I'm in the palace, I have very little privacy. I don't always control where I go, who I see, or even my own phone calls and e-mail. Everyone knows what I'm doing at all times."

"That must suck. Big time."

"Anna-" Megan's warning came despite the fact she'd just taken a bite of pizza.

"Not always. For instance, I don't have to clean anything or make my own bed. I don't even have to shop, because people who work at the palace bring me whatever I need. But can I tell you a secret?" At her nod, he said, "I don't mind making my own bed. And there are days I wish I could walk out my front door on a whim and shop the way you do. Not because I like to shop, but because it'd be fun to wander through a pedestrian shopping area and see the sights or stop for an ice cream without worrying about being watched or having my picture taken. I occasionally do it when I'm traveling, but it's rare while I'm at home. I'm usually recognized too quickly to have much time to myself. Living in the palace especially makes me appreciate times like this, when I can visit friends and eat whatever I want and be myself."

"Well, we're not your friends. We're your family." She paused, scrunching her nose. "Kind of. I mean, we're not really your family. But we are related, so I guess, well...you know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean." He kept his gaze fixed on Anna, but he could sense Megan's stillness as powerfully as a punch to the gut. He kept a smile in his voice as he whispered to Anna, "It's a little awkward meeting a parent for the first time when you're almost done with fourth grade, isn't it?"

"Totally awkward!" She picked a mushroom off the top of her pizza, popped it into her mouth, then shrugged. "But it's not a big deal, right? I mean, that you're my father. Not if no one knows."

He couldn't lie to her. "It won't be an easy secret to keep. I imagine someone will find out eventually, even if none of us say a word. Maybe not soon, but someday. Whether anyone knows or not, though, I do think it's a big deal to be your father. That's why I asked your mom if I could come to lunch today. I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me."

She radiated skepticism as only a pre-teen could. "You want to get to know me?"

"I do."

"Huh." She took another bite of her pizza, contemplating that, then washed it down with a long sip of lemonade. Her plastic cup clunked against the tabletop as she set it down. "But I bet you never wanted kids. Like, if you didn't know I existed and a friend asked you if you wanted kids, you'd probably say no way. Right?"

Megan's voice was simultaneously chastising and understanding as she said, "Anna, honey, that's not really a fair question."

"I'd have said yes," Stefano replied. He suspected that Anna didn't really want to know his thoughts on becoming a parent, but whether he considered her a mistake. "Truth is, I've always wanted kids."

"But you don't have any. Other than me, I mean, and I don't count." There was no accusation in her tone. Her manner remained straightforward as she shook Parmesan cheese onto a fresh slice of pizza. "You aren't even married."

"No, I'm not married. But you do count. At least as far as I'm concerned."

That earned him a merry laugh. "If you want kids so much, how come you're not married? Most people who have kids get married."

This time Megan let the question go, though Stefano could feel Megan's uneasiness with both her daughter's blunt tone and the direction of the conversation. It didn't bother him as much as it might. Instead, he found himself drawn to Anna's straightforward nature.

"I'm not married because I haven't met the right person."

"In other words, my mom wasn't the right person."

Chapter Ten.

She may have been.

He studied Anna for a moment, trying to determine whether her statement was one of hope, of accusation, or of simple fact. It was impossible to know, yet he suspected his response could make or break the girl's first impression of him. He knew it shouldn't matter-kids' opinions changed with the wind, and now that he knew of her existence, he planned to build a long-term relationship with her-yet he found he truly, deeply cared what Anna thought of him today.

"Your mom and I never had the chance to find out," he finally said. "Sometimes that happens in life. When it does, you do the best you can if you're fortunate enough to get a second chance. Your mom and I can't change the fact that I didn't know about you" -he shot a glance at Megan- "which wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened. But now that I do know, I'm here. That all right with you?"

She looked him up and down, as if she could read his mind by scrutinizing him, then gave a firm nod. A moment later, she said, "You know my mom made me see you today, right?"

Megan pinned her daughter with a glare. "Anna, you know that's not true."

Anna groaned. "Well she would've made me, but I said it was fine when she asked so she wouldn't have to make me. I wasn't sure if I'd like you or not, and I was afraid if I didn't then my mom would get all upset and everything would suck. Um, stink. But so far, this has been more fun than I thought it'd be. You're okay, Stefano."

Stefano bit back a teasing response, suspecting Anna might not appreciate it. "Glad to hear it."

"Me, too," Megan replied, turning to Anna to add, "though I wish you'd use more appropriate language, honey. We've talked about using 'sucks' more than once." She stood to clear the table, causing Anna to grab the final piece of pizza from the center of the table before her mother removed the tray. Stefano pushed back to help, but Megan waved for him to remain seated. "It's only a couple of plates and the salad. You and Anna keep talking."

He paused, ensuring she truly had it handled, then relaxed in the chair once more.

"That really was incredible pizza, Anna. Thank you." He gestured toward the slice still on her plate. "The crust was delicious and I could tell the mushrooms and peppers were fresh."

"Mom and I bought them yesterday afternoon at a market off La Rambla called La Boqueria. It's been around for hundreds of years. The stalls have fresh fish, eggs, veggies, spices, even soap and candles. There's a guy who makes pizza that's almost as good as mine, and one stall has a dozen different kinds of ham hanging from the ceiling, which is creepy but cool." She held her hands over her head as she spoke, as if showing off varieties of ham. "I didn't even know there was more than one kind of ham until we moved here. Oh, and there's a great place to get breakfast if you're at the market early. They cook it right in front of you and if you go more than once, they'll remember your name and what you ordered. My mom usually gets espresso and an omelet, but I like the toasted cheese sandwiches."

"I've heard of La Boqueria." The sprawling covered marketplace was a favorite of both tourists and locals. Photos of the lively vendors hawking their products regularly appeared in travel magazines. It struck him as a wonderful spot for strolling and people-watching. "Sounds like you visit fairly often."

"Tons. My favorite stall sells fruit juice smoothies. They sound boring, but they're not. The owners mash the fruit with ice in gigantic blenders early in the morning, then stack the smoothie cups in long rows by flavor so it looks like a rainbow." Her gestures became more expansive as she grew more and more excited by her own description. "My favorites are strawberry guava and banana coconut, but they have every flavor you can imagine. I swear, it'll make you hungry just looking at them!"

"Hearing you describe them makes me hungry and I just ate."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, a wicked smile slowly spreading across her face, as if she'd trapped him. "You should go with me. I'll show you all the best stuff, then we can have smoothies for dessert. Want to? It's not far."

Warmth spread through him. He'd love to have Anna show him the market, if only such a thing were possible. La Boqueria was a tourist mecca and the local media knew he was in town. Though he could sometimes negotiate public areas unrecognized while away from Sarcaccia, in this particular case he didn't stand a chance. "I appreciate that, Anna. Unfortunately-"

"Anna, you're going to the beach with Julia and her mom later this afternoon, remember?" Megan's interruption was so smooth, Stefano doubted Anna grasped that her request could be problematic. "But maybe another time."

"Oh, shoot!" Anna sprung from the table, eyes widening. "I totally forgot! Julia's mom called this morning while you were in the shower and asked if she could pick me up at two instead of three-thirty and I told her I thought that'd be fine."

Megan glanced at the oven's digital clock. "Anna, it's nearly two now. You're just remembering this?"

"It's okay. My stuff is packed."

Irritation flashed in Megan's eyes. "That doesn't make it okay. You have a guest-"

A triple chime sounded. Megan shook her head at Anna as she crossed the room to a small, wall-mounted intercom where the kitchen ended and the entry hall began. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hallberg," the front desk clerk's voice came from the speaker. "I have Julia and Marta Pett.i.te here for Anna. Should I send them up?"

Megan glanced toward Anna and Stefano, shooting daggers at her daughter. "Anna's already on her way down. If you could ask them to wait in the rotunda by the center table, she'll be there in just a minute. Save them the elevator ride."

"Will do."

She thanked him, then waved for Anna to grab her gear as she clicked off the speaker. As the girl scooted into one of the two bedrooms off the living area, Megan called, "Hurry! And next time, Anna, remember to give me my messages. I would've told you that you couldn't go until later."

"I will! Sorry!"

When Anna emerged from her room, Megan checked the bag for a swimsuit, towel, hat, and sunscreen. She pulled a few Euros from a drawer in the living room's bureau and tucked them into a zippered side pocket. "That's for water and a snack. Do you have your cell phone?"

She patted her pocket. "Yes, Mom."

"Okay. Hustle down and thank Julia's mother. Is she still bringing you home at six?"

"She said she'll call. We might go out to dinner on the way home because she says it's too hot to cook." Anna had the smarts to look sheepish. "If that's all right with you."

On an exhale, Megan replied, "All right. Whatever's easiest for Julia's mom. But if Mrs. Pett.i.te doesn't call me, then I expect you to do it as soon as you know your plans. Understood?"

"Understood." Anna slung the straps of her beach bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, then spun around and beamed at Stefano. "Thanks for coming to lunch. That was cool. Think you'll be back here anytime soon?"

He couldn't help but return her impish grin. "If you'd like."

"Definitely! I will so take you shopping."

"In that case, it's a date." He'd figure out a way.

"Can you bring a picture of the clock tower when you come? Oooh, or pictures from inside your palace?"

"Anna!"

"Fine. I'm going, I'm going." She tilted her head back and rolled her eyes, then walked to the door with exaggerated footfalls as if belabored by her mother's chastis.e.m.e.nt. "Bye! Oh, and Stefano, you can take the leftover pizza if you want. It's okay with me."

Once the door clicked shut, Megan leaned her head back and stomped in a circle, mimicking Anna's march to the door. "Is this what you expected when you asked to meet her?"

"No. "He laughed at Megan's spot-on impression. "But I can't say I'm surprised, either. She's a pistol, isn't she?"

"That's a nice way of putting it. I would've said 'handful' rather than 'pistol.'" She moved to the sofa, eyeing him as she eased into one corner and folded her legs beneath her. Her red toenails peeked out over the sofa's edge. "Handful or not, I love her to pieces. I couldn't imagine my life without being caught in her whirlwind."

The description stunned him, momentarily catapulting him back to his own youth.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, then corrected himself. "It's only...that's exactly the way my mother used to describe me. She told people I was like a whirlwind moving through the house. Not because I was messy, but because I was so active I wore out both her and the nanny." He could still picture the way his mother would sit on a garden bench and watch him whenever he could convince his siblings to join him in a race through the palace gardens. By mid-afternoon, his mother's eyes always drifted closed, yet Stefano would beg and beg her to wake up and watch him run. "When I came home during one of my college breaks, she said it had been too quiet without me around. She'd gotten used to finishing each day with the satisfaction of having survived a storm."

"Are you saying I have you to blame for my perpetual motion machine?"

"I suppose." He moved to take a spot beside Megan on the long beige sofa. There were bright orange throw pillows in the center which he moved aside so he could sit knee-to-knee with her. "I'm not handy in a kitchen, though. Her pizza really was quite good. Better than most restaurants serve, even in Sarcaccia or Italy. She has real talent."

Megan's face lit with pride. "That's all my mother. Anna loves cooking with her. My parents have come to Barcelona five times since I moved here, but they have yet to visit the Pica.s.so Museum because my mother ends up spending so much time in the kitchen."

He felt a pang of jealousy. Cooking with Anna would make for an entertaining afternoon. How many of them had he missed? How many might there be left? "I bet she enjoys every second of it."

"I hope so. It's a long flight from Minnesota just to make pizza."

"True." A thought occurred to him. "Have you considered cooking lessons? There's a world-cla.s.s culinary school right here in Barcelona. I know Anna's too young for a formal program, but I'm sure they offer cla.s.ses for children. If they saw her talent-" The expression on Megan's face stopped him. "Bad idea?"

"She doesn't need cooking school."

He spread his hands wide. "Why not give it a try, if it's an option? I've heard that the facilities are spectacular. In fact, the head chef at the palace studied there, as have several other members of my family's staff. Anna would love it."

"I'm sure she would. But she doesn't need it."

"She doesn't need a lot of things. But if it interests her and it's within your capability to provide it, why wouldn't you?"

A bemused smile perked up the edges of her mouth. When Stefano asked what was so funny, she laughed as if she'd heard a terrific joke but Stefano had missed the punch line, making it all the funnier.

"Oh." He ran his hand along the back of the sofa, feeling the b.u.mpy texture of the fabric's tight weave. He shouldn't make a.s.sumptions about what Megan could and couldn't provide. "Well, I'd certainly be happy to pay for the lessons."