Home > To Kiss a King (Kings of California #11)(13)

To Kiss a King (Kings of California #11)(13)
Author: Maureen Child

“Nope. I’m taking a few days off.”

“Well, then, lucky me.”

The waitress approached with the check, Garrett pulled a few bills from his wallet and handed them to her.

“Hmm, that reminds me,” Alex said when the woman was gone again. “You owe me five dollars.”

His eyebrows lifted. “For what?”

She folded her arms on the table. “We had a wager yesterday and you never did guess where I’m from.”

He nodded, gaze locked on hers, and warmth dazzled her system. Honestly, if he were to reach out and touch her while staring at her as he was, Alex was sure she’d simply go up in flames.

“So we did,” he said and reached into his wallet again.

“You don’t have to actually pay me,” she said, reaching out to stop him. Her hand touched his and just as she’d suspected, heat surged through her like an out of control wildfire. She pulled her hand back quickly, but still the heat lingered. “I just wanted you to admit you lost. You did buy breakfast after all.”

“I always pay my debts,” he said and pulled out a five. Before he could hand it over, though, Alex dug into her purse for a pen and gave it to him. “What’s this for?”

“Sign it,” she said with a shrug and a smile. “That way I’ll always remember winning my first wager.”

He snorted an unexpected laugh. “That was your first bet?”

No one but her brothers—and they didn’t count—ever made bets with a princess. It would be considered tacky. A tiny sigh escaped her before she could stop it. How much she had missed just because of how things might “look.” “You’re my first—outside my family of course. And I did pretty well, I think, don’t you? I did earn five dollars.”

“So you did,” he said, clearly amused. “Okay then…” He took her pen, scrawled a message, signed it and handed both the pen and the money to her.

Alex looked down and read, “Payment in full to Alex from Garrett.” She lifted her gaze, cocked her head and said, “I still don’t know your last name.”

He nodded. “Don’t know yours, either.”

“Seems odd, don’t you think?” Her gaze dropped to his signature. It was bold, strong and she had no doubt that a handwriting analyst would say that Garrett was confident, powerful and even a little arrogant.

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours,” he taunted.

Her gaze snapped to his. Tell him her last name? She considered it for a second or two. Wells was common enough; maybe he wouldn’t think anything of it. But then again, if he put her first name with her last, it might ring a familiar bell that she’d rather remain silent.

She was having too much fun as “just Alex” to want to give it up this early in her holiday. So why risk it? Why insist on last names when it didn’t really matter anyway? After all, when her holiday was over, they’d never see each other again. Wasn’t it better for both of them to keep things light? Superficial?

He was still watching her. Waiting. She couldn’t read his expression and she really wished she could. Alex would have loved to know what he was thinking about this…whatever it was between them. If he was as intrigued, as filled with a heightened sense of anticipation as she was.

“So?” he asked, a half smile curving his mouth as he waited for her decision.

“First names only,” she said with an emphatic nod. “It’s more fun that way, don’t you agree?”

“I think,” Garrett said as he stood up and held one hand out to her, “the fun hasn’t even started yet.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked, slipping her hand into his and relishing the rush of heat and lust that immediately swamped her.

“It is,” he said, “and I always keep my promises.”

Garrett looked down at their joined hands then lifted his gaze to hers as the buzz between them sizzled and snapped like sparks lifting off a bonfire. “Fun. Coming right up.”

They spent a couple of hours in Laguna, wandering down the sidewalks, drifting in and out of the eclectic mix of shops lining Pacific Coast Highway. There were art galleries, handmade ice cream parlors, jewelry stores and psychics. There were street performers, entertaining for the change dropped into open guitar cases and there were tree-shaded benches where elderly couples sat and watched the summer world roll by.

Alex was amazing. She never got tired, never got bored and absolutely everything caught her attention. She talked to everyone, too. It was as if she was trying to suck up as much life as possible. And he knew why. Soon she’d be going back behind palace walls and the freedom she was feeling at the moment would disappear.

Hard to blame her for wanting to escape. Who the hell didn’t occasionally think about simply dropping off the radar and getting lost for a while? He’d done it himself after—Garrett shut that thought down fast. He didn’t want to relive the past. Had no interest in wallowing in the pain and guilt that had ridden him so hard for so long. There was nothing to be gained by remembering. He’d learned his lesson, he assured himself, and that was why he was sticking to Alex like glue.

It had nothing to do with how she looked in those mile-high heels. Or the brilliance of her smile or the damn sparkle in her eyes.

He could tell himself whatever he wanted to, he thought, but even he didn’t believe the lies.

“You’re frowning,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was pitifully grateful for the distraction.

“What?”

“Frowning,” she repeated. “You. Do I look that hideous?”

He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the question, but dutifully looked at the drawing the caricature artist was doing of Alex. The guy had an easel set up under one of the trees along the highway and boxes of colored pastels sat at his elbow. Garrett watched him drawing and approved of the quick, sure strokes he made.

Alex was coming alive on the page, her smile wider, her eyes bigger and brighter and her long blond hair swirling in an unseen wind.

“So?” she asked.

“It looks great,” he muttered, not really caring for how the artist had defined Alex’s br**sts and provided ample cle**age in the drawing.

“Thanks, man,” the guy said, layering in a deeper blue to Alex’s eyes. “I love faces. They fascinate me. Like you,” he said to Alex, “your face is familiar, somehow. Like I’ve seen you before. But with that accent no way you’re from around here.”

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