the center of Kiraly, Kris reached several conclusions.
One, Frankie must have done extensive research to believe the man was worthy of observing personally—which presumably connected him to the investigation. Adrenaline nicked Kris’s pulse as they climbed a winding set of mosaic steps through the arts precinct. She was closer than he’d realized.
Two, it explained why she didn’t want them to be recognized. As royal security, her presence could alert the man that he was a suspect.
And three, Kris couldn’t wait for the night to be over so he could get his Frankie back. Even her walk was different, kind of pulled in, a shorter stride and quicker steps. He didn’t like it. Any of it.
Less than a block away from the bar the man had entered, she paused to admire a shopfront window display of women’s clothing. She raised a hand, the fingernails of her thumb and pinkie flicking against each other delicately. “Give it a minute.”
“Frankie—”
She pointed at a violet sun hat wreathed in a yellow ribbon and angled her head with a questioning smile. “Don’t use my name.”
“What do you want me to call you?” he asked, doing his best not to frown. Frankie smiled so rarely that he wanted to bask in this moment. But it wasn’t right. It was too . . . sweet. Soft and open. That wasn’t how Frankie smiled. She revealed her amusement with a hard grin, quick and sharp, leaving a bite mark on his heart.
“Don’t call me anything. It won’t matter.” She reached out, bottom lip disappearing between her teeth as she made a show of tentatively tugging the brim of his cap lower and sliding her fingertips up into his hairline, pressing escapee strands out of sight. Then she pulled back and eyed him beneath her lashes. “I listen every time you speak.”
“Are you—?” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Had that admission been part of her act? “This is so weird.”
“Can you do it?” Her expression was composed, attention idly following an evening cyclist that rode past, but the question was quiet, fierce, cutting through her façade. “We’re not going inside if you’ll give us away.”
Resolve formed a band around his chest. If she believed the hotel guy was worth all this effort, Kris wasn’t going mess it up. “I can do it.”
“Don’t act like a prince. Don’t act like a cowboy. Don’t act like you’ve never seen me before. We’re on a date. You know me. Got it?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, and reaching out, he laced his fingers through hers and drew her hand up to his mouth. Her wide, thick-lashed eyes darted to his as he slowly kissed each of her knuckles, his tongue sliding over her skin. “It’ll be easy—you taste exactly like the woman I want to date.”
He pretended not to notice the pain that flashed in her eyes.
She withdrew her hand to adjust her necklace as they made their way to the crowded bar. Once they were seated at a table for two against the far wall, she angled her chair to sit with her back to the room, and Kris let the shadows of this rear corner conceal his features beneath the cap. Instead of beer, he ordered a whiskey on the rocks and Frankie ordered a white wine—after she’d confirmed the region and vintage.
Once again, her posture was faultless, shoulders settled just so and her spine an elegant line. Her forward lean granted him permission to admire her breasts, an unspoken flirtation that betrayed the date was going well. Picking up her glass and smiling across at him, she said, “This is nice.”
Forcibly reminding himself it was an act, he did his damnedest not to look and replied, “One word for it.” His smile was slow as he leaned back, stretching one leg out so his polished black shoe was beneath her chair and his knee brushed against hers. “Where did you get that dress?”
“Hanna. She made it herself.” She angled her head, patting the back of her headscarf. “And she borrowed this from Gul.”
“I like that color on you. It makes the green in your eyes look darker.”
Setting her wine on the table, she ran a fingertip along the glass lip. “You might have noticed that he’s sitting in a booth by the window. With a different woman.”
Resting his head against the wall behind him, Kris swung his gaze toward the front of the bar and took a moment to assess the man properly. Roughly in