The Prince's Devious Proposal - Holly Rayner Page 0,8

picked up his glass. “To new friends and new adventures,” he said.

Naomi nodded. “To new adventures.”

She had not intended to get drunk that night. She had not even intended to stay out for very long. She had thought she would go back home after a single drink.

Instead, she found herself allowing Petr to refill her glass over and over, laughing as he told her stories about the first few weeks after he had moved to Los Angeles from Europe.

“So much open space,” he said. “It was not at all what I was used to. Such wide roads. And every home had such a big, sweeping lawn. How could there be so much land?”

“Not every home has a big yard,” Naomi said, laughing. “Mine doesn’t.”

“Where do you live?”

She described her condo, with its tiny sculpted lawn.

Petr laughed. “Well, that’s still a big yard,” he said. “If you had grown up in my hometown, your front door would have opened right onto the sidewalk. You would be surrounded by businesses. There would be a store on the corner to sell you your groceries.”

“I’d like to see that,” Naomi said wistfully.

“Did your travels as a musician ever take you to Europe?”

“No, I’ve never been out of the country,” she admitted. “We toured all over the States, so I’ve been to plenty of places and seen plenty of things. But nothing overseas.”

“Then you’re missing out,” he told her. “Everyone should travel the world. Maybe that’s what the next phase of your life is meant to be, now that you’ve left your music career behind. Maybe you’re going to explore the world.”

She laughed. “For now, I think I’m just going to keep selling travel packages.”

He shook his head. “Stop selling them. Buy one.”

“Too expensive for me,” she admitted.

He glanced at her empty cosmopolitan glass. “Would you like another one of those?”

“Oh, that would be fabulous. It really is delicious.” She really shouldn’t, and yet it was so much fun to feel like someone special. This was what every night on tour had felt like. She’d been important. She had been someone who said things that touched other people.

And I’m still that person. That’s what Petr sees.

He took their glasses and disappeared into the crowd.

She sat waiting for his return, kicking her foot against the leg of her chair. It seemed to be taking an inordinately long time. The bar wasn’t that crowded. What was going on?

Then she heard a familiar voice speaking over a microphone. “Can everyone hear me?”

Petr. What was he doing?

She caught sight of him. He was standing beside the piano, looking out at the room. “I’d like to dedicate a song to a friend of mine,” he said. “She doesn’t believe this song can be performed live, but I think we can show her she’s wrong. What do you say?”

The room broke into applause. Naomi’s cheeks flamed. Was he really going to do this?

The pianist played the opening notes of “Perihelion.”

Yep. Apparently he was.

How does the pianist even know this song? she thought wildly.

Petr’s voice came in. He was not a strong singer, but he was able to carry the melody well enough, and for the first time since she had written the song, Naomi allowed herself to sit back and just listen to it.

It was a song about being so deeply, dazzlingly, blindingly in love that you were unable to see the object of your affections clearly. Naomi had written it about her first teenage crush and had set the words to music shortly after writing “Starlight Boy.” Now, listening to Petr perform it live, she felt absolutely captivated.

The pianist fumbled once or twice, and Naomi thought Petr must have given him the track on the CD to listen to quickly before he had started his performance. That was the only way to explain the fact that he knew how to play the song. He must have learned it quickly, by ear. She was deeply impressed.

When the song drew to a close, the whole bar burst into applause. Petr took a bow before hopping down from the piano podium and making his way through the crowd back to their table.

“What did you think?” he asked her, his eyes wide in expectation.

“I…I thought you were getting drinks.” It was all she could manage.

Petr held up a hand, and a moment later a bartender appeared with a fresh drink for each of them.

“Okay,” Naomi said. “I guess you took care of that too.”

“But the song,” Petr said. “I was right, wasn’t I? It