my mind was made up as soon as I asked for his last name. Call it stupid. Risky. Throwing caution to the wind. Completely unlike anything I have ever done. But I know what my heart—my heart, which hasn’t registered anything as far as men are concerned—is telling me to do.
It’s telling me to take this chance. To take a chance on this crackling chemistry between us. To take a chance that Xander would be interesting and fun to be around. To take a chance that there’s a reason why I’m having all of these physical reactions to him.
“Alexander Wales, I would be honoured to have dinner with you,” I say, smiling brightly at him.
He blinks. “Did you really say yes in such a short sentence? I’m becoming used to narratives from you.”
I laugh. “Sorry, I made that so difficult. But I can’t say yes to something I don’t understand.”
“So, you understand now?” he asks.
“I do. And I accept.”
“Well, it’s about time, I’m starving,” Xander says, flashing me a wicked grin. “Come on, let’s go through to the kitchen.”
“Just for the record, if you were asking me to dinner with advanced notice, I wouldn’t arrive in my work clothes. Or with my hair in a bun.”
I pass portraits of polo horses as we move down the narrow hallway. Xander is walking next to me, and the scent of his wonderful aftershave fills the space around us. Goosebumps sweep over my skin in response to it.
“I couldn’t give you the luxury of time,” he says slowly, “because I was afraid you’d talk yourself out of it. Most women who are sane would do that.”
I can see that. It’s one thing to have a few casual dates in private with the future king. It’s quite another if it goes beyond that and into the world.
You have to be quite a risk-taker.
I twist my mouth in a wry thought. Which, apparently, I am.
“But you look lovely as you are,” he adds.
My face burns hot. “Thank you,” I murmur, thinking of his previous dates, the gorgeous and glamorous society girls, and I know he’s lying to be kind.
“I’m not lying.”
I blink. I stop walking as we reach the kitchen. “Why do you say that?”
“Your non-existent poker face shows skepticism at the compliment,” Xander says, flashing me a cheeky grin that makes my skin flush hotter. “For the love of God, don’t ever play that game—you’ll lose your car and your flat in the first round. But the better question here is, why do you think I’m lying about how beautiful you are?”
My stomach flutters. He called me beautiful.
Xander thinks I’m beautiful.
Before I can answer, he is already walking into the kitchen.
I resume walking and follow him, but once again stop as soon as I stand on the threshold to it. Oh, it’s another gorgeous kitchen, just like the one I was in this morning when I visited Clementine and Christian, yet completely different.
It’s a blend of old and new that lends itself to keep respect for the history of the cottage. The cupboards are Shaker in style and painted a beautiful olive-green. There’s a long island in the kitchen, with high chairs on one side upholstered in a deep mahogany leather. All of the worktops are glossy and white. Windows overlook the back garden, and the sunlight is streaming through at the moment, lighting up the room.
“Wow, Xander, this is beautiful,” I say, stepping into the kitchen and studying the items in his glass cabinets. It’s an artful arrangement of white crockery, bowls, mugs, and plates.
I turn back around to find him typing on a laptop on the island. “Thank you,” he says, studying the screen. “Jillian picked out everything, so I can’t take any credit. Okay, I’ve got my takeaway place pulled up. Come here, and you can pick out what you would like for dinner.”
I walk over to him, leaning in to see the screen, and my arm brushes against his. A jolt rushes over my skin, and I quickly adjust to put some space between us.
But the heat from that touch still warms my bare arm.
“What do you usually get?” I ask, trying to focus on reading the menu options and not the rush I have from feeling his arm against mine.
But Lord, this is hard when the man leaning over the worktop next to me smells so damn good.
“Jhinga hara masala,” he says, gesturing to the description for prawn green curry. “Every time. Those prawns are amazing.”