I put down my order pad on the counter. “What would you like?”
“I think I’d like a cake,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But it’s hard to describe—may I borrow your pencil and paper and show you what I want?”
Intrigued, I slide him the pad and the pencil. I watch as he begins to sketch. When I see what he is drawing, a gasp escapes my lips.
Xander is drawing the sun, showing beams of light radiating down to the ground.
He is drawing sunshine.
He finishes and scribbles something across the bottom before passing it back to me. I glance down at it and read:
I needed my own Sunshine this morning. Thank you for seeing me. Much better than a text. Waiting until tomorrow night to see your smile was too long for me.
Oh! I blush happily and look up at him.
“So that’s my idea for the cake,” he says, nodding at me.
“I see,” I reply. “A cake with sunshine on it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Xander says, staring into my eyes.
God, this man. How is he real?
“May I make a suggestion?” I ask.
He smiles. “Of course.”
I scribble my own note at the bottom of the drawing. Then I nudge it back to him:
I’m so excited to see you right now. I can’t believe you’re here!
A smile passes over his face, and he picks up the pencil, once again writing me another message.
“I think that should be added to the cake,” he says.
I glance down and read:
I am the one who should be thanking you. And if I were Xander Wales right now, I’d lean across this counter and kiss off the white icing that is on your right cheek.
I instinctively put my hand to my face. Xander grins wickedly at me.
“Sorry, I wasn’t clear about that last idea. Here, let me work that out for you,” Xander says, picking up the pencil again. He scribbles in his elegant handwriting, and I glance down at the note:
Correction. I’d taste it with my tongue. Then I might have to taste your neck. To see if you taste like vanilla and sugar, because that is what you smell like this morning, and it’s driving me MAD.
I flush bright red the second I see the words “my tongue.” Then another thought pops into my head right after it.
Lord, that would be divine if he could lick that icing off. I envision his hot tongue lightly flicking across my skin and wh—
I immediately grab onto the top of my apron and pull it away from me. “Sorry, Your Royal Highness, it’s a bit warm in here.”
“Hot, I’d say,” Xander says, his eyes burning into mine.
Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord! This man is so alpha and sexy, I can barely stand upright. Suddenly, I hear more voices, growing louder, and I glance to my left. People are still filming and taking pictures with their phones. A wave of uneasiness washes over me, and the second it does, Xander clears his throat.
“I think we should wrap up here,” he says, his voice firm.
I glance back at him, and I can tell he’s going to make his exit now.
“Right.”
“I do believe you need to ask me what kind of cake flavour I’d like,” Xander says, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Oh, yes, of course. What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m thinking chocolate banoffee—I suddenly have a strange craving for that particular combination,” he says, holding my gaze. “Could it be delivered to Kensington Palace tomorrow night? I am entertaining some very important company that evening, and I’d like to serve a proper dessert.”
I think my idea of dessert would be on top of him in that hammock, but I keep that thought to myself.
“Yes, I can have that arranged.”
Xander reaches inside his wallet and retrieves a credit card, placing it on the counter. I glance down at it, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head.
It’s a Coutts’ purple World MasterCard Signia credit card.
One of the most exclusive credit cards in the world.
I stare down at the card, as this makes it so real who he is. Xander Wales is one of the richest men in the United Kingdom. My brain gets whiplash at the situation. What am I doing? Xander is so different from me, from income to social circles and, good God, he’s heir to the throne. Us standing here flirting doesn’t make sense in this world outside the gates of Kensington Palace.