us moving. “I think I was twelve. It’s a bit of a blur.”
“It suits you,” she says, an undeniable note of affection in her voice. “You look very American. No offense.”
“You’re American, so I’ll consider it a compliment,” I murmur. Jeans and trainers had felt like the easiest way to keep a low profile. I’d even go as far as to put sunglasses on under the cap. I start to apologize for my casual appearance when she tugs away and darts over to a shop stall.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, pounding harder with each step it takes to close the new distance between us. The shopkeep says something to her, and I fight the urge to snap at him. Clara holds up a book and responds before putting it back on the table with a laugh.
As soon as I’m closer to her than he is, I relax a little. By the time she turns back to offer her hand again, I’ve rearranged my face into calm.
“I love Notting Hill, don’t you?” She asks with a sigh. “I’m always finding little treasures.”
I nod, gripping her hand more tightly so she won’t be able to let go of me so easily. I have never been to Notting Hill. I don’t admit this to Clara. I’ve driven through naturally. I’m aware of it, of course. There are plenty of places in London I’ve never actually visited. Given that I’m usually surrounded by a security team in public, I don’t adventure out often. Tonight, though, I find myself in the bustling neighborhood. There is something wonderfully ordinary about its streets. People move about, going to and from their lives.
And by some miracle, I’m managing to blend in.
“It is a little warm.” Clara presses a hand to her neck, and I see it’s slightly dewy. She points to an antique shop. “I should go in there. I need a lamp.”
“From the nineteenth-century?” I tease.
“I like old, beautiful things,” she says, pretending to be offended. “Antiques have better stories, I guess.”
“You’re going to love my house,” I mutter absently.
Clara blows a stream of air from her lips and pulls me toward another stall. I can’t blame her for wanting to avoid my family after the disastrous party. That’s not going to make what I’m planning to ask her later any easier.
We wander down the streets, slipping into an easy conversation. As twilight deepens, Clara begins to check her watch, then fidget. Finally, we find ourselves in front of a cozy bistro.
“You’re quiet,” I say, after a few minutes of silence stretch between us.
She looks at me, a flame burning in her eyes. She blinks, and it extinguishes, but the ember remains. “Actually, I’m tired.”
That’s my fault.
“I feel like I should apologize for keeping you up half the night,” I say, pulling her to me and kissing the top of her head, “but I’m not sorry.”
She smiles at my blatant cockiness. “And I won’t be getting any sleep tonight either.”
“Hot date?” I ask.
“The hottest.”
“Anyone I know?” My palm skims from the small of her back to her hips.
“I would say you’re on intimate terms.” She blows me a kiss that’s more provocation than affection.
“You need to rest.” I resist the siren call of that innocent gesture. “I’m sending you home alone tonight.”
Her throat slides. “But I owe you sexual favors.”
“And what did I do to deserve that, poppet?” What did I do to deserve her? “Tell me so I can do it again.”
“You might not be saying that after dinner.” There’s resignation in her voice as she reaches for the restaurant door. I grab her hand and pull her back to me.
I trace a line down her profile, over her lips, and pause there. “Have a little faith. I can be quite charming when the situation requires it. I am a prince, after all.”
“Prince Charming, huh? I don’t remember him having a dirty mouth and an insatiable sex drive.”
“He kissed the wrong girl,” I whisper, angling my face for one last kiss before we face her family. “Or maybe ‘happily ever after’ is only code for multiple orgasms.”
“The Brothers Grimm have nothing on you.” Her tone is playful, but there’s something thick hiding behind her words.
I feel it, too. That’s why I play along and wink at her. “Wait until I tell you my theories about riding off into the sunset.”
“Behave.” She smacks my shoulder lightly.
“I love it when you get riled up. It makes me think of spanking your pretty, little ass.” It’s out of my