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“He will be pleased.” She started to turn for the door to her suite, wishing he were staying for her instead. “You should get some rest.”
“Annabelle, wait. I’m staying for more than just that.”
She turned back to him, hesitant to get her hopes up. “What reason would that be?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“I do.”
“I’m staying because of you.”
Though she tried to subdue her response, it was impossible. Her heart fluttered in her chest and a smile pulled at her lips. “You’re staying for me?”
He nodded. “I think you did a terrific job today swaying my decision on the viability of establishing my Mediterranean headquarters here. The projections and incentives were impressive and well thought out. And the programs at the university were current and cutting-edge.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I hope it all works out.” And that he spends a lot more time in Mirraccino. “It’s getting late. We should call it a night.” Before she did something she might regret—like kiss him again.
“Oh, okay. It’s just I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Do you mind if it waits? I need to be up early tomorrow. I have a couple of things I need to do for my uncle first thing.”
“Um, sure. I’ll see you in the morning.” For a moment, he didn’t move. It seemed as if he was considering whether he should kiss her or just walk away.
Was it wrong that she willed him to kiss her again? Her gaze sought out his lips, his very tempting lips. She’d never been kissed quite like she had by him. It had rocked her world right off its axis. What would one more kiss hurt?
Her heart pounded harder, faster. Her gaze focused on his. Was it her imagination or were their bodies being drawn toward each other? If she were just to sway forward a little, their lips would meet and ecstasy would ensue.
Grayson backed away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed him off. Maybe she should have said that she’d talk to him as long as he wanted. But he was already walking away. She sighed. Tomorrow was another day. Hopefully it would go smoother than this one.
“Good night.”
She turned to her suite. Something told her that sleep was going to be elusive that night.
CHAP
TER NINE
HAD HE BEEN imagining things last night?
Grayson assured himself it had been a bunch of wishful thinking on his part. It was the best explanation he could come up with for that tension just before he’d walked away from Annabelle. After all, she was royalty and he was just a techno geek from Ohio. Definitely worlds apart.
Grayson ate his breakfast alone. So far there’d been no sightings of the king or Annabelle. Before coming to breakfast, Grayson had checked her room, but she hadn’t been there. She must have urgent things to do. Grayson couldn’t even imagine what it must be like having your uncle be the king. The responsibilities must be enormous.
But he had to gain Annabelle’s attention long enough to ask her some questions about the cryptic note. And no one he’d spoken to seemed to know where she might be. After breakfast, he checked the gardens and the beach. No sign of her.
He was about to head back upstairs to check her room again when he passed through the grand entryway. It was then that he noticed a folded newspaper sitting on a table. If he couldn’t find Annabelle, perhaps he’d do a little reading about Mirraccino. The more he learned about this Mediterranean paradise, the easier time he’d have selling the idea to his board of directors.
He glanced around for one of the many staff to ask them if he could borrow the paper, but no one was about. He picked up the paper and unfolded it. The breath caught in his throat when he saw a picture of himself.
His gaze frantically scanned the picture. It was of him and Annabelle. They were staring at each other. The photo made it look like they were about to kiss. But that wasn’t possible. The only kiss they’d shared had been in the privacy of Annabelle’s room. And this photo, it was taken outside, and from the looks of it at the university.
His gaze scanned up to the headline—Hero To The Rescue!
He was not a hero. Why did people keep saying that? He inwardly groaned, his hands clenching and crinkling the newspaper. If he were a hero Abbi wouldn’t be dead.
Blood pulsated in his temples. Why couldn’t the paparazzi find someone else to torment? He’d had enough of it back in California after the car accident.
