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“Oh, no,” she said. “I’ve ruined your suit.”
Leo looked down to see that there were smudges on the side of his coat and pant leg. It had been a long time since a woman had touched him. Even though she was brushing rather harshly.
“I was rushing,” she said, her focus on the specks of dirt and grime on the fabric of his clothing. “Trying to order food on my phone. I’m on my lunch break, and I don’t have much time. That’s why I was looking down at my phone. And now I’m babbling. Is that your car?”
Leo was having trouble keeping up. He looked from the woman to her phone, back to her, and then to the car. “Yes.”
“You know you can’t park there. You’ll get a ticket.”
He shook his head. “Diplomatic immunity.”
“Oh. Oh, I know that flag. It’s the flag of Cordoba.”
The orange, red and blue to represent the different countries from which the majority of Cordoba’s people hailed. With his country’s flag displayed prominently and proudly on the town car, Leo waved goodbye to his anonymity.
“Do you work for the prince?” she asked.
Without thinking, the truth came out of his mouth. “No, I am the king.”
“Oh, you work for the king? How exciting.”
Clearly, she’d misunderstood him. It must be the accent again. But Leo decided to go with it. A little thrill went through him that his anonymity was restored. “It’s really not exciting at all. The king deals with the affairs of state. Agriculture, taxes, real estate.”
“But you live in the castle? I’d love to hear more about it. Can I buy you a cup of coffee and a slice of pie as a thank you for the life-saving?”
A cup of coffee from a beautiful stranger? “Yes.”
As they approached the door to the pie shop, Leo saw Giles frown at him. He gave the man a signal to keep his mouth shut. Giles glared, and Leo could hear the huff from across the room. But for once, the man did as he was commanded and kept his mouth shut. Even if it was pressed into a line of clear disapproval.
“I’m Esme, by the way.”
“I’m Leo.”
Chapter Four
Despite all the fairytales, romance novels and Hallmark movies Esme consumed, she’d never once considered herself the damsel in distress type. But man was it working for her right now. Esme had fallen into the arms of a real-life hero.
Technically, she’d crash landed into him while doing the most benign, stereotypical thing that a Millennial American could do. But who cares, because it paid off, and she was gonna live to tell this tale, and what a tale it was shaping up to be.
Leo held out his arm for her in a perfect right angle of chivalry. Just like in the BBC period films she’d watched on public television as a kid. She panicked for a second, uncertain exactly what to do.
Did she tuck her hand under his elbow and curl her fingers in the crook? Or lay her hand on top of his forearm, resting her fingers lightly? What had the actress who played Elizabeth done with Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice? Not the Keira Knightley two-hour movie that played ad nauseam on cable. The delectably long, four-hour episodic one that played weekends during donation drives.
In the end, she decided she wanted some of that crook action. And so Esme just placed her hand between his ribs and his biceps. Her knuckles brushed against the fine coat she’d ruined with her epic absentmindedness. His coat was finer than her most expensive outfit. That wasn’t saying much since she tended to shop at thrift stores and not on Fifth Avenue. But all thought left her when her fingertips met his bulging muscles.
And—oh, boy—what a bulge it was.
This man of the palace was no slob. There were more hills than valleys on his arm than in the Grand Canyon. She wondered what he did for the king? He had to be security, with that physique, and that serious face, and the hero skills.
Perhaps Captain of the King’s Guard? Maybe he was a knight? In the storybooks, the men who protected kings were always knights. But he said he wasn’t a knight. Still, he would forever be donned as her knight in shining armor.
And just to prove the point, he held the door for her and allowed her to precede him in. His head even bowed slightly as he allowed her to pass him. Esme’s heart did a flip and a flop and crashed down into her ribs.
Oh, boy, was she in big trouble.
A man stood
at the counter frowning at the two of them. He had the same golden tan and dark good looks as Leo. He was dressed similarly, but he was clearly older. Likely just a few years. There were no wrinkles in his face, but his eyes were alight with a weariness.
