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I bite my lip at his nearness. “What?”
“You’re quite passionate.” His voice is soft.
“Is that a nice way of sayingoverbearing?” I laugh. “Sorry. I get a little intense sometimes.”
“Not at all. It’s infectious. In a good way. It’s why I was so enthralled the first time we met. You won me over.”
He leans in farther, tilting his head. Just a fraction.
My knees become a bit wobbly, both from his nearness and the copious amount of champagne I consumed tonight. Ben notices me sway and reaches out to place a hand on my hip.
I feel the warmth of his palm even through my dress.
“Steady,” he says. “We don’t want you tripping and ruining that beautiful dress.”
I swallow through my dry mouth while my heart gallops in my chest like a skittish horse. Or maybe it’s not nerves but excitement. I can’t deny that Ben Tulley is growing on me. He’s charming as hell, with a wry humor I appreciate.
And didn’t I come to London for adventure, to have my own stories to tell?
Well, right now, it seems I’m at the part of the fairy tale where the prince wants to kiss me at the ball.
“Your lips are exquisite.” Ben’s gaze focuses on my mouth. “That color you’re wearing is hypnotizing.”
“Oh, I’m not wearing any lipstick. Just a bit of plain gloss.”
That summons a low noise from his throat. “Bloody hell, Abbey Bly. I don’t think you’ve any idea your effect on people.”
He draws me closer, brings his mouth to mine and—
“Lord Tulley!” comes a shrill voice.
We break apart before our lips manage to connect.
Almost immediately, I’m hit with a gust of relief. Because as magical as this evening has been, I’m not the girl who makes out with older men at royal balls. Celeste might jump all over the opportunity, but she’s also perfectly content dating forty-year-olds. Not that Ben is forty. Twenty-seven certainly isn’t ancient. But he’s got almost a decade of experience on me. And while I prefer to take things very slow, Ben strikes me as a man who likes to move fast.
So when his executive assistant marches up to us on impossibly high stilettos, I’m happy for the interruption.
“Abbey, hello.” Sophie greets me with a tight smile.
She’s wearing a stunning navy-blue satin gown, her dark hair arranged in a complicated-looking twist at the nape of her neck. Everything about her appearance is utterly effortless. Even though she’s not part of the nobility, she looks like she belongs among them, whereas I feel awkwardly out of place.
“Hi,” I say, fidgeting with the diamond tennis bracelet around my wrist, a loaner from Sue Li. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yes, likewise,” she answers in a sharp tone that tells me she’s lying through her teeth. She turns to Ben with an equally sharp expression. “I’m afraid I need to steal you away, Benjamin. Lord Fulton has been looking for you. He would like a word.”
“That blowhard never limits himself to one word. I’ve never met anyone who drones on and on like our dear Lord Fulton.”
“Nevertheless,” Sophie says brusquely, “he has requested an audience.”
The look she gives him is rife with warning. I don’t blame her. I mean, she literally just stopped her boss from kissing a college student. Her mind is probably still running over all the salacious tabloid headlines they almost woke up to tomorrow morning.
After a beat, Ben relents. “Then I suppose I shall grant it.”
She reaches for his arm, but he stops her by waving a hand.
“A moment, please,” he tells her before shifting his attention to me. “To wrap up our discussion—I didn’t have time to review all the papers, but my staff is boxing them up and having them sent back to the city. I’ll do my best to go through the rest and contact you if I find anything of note. Perhaps we can meet again for dinner then.”
“Sure,” I say lightly, making a pointed effort to avoid Sophie’s hard gaze.
