Page 111 of The Heiress's First Date

Every mile closer to New York increased his tension. Now he’s wound tight like a spring, and I hate that for him. But I love the way he takes care of me.

The driver opens the rear door, and Alex is there, hand outstretched. He looks utterly delicious in his dark jeans, and the lightweight sweater stretches across his shoulders and clings gently to his muscles.

I tuck my phone into my purse, once again pushing reality down a little longer. I missed another call from my boss and one from a journalist. I don’t know how she got my number.

Taking Alex’s hand, I step out of the black SUV and into the gloom. The drizzle is so different from the beauty we left in Paris, where it was bright and fresh and postcard-perfect. I glance around, bracing for paparazzi.

Miraculously, the sidewalks are empty.

Alex’s hand settles against the small of my back, and we march up the thick stone stairs to a stately home. The facade is a cream-colored rock with half a dozen windows. Chunky urns overflowing with cheerful light pink and white flowers flank the entrance.

The thick wooden door swings open, and King stands there, hair disheveled. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that hits me in the stomach.

My Kingston.

Remembering that we’re still very much in the public eye, I step past him into a lovely foyer. Turning, I see King give Alex a nod before he closes and locks the door.

“I’m going to look around,” Alex murmurs, disappearing into the house like he’s part of the woodwork.

I immediately miss his steady touch, but my heart aches for King.

“Destiny’s in the kitchen,” Kingston calls over his shoulder.

“Nice!” Alex waves, and if I’m not mistaken, he double-times it toward the back of the house.

“Destiny, huh?”

I grin at Kingston, looking him over with eyes that have cataloged him for years. His hair’s a bit disheveled, and he looks a little sleep-deprived, but overall, he’s his normal, handsome self.

I don’t know what I expected. Bloodshot eyes and hair standing on end like a cartoon character, perhaps.

“Their chef. Gabe says her cinnamon buns are legendary.”

I glance around, wondering if there are other staff waiting in the wings. Kingston knows me well and shoots that stomach-melting half-smile my way. “He doesn’t have a butler if that’s who you’re looking for.”

I assumed not since I hadn’t seen any sign of one before.

My heart trips over itself, and I drop my purse in my haste to hug my best friend. My lashes flutter closed as his strong arms wrap around my waist. He clings to me, face pressed into the side of my neck.

“Are you okay?” I touch him all over. Even though I know he wasn’t injured, I can’t help but check. Fill my hands with his honed muscles, the gorgeous body I’ve come to know so intimately this last week.

“I’m fine.”

I lean back, not because he’d lie to me, but because he’d lie to himself. “Are you sure?”

He grins, knowing that I know his tricks. I love the happy crinkles around his eyes.

“Promise,” he says. “Glad you’re home, though.”

Home.

Has there ever been a sweeter word? Not in any language I know.

I throw myself at him again as pleasure and relief rush through me in equal parts.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur over and over, kissing every inch I can reach.

His hands circle my waist, and he laughs. “What are you sorry for?”

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