Page 21 of Some Like It Scandalous
He shrugged. Telling her a lie might ease the worry and tension from her face, but… “You get used to it. There have always been threats against my family. At one time, there was even a bounty on my grandfather’s head. The communist regime at the time wanted to stifle any more tales of the family’s return to Mother Russia.”
“Yeah, that’s not comforting.” But she smiled and the soft curve to her lips beckoned him. It took everything in him to walk away the day before, but as much as he’d already botched their reunion, he refused to let anger spoil it.
“It wasn’t meant to be comforting—it’s hard to let others take over these areas—but it’s essential for your safety.” Her fingers continued to tremble in his grip. It was damn hard not to just pull her close. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”
Her mouth twisted, but the smile didn’t fade. “Well, you’re not making fun of me—that’s a good start.”
“When have I ever made fun of you?” Askance, he raised both eyebrows.
“When I wanted to backpack across Europe. When I took that theory class from Doctor Ramuesen…oh and when I picked up that wardrobe at the garage sale. You laughed at me for four hours.” Her nose wrinkled, but the strain around her eyes eased.
He burst out laughing. “You hated walking across campus and you planned to sling on a pack and walk across Europe? Not to mention, have you ever stayed in a hostel? The smell is pretty bad.”
“Fine. Maybe I wouldn’t have done as well with Europe.” She snorted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“And Dr. Ramuesen was a whackjob with a pen. His idea of diplomacy was to close borders based on language—only those with similar languages were bound to understand the other side, translators be damned.” He still chuckled but shook his head. “The man wouldn’t know diplomacy if it bit him in the ass. He was turned down by the U.S. State Department four times and if I recall, you were furious at his grade for your midterm paper.”
“Because he gave me a C when I pointed out the flaws in the Treaty of Versailles based on his law of language.” Outrage sparkled amid the laughter in her eyes and her hand tightened on his.
“Wholly undeserved.” He soothed. “Though, you finished the class even if you disliked him.”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I still have the wardrobe.”
“That ugly behemoth?” He couldn’t bottle the words before they popped out. She tipped her head at him and gave him a sly smile.
“It wasn’t ugly. It had—has character.”
Doubtful, he stared at her.
“Okay, fine. It’s ugly as sin, and it weighs five tons, but I like it.” She made a face and he laughed, allowing himself the barest of touches down her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“You love it and that’s why I didn’t argue when you insisted on moving it into the bedroom…”
“Oh God.” Her eyes rounded, then she grimaced.
“What?” A quick glance around the room showed they were still alone.
“I made your security guys carry it up the stairs.”
He laughed again. “They didn’t mind.”
“Of course they did—they complained about how heavy it was and I gave away your fancy European lager to pay for it.”
It was his turn to grimace. “ThatI know. I came home from class to find it all gone and Eddie toasted me with his that night.”
She giggled, a delicious, girly, youthful titter, and the rock on his chest rolled to the side. “This is weird.” She withdrew her hands and he hated it, but he let her go. She wasn’t so pale or so cold, warmth flushed her cheeks.
“I don’t know—it feels pretty normal to me.” Seductively normal—they used to have conversations like this all the time. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He rose and held a hand out to her. She’d barely eaten breakfast.
They could definitely use the distraction before he picked her up to cuddle away the fears. Patience, however, was not the virtue he wanted to embrace at the moment. She stared at his hand for a heartbeat longer than made him happy, but she took it and he tugged her to her feet. Interlacing his fingers with hers, he led the way toward the kitchen, but she pulled back and he halted.
“What?”
“We should give them an answer so they don’t stand out there in the hall waiting for us to call them back in.” She turnedtoward the door and he went with her rather than letting her pull away. She opened the door and peeked out.
“Your Highness, Miss Novak.” Peterson glanced up from his phone.
“Mr. Peterson, if we’re going to be working together, would you mind just calling me Anna?” She didn’t like titles—amusing considering how often she threw his in his face. But he squelched the thought.
