Page 67 of American Royalty

Ahhhh...

He straightened and strolled farther into the room. When he reached the back of the sofa where she was sitting, he stroked hischin and leaned forward to stare at the screen and the image frozen upon it.

“Is thatFour Weddings and a Funeral?”

Embarrassment crawled over her. He could tell that, just from four people standing outside of a stone church?

She should’ve closed the damned top.

“No,” she said, reaching out to rectify that situation.

“Don’t shut it.” He came around and plopped down next to her. “And, yes, it is. This is the scene where his brother interrupts the wedding.”

The love seat that had been the perfect size for her to sit with her legs curled beside her seemed far too snug and cozy when shared with his large frame.

Her skin tingled and butterflies fluttered awake in her belly.

This would not do! She wanted him to be affected byher, not the other way around.

“Spoiler alert,” she teased, trying for that duck-above-water calm.

“Sorry. Have you never seen this movie before?”

“No. But Nyla mentioned it when I told her I was coming to London. Said I’d enjoy it.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. His fresh masculine scent tinged with the heavy sweetness of whisky wafted over her, and she shivered. “You don’t have to wait until you’re in England to watch British movies. I’m pretty sure this is available in the States.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She dislodged a pillow and hit him with it. “This isn’t my first trip here, y’know, but usually when I come, it’s for work. I’m basically in and out. I don’t have the time to sit around and watch movies.”

He nodded toward her computer. “Are you enjoying it?”

“I am. It’s funny to see a young Hugh Grant. I know who he is, ofcourse. I watched him in that one series on HBO and the Paddington Bear movie. Here, he’s so bumbling and cute. I can see what the fuss was all about. But dude needed a haircut.”

“You should see pictures of some of the royals during that time. Julian attempted that look. Claimed it got him laid.”

Dani glanced at Jameson sharply. No one would ever set their mouth to call her a prude, but hearing him say “laid” felt outrageous. Sinful and decadent.

She looked away from him and lifted her hand to her neck, the pads of her fingers noting the rapid beat of her pulse.

“Speaking of hair, Andie MacDowell’s curls are gorgeous! But he should’ve gotten together with Fi. They’re way more appropriate.”

“Really? Why?”

“The American—what’s her name? Carrie—is too different. But he and Fi had a lot in common. They had a great connection and they’d been friends for years. She knew the good and bad of him and still loved him. Carrie was too flighty. Plus, who is she? We get to know almost nothing about her. I don’t know whether to blame her acting choices or the screenplay.”

“You mustn’t say that in public. The screenwriter is beloved by many here,” Jameson said. “Have you seen some of his other films?”

Dani liked movies, but she wouldn’t call herself a movie buff. She didn’t go around collecting information like who directed this movie or who the cinematographer was. “I don’t know. What’s he done?”

“Notting Hill,Love Actually—”

“Dang!Love Actuallyis my jam! I watch it every year!”

A smile curved his lips. “You have some very amusing sayings. ‘Dang.’ What is ‘dang’?”

She laughed, the sound of his posh British accent saying “dang” too much for her to handle.

“Dang is a noncurse-word way to say ‘damn.’”