Page 32 of Royal Icing

So that was the heavenly smell. Leo looked at her, and she nodded. “Two, please. And a couple pints.”

Leo tugged his coat off and hung it over the back of his chair. His deep blue sweater stretched across his broad chest and clung to a surprising set of biceps. This was not helping her random surge of hormones.

They sat in the warmth of the restaurant, nursing their beers. She wasn’t usually a beer girl, but if slamming down a couple pints of Guinness helped the prince spill all the dirty secrets about the queen, she would do a keg stand.

His knee brushed against hers under the bar, and her heart leapt into her throat.Relax. That was definitely an accident.

She busied her hands by shrugging off the borrowed jacket and pulling off her hat. Her hair was probably a hot, staticky mess. Not the most professional look for what was practically a business meeting, but at least it wasn’t a Yankees sweatshirt covered in dog hair.

A few other patrons claimed booths, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. Good.

Leo looked up at her, and his brow furrowed. “Here,” he said, reaching for her. She turned to look at him, heart in her throat. Was she covered in cinnamon sugar dust?

His pinky grazed her cheek, and her underwear disintegrated. His hand moved to her hair.

“Leo! Your Highness!”

A flash popped, and Emma blinked in the sudden burst of light. Leo jerked away from her. A couple of men with cameras elbowed each other, trying to get a shot.

“Fuck,” Leo grumbled next to her. “Get your coat.”

She recovered Ruby’s coat and hat, and Leo grabbed her hand. A burst of static electricity shocked her, and it was like a warning.

He pulled her across the room and through a set of double doors into the kitchen.

The chefs looked up and bowed at Leo as they ran through the kitchen and into a back storage room. He pressed her against a shelving unit and shielded her with his body.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LEO

Leo stopped to listen,his heart pounding in his ears.

It fucking figured. The first time he had the audacity to take a woman out since Petra, and the paparazzi had been on them within minutes. Someone must have tipped them off.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Leo yanked the brim of Emma’s beanie down over her eyes and shielded her with his arms. He had known this was a risk when he asked her to the carnival, and he had done it anyway. Selfish. Stupid and selfish.

“It’s just me.” Sal appeared holding two to-go containers. “Sorry about that. I kicked them out and told them there was a rumor John was throwing up behind the porta-potties at the park.”

Emma slapped at Leo’s arm and pulled the beanie off. She looked annoyed.

“I could set you up a nice little table back here if you wanted to stay,” Sal added.

He turned to Sal and shook his head. “We’ll take it to go. I’ve put her through enough tonight. Add it to my tab.”

He had meant tonight’s outing as a way to say thank you and make up for deceiving her, and instead she had spent the whole evening taking pictures of him and fleeing from the paparazzi.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said as they stepped back into the winter dark minutes later. A to-go bag dangled from one wrist. He peeked around the corner of the building, but the paparazzi had seemingly moved on.

“It’s okay. You warned me. And that was pretty mild compared to the treatment some celebrities get,” she added.

“Well, we are a small country. It doesn’t make it less annoying, though.”

Emma said nothing. A knot formed in his stomach. All he could do now was escort her back to the apartment…and give up everything he knew about his mother’s tastes.

“My mother likes crunchy biscuits, not soft.”

Emma, who had been staring forlornly back at the Christmas festival, snapped her attention back to him.