Page 6 of Royal Trouble

Nothing like getting busted scoping out the royal package.

“It seems you have me at a disadvantage.” His gaze swept over her, searching for a spark of recognition.

Everly’s pulse quickened, but she willed herself to remain calm. There was no way Xander would recognize her. They’d never been friends, and it had been ten freaking years since she’d seen him last. She’d changed a lot since her days at Westbury. Sometimes even she had a hard time reconciling the grungy, bleach blond, Doc-wearing rebel she’d been with the woman she’d become.

Besides, even if he did recognize her, it wouldn’t matter. He still had no idea she’d been the voice behind RGW. It would be fine.

Probably.

“I feel like we’ve met before, and I’m not one to forget such a lovely face.”

“Does that line usually work for you?” she scoffed. Her brain told her not to be seduced by his charm, but she couldn’t deny the flutter of her heart.

Freaking pheromones.

Xander smirked. “It’s not a line, if it’s true.”

“Debatable,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the glass of vodka the bartender had placed in front of her. The tumbler was a reassuring weight in her hands, a reminder that the beauty and luxury of this world were a seductive lure that could tempt even the most ardent critic.

“I’ll tell you what,” Xander said, eyeing her glass. “If I guess your name, you let me buy you a real drink.”

“You do realize it’s an open bar, right?” The corner of her traitorous mouth curved up. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Who says it has to be tonight?” He chuckled, low and deep. The sound reverberated through the space between them, setting her nerves on fire. “Technically speaking, I already have a date tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

The suggestion hung between them, wrought with possibility, and for a millisecond she found herself considering the offer.

Shit. What was she doing? The spare might be sexy as fuck, but flirting with him was a bad idea.

“Sadly, I’m busy. Washing my hair.” It was the oldest lie in the book, and she mentally high-fived herself for making her position clear. She raised her glass to her lips and took a sip, the alcohol burning a path straight to her belly. Xander did the same, his tongue licking suggestively at the corner of his lips.

“Let’s see…” he said, studying her with unnerving intensity. Damn. She should’ve known better. A guy with an ego the size of Valeria—especially one who was used to getting what he wanted—was unlikely to be deterred by thinly veiled lies. Her blood heated as his gaze raked over her, taking in every dip and curve, reminding her that the damn dress left little to the imagination. “You’re a loner, but the bride actually likes you, as evidenced by that surprisingly flattering bridesmaid’s dress.”

She laughed, the sound bursting from her lips before she could seal them.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’ve seen some truly heinous gowns in my travels.” He set his glass on the bar and turned to face her again. “You’re a straight shooter and you don’t mind calling a man—even a prince—on his bullshit.”

Straight shooter? Ha! If he only knew the truth.

“And since I’m having trouble placing you, it means we haven’t crossed paths in years, so we probably went to school together.”

Everly pressed her lips flat, determined to give nothing away.

“Getting warmer?” he asked, stepping so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Something was getting warmer, but it wasn’t his guesses. A bead of sweat pooled in the hollow between her breasts, and she resisted the urge to fan herself. It was probably just a side effect of the alcohol.

Right, keep telling yourself that.

A slow smile curved his lips, the light that danced in his eyes looking a hell of a lot like victory.

“Everly Wilson.” Her name rolled off his lips in a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. “Westbury’s own Queen of Snark.”

“I’m impressed,” she admitted, though a voice in her head screamed at her to cut and run. She had no business encouraging his advances, even if she was enjoying their little sparring match. He was on a date for fuck’s sake.

“I told you. I never forget a pretty face.”

She snorted. “An impressive feat given the number of women in your life.”