Page 10 of Royally Romanov

He moved to slip past her, but before he could make a getaway, he bumped into one of the ubiquitous stacks of books and sent them tumbling to the floor.

Okaaay.Apparently she wasn’t the only one who needed to work on the delicate art of conversation.

He mumbled a curse word as he bent to pick up the scattered books.

Finley stooped to help him. “I don’t think you’re stalking me. It was a joke.Je suis désolé.”I’m sorry.

He paused midreach for a hardback edition of Baudelaire’s poetry and met her gaze. “A joke?”

Ever so subtly, he smiled. It was just a tiny half-grin, but somewhere beneath the neatly trimmed scruff lining his jaw, Finley spotted a perfectly charming set of dimples. Because, of course.

“A bad joke, admittedly.” She gave him a tiny shrug. “I’ve never seen you before in my life, if it’s any consolation. Other than earlier tonight. My lecture, I mean. You asked a question. Then I signed your book.”Stop babbling.

Clearly she was incapable of interacting with a handsome man surrounded by so many books. It was too overwhelming for her bibliophile sensibilities. She averted her gaze in an effort to regain her composure, but no sooner did she look away than her gaze landed on the bed situated in a darkened nook off to their right. The narrow mattress was covered with a deep crimson coverlet. Velvet.

Not helping.

She gathered as many books as she could and flew to her feet. “It’s late. I should be going. It was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming, monsieur...”

She realized she’d never caught his last name.

He took the books from her arms, which was a really good thing. Because if he hadn’t, his next words would have caused her to drop them on his feet.

“Romanov,” he said. “My name is Maxim Romanov.”