Page 32 of Some Like It Royal

“Oh yeah.” He leaned back in the seat, the jeans he wore stretching over his muscular thighs. Muscles she couldn’t help but notice when he breezed through his bedroom in boxers. The man might work in software, but he knew how to keep fit and trim. She dragged her mind away from imagining him without his pants to focus on the next story. “I was a bit of a smart-ass in school.”

“Bit?” She lifted her brows skeptically. He seemed straightforward and sweet, but she enjoyed the acerbic bite to his wit.

“Okay, I was a lot of a smart-ass in school. I could argue my way out of PE on a regular basis and she used to have to let me read when I was done with tests because I always finished with thirty to forty minutes to spare—and the last time I got really bored in her class, I took apart the new computer they’d received to see how the parts worked.” He flashed another toothy grin. “I couldn’t put it back exactly as I found it.”

A fresh wave of laughter threatened to burst from her lips and she shook her head. The ease with which he could make her smile—it undid her. She didn’t doubt his tale for an instant. “Was she impressed that you owned your own company?”

He shrugged and slowed the car, turning into a lot next to the most ordinary diner she’d ever seen. It looked straight out of the annals of television history, down to the orange on the sign and the line of booths visible through the wide panel glass windows.

“I don’t think that mattered. Money doesn’t buy happiness or success.” He killed the engine and turned to look at her. “It doesn’t buy peace of mind either.”

Hard to argue with that. She didn’t remember having much money before her parents died and financial concerns didn’t faze her through the rest of her teen years until she wanted a car. She’d gotten a job and earned what she needed to buy an old secondhand vehicle from her foster mother at the time. Fortunately, she’d managed to buy it just a month before her move to her final foster home. The car saved her life that year—it was the first time she bought something of tangible value and it had granted her a freedom she hadn’t known she craved. Freedom she needed because her last set of foster parents had been on the fast track to early graves. The money they earned by taking in foster kids went directly to their liquor bills. They liked their charges older, because ignoring them didn’t mean much and most, like her, knew better than to stir up the crap with them. She’d learned quick that weekends were better spent staying away from that house. The car let her do it.

Still musing on that, she slid out of the rental and followed him. She avoided taking his hand again, no matter how much her palm itched for the contact. The familiarity and comfort he seemed to have developed in touching her left her quivering on the inside. It was better to put in a little distance for now. At the door to the diner, she paused. Blinking twice, she read the name written in white letters.

It couldn’t be right.

“The Snooty Pig?”

Daniel’s grin grew and he grasped the door with one hand and slid the other against her lower back. Her skin tingled beneath the shirt. “Yep. You’ll not get a better bacon-and-eggs breakfast anywhere. But the waffles—the waffles are to die for.”

“There’s something vaguely wrong with that statement.” Unable to suppress her amusement, she grinned back at him. Inside, the diner was exactly as she expected—vinyl seats, Formica-topped tables and waitresses in aproned uniforms. If some salty waitress sailed out with a “kiss my grits” apron she wouldn’t have been surprised. They claimed a table near the window and reviewed the menus. Everything was served with home fries or hash browns. The air was scented with coffee, bacon, sausage and ham. Cups clinked against tables and forks scraped on plates.

She picked out a waffle immediately, but decided against the strawberries and whipped cream. Her hips didn’t need any assistance… Besides, butter and syrup sounded better. Daniel made a face at her as he ordered extra whipped cream and a double side of bacon to share.

The waitress left them with their fresh coffee and for the first time since their impromptu jaunt began, she found herself without anything to say—and that was okay too. Because she enjoyed sipping her coffee and splitting her attention between the diner patrons and Daniel.

His leg slid against hers and relaxed. That simple contact sent her heart racing, but eased the tension in her shoulders.

“Thank you.” She set her coffee cup down and folded her hands together on the cool Formica.

“For what?”

“For this—the trip, the interest in my family.” Maybe he was interested in her royal roots, but a trip to Woodland, California, wasn’t about her so-called ties to some Russian nobility. It was about her parents. About the life she’d lived before they died and a past she’d nearly forgotten. “You didn’t have to do this. It’s not really going to help your business and I know that. So, thank you.”

He propped his chin against a fist and stared at her. His easy smile faded and his sharp blue eyes sobered. “Alyx, you’re a friend. All that other stuff aside—I like to think we are becoming friends. And I help my friends.”

His solemn gaze trapped her, and fear skittered up her spine. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Look, Alyx?—”

Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by the waffles. Her eyes grew at the sight of the strawberries and whipped cream piled on top of his, all but hiding it from sight.

“Wow.” Hers came with a mini scoop of butter in the center and a little pitcher of syrup. Her stomach let out a growl and it seemed she was hungrier than she thought.

His expression hardened briefly, as though irritated by the interruption, but it smoothed away and his relaxed smile returned. “Yes, it looks like dessert—I’d think a woman would appreciate dessert before dinner.” He scooped up a forkful of the decadent breakfast and held it out to her temptingly. “You sure you don’t want to try it?”

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she opened her mouth and took the bite. If the tart and sweet mixture of waffle, fruit and sweet cream didn’t mingle on her tongue in an explosively sensual tease of her palate, the delighted smile softening the hard glint in his eyes would have. “Mmm—fantastic.”

“I told you.” He cut himself another bite and she couldn’t help but watch his tongue as he caught a bit of whipped cream that escaped across his lips. “Want more?”

Her imagination must have run away from reality, because the loaded question seemed to hint beyond the offer of another bite. Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she shook her head slowly. “No, thank you.”

Disappointment dimmed his smile, but only for a moment. He slipped another forkful past his lips.

She envied that fork.

Get a grip,she ordered herself and forced her gaze to her own breakfast and cut into it with only a sliver of the interest she’d experienced watching him eat.Friends is one thing. I can do friends. We can be friends.

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