Page 35 of Royally Romanov
The sight of the policeman standing in Maxim’s foyer had definitely had a sobering effect. But her body hadn’t quite caught up to her brain. She felt drunk, even though she’d had no more than two or three sips of wine.
Quelnight.
“Here.” Scott slid a demitasse across the counter toward her. “Now spill.”
She sighed and launched into an explanation of everything that had happened over the course of the evening. She gave Scott all the details, leaving nothing out. Although she might have skimmed over the part about the kiss, inasmuch as it was possible to skim over the greatest kiss of her life.
“And then the police came.” She took a deep breath. “That’s when I came to my senses and left.”
“The police? Why?” Scott frowned.
“I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.” She sighed.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as they looked. Maybe Maxim just had an overdue parking ticket or something. That would make sense, given his amnesia.
Listen to yourself. You sound ridiculous.
She wasn’t sure why she was clinging to the absurd notion that there could be an innocent reason thepolicierhad almost beaten Maxim’s door down. Or maybe she did know why and just didn’t care to admit it.
She blinked. Hard. She was already two espressos into this conversation and her head was still fuzzy as ever. Damn Maxim, and damn his beautiful body.
When she opened her eyes, Scott was standing behind the counter with his arms crossed, staring at her impassively. “I think there’s only one thing you can do, Finley.”
She knew what was coming. Scott had made his feelings about Maxim perfectly clear the moment they’d set eyes on each other. She took a tiny sip of espresso and braced herself for the lecture that was surely headed her way.
Scott shrugged. “You obviously need to sleep with him.”
Finley choked on the dregs of her coffee. She placed the demitasse back down on its saucer and rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Sure you weren’t.” She laughed and waited for him to do the same.
He didn’t. “I’m dead serious, Finley.”
Who was this guy, and what had he done with her cautious friend Scott? “You think I shouldhave sexwith Maxim Laurent? The guy you accused of stalking me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if it’s not a joke, you’re hilarious.” Except she wasn’t laughing anymore. “Are you forgetting the part about the police showing up at his door?”
He shrugged again. She couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was being, as if they discussed her sex life—or lack thereof—every day. Which they most definitely didnot. “You said yourself you didn’t stick around to find out why the policeman had come round. There could’ve been a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Or Maxim could be a serial killer,” she deadpanned.
“Doubtful, since you’re sitting here right now dripping all over my floor.” He glanced at the puddle at her feet.
The puddle that she officially no longer felt guilty about. “You’ve lost your mind. He could ruin my career. I can’t possibly date him.”
Scott shook his head. “Of course you shouldn’t date him. Whether he’s related to the Tsar or not, there’s a good chance he’s after the Romanov treasure. You said so yourself. But I didn’t say anything about dating. I said you should sleep with the guy, not marry him.”
Finley gaped at him. Only a man would give her such crazy advice. Especially one who was practically an honorary Frenchman.
She made a mental note to find some close female friends in Paris... right after she figured out how to get her purse back, rid herself of Maxim Laurent, and secure her promotion.
But before she could even think about a promotion, she needed to make sure her exhibit went off without a hitch and all the priceless Romanov treasures she’d borrowed went back to where they came from. So maybe the whole friend thing could wait just a tad longer. She had more on her plate at the moment than either she or the plate itself could handle.
“I don’t sleep with strangers,” Finley said bluntly.
