Page 9 of Royally Romanov
Maxim. Of course he was called something exotic.
“Here you go.Merci.” She handed him his signed book.
He took it. “Thank you for an enlightening evening.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled.
Then he walked away. As he should have.
But Finley couldn’t help but feel a little deflated once he’d gone.
“Tonight went well. You must be thrilled.” Scott shot her a wink once the crowd had gone and the store had grown quiet. “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
Finley narrowed her gaze at him. “You don’t seem like you hate it at all.”
He shrugged. “Busted. I don’t, actually.”
She laughed. “Well, you’re right. I’m thrilled. It was an interesting crowd, don’t you think?”
“It’s always an interesting crowd around here.” Scott flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed.
Was it eleven o’clock already?
Finley reached into her bag to check her cell phone but it wasn’t in the side pocket where she usually kept it. “Don’t turn off the lights yet. I’ll be right back. I think I left my phone in the Blue Oyster Room.”
She dashed through the maze of bookshelves toward the spot where she’d given her lecture. The shop was uncharacteristically still and quiet. Eerie almost, as if the books themselves were sleeping.
But when she strode into the Blue Oyster Room, she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Hello again,” she said.
It washim. Maxim. He was standing right beside the new fiction table reading something. Not just any something, but the card about her upcoming exhibit.
He tucked it between the pages of the book in his hands—herbook—and looked up. “Hello.”
“You realize the store’s closing now, don’t you?”
“I do, yes.” Again, he just stood there. Watching. Waiting.
She had no idea what for. “Are you stalking me?”
Finley wasn’t sure why those were the words that popped out of her mouth. Maybe because the crime section loomed right behind him. Or maybe she was still a little freaked out about the man who’d been attacked at Point Zero.
But as far as stalkers went, she could do worse. Way worse.
He was even more handsome at close range, if such a thing were possible. She wondered how he’d gotten the bruise. But seeing him so close up, she barely noticed it. She couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. They were a shade of blue that belonged on a canvas, not a mere human. Contrasted with his dark hair and the thick scruff lining his jaw, they were almost hypnotic.
Get a grip. The man probably wanted to ask her a scholarly question, and she was thinking about his eyes. And his hair.
But it was such a nice head of hair. And that close-cropped beard... so masculine. He’d probably grown it in a day.
“Am I stalking you?” His brow furrowed. His gorgeous, gorgeous brow.
What in God’s name was she saying? She’d spent so much time around inanimate objets d’art that she’d forgotten how to interact with an actual person.
She shook her head. “Sorry, I was just...”
“Am I?” he asked. A look of alarm had crept into his lovely eyes. “I mean, do I do this often? Attend your lectures? I do, don’t I? Please accept my apologies.”
