Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Michel stared at the PowerPoint slides for his next lecture without registering a single thing. His heart created an undignified ruckus in his chest, and his hairline grew damp with sweat. How did people do this kind of stuff? Or did they? Maybe he’d made an utter fool of himself by paying for the woman’s check.
But it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Her companion was well dressed and irritatingly good looking, but he had atrocious manners underneath the shiny veneer. The man abandoned her in the middle of their meeting and left without paying—not even for his own drink—which was abominably rude. Sure, the woman had deliberately chased him away by pretending to blow her nose in a cloth napkin, but it would not have been difficult to place a twenty on the table before leaving in a huff.
He forced himself to keep his gaze on his laptop screen. Her wide-eyed surprise at his gesture had been so lovely that he wanted to spend the rest of the evening stealing glances at her. But he didn’t want to make her think he’d paid for her check expecting something in return. It certainly wasn’t a part of any plan to woo her. He’d come up blank on how to go about doing that. He had just acted out of instinct. She deserved to be treated with respect—not unceremoniously dumped by some ill-mannered pretty boy.
“Um… hello.”
Michel jerked his head up at the hesitant greeting. Her voice was lower and huskier than he’d imagined, sending a jolt of awareness down his spine. The woman stood close enough for him to smell the citrus and floral notes of her perfume—crisp yet sweet. When he continued gaping at her without saying a word, she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, a pink blush staining her cheeks. Christ, she was beautiful.
“Hello.” He shook himself out of his stupor.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said at what must seem like his lukewarm welcome.
“Please,” Michel said loudly enough to draw sideways glances from the other customers, and shot to his feet. Gabriel would laugh his arse off when he heard about this. “Please. Have a seat. If you’d like, that is.”
“Yes.” She met his gaze with bright, intelligent eyes, and he braced himself against the sensation of falling into them. “I’d like that.”
So the first time hadn’t been a fluke. When their eyes met across the café earlier, his stomach had swooped as though he’d bungee jumped off a bridge. The world around them seemed to disappear—like time and place held no meaning—which he found profoundly disconcerting.
He never forgot where he was, who he was, why he was. He was Prince Michel, the future king of Rouleme. He always carried the responsibility—and yes, the privilege—with him, even when it felt like a heavy winter coat in the peak of summer. But when she looked at him, he could remember nothing but the fact that he was a man. While he tried and failed to swallow, she sat down across from him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, tilting her chin up.
“Do what?” He gingerly lowered himself back into his seat, his knees not as steady as he’d like. He couldn’t decide if this was a friendly visit or not, but it thrilled him to finally speak with her.
“The check.” She arched a graceful eyebrow.
“Ah, that.” He ran his hand down the back of his head. Had it been presumptuous of him? God, he was so out of his depth here.
“Yes, that .” Amusement danced in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have minded paying for it myself.”
“Should I also not have sent those madeleines?” He wasn’t sure whether he owed her an apology for that as well.
“Who in their right mind refuses dessert?” She smiled, a tiny but deep dimple blinking at one corner of her mouth. “And I never said you shouldn’t have paid for my check. I said you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He sighed, relieved he hadn’t offended her somehow.
Before he could think of what to say next, his gaze dropped to her dimple and stayed there. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath. He should look away. She might think he was staring at her mouth because he wanted to kiss her. He slammed a door on that thought. It was too much. Her dimple provided more than enough distraction without having to imagine what she might taste like. Perhaps if he could just explain to her…
“I like your dimple,” he blurted. It had sounded a lot better in his head.
Her lashes fluttered as she blinked several times in quick succession. He resisted the urge to sink low into his chair. While true in essence, it was the most juvenile, asinine sentence he had ever uttered. He’d blown it even before he had a chance to figure out what it was.
But then something miraculous happened. Her smile widened—and her dimple deepened—until she burst into laughter. He didn’t know what he’d done to make her laugh. Chances were high she was laughing at him. It didn’t matter. Her laughter was incandescent and joyous. She laughed with her whole body—her eyes curved into double crescent moons, her nose crinkled, and her torso bent at her waist.
Michel watched her with wonder, holding his breath so he wouldn’t miss a single detail. The moment imprinted itself onto his mind—the moment a stranger’s laughter made him forget the weight of his identity.
“Sorry. I…” She held up her hand as she caught her breath. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
“For the madeleines. For taking care of my check.” Lingering laughter clung to her words. “And for the compliment. That was… unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” He cocked his head to the side.
“Let’s just say you don’t strike me as a man who goes around complimenting women on their dimples.”
“Well, that depends on the dimple,” he said with a wry smile, then curiosity got the best of him. “What kind of man do I strike you as?”
She glanced down at her hands as color rose to her cheeks. Her blush made him even more curious, but she said in a rush, “The kind who sends consolation madeleines to jilted women.”
“So that man was your date? And he jilted you?” An unfamiliar burst of jealousy and outrage coursed through him.
“Yes and yes?” She shook her head with a rueful laugh. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“How so?” As his head cleared, he recalled what had prompted the man to flee from her. He bit his cheek to rein in his grin. “Does it have anything to do with you using the cloth napkin as a tissue?”
She sat utterly still as though she wanted to become invisible. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. After a moment, she slowly came back to life, a reluctant smile curving her lips. His mouth dried out when her dimple made a reappearance.
“I didn’t actually blow my nose in the napkin.” She drew little circles on the tablecloth with her finger. “I really like Anne. She’s our…”
“I know who Anne is,” he interjected. He enjoyed chatting with the friendly server.
The woman nodded approvingly, then said, “Yeah, I would never do that to her.”
“I believe you.” He leaned in slightly. “But why go out with someone only to chase them away fifteen minutes into the date?”
“Did I mention it was complicated?” Her teeth snagged on her bottom lip. “I…”
“You don’t have to tell me.” He held up his palm. He wouldn’t cause her discomfort to satisfy his own curiosity. “We can save that story for another time.”
Michel realized what he’d implied when surprise flickered across her face. He opened his mouth to retract his accidental slip. Although he hoped—more than he was ready to admit—that there might be another time, he would never make such a presumption.
“Okay.” A shy smile curved her pink lips.
Was she saying there would be a next time? His face split into an enormous grin that made his cheeks ache. He might have bumbled his way into securing another chance to see the woman. Or she was just being polite. Either way, he really needed to stop thinking of her as the woman .
“I don’t know your name,” he confessed. He knew nothing about her, and that was suddenly unacceptable to him.
She huffed a laugh and stuck out her hand. “My name is Emma.”
“And I’m Michel.” He clasped her outstretched hand and something electric shot up his arm. It was fortunate he managed to introduce himself before his brain short-circuited. Did the slight widening of her eyes mean that she felt it, too? He reluctantly released her and cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”
For a second, she frowned down at her open palm. Then, with an almost imperceptible shake of her head, she looked back at him with a polite smile. “Pleased to meet you, Michel.”
He didn’t know which he liked better—the feel of her name on his lips or the sound of his name on hers, the soft el clinging to the tip of her tongue. He only knew he wanted there to be many more instances of both, in many different ways. He’d been watching her from afar for much too long. It was imperative he secure a date with her as soon as possible. Only two months left.
“Emma, I would like to see you again.” His voice came out in a low rumble.
“I would like that as well, but…” She looked conflicted for a second before her shoulders drooped. “I have another date here in a couple of nights.”
“With the same man?” It took some effort to stop the grooves from forming between his brows.
“No, with another man,” she said morosely.
Disappointment and that odd spike of jealousy flashed through him. Should he protest? Should he insist she go out with him instead? How about tomorrow? Her date was in two nights, so she should be free tomorrow. But his damn manners compelled him not to push her—not to make her uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmured. She had no idea how sorry. “But I’m here most afternoons, so I hope we will meet again.”
She nodded and sighed softly. It sounded wistful like she was as disappointed as he was that she had another date. But if she wanted to see him again, then why couldn’t she cancel her other date? She did say it was complicated. Perhaps she had a reason why she couldn’t cancel even if she wanted to. Or it might be wishful thinking on his part. He raised his hand to catch Anne’s attention. He might as well return to his suite to brood and research which dating sites suited him best.
“Yes?” The server glanced between Michel and Emma with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like the check, please.” He managed not to sound downtrodden.
“Um…” Anne’s eyes flitted to Emma.
“I took care of your check.” Emma’s expression could only be described as smug.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested automatically.
“I wanted to.” She echoed his words from before with an impish smile. “Besides, I’m Korean. We’re masters at paying the check before anyone else.”
He chuckled under his breath, watching her from beneath his lashes. Was he really going to let this alluring woman walk out of his life without a fight? Hell no. It didn’t matter that she would be on a date with another man. When she chased the man away as she’d done with the others, he would be there to convince her that her next date should be with him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Michel murmured, leaving until next time unsaid.
Emma gathered her purse and stood from her seat. After a brief hesitation, she gave him a small wave. “It was nice meeting you.”
Michel responded with a slight bow of his head instead of saying goodbye. Her first steps away from him seemed heavy, as though there was something holding her back, but she soon straightened her shoulders and marched out of the café without a backward glance. His gaze followed her until she disappeared from view.
Until next time, Emma.