Hot Shot (American Royalty Book 3)
Page 23
My mind eased, I take backward steps to leave the kitchen. And bump right into someone as I turn around in the hallway. Someone soft. Warm. Smells like vanilla and raspberries.
“Sorry,” she says.
I’m momentarily stunned, eyes the color of Castelvetrano olives, but with a dirtier green ring around her pupils, finally meeting mine.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m the one who wasn’t watching where he was going.”
“True.” Full pink lips turn up at the corners.
Wow, this woman is even more attractive face-to-face than I imagined. A dainty nose slightly sloped at the tip, high cheekbones, delicate chin, all framed by loose tendrils of hair more copper than brown under the ceiling lights.
Did I say attractive? She’s stunning.
There’s also something familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. Looking at her gives me the feeling of balmy breezes in Hawaii, sand between my toes and the ocean splashing my feet. She’s staring at me like the same awareness is running through her head.
“I was, uh, just on my way to the ladies’ room.” She glances over my shoulder.
I step out of her way. She moves on and I lean against the wall to wait for her return. Our conversation isn’t over, not by a long shot. I cross one ankle over the other. Put a hand in the pocket of my slacks.
Talk and laughter fill the main room, and normally I’d be back in the middle of it, exuding my usual charm, but I can’t get my feet to move from the confines of the partially hidden hallway. A minute ago, it was the snake thing digging under my skin.
Now it’s the woman I’m anxious to learn more about.
She exits the restroom a minute later and falters when our eyes meet. “You waited for me?” she asks.
“I thought we should talk.”
“About what?” She leans a hip against the wall, close, but not too close. She’s tall, standing only a couple of inches below my six foot one. I do a quick perusal down her body. The blouse is paired with painted-on jeans and knee-high black boots with a flat heel.
“Your name for starters.”
“You…you want to know my name?” she stutters, confusing me. The stammer implies she’s nervous, but her tone suggests she’s annoyed.
“Shit. I should know it, shouldn’t I?”
She shakes off whatever unpleasantness my ignorance caused by drawing in a quick breath and giving a slight shake of her head. “‘Should’ is one of those words that can get someone in a lot of trouble.”
“True. But there’s different kinds of trouble.”
“What kind are you?”
“The good kind.” I lift away from the wall and turn to give her the up-close, full-frontal effect that is Ethan Auprince. Of course, it’s more powerful without clothes on, but one swipe of my hand through my thick brown hair has been known to make a woman weak in the knees.
She nods. “Of course, you would think that.” Then, “Oh my God, are you trying to impress me with that move?”
I drop my arm so fast, my shoulder nearly pops out of its socket. What is this woman doing to me?
Laughing. That’s what she’s doing. It’s a lively sound that takes hold of her face and body and fuck me if it doesn’t make her sexier. Or maybe it’s the fact I have zero impact on this woman that makes her so appealing.
“I’m sorry,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” Two rings adorn her middle finger, both silver with writing etched in them.
“No worries. I need to get back to the party.” Before she sees the hit to my ego.
“Ethan.” She puts her hand on my arm to stay me.
Two things buzz through me. She knows my name. No real surprise there, but my ego rebounds nonetheless. What does shock me, however, is the sound of it on her lips. The way she says Ethan sends a weird sensation to my chest.
I look at her, once again puzzled by some unnamed connection. I’m about to do something foolish, like ask her to get out of here with me, when Charlotte bounds over with a satisfied grin on her face. Charlotte doesn’t normally bounce, so she’s definitely enjoying the libations this evening.
“Finally, you two meet,” she says.
I clear my throat. “Actually, we haven’t been properly introduced.”
“Properly,” Charlotte repeats, as if she doesn’t understand what I mean. “Oh! Right. You just bumped into each other on the way to the loo, then.”
My former manager has most definitely downed a few drinks. She’s from San Diego, not across the pond.
“Ethan, meet your new manager,” Charlotte says.
Is that why she’s so familiar? Charlotte sang her praises to me over the telephone and I must have conjured up an accurate likeness. I’m relieved to put an end to the mystery.
“Hi,” my new manager says.
“Hi,” I respond, tucking away any impure thoughts toward her.
“She’s not officially on the clock until tomorrow, so come on, Pascale, there’s one more person I want to introduce you to.”
Pascale?
I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but I’m here to prove them wrong.
Pascale. My Pascale.
Is back in my life.
All of a sudden, my heart doesn’t know what to do with itself. Speed up. Slow down. Slug its way out of my chest so she can see I still have one. I’ve thought about her so many times over the years, but never imagined she’d be in my restaurant.
Our eyes lock before Charlotte tugs her away, a good thing because I no longer know what to say to her.
I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was her. To my credit, ten years ago her hair was blond instead of brown. She wore it curly, rather than straight. She was curvier. Less polished. She smelled like coconut oil not vanilla and raspberries. Her nose was different, too, like completely different. That’s what really threw me. Her face has changed, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Why didn’t she tell me who she was?
And why in the world did she take this job? With me.
I watch her across the crowded room. She carries herself with ease. Is quick to smile. To gesture while she talks. The group of people surrounding her is captivated. Which is part of the reason Charlotte hired her. “She’s enchanting,” Charlotte had said.
When I met Pascale, she was barely an adult at nineteen. I was a new college grad at twenty-two. We ran into each other—literally—on the beach in Hawaii and spent an incredible summer together. For the first time in my life, I was in love. Pascale Nichols was everything to me.
Including the only woman to break my heart.
Find out what happens next…
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More books by Robin Bielman
The Palotays of Montana series
Book 1: Falling for Her Bachelor
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Book 2: Once Upon a Royal Christmas
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About the Author
Robin Bielman is the USA Today bestselling author of over fifteen novels. When not attached to her laptop, she loves to read, go to the beach, frequent coffee shops, and spend time with her husband and two sons.
Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts most of her story ideas. She writes with a steady stream of caffeine nearby and the best dog on the planet, Harry, by her side. She also dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers.
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