to stop wearing shoes in public. Danni didn’t have a problem with it. Except for now. Now, Adam could hardly open his own door while he was asleep.
There was nothing else for it. She got out, walked around the back of the car and after a quick scan of the surroundings opened Adam’s door then stood to the side, facing away from him. She’d hoped the fact that the car had stopped and the noise and motion, albeit slight, of the door being opened would wake him. When he didn’t appear after a few seconds she turned and bent to look into the car.
Her heart gave a peculiar flip. Adam’s eyes were still closed and finally his face and his mouth had softened, looking not at all serious and unreachable. Looking instead lush and sensuous. And really, he had unfairly gorgeous eyelashes—thick and dark. And he smelled divine. She almost wanted to lean in closer, to inhale more deeply.
“Adam,” she said quietly. Right now she’d have been more comfortable with “sir” or “your highness” because she suddenly felt the need for the appropriate distance and formality, to stop her from thinking inappropriate and way too informal thoughts of the heir apparent. To stop her from wanting to touch that small bump on the bridge of his nose. But one of the things Adam had always insisted on was that the personal staff, particularly the ones who’d effectively grown up with him in the palace circles, use his name.
He was trying to be a prince of the times. Secretly she thought he might have been happier and more comfortable a century or two ago.
“Adam.” She tried to speak a little louder but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. Danni swallowed. All she had to do was wake him and then back out of the car. She leaned closer, steeling herself to try again. Ordering her voice to be normal. It was only Adam after all. She’d known him most of her life though five years and infinite degrees in rank separated them.
His eyes flew open. His gaze locked on hers and for a second, darkened. Not a hint of lethargy there. Danni’s mouth ran suddenly dry. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice low and silky with a hint of mockery as though he knew she’d been staring. Fascinated.
Disconcerted by the intimacy she’d imagined in his gaze, she responded with an unfamiliar heat quivering through her. “Yes. You can help me by waking up and getting out of my car.”
“Your car, Danielle?” He lifted one eyebrow.
“Your car. But I’m the one who still needs to drive it round to the garage,” she snapped. Oops. Definitely not supposed to snap at the prince, no matter how shocked at herself she was. Definitely not appropriate. But her curt response seemed almost to please him because the corners of his lips twitched. And then, too soon, flattened again.
Danni swallowed. She needed to backpedal. Fast. “We’ve reached the palace. I trust you had a pleasant evening.” She used her blandest voice as she backed out of the car. Stick to the script. That was all she had to do.
Adam followed her and stood, towering over her, his gaze contemplative. “Very. Thank you.”
“Really?” She winced. That so was not in the script. What had happened to her resolve to be a shadow?
His gaze narrowed, changing from contemplative to enquiring with a hint of accusation. “You doubt me, Danielle?” A cold breeze wrapped around her.
Well, yes. But she could hardly say that and she oughtn’t to lie. She searched for a way around it. “No one would know other than yourself.”
“No, they wouldn’t.”
She willed him to just step away from the car. Go on into the palace. Get on with saving the nation and the world. Then she could close the door and drive away and get something to eat. And it would be as if tonight had never happened. There would be no repercussions. Not for her and not for her father.
But he didn’t move. He stood absolutely still. Her stomach rumbled into the silence.
“You haven’t eaten?”
“I’m fine.”
Again the silence. Awkward and strained. If he would just go.
He stood still. Watching her. “I didn’t realize you were driving for us again. I thought you were in the States.”
“I was for a while. I came back.” Three-and-a-half years ago she had moved back for good. “But this is temporary, just for tonight in fact. I’m staying with Dad and he had something come up.” Danni held her breath. Did he remember the ban? Would it matter now?
He nodded and she let out her breath. “Everything’s all right with him?”
“Absolutely. A sick friend. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Good.” Adam turned to go into the palace and then just when she thought she was free, turned back. “What was it you said?”
“He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Not then. Earlier. When you were driving.”
All manner of desperate, inappropriate words raced through her mind. No, no, no. He couldn’t have heard.
“I can’t remember.” So much for her principles. She was lying through her teeth.
“It was around the time I got the laptop out to show Clara the geographic distribution of lava from the 1300 eruption of Ducal Island.”
She did roll her eyes then; she couldn’t help it. He was too much. “My point exactly,” she said, throwing her hand up in surrender. “I said, ‘Way to romance a woman, Adam.’ Really. The geographic distribution of lava?”
His expression went cold.
There was a line somewhere in the receding distance, one she’d long since stepped over. Her only hope was to make him see the truth of her assertions. “Come on, Adam. You weren’t always this stuffy.” She’d known him when he was still a boy becoming a man. And later she’d occasionally seen glimpses of an altogether different man beneath the surface when he’d forgotten, however briefly, who he was supposed to be and just allowed himself to act naturally.
Now wasn’t that time.
His brows shot up. But Danni couldn’t stop herself.
“What woman wants to talk about lava and rock formations on a date?” Too late, Danni remembered the saying about how when you found yourself in a hole the best course of action was to stop digging.
The brows, dark and heavy, drew together. “Clara is a Fulbright scholar. She studied geology. She was interested.”
“Maybe she was. But surely she can read a textbook for that kind of thing. It’s great if you’re planning a lecture tour together but it’s hardly romantic. Where’s the poetry, the magic, in that? You weren’t even looking into her eyes, you were looking at the screen. And did you even kiss her when you escorted her to her door?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, but yes.” Somehow he’d made himself taller.
She wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Some kiss, huh?”
“And you’d be an expert on kissing and on romance? What would you suggest? Discussing the specifications
