For example, he’d been asked about that magnet over a dozen times and not once had he ever told anyone the truth—anyone but her. That’s how much this piece of home meant to him, how much it grounded him when he thought the darkness might overtake the light. Maybe that’s why he shared the information with her: she was light. It glowed and sparkled around her like sunlight that rained onto the sea and spread out in thousands of tiny droplets, winking and almost laughing with the joy of existing.
She’d surprised him by leaving the party; she had him surprising himself.
“What do you think of America?” he asked.
She frowned.
He grinned. “That bad?”
“No—well, I don’t know. I haven’t been able to see much of the city, much less the country. What is Wyoming like?”
“Dusty,” he answered, then laughed at the shocked look on her face. He hadn’t meant to be flippant. The dust was the first thing that came to mind. They continued to circle the gardens, the sounds of the city muted by the tall brink fence and the shrubbery. Pondering what he missed about home, he finally said, “We have sunsets worth painting and work enough for a lifetime.”
She grew thoughtful, leaning her head on his shoulder as if it was made for that purpose. “We also have sunsets worth painting.”
“I hope I get to see those one day.” If he could ever meet the princess, he might make that happen. His desire to get the contract grew every time Neese’s deep brown eyes met his. He was failing miserably at his purpose for coming to the ball.
“I don’t know if you would like Zimrada,” she said softly.
He wondered if he should be offended, if she was trying to put him off. “Why is that?”
“Life is slower there. We are behind in technology and do not follow Western thinking on many topics.”
“Like …” He motioned for her to continue.
“Like watching movies or television. I can count the number of movies I’ve seen on one hand.” She splayed her fingers. “We sit on a rocker on the porch or take walks on the beach or dance.” She tipped her head towards him, and he had the strangest urge to kiss her. “Islanders love to dance.”
“Surely not.”
She laughed. “It’s true. And we are never without a partner, because we dance with the water, the air, and the sun.”
He trailed a finger down her rounded cheek. “That would be reason enough to visit.”
“I would like that.” She moistened her lips, bringing his focus to her pink mouth once again. She had the best lips he’d ever seen. Full. Rounded. Inviting.
“Do you work with the princess on the island too, or just when she travels?”
“All the time. She is always with me.” Neese lifted her head off his shoulder, seeming to come to herself.
Tatum regretted bringing up her work. “Except for now.”
Neese tugged her cheeks up in a small smile. “I think it’s time to return to the ball.”
A knot formed in Tatum’s stomach. He’d messed up somehow—broken the spell they’d woven by sneaking out like naughty children. He wanted it back. “Right. Now, where is that trellis?” He looked up and down the back of the building.
Neese swatted his arm. “You cannot make me climb in this dress. I’ll break my neck.”
“And what a lovely neck it is.” He ran his fingers over her collarbone.
“Tatum?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like a meeting with the princess?”
He brought the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her soft skin, buying himself time to think of the correct answer. Nelson was counting on him to get this contract; he wanted the contract. This was their ticket to an easier, safer way of life. A life where he had the freedom to entertain the idea of a relationship with someone like Neese—or maybe Neese. Neese would be good. “I do. But I don’t want you to think that is the reason I brought you out here.” He steered her through the garden paths that would take them around the side of the hotel and to the back door of the lobby. From there, she could enter the ballroom with no one the wiser as to how she got out.
He slowed before rounding each corner, listening for footsteps, the click of a gun, or someone breathing—signs that the assassin had come for him. The guy was an amateur—a thorn in his side that could easily be removed when he wasn’t entertaining a lovely woman in a beautiful dress. She’d complained about the dress, but he couldn’t find a thing wrong with it.
“Why did you bring me out here?”
“I’m not quite sure …” Bravado? His protective nature? An impulse? None of that rang with truth.
Attraction.
He cursed silently as the word rang through his head like the Liberty Bell declaring freedom from his old life. After tonight, he’d be hard-pressed to go back to the Middle East. Forward was the only direction he could travel. Move forward or die.
“That’s good. I’m not quite sure why I followed you. It’s strange, this feeling you give me of having a true friend.”
Ouch. “Friend-zoned already?” he teased, even though his stomach cramped at the thought. Neese had impacted his existence in a short amount of time. How could she not feel the heat that arched between them?
She tipped her head. “Friend-zoned?” The words were unfamiliar on her tongue. “Yes, you are definitely in the friend zone with me.” A wide, pleased-as-punch smile spread across her face.
Tatum chuckled. Neese didn’t know the friend zone was a place a guy didn’t want to be; the meaning was lost in translation. But that was okay. He’d rather be in her friend zone than not. Being in her friend zone sounded like a good thing—especially when her brown eyes warmed and her
