“Do you trust me?” he asked. It was an innocent flirtation, but it caused her to pause and measure him.
“Implicitly,” she finally answered.
Thrilled, he held up a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He went to the counter and ordered one of everything in the display case and two bottles of water.
It was while he waited for the water that he saw the large man who had stood guard at the entrance to the ball the night before. He wasn’t eating and his arms were folded, his gaze leaning towards hostile.
Tatum made eye contact, letting the guy know he knew he was there. But why he was there was an issue. Tatum hadn’t seen him come in with Neese and she walked right past him the night before. If he was security, he wasn’t doing a great job. Unless he was securing the location for the princess. Neese hadn’t paid the man any attention and the man seemed more interested in the old woman tying her poodle to the tree out front than he did about Neese.
With an uneasy wrench in his gut, Tatum took his credit card and the water from the cashier and headed back to the table. “I have a feeling we’re going to need these,” he said as he set one in front of Neese.
Neese accepted her bottle and twisted off the top.
“Will the princess be joining us today?” He took a swig of water, watching for her reaction.
Neese choked and her face turned red. She pounded her chest with her palm as her eyes began to water. “Sorry,” she croaked.
The guard didn’t move. Tatum narrowed his eyes.
Dabbing her lips with her napkin, Neese cleared her throat. “The princess is occupied at the moment.” She leaned forward. “Are you disappointed?” Her leg bounced under the table, making her skirt dance.
There was no way Tatum was going to let Neese think she was a disappointment to him. If he had to come up with and move on to Plan C, then he would do just that. “I should be, but I’m not.”
Neese’s leg stopped bouncing. “Do you mind if I ask what business you have with the princess?”
“It’s a confidential security matter.” Nelson was adamant in his email that Tatum only speak to a member of the royal family. There were rumors in the security-business community that trouble brewed on the island. Trouble that explained why the palace sent out false intel on purpose. ProtectMoore, Zimrada’s current security company, hired men who worked for the highest bidder. Tatum didn’t like hired guns who were loyal to their wallets and not those they protected. His company wanted to live on the island, make it their home. Protecting one’s home was a higher priority than collecting a paycheck. The current situation was ripe for a hurricane of trouble. He and Nelson could do, would do, so much better if given the chance.
Neese’s back went straight.
Tatum leaned over the table. “Did I say something wrong?”
Neese sucked air through her teeth. “Security is a touchy subject around the palace these days.”
Tatum turned his palms up. Wondering what was really going on inside the palace, he said, “With ProtectMoore’s contract almost up, I’m sure there are many companies vying for the opportunity to serve the royal family.”
Neese shifted in her seat. “And each one more expensive than the last. They reduce the family’s lives to—how do you Americans say it? Dollars and decimals?”
Tatum was taken aback by the harshness in her tone. He and Nelson were at the top of the game. Their rates reflected their abilities. “Round-the-clock security is expensive and they are running a business.”
“Yes, but their business is protecting the people I love and they drain the family’s reserves in the process.” Her gaze cut away.
Tatum clamped his teeth shut, cutting off any harsh rebuttal. The people I love, she had said. Her job wasn’t just a job. His thoughts raced back through their conversation the night before. She’d been vague, saying she did “something” for the queen. Was she a niece? His gaze darted to the guard by the door. If Neese was related to the royal family, then his presence here made sense. “I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Here you are, sir.” A woman in a red apron set plate after plate of goodies on the table, each holding a new and tantalizing dessert. Tatum and Neese leaned back to give her space, and with that movement their eyes met and they agreed to change the subject. Tatum gave her an apologetic half grin and she smiled up at him through lowered lashes.
Tatum was more than happy to set the conversation aside. He shouldn’t have been talking with Neese about work anyway. The argument, if you could call it that, was his fault. He should have kept his cool.
The server finished with an anticlimactic “enjoy” and hurried off. Tatum dropped his hand over Neese’s. “Are you ready for a sugar overload?”
Neese’s eyes grew as round as saucers and she moistened her lips in anticipation. Tatum’s lower belly hummed with desire. He’d buy the whole café to have a shot at those lips.
Tatum held out his arms. “Where do you want to start?”
Neese tapped her finger to her perky lips. “That one.” She pointed.
“Ah, that is a cinnamon roll.” He forked off a large bite, the bread flaking easily and the frosting dripping over the edge. “Here.”
She took the fork and put the whole thing in her mouth, her cheeks lifting as she chewed.
“Now …” He got himself a bite. “I haven’t tasted this yet. But I’m willing to bet that it doesn’t compare to my mother’s cinnamon rolls.”
She chewed, watching his face as he tasted the pastry. After only a moment, he shook his head. “It’s good. Really good—especially for being vegan. But it doesn’t taste like home.”
“Should it have dust in it to taste like home?” She tried a
