so I’ll be a few minutes.”
Nikolay had seen me stand up and he walked over, ready to shadow me, but I didn’t want him as an audience either. “You don’t need to come,” I said. “Really, I’ll be okay from here to the ladies’ room.”
I turned and walked away before he could reply. I’d find the owner and ask him if I could use his office. As I walked, I chided myself for being so easily rattled. One unforeseen thing happened and I’d gone off about sprinklers. I could have just used the restroom excuse in the first place. That would have given me enough time to make a phone call to Maren. If Kari knew Grant—if he could identify her—I’d fake a headache and make a night of it.
I hadn’t gotten very far when I realized I’d made another mistake. Maren had warned me that I shouldn’t go into crowds by myself. It was too easy to get swarmed. First a couple of guys asked if they could take my picture with their cell phone, then a girl wanted my autograph. In seconds, an entire crowd had surrounded me. People were actually shoving each other and jostling me. I said, “Look, I’m sorry. I need to get through,” but no one listened. They waved pens in my direction and pushed their way next to me so that their friends could get pictures.
I felt bubbles of panic rising in my chest. Why hadn’t I taken my bodyguard with me? Could he see this happening? Would my Warrior Princess dress stay put if someone pushed me over? I hoped so, since everyone here seemed to have a camera phone.
“Break it up!” a male voice yelled. “Come on, back off, unless you want the bouncer hauling you outside!”
At once, the crowd drained away, leaving me shaken but, thankfully, alone. I expected to see Nikolay. Instead Grant Delray, flanked by two towering men—probably his bodyguards—stood in front of me.
I stared back at Grant in awe. I’d heard his songs on the radio hundreds of times. I had a few of them memorized, and now here he was in blue-eyed, bronzed-skin real life. And the picture of him on that magazine cover—it didn’t do justice to his broad shoulders or pecs.
But another part of me was frozen in fear, waiting to see if he said, “Hey, you’re not Kari Kingsley.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Most people would say thanks at this point.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with my gratitude, then returned his gaze to my face, letting his eyes linger there longer than normal. He was studying me. I felt my face flush pink. Did he know the truth?
Nikolay walked up beside me. “You all right, Miss Kingsley?”
So he had seen the crowd descend on me, after all. I nodded, still afraid to speak while Grant was staring at me.
Grant motioned toward the dance floor without taking his eyes from me. “Let’s dance—that’s what we’re getting paid for. Then I want to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
He took hold of my arm and I walked beside him, breathing deeply. I wanted to say something; I felt like I should, but somehow having three bodyguards trailing us made small talk impossible.
If Grant knew I was a fake, it didn’t seem like he would expose me right now. But what did he want to talk about later? That didn’t seem to be the kind of thing you said to someone you’d never met. I found it hard to think clearly about any of this, since my mind was mostly concentrating on the fact that Grant Delray was touching my arm.
We walked to a raised pedestal on the dance floor and as we did, the DJ changed the song that had been playing to one of Grant’s. People noticed us and sang along. Grant danced—and not your average guy dancing, he danced as though performing on stage. He was all muscle and rhythm, movement and glide. I watched him so intently I nearly forgot to dance myself. I tried; my feet kept moving to the beat, but I looked pitiful next to him. Which meant maybe Jacqueline had a point after all and I should listen to her better.
Grant didn’t look at me while
Nikolay had seen me stand up and he walked over, ready to shadow me, but I didn’t want him as an audience either. “You don’t need to come,” I said. “Really, I’ll be okay from here to the ladies’ room.”
I turned and walked away before he could reply. I’d find the owner and ask him if I could use his office. As I walked, I chided myself for being so easily rattled. One unforeseen thing happened and I’d gone off about sprinklers. I could have just used the restroom excuse in the first place. That would have given me enough time to make a phone call to Maren. If Kari knew Grant—if he could identify her—I’d fake a headache and make a night of it.
I hadn’t gotten very far when I realized I’d made another mistake. Maren had warned me that I shouldn’t go into crowds by myself. It was too easy to get swarmed. First a couple of guys asked if they could take my picture with their cell phone, then a girl wanted my autograph. In seconds, an entire crowd had surrounded me. People were actually shoving each other and jostling me. I said, “Look, I’m sorry. I need to get through,” but no one listened. They waved pens in my direction and pushed their way next to me so that their friends could get pictures.
I felt bubbles of panic rising in my chest. Why hadn’t I taken my bodyguard with me? Could he see this happening? Would my Warrior Princess dress stay put if someone pushed me over? I hoped so, since everyone here seemed to have a camera phone.
“Break it up!” a male voice yelled. “Come on, back off, unless you want the bouncer hauling you outside!”
At once, the crowd drained away, leaving me shaken but, thankfully, alone. I expected to see Nikolay. Instead Grant Delray, flanked by two towering men—probably his bodyguards—stood in front of me.
I stared back at Grant in awe. I’d heard his songs on the radio hundreds of times. I had a few of them memorized, and now here he was in blue-eyed, bronzed-skin real life. And the picture of him on that magazine cover—it didn’t do justice to his broad shoulders or pecs.
But another part of me was frozen in fear, waiting to see if he said, “Hey, you’re not Kari Kingsley.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Most people would say thanks at this point.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with my gratitude, then returned his gaze to my face, letting his eyes linger there longer than normal. He was studying me. I felt my face flush pink. Did he know the truth?
Nikolay walked up beside me. “You all right, Miss Kingsley?”
So he had seen the crowd descend on me, after all. I nodded, still afraid to speak while Grant was staring at me.
Grant motioned toward the dance floor without taking his eyes from me. “Let’s dance—that’s what we’re getting paid for. Then I want to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
He took hold of my arm and I walked beside him, breathing deeply. I wanted to say something; I felt like I should, but somehow having three bodyguards trailing us made small talk impossible.
If Grant knew I was a fake, it didn’t seem like he would expose me right now. But what did he want to talk about later? That didn’t seem to be the kind of thing you said to someone you’d never met. I found it hard to think clearly about any of this, since my mind was mostly concentrating on the fact that Grant Delray was touching my arm.
We walked to a raised pedestal on the dance floor and as we did, the DJ changed the song that had been playing to one of Grant’s. People noticed us and sang along. Grant danced—and not your average guy dancing, he danced as though performing on stage. He was all muscle and rhythm, movement and glide. I watched him so intently I nearly forgot to dance myself. I tried; my feet kept moving to the beat, but I looked pitiful next to him. Which meant maybe Jacqueline had a point after all and I should listen to her better.
Grant didn’t look at me while
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