Free The Royal Pain by MaryJanice Davidson

outfit.”
    â€œAw, come off it. I said I jumped at the chance to see you again; I didn’t say I had any advance warning. You think I dress like this for a date?”
    â€œI’m not dressed well, either,” she admitted.
    â€œWhat, you kidding? You look like a million bucks.”
    â€œThis is a second-day suit,” she explained. “Something I wear on the job. Not at all appropriate for private socializing.”
    â€œWell. I didn’t want to say anything, but you do look a little…starchy.”
    â€œOh, that’s good,” she said earnestly.
    â€œYou should get yourself some jeans and a few T-shirts. Maybe some a’ those, what do you call them…the rubber sandals—flip flops!” he finished triumphantly as the words came. “Red ones.”
    â€œOh, no.”
    â€œOh, yes.” He leered at her in a friendly way and beckoned to the waitress. “So, how long do you think those two are going to need to do it?”
    This time she did knock over her water glass, then sat in embarrassed silence until the waitress cleaned up the mess and departed. “I—uh—that’s really none of my—our—concern.”
    â€œGod, you act like you never had to do a discreet vamoose while the princess got some mmm-hmm.” He raised a fist to eyebrow level and wiggled it back and forth.
    â€œIt’s not part of my job description,” she replied stiffly.
    â€œI bet you could write a book filled with all the shit you do that isn’t in your job description.”
    â€œI would never .”
    â€œOkay, okay, calm down, I don’t have a book contract in my pocket. Listen, I figure, two hours should do it. I mean, I’ve got to get up early tomorrow for work. And I bet you do, too. And frankly, Shel can’t be that good.”
    â€œWhat—what is it you do?”
    â€œI’m a hunting and fishing guide.”
    â€œOh, how interesting.”
    â€œYeah? Because you sounded less than thrilled.”
    â€œI’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…I’m from Alaska. Hunting and fishing is a primary way of life for most people.”
    â€œOh, yeah? So it’s like a guy telling you he sells copiers or whatever?”
    She smiled. “Something like that.”
    â€œSo, what’s your dream date’s dream job?”
    â€œWe shouldn’t be talking about this. Your job is fine. Honorable. It’s fine. It’s really fine.”
    â€œCome on…fess up. What’s your future husband’s dream job?”
    â€œThat’s private,” she said primly.
    â€œStripper? Candygram guy? Cop? Palace guard?”
    â€œIt’s none of your business, Mr. Grange.”
    He beat the table with the palms of his hands. “Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”
    â€œMr. Grange.”
    He pouted, which was alarming on a man as large as he was. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
    â€œAs should be clear, I wasn’t planning to.”
    â€œExotic dancer? Cab driver? Kindergarten teacher? Paramedic?”
    â€œI must admit, the more you snivel, the less I want to tell you.”
    â€œOh yeah? Well, I’m all done sniveling, how about that?”
    She stifled a sigh as she stole another glance. It was ridiculous, how wonderful he looked, even in casual clothes. Normally she liked her men in Saville Row, but Teal looked fabulous despite what he was wearing. It was the broad shoulders, she decided. No, the hair. No, the glasses—they made him look smart and tough. No, the eyes. The green, green eyes. A pity he was so childish. So large and childish. And large.
    And perhaps the smallest bit insensitive. Imagine, she had mentioned her vegetarian proclivities in the car and he had still ordered her a burger.
    â€œâ€”should be safe to go back after dessert.”
    â€œOf course,” she replied.
    â€œYou want to split a tiramisu?”
    â€œOf course,” she