Page 20 of That Prince is Mine
“Now?” His friend’s nose crinkled with affectionate frustration before she smoothed out her expression. “You can’t call her now.”
“Why not?” He couldn’t keep the bounce out of his steps as they headed toward the parking structure. Adding Emma Yoon into his contacts gave him great satisfaction. “I have her number.”
“Because you don’t want to seem as desperate as you obviously are.” Sophie nudged him with her shoulder to soften her words. Then she straightened and said in a firm tone, “Come now. Let’s get you back to the hotel. I need a break from guarding you with my life.”
Michel complied immediately because he knew she was only half kidding. His royal guard would throw herself in front of a bullet for him without hesitation. Following her directions not only protected him, but her as well.
“What’s the proper protocol for calling a woman after you get her number?” He matched her clipped pace as they headed to his car.
“I’m not your bloody dating advisor, Your Highness.” Her expression remained convincingly deferential. “Look it up on the internet.”
He scoffed indignantly, but as soon as he reached the privacy of his suite, Michel typed in his pressing query. It was apparently a popular question, because the search engine completed it for him. How long to wait to call a girl after getting her number. Not that he would ever think of Emma as a girl. She possessed an intrinsic poise and confidence—even when she was chasing away unwanted matseon partners—that made it impossible for him to think of her as anything but a woman.
Michel scrolled through the results, then scrolled some more. He tossed his mobile on the coffee table with an exasperated flick of his wrist. The overwhelming consensus was that you needed to wait three days before calling someone. Followed by a bevy of opinions as to why you should call sooner, as well as why you should call later.
To hell with it.
He snatched his mobile from the table and texted Emma.
Michel:
I admit I’m quite beside myself with curiosity. How did you find me?
He stared at the screen as though willing her to respond immediately. Being self-aware enough to know when he was being ridiculous—an indulgence that wasn’t often afforded to the prince of Rouleme—he leaned his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He didn’t go so far as to put the device down, but held it loosely against his thigh.
When his mobile buzzed within a couple of minutes, Michel shot all the way up to his feet and fumbled around until he managed to unlock his screen.
Emma:
You’re asking the wrong question again, Professor Chevalier.
Lust shot straight to his groin at her last two words. He liked the sound of that a little too much coming from her—impudent and sexy as hell. His thumbs were already typing out his response.
Michel:
Then what’s the right question?
Emma:
You really are kind of hopeless at this. You know that?
The smiley face at the end of her text took away the sting of her words. Besides, when she was right, she was right. He was absolutely hopeless at this dating business. He grinned like a sod.
Michel:
Have dinner with me tonight and show me how it’s done.
He frowned at the screen when the ellipses didn’t start scrolling for a beat too long. He reread his last message, and red-hot heat crept up his neck until it reached his hairline. Show me how it’s done? It sounded like he was insinuating… He certainly didn’t mean… Dear God. He made it sound like sex, didn’t he? He was beyond hopeless. He was catastrophically ruinous at this.
And all he’d meant to do was ask Emma out on their first date. A perfectly innocent, absolutely appropriate, unimpeachably respectful dinner. The kind that involved food and conversation. Not it.
Emma:
Tonight?
He nearly dropped his mobile in his rush to reply.
Michel:
