Thoroughly Kissed by Kristine Grayson

Thoroughly Kissed by Kristine Grayson

Author:Kristine Grayson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2012-04-05T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter 9

She couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. Emma sat on the red velvet stool in front of the lighted mirror in the ladies lounge and rested her elbow on the marble counter. The face that looked back at her—with its sad eyes, pale cheeks, and thin lips wasn’t a face that launched a thousand ships. It was a face that lost a thousand years.

Yes, she knew she was a world-class beauty—celebrated in story and song, she thought with a lot of irony—but that was part of the problem. And it was an even bigger problem now that he had noticed.

Because she liked him. He was kind, and worse, he understood—or tried to. What he had said—his compassion—had choked her up, left her feeling restless and unworthy and terrified.

What if he tried to kiss her? What if she let him?

She had kissed Aethelstan once—just after he had rescued her from her evil stepmother. It had been ten years ago, and nothing had happened. But Aethelstan, who was a lot more experienced now than he had been as a boy, could have blocked the spell.

Michael had no magic at all. And Emma’s was useless.

Like puberty. She smiled faintly at that. He had been trying to understand—and for a mortal, that was pretty close. But not quite it.

A woman came out of one of the stalls and sat three stools away. She reapplied her lipstick, then used a Kleenex to blot it. She kept stealing glances at Emma.

Finally, she said, “Hey, are you famous or something?”

Emma’s stomach clenched. This had happened to her a few times. It usually happened the day after a TV appearance.

“No,” she said.

The woman frowned. “You look really familiar.”

Emma shrugged. “I have one of those faces.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you before,” the woman said.

“Probably around town.” Emma stood. The woman had forced Emma’s hand. She had to leave now. But she wasn’t sure how she would face Michael’s sympathetic eyes.

“Weren’t you on, like, some documentary?”

Too close for comfort. Emma slipped out of the restroom, pretending she didn’t hear the last question.

Michael was still sitting at the table. His chicken looked untouched. His hand rested near the wine glass, but it didn’t look as if he had touched that either. He was staring out the window, his features pensive.

His blond hair caught the light, showing all the different highlights. His features were clean, the bones in his face strong. He would have been considered handsome in the world of her birth, just like he was considered handsome now.

He was wrong. Some looks never went out of style.

She squared her shoulders and walked back to the table. As she slipped into her chair, she said, “Sorry.”

He turned toward her. His features were masked. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

She shook her head. “I’m just not used to talking about myself.”

“How about I make it up to you? Ask me any embarrassing question you want.”

She thought for a moment, feeling tempted. Then she said, “How about no more embarrassing questions for the



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