True Grace by Wendy Leigh

Author:Wendy Leigh [Leigh, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, United States, Biography, Non-Fiction, Royalty, Princesses, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Motion Picture Actors and Actresses
ISBN: 9780312342364
Publisher: Thomas Dunne Books
Published: 2007-03-20T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Any place you’d like to particularly go?”

Meredith turned quickly, her hands clutching the wrought iron behind her back. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

He looked up from the silk tie he’d thrown around his collar but hadn’t yet knotted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. So?”

She watched his fingers work the gray patterned silk. Fascinated. “I’ve never seen anyone do that.”

His eyebrows shot up, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a dusky tinge touched his freshly shaven jaw. “You’ve been around men wearing ties all your life.”

“Wearing them, yes,” she said, feeling foolish, particularly under the close way he was looking at her. “Oh, never mind.”

His jaw ticked, and after a moment, he did something magical, and the knot was perfect, the tie looking nice against the paler gray shirt he wore. In fact, altogether, he looked nice. Not the least bit like the colonel. And very much like the man.

She swallowed. “Must we go out somewhere?”

“Afraid you’ll be seen with me?”

She made a face, knowing he wasn’t serious. “It’d be more logical if you were afraid of being seen with me, considering all that Jean-Paul went through with Megan.”

“Considering that Jean-Paul loves Megan, I doubt he’s troubled now by what went on in the tabloids.”

“Well, you’re not in…in love with me,” she said hurriedly, wishing she’d never even suggested they stay in. It was patently obvious he was prepared to go out. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone with her.

“I’ve got steak in the freezer, eggs in the fridge and a box of dried pasta in the cupboard. What’s your pleasure?”

Oh, her thoughts were scrambling. “Er, dried pasta?”

He loosened the knot of his tie and walked out of the room. “You’ve probably never had anything but fresh-made pasta your entire life.”

She followed him, looking about, her curiosity as alive as ever. “Nice kitchen. More of the decorator’s work?”

“Yes.” He pulled open a glass-fronted cabinet and withdrew a blue box that he tossed on the counter. It slid across the slick granite surface and stopped right in front of her. She turned it around to read the label. “Macaroni and cheese.”

“It’s the ultimate comfort food,” he said dryly. “Trust me on this.”

“I’ve had macaroni and cheese before.”

“Right.”

“Well, I have.” She picked up the box and studied it. “I can’t quite see how it came from something like this, though.”

“From the kitchen at the palace? I’m sure it didn’t.” He plucked the box from her fingers and set it by the stove before filling a pot with water and plunking it over the flame. “Wine?”

She slid onto one of the bar stools at the island in the center of the enormous room and propped her elbows on the counter. “Yes, please.”

He went to the wine rack on the wall between the kitchen and the dining room and slid out a bottle, which he set on the counter in front of her. Then he went to the wide stainless-fronted fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. He popped it open even as he reached for a corkscrew.

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