He was holding his recently refilled wineglass but not sipping it. “But how’d you know about the trust fund? A little internet research?”
“Good Lord, you have atrust fund?I didn’t know that.”Yeah, she’d figured out he had money somewhere, though. Family money like a trust fund made perfect sense. “I was just singing the internet meme. You said finance, and the rest of it was pretty obvious. The, um, six-five, and the—um—blue eyes.”
Really amazing blue eyes.
“Ah, just a song, then.” He sipped his wine.
A second bottle of wine arrived and was uncorked.
Before Nicole let the waiter fill the glass, she asked, “Um, am I driving tonight?”
His blue eyes were a little brighter from the wine. “If a ride is needed, the hotel can supply a chauffeur and car.”
“They will?”
The waiter nodded subtly at her.
“The La Quinta sure doesn’t offer that,” she grumbled.
“And that’s why I stay at the Four Seasons,” he said, nudging his wine glass toward the waiter, who refilled it with a gracious smile. “I can just stagger back to my villa after supper, but you have a decision to make, my little engineer. Would you like dessert here, or shall we take a stroll around the pool and order room service from my place, where it’s quieter?”
People chattered, their voices raised above the violins playing, silverware clinking, food slurping, and kitchen pans clanking, and a nervous shiver shook Nicole from the inside out. Words likenow-or-never-now-or-neverpinged around her head.
Nicole sniffed the air in and said, “Quieter would be nice.”
Kingston lifted two fingers into the air. “Check, please.”
“But we just opened this bottle of wine.”
He shrugged. “We can take it with us if you’re enjoying it. We can order dessert through room service, too.”
“Oh.” She scrambled down her leg and grabbed her backpack from the floor. “Let’s go halfsies.”
He chuckled again. “Of course not.”
The waiter brought the bill, and Kingston signed it. He didn’t put down that Centurion card or anything, he justsignedit, like his name itself was money. “And send the bottle of wine ahead of us?”
When they stood, Kingston held out his hand and raised one eyebrow.
“I—what?” she asked.
“Your backpack, I’ll carry it. It looks heavy.”
“I can—it’s okay.”
He stood with his hand out, and his voice was lower. “Your backpack.”
She handed it over.
Kingston slung one strap over his shoulder, picked up his wineglass, and gestured toward the exit.
“We can’t take the glasses,” she whispered.
His raised eyebrow and squinted smile told her otherwise. “It’s all within the hotel. Housekeeping will take them in the morning.”
Oh, right.
Nicole picked up her wineglass and, after he gestured again, led their way between the chattering people around white-draped tables toward the arched exit and the hotel lobby.
