The tips of his ears redden, and he grips the steering wheel tighter. “It was a slip of the tongue, ma’am. I didn’t mean for it to come out.”
“Well, it did, and now you can’t take it back. Youhaveto call me Alice. In fact, I’m ordering you to do so. Forget whatever the rules say.”
“Ma’am . . .”
“Arthur . . .”
“Your Highness . . .”
“Arthur . . .”
“Princess . . .”
“Arthur . . .”
He groans.
“I can keep doing this all day.” I chuckle. “I have a lifetime of practice bantering thanks to my brother.”
“You’re really not inclined to drop this?”
“Nope. I tried foryearsto get Bruce to call me Alice. This time around, you and Angelawillbe converted to my ways.” I don’t mention Angela gave in a few days ago. She didn’t even fight me about it. She shrugged it off and said she’d go along with whatever I wanted since I’m technically her boss.
Art shakes his head. “Fine. You win.”
I dance in my seat. “Victory is mine.”
“For now,” he says in a silky, sure tone.
Clicking the car’s turn indicator on, Art pulls into a car park, settles into a spot, and turns off the engine. I’ve been so distracted by bantering with him that I have no idea where he’s taken me. He exits the car and goes around to open my door.
“Thanks.”
“I just need to exchange this jacket for one in the boot. Give me just a second, then we’ll pop up into the shop.” He slips the garment off his shoulders and wrinkles his nose. “You were right about the dust.”
Thedress shirt fits snugly across his broad chest. As he moves his arms, his biceps and pecs pop. I dry swallow. I knew he was fit after seeing him in riding trousers, but now I have a complete picture. And it’s one I won’t forget anytime soon. I take a moment to imprint this image and add it to my mental photo gallery. At this rate, I’ll have to open an entire wing dedicated to him.
“Is something off?” he asks, noticing my staring as he slips a fresh black coat on and buttons the top button.
“No, er... you just have some dust on your bum,” I fib.
“I do?” He frowns and looks behind him. Using his hands, he brushes off the non-existent specks. “Is that any better?”
“Loads.”
“Good because I don’t have a place to change my trousers.”
The tips of my ears burn, and I cough. “Where are we exactly?”
“A shop in Kensal Town.”
“Arthur.”
“Ma’am.”
“I thought we went through this.” I rub my temples.
“We did.” He closes the boot and gestures around us. “We’re no longer in private; therefore, you are ma’am, Your Highness, or Princess.”
