His lips lowered to my ear. The blood rushed to my cheeks. My pulse raced.
“Think we could ditch Kimble?” he asked.
“Don’t you need to stay a little longer?” I searched his eyes. Damn. Why were they so dark and deep? “Your mother seemed serious about the family obligations.”
“She’s serious about everything,” he answered. Felicia Corban already scared the shit out of me.
“I don’t want to cause any problems. Really.” It was the first time I was allowed out since the pool table incident. It could be my last for a while if I screwed this up.
“I checked all the boxes tonight. I’m done with appearances.”
I nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“Okay.”
His eyes lingered on my lips before tilting my chin upward. I held my breath. “You are exactly what I was looking for tonight, Kennedy.”
I smiled. “And what was that?”
“A way out.”
* * *
I didn’t thinkit was possible to shake Kimble. Over the past two weeks I’d tried. I’d climbed out my bedroom window as if I was still a teenager. I found Joseph already waiting for me in the garden. I’d tried to blend in with a crowd of women in the ladies’ room in a shopping boutique, but after thirty minutes, Kimble barged in and cleared everyone out.
I didn’t fully believe it until I was sitting next to Knight in the front seat of his sports car, and there were no headlights in the rearview mirror. I continued to look behind us.
I exhaled.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. “You have no idea.”
“I think I probably do.”
“Oh, right. Must be hard being the royal family of New Orleans.” Did he sense my playful sarcasm? I was terrible at hiding it.
“Are you mocking me?” I saw the sexy smirk on his face.
“Absolutely not,” I giggled.
“Parker and I have ditched bodyguards since we were kids. It takes skill and practice.”
“You say that as if I should be better at it.” He didn’t know how hard it was when there were no distractions. Kimble had laser focus on only one target—me.
He shrugged. “You’re free. That’s what matters.”
I settled into the seat. “Free.” I glanced at him. “Who is Parker?”
“An old friend. Shit. I didn’t tell him I was leaving the party.”
I smiled, satisfied I had identified the friend was a guy. “Should we call him?” I suggested.
“Hell no. He’ll understand. We ran for a reason, and I know exactly where we can go to celebrate.”
“Tell me there’s lots of champagne, and I don’t care.”