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Every minute I spent with this man, he managed to surprise me even more. “Are you an astronaut, too?”
“A space tourist, more like. The Russians sell slots on their launches to the highest bidder. I got lucky. It happens often,” he said, shooting me a meaningful look.
But he hardly got a reaction from me. I was still reeling from the news that he’d been to space. “What was it like?”
His eyes drifted off to the side and had a sparkling quality about them, liked polished onyx. “It was…indescribable. ”
I blew out a breath of disbelief. “Give me something to work with. Come on, just a few adjectives?”
He paused. “Unforgettable. Unbelievable. Like…the entire world had gone silent. The whitest of white points against the blackest black and huge, blue world below my feet. ”
I took another bite of my delish sandwich, contemplating his words. “That’s very poetic for a geek. It’s fortunate that I can never quote you because you might have to have your geek card revoked if it gets out. ”
He grinned. “I’m a geek for life. Not only am I president of the geek club but I’m also a member. ”
I snickered and bit into my sandwich. “If your geek card isn’t revoked because of the poetry it should definitely be revoked for having all those muscles. ” I said and then blushed scarlet, realizing I was still remembering that vision of him with his shirt off. The firm pecs, the clearly defined abs and biceps, like he’d been chiseled from marble. “Geeks don’t have muscles,” I said, lamely covering my embarrassment.
It was true. What kind of computer programmer had a body like that? He smirked. “The geeks who didn’t like getting picked on in school and decided to bulk up as a deterrent do. ”
I studied him as I finished up my sandwich, hard-pressed to imagine any idiot picking on Adam. But I had no idea what he’d been like as a youth, so how could I know? Whatever the incentive, it had worked. It, along with his brilliant mind, handsome face and dark good looks completed a whole dreamy package. One that, I’d bet, many women tried to get their hands on. I pondered that in silence over the rest of my sandwich. I’d found no information about any previous relationships online. Maybe he’d made those women sign NDAs too.
We spent the afternoon at the Royal Palace and then on a guided tour down the canal. The city was vibrant, clean, a stunning fusion of old world and new. I’d now stepped into an even stranger world than the one I’d entered in that first-class line at LAX. This world included only one other person and I was sharing every experience, all the conversation—for we were rarely without something to talk about—with him. To use his words, it was like the entire world had gone silent and we were the only two in it.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like the next day when it was time for me to get back on the plane for the return trip home. How would it feel to go back to the real world after dancing at midnight like Cinderella at the ball?
At least I knew better than to expect my Prince Charming to show up at my doorstep the next day, ready to jam a glass slipper onto my foot.
We returned to the hotel at around six p. m. and Adam said we should change for dinner. He told me that everything I’d need was in the wardrobe of my bedroom. So I threw it open. There were three gowns—one red, one black and one in filmy crème, all with matching shoes. I chose the black and wondered if Heath had picked these out, too. There was no way. They were all so gorgeous.
I quickly showered, redid my makeup and arranged my dark brown hair in a simple straight style that brushed past my shoulders to the middle of my back.
The black dress was beaded at the waist and at the scoop of the bodice, catching the light with glamorous sparkles. It hung on thin straps and was backless to the waist, gathering in loose folds there. Because of the design, I’d have to go braless to wear it, but it seemed to support me perfectly, regardless. I picked out a new pair from a handful of pretty underthings—this one a sheer and lacy pair of panties that made me feel naughty just wearing them. I felt like a princess. Or an actress about to take the stage at the Oscars.
I slipped into the matching heels—I wasn’t accustomed to wearing them, but these strappy sandals were works of art, glittering with rhinestones. Every step I took sent a flare of brilliant light in every direction.
When I entered the living room, it was to a wolf whistle. Adam stood near the ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne in his hands, about to pour. I turned—carefully, so as not to trip all over myself—and he shook his head. “You’re going to be the toast of Amsterdam tonight, Emilia. ”