She couldn’t think of anything but Lord Thornhill, and that was dangerous.
Saying her goodbyes to Anne, she ignored the cabs and walked the few blocks to her hotel. She had too much energy to sit for the ride, too much pent-up drive to stay still. Damn but she hadn’t felt like this, hadn’t felt so excited, so aroused, in ages. The cool spring afternoon blew around her, and Audrey was glad she’d remembered her coat.
Weather in London was an experience.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, nearly drowned out by the noise of the city. Tourists dodged around natives, and car horns blared for attention. Just as well she hadn’t taken a cab back to the hotel—she knew she walked faster than the traffic jam she passed. Audrey ignored them all and turned her attention inward, but it was no use. She didn’t care what prompted Thornhill to ask her to dinner; the heat in his gaze had been confirmation enough of his interest.
Did she have a dress appropriate for dinner with an earl? Audrey slowed and looked at the shop windows she passed. Images of Downton Abbey Edwardian wear floated through her head.
At the third store, she saw a lovely blue dress with a fitted bodice that vaguely reminded her of the gowns she’d seen that afternoon.
She took a step forward, toward the door, and stopped. She’d seen many shops like this before, clothes that were tailor made for women without her rather ample curves. Women who didn’t even know what a size sixteen looked like. Audrey looked at the beautiful blue dress once more and continued walking.
She didn’t bother to see if the dress came in her size; none of the truly gorgeous ones ever did.
Walking faster, Audrey ignored that stupid tiny voice that returned to tell her going to dinner with Thornhill was a supremely bad idea, and she forced a bright smile to the doorman as she entered The Gideon.
She slipped the keycard into the lock and let the door slam closed behind her. Shrugging out of her coat, she hung it up and looked at the meager selection of clothing she’d packed. When she decided to make this a working vacation, Audrey hadn’t planned on fancy dinners with nobility. And she really wished she could ring up Eliza and have her bring round another dress.
Ring up? She laughed at herself. She had been in London for three days, and already she sounded more and more British.
Damn it, there wasn’t enough time between now and dinner to find a new dress. There was no way in hell she’d be able to find the right shop in time. Audrey took out her dresses and criticized each and every one in the bright entry light. Where was he taking her? She hadn’t asked—it hadn’t been important.
Then. Now it was the most important thing she could think of! Was this a fancy dinner? In which case, she really didn’t have an outfit. Or could she get away with a black cocktail dress?
Holding the dress in front of her, she studied herself in the mirror. This would have to make do; it was called the little black dress for a reason.
But was it a Come up and see me sometime dress? She didn’t know.
After a quick shower to freshen up, a mild panic when she couldn’t find her blow dryer, and entirely too long wondering if she should have hunted down a plus-size store for a new outfit, which she probably should have done, Audrey stood in front of the mirror now clad in the black dress. Which didn’t look right. Didn’t feel right.
Suddenly she had a headache.
Damn it, why hadn’t she packed more dresses? Why hadn’t she taken the time to look for one on her walk here? Thornhill was picking her up in thirty minutes, and this versatile little black dress was very, very wrong.
Audrey sighed and looked at the other offerings. What did one wear to dinner with an earl, anyway? She could add the pashmina she’d packed for this afternoon, but it was too chilly out for only the wrap. She could change. But none of her other clothes were fancy-dinner appropriate. Adding a chunky necklace, a triple strand of red glass bead that rested nicely on her breasts, she once more scrutinized herself.
Time had run out.
Cursing herself, Audrey checked her makeup again, tucked several loose strands of blonde hair into her chignon, grabbed her coat and purse, and vowed never again to vacation without an appropriate selection of dinner-with-an-earl dresses.
The elevator took forever to descend the three floors, and in that time Audrey did her level best to rebuild her confidence and plaster that Mae West smile on her face. After all, this was only dinner. Dinner with the drop-dead gorgeous Earl of Thornhill, but dinner nonetheless. And she could do dinner with a handsome man.
And do the handsome man.
He was early. Thornhill stood in the lobby in the gray pinstripe suit he had on earlier. His hands hid in his pants pockets, his jacket open to reveal his blue shirt stretched over his chest. Audrey really did try not to think about running her hands—or her tongue—over his chest.
She smiled at him, desperately trying to recapture their witty banter from earlier in her opening line, but as she stopped in front of him, all Audrey could think about was how great he smelled. Whatever cologne he wore, it wasn’t too strong—just enough to tease and tempt her. She wanted to breathe him in.
Clearing her throat she said instead, “Hi. So what does the Londoner have to show the New Yorker tonight?”
He chuckled and offered his arm. “You look smashing, Audrey. Tonight, I thought we might mix it up.”
Audrey smiled and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow. A ubiquitous black London cab waited for them at the curb, and Thornhill helped her in before rounding to the other side. Audrey settled back and schooled her features into her best flirty smile.
“I’m all for mixing it up,” she agreed. “Where are we mixing?”
And if there happened to be a healthy dose of innuendo, well, that was all right, too.
“A little place near Hyde Park,” Thornhill said with that same slow smile that did things to her insides. “An old Victorian tobacconist converted to a restaurant. Quaint place, great food.”
She’d never been to Hyde Park, though it was on her list of touristy places to visit this trip. There, the Tower of London, the London Eye, and Big Ben. The cab pulled to a stop, and she waited while Thornhill rounded the cab and opened her door.
From the outside it did indeed look like a Victorian building, with lots of stone and wrought iron. The engraving by the steps read Charles & Sons Tobacconist, est. 1860. Audrey turned to wait for Thornhill but he was suddenly there, his hand on her arm as he led her inside. The interior of the restaurant contrasted with the exterior. Done in modern colors with recessed lighting, the immediate look felt a bit too art deco for her.
But they didn’t have to wait in the lobby, with its low, throbbing music and small, intimate tables. Thornhill guided her up the stairs to a bar. Two bars on opposite sides of the room with expansive marble counters were separated by several small cocktail tables crowded with couples and groups of friends. Curiously, each bar had only one bartender and customers stood behind the bar, around an extensive array of liquors.
“I thought this might be fun,” Thornhill said as they waited for the hostess to seat them. “I’ve never been here before, but Westcombe raves about this place.”
“What are they doing?” Audrey asked, eyeing the couples and the bartender. She’d heard him mention Westcombe before, and was curious as to this friend of his. But the bar was far more curious, and she decided to focus on that.
“Creating cocktails,” he said with a smile. “Brings a new meaning to ‘happy hour.’”
Laughing, Audrey asked, “We get to be mad cocktail scientists?”
“We can be blooming bonkers,” he agreed.
She laughed again and knew he’d said that for her, the American. Audrey didn’t mind and kept her arm in the crook of his as the hostess led them to the bar.
With a wide smile and a few cursory instructions, Jack, the bartender, showed them how to use the blender and the drinks shaker. “Nonalcoholic beverages are here.” Jack pointed to the row of bottles.
“The sweeter alcohols are here.” He pointed to another row. “Feel free to try anything you want, mix anything. If you have questions, just ask.”
Thornhill randomly grabbed two bottles and poured them into a glass. Audrey dubiously eyed the concoction. It was interesting.
“Your friend raves about this place?” she asked, sniffing the mixture.
She looked up to see him smiling down at her, his gaze moving from her lips to her eyes. Again, he seemed totally focused on her, and she found it more than a little disconcerting. And highly arousing.
“Swears by it,” Thornhill said with that wicked grin that made her toes curl.
“I bet.” She nodded, trying to uncurl her toes and focus on something other than his mouth. Or his hands. “Easy way to get the girls drunk.”
His laugh washed over her, and electric shocks danced over her skin. “Or easy way for the girls to get him drunk.”
Audrey grinned at him and looked back at the drink he’d made. With a shrug, she downed it. “Ugh,” she managed. “God awful! What did you pour?”
Gasping for breath, she grabbed a bottle of water and tried to rinse the taste from her mouth. Thornhill laughed and read the labels. He laughed louder when he told her, and despite the nasty taste in her mouth, Audrey was entranced by that sound.
“Glenfiddich Whiskey and Triple Sec.”
She blanched and drank more water. “What did you do during your college years?”
“As little as I could,” he admitted.
“You certainly didn’t take mixology, Lord Thornhill,” Audrey said as she dumped the rest of his concoction.
“Duncan.” Her head jerked up and she looked at him for a long, silent moment, still holding the glass over the sink. “Call me Duncan.”
“Duncan,” Audrey said and tried her very best not to think about how the name rolled easily off her tongue. How perfect it tasted.
She cleared her throat and grabbed the makings for an apple martini. With several practiced moves, she made him the one drink she knew by heart. The one she could make with his smile doing very hot things to her insides, her brain trying desperately not to think about how his mouth would taste after the apple martini.
“Cheers,” Duncan said and took the drink from her.
Though she didn’t know how long they spent at the bar, mixing drinks and laughing at each other, Audrey relaxed. Really relaxed. When they went up another flight of stairs to the restaurant, that intimacy didn’t evaporate. He never looked around to see if he knew anyone, and once again she found his attention solely on her.
Audrey licked her lips as the waitress placed their dessert in the center of the table. Dinner had been fantastic; it was fun and exciting, and she hadn’t once needed to resort to witty quips. Sinking her fork into the thick chocolate cake, Audrey tried to remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
“You’re not having any?” she asked as the cake all but melted in her mouth.
“No,” Duncan said with that smile. “You enjoy.”
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Audrey resisted another bite of the cake and set her fork down.
He looked at her, his blue eyes studying her as she finished her wine. “Ready, then?”
“Yeah,” Audrey mumbled, hating the sudden bout of chubby-girl nerves that seemed so determined to ruin her night.
But Duncan paid and they left, and he didn’t seem to notice the change in her mood. “Want to take a walk in Hyde Park?” he asked.
Tempted as she was, Audrey shook her head. “No, it’s late, and I’m sure you have to be at the office early tomorrow.”
A pathetic excuse if ever she’d uttered one.
But he just smiled and took her hand, once again threading it through the crook of his elbow. A cold spring wind blew down the street, but she barely noticed as he guided her to the corner and the cab waiting there. To her surprise, it was the same driver who dropped them off.
Their conversation was muted as the cab pulled to the curb of the hotel. Stepping out of the car, she turned with a bright smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I had a great evening. I don’t think I’ll ever look at alcohol the same way again.”
“I promise not to give up my day job to become a bartender,” Duncan said and led her into the lobby.
Audrey expected him to say good night there and leave her to walk up to her room alone, but he led her to the elevators.
“Which floor?”
“Three,” she managed. “Three-twenty.”
The ride up was silent, but not awkward. That also surprised her, and she let it slide, enjoying the almost intimate way that silence wrapped around them. Duncan walked her to her door, and when she turned to thank him again, his mouth cut off whatever she’d planned to say.
The kiss seared through her, instantly hot, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Audrey opened her mouth and kissed him back, suddenly desperate to know how he tasted. Wanted to keep the memory, keep it close, and maybe only tell Eliza and Sabrina when she eventually returned to New York.
Duncan’s hands cupped her shoulders, pulling her closer, and her thoughts on memories and friends fizzled into a burst of arousal as Duncan changed the angle of the kiss. Beneath her fingers, his muscled arms were rigid. She desperately wanted to feel his skin against hers, and she slipped her hands beneath his suit jacket.
Slowly, Duncan pulled back. When Audrey blinked, opened her eyes, and looked up at him, it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. Damn, but that man could kiss! She licked her lips and tried to remember how to speak, to invite him into her room.
He swallowed hard and stepped back, those piercing blue eyes a stormy darkness now and still utterly focused on her. “Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice low and velvety. “Shall we explore a bit more of my old London?”
Audrey nodded, not trusting her voice, not even certain she still had a voice. She understood his words; they did make sense, but she couldn’t quite comprehend them. So she nodded. At this moment, she’d agree to just about anything he said.
Duncan leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. “All right then.” His lips just brushed hers. “Until tomorrow.”
He looked at her for another long moment then turned and walked away. Audrey swallowed and watched him leave. Her fingers trembled as she tried to insert the keycard into the door.
“What the hell,” she mumbled. But it didn’t matter, because her skin was on fire, her senses spun with his taste, and his scent, and tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Three
The knock on the hotel room door woke her up. Blinking open eyes that refused to focus, Audrey struggled to concentrate. The knock came again. Panicked at the thought it could be Duncan, she leapt out of bed, found her robe, and desperately hoped he wasn’t standing on the other side.
She tied the robe tight, made sure nothing scandalous peeked out, then wondered when she’d become so concerned with scandalizing anyone.
Peering out the peephole, she saw room service.
Disappointed, though she couldn’t have said why, she was also relieved. Mostly relieved. It was not Duncan on the other side, coming to her hotel room to…what? Ravish her in the hallway? Take her on the terrace? Any terrace?
Oh, her imagination all too easily pictured the two of them doing all sorts of naughty things. Arousal shot through her, making her knees weak and her toes curl. His mouth on hers had been enough to make her forget her name. She could only imagine—and did—what the rest of his body could do to her.
And she definitely, desperately, and determinedly wanted to find out.
Audrey shook her head and tried to think clearly. Had she ordered breakfast? What time was it?
In her rush, she hadn’t bothered to check the clock. Opening the door, she blinked sleep from her eyes, tried to comb back her hair into some semblance of style, and smiled brightly at the young woman wheeling in the breakfast tray. With flowers. Beautiful multicolored flowers that smelled heavenly.
Audrey waited while the woman set up the breakfast, still a little unclear if she’d ordered the food or not. She knew she hadn’t ordered the flowers, lovely as they were. But the woman didn’t hand over the leather thing with the bill; she merely smiled, wished her a pleasant morning, and left.
Well that had to be the first time anyone had ever not paid for room service. Huh. They probably just charged it to her room. No matter. She was hungry.
Picking up the flowers, Audrey breathed deeply and smiled. They were beautiful, so colorful in the dim hotel light. And they had a note attached.
Her heart pounding, she carefully set the flowers back on the tray and opened the single sheet of paper.
Good morning. I hope your evening was as much fun as mine. I shall be by at 1 to pick you up for a touristy day.
Yours,
Duncan
PS: Enjoy breakfast.
Her breath caught, her eyes riveted first to the handwritten letter then to the flowers that he’d obviously arranged to deliver along with breakfast.
Wow. He’d managed to deliver the single most romantic gift she’d ever received, and he hadn’t even been there to do so in person. Food and flowers—the man was a genius.
Audrey licked her lips and imagined she still tasted him there. She shook her head and picked up a piece of bacon, using the crispy meat to distract herself. A quick glance at the hotel’s alarm clock showed her it was only a little after eight—too early to call her friends in New York.
She needed a distraction. Audrey contemplated the breakfast tray as she narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. What she needed was a shopping distraction, she decided, as she reread Duncan’s note. She had absolutely nothing to wear for a touristy date with Duncan.
Well…she probably had something. But she wanted something else. Something new and sexy for a date, not normal and blah for a single woman’s tour around London.
Her stomach did a little flip, and she found it difficult to catch her breath at the thought of seeing Duncan again.
Countess Curvy: A Curvy Girl's Earl Page 2