Meet Me in London

by Georgia Toffolo

  With the rotor blades going it was difficult to hear anything the pilot and Oliver were saying to each other, but Oliver kissed her cheek and handed her what looked like souped-up headphones. “Here’s a headset and mic. Martin will talk you through all the safety stuff, but basically sit back and enjoy.”

  So, she wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Oliver properly now either. It was going to have to wait a little longer. She pushed the guilt and the worry out of her head and listened to Martin, learning that they’d be flying at two thousand feet. Flight time was ninety minutes.

  Ninety minutes to where? Prague? Dublin? Paris? Her heart danced some more.

  Martin told her he would point out things of interest that...whoa! She looked out of the window, they were already airborne. “Oh, wow. I didn’t even notice we’d left the ground.”

  “It’s disconcerting going straight up, right? No dramatic takeoff. Look out the window.” Oliver was back to holding her hand again and it was warm and strong and safe and she didn’t want to let go. She promised herself she’d hold it when she broke the news to him later that she was cutting their deal short. And when she did finally let go, it would be forever.

  For now she’d relish the heat and the promise as his thumb stroked lazily and very sexily over hers, stoking a need she was failing to ignore or subdue. She looked out of the window and tried to find her balance again.

  Below them the architecture she’d come to love in the city she now called home shrank to miniatures. They followed the River Thames, a sparkling silver ribbon threading through London, out towards the south coast until there was nothing below them but sea.

  Once they’d left England behind Oliver twisted in his seat to look at her, his eyes warm and kind. She could see the joy in his face as he watched her reaction to the flight. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Are you OK?”

  “This is beyond exciting.” And unbearably difficult. She liked him. Maybe even more than that. No. Her stomach tightened. She most certainly was not going to allow herself to fall that deeply. But he was everything she’d ever wanted.

  He pushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  Not here. More ears listening. “It can wait. How was your dad, really?”

  Oliver grimaced. “Grumpy. But that’s probably a good thing. He’s got a bit of spark back, but not enough. He’s not eating properly and he’s very weak with the new treatment. But the doctors are optimistic. Which is good, because he still has a lot to hand over to me.”

  “Are you scared? Of taking control of...everything?” The family, the business, the legacy they were all so keen on preserving.

  “No.” He looked out of the window and swallowed.

  They were all about the stiff upper lip and not showing emotion, she’d never known a family so staunch. Was it really a weakness to admit to feelings? She couldn’t live like that but it wasn’t her business and she was going to cut ties soon enough, so she let the subject slide. She squeezed his hand. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” He let go of her hand then lifted the armrest between them and pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Fancy a drink?”

  Well, yes. “Why the heck not? It’s not every day you get to fly in a chopper and drink bubbles.” She laughed. “Oh. But it is for you.”

  “Don’t worry, I made sure to pay the carbon offset for you.” Smiling, he popped the cork, poured and then handed her a glass of champagne. She tipped her glass to his and met his gaze, the familiar tug of affection catching her off guard. As he looked at her his lips curved into a wicked smile. Everything inside her heated at the thought of that mouth on hers. Of that mouth on her skin.

  Nerves ruffled, she dragged her gaze away. Didn’t matter what she told herself, that dangerous spark of attraction was always there between them. The champagne bubbles tickled her throat and she sank back into the soft leather running her hand over the armrest, trying to find her equilibrium again. “This is amazing.”

  He was still looking at her, his gaze still burning. “Yes.”

  “It’s probably just second nature to you.”

  He shook his head. “Every single time I step into one of these I’m in awe of the technology that builds them and keeps them in the sky and the fact that I get to use them to go to work. It’s never routine. Look at it. Look out here.” He pointed to the cloudless sky. “So much space up here.”

  She understood the sentiment. Up here she felt cocooned from everything she’d been worrying about. Behind them the sky was a riot of reds and pinks as the sun was starting to set in England. Below them the cross-channel ferries and boats were like children’s toys dotted over a calm and vivid-blue sea.

  “It’s like another world.”

  He nodded. “Respite for ninety minutes, away from work, from thinking. You get to breathe.”

  “And drink champagne.” She giggled. “It sounds like you need a holiday, Oliver Russell.”

  He turned to her, suddenly serious. His gaze wandered her face, settled on her mouth. “I don’t need a holiday. I need...”

  She put her glass down, mesmerized by his eyes and the desire there wiping all other thoughts from her brain. She didn’t want to look anywhere but him, imagined kissing him again. Unable to resist touching him she reached out and skimmed his jaw with her fingertips. Heat rushed through her, making her giddy. “What, Ollie...what do you need?”

  “This.” He tipped her face to his and slid his mouth over hers.

  She should have pulled away, should have told him then and there about her reservations, about his cousin’s visit and his mother’s dreams. Should have put her hand to his chest and pushed him away, but instead her fingers sank into the linen and she tugged him closer.

  He was addictive, this man. A drug to her senses that she didn’t have the strength to fight. If this was going to be their last kiss she was going to savor it, remember it, make it count. Bring it out later, in old age, play it over and over in her head. That amazing kiss at two thousand feet with a handsome man who had a wonderful heart.

  Their last kiss? She couldn’t bear to think about it not happening again. So, she allowed herself the realization of one of her dreams—of being cared for, of being kissed, of being made to feel beautiful and wanted, even if only for now. And let herself sink into it.

  It started gently, an exploration as if they had endless time in this new private world. He nibbled her bottom lip, playful at first, making her giggle and beg for more. But as the kiss deepened it became a mashing of needs, a lifeline. He clasped her tight against him, kissed and kissed and kissed her until her thoughts muddled and blurred and then coalesced into one thought. This man. Oliver Russell.

  She brushed her hand over his hair and looked deeply into his eyes, falling just a little bit more for a man who said he needed her kisses to make him feel better. “Tough day, huh?”

  He pulled away, breathless. Thumbed her bottom lip. “Not anymore. I’ve been thinking about doing that all day. All last night. You drive me crazy.”

  She was starting to think she was going mad too. He lulled her with every action, every touch. Stole her thoughts with his kisses. He was bewitching. He was everything.

  And she was falling. Falling. She needed to save herself before she slipped completely under his spell and ended up hurting not just herself but him and his lovely family. Maybe now was the best time to say it. Cut the ties before they bound them together too tightly. “Look, Oliver—”

  Her phone pinged and she glanced down. A message from Lily:

  Don’t forget it’s Malie’s birthday. We said we’d chat at six o’clock our time.

  Oh, God. Of course. She’d remembered this morning and been so looking forward to chatting with her friends, but with the Andrew and Stella visits it had completely skipped her mind. How was she going to do
the Lost Hours call today? “Erm, Ollie, what’s the plan timing-wise?”

  “We should get there soon. You need to put your watch forward an hour.”

  “Where exactly is there?”

  “Look down.”

  “Oh! It’s beautiful.” The low winter sun bathed pale stone buildings with a soft golden light. Like London, it was another city bifurcated by a sparkling river. A white citadel on a hill, an arch in the center of a star-shaped intersection. A tower that was the most iconic building in the world. Maybe it was the champagne or the kiss, or just being here with Oliver, but she felt in this moment as if she was the luckiest woman alive. The view took her breath away. Literally. “I love Paris.”

  “I hoped so. It’s one of my favorite places.”

  “I’ve never seen it like this. I’ve only ever been by train.”

  “There’s no better way to see it than from the sky.” He grinned. “Look, I have a short but necessary meeting between five and seven, but then we can do dinner. I hope that’s OK?”

  The call was at six UK time. Which meant seven in France. Maybe she could bring the chat forward? Damn. But then Malie might not be awake, or being an early bird, she could already be out.

  She must have looked concerned, because he cupped her cheek and smiled. “Hey, I won’t be long. I’ve looked up the nearest fabric shops to the store and there are two close by that don’t close until seven. Hopefully they’ll have the things you need. I can get Claude to take you if you like.”

  “Claude?”

  “My PA in Paris.”

  She spluttered the remains of her champagne. “You have more than one PA?”

  “You mean you don’t?” He deadpanned genuine confusion.

  She laughed. “I don’t even have one. A girl can dream.”

  “A man can too.” He kissed her again then. Hard and fast. “I have an apartment here overlooking the river. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

  He was asking her to stay the night. The thump of reality slipped in between her ribs, but it was overtaken by the shimmer of excitement. He was asking her to stay. He wanted her in his bed, and she wanted to be there. And she was so bewitched by him that the first answer in her head was yes.

  Her body prickled in anticipation of a slow, sultry seduction and she slipped her hand into his. Closed her eyes and kissed him again. And again. And again.

  But. The reality was still there. This was taking everything to another level. Falling deeper and deeper under his spell.

  She was getting tired of buts when he was so delicious and attentive and thoughtful. When he was offering her a chance of something she’d never experience again. Blurring her thoughts with his kisses until all she wanted was to feel him around her, inside her.

  She tucked her doubts away as he said, “Paris was my first store and it’s very special to me. I lived here for two years and I got to know it well. But if I’m completely honest, I have no idea where these shops are or whether they’re any good—it’s not like I’ve ever stepped foot in them.” He gave a very Gallic shrug of his shoulders. “Je suis desolé.”

  The mere fact he was taking her to Paris for dinner was enough. But that he had spent time and consideration in researching stores she’d like made her chest fill with light and warmth.

  “Don’t worry, my superpower is having a fabric-shop radar. I’ll just love mooching through the streets and I’ll find them and will be in absolute heaven until your meeting’s finished.” She needed to fit the birthday call in. “Um. Don’t hurry, I’ll be just fine.”

  “Oh, yes, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your happy day.” He tilted her chin up and pressed another kiss full on her mouth, making her heart stop and her limbs melt.

  Happy? More like ecstatic. Elated. That was what she felt like when she was with him. When he made gestures like this or even just when he held her hand. He wanted to make her happy and that was the difference between him and any other man she’d ever met. By breaking this off she’d be purposefully putting a stop to this feeling inside her. She didn’t even want to think about that.

  Later. Over dinner.

  Or tomorrow.

  She’d tell him then.

  * * *

  The shop was only a couple of minutes around the corner from his office and she found it as if she’d been magnetically drawn there. The window display was a riot of pinks and tweeds that made Victoria’s stomach fizz in excitement. And it fizzed a zillion times more when the diminutive sales assistant whispered to her that they wove for Chanel.

  OMG! The designer she admired most in the world; she almost had to pinch herself. It was a treasure trove she wanted to dive right into and not surface from for hours. There were offcuts of patterned wool for coats and jackets, and scraps for accessories and decorations as well as cones of different colored yarn. And even though she couldn’t afford to buy much she figured she deserved something to commemorate her trip here. Her arms were full by the time her phone chimed and she silently prayed her credit card wouldn’t explode as she paid for them. It didn’t, but she’d need to do a few hours’ overtime in the bar after the opening day madness had settled down.

  “Hang on! Hang on!” She laughed as she paid the bill and danced outside with a bag filled with treats she couldn’t wait to show Oliver. Even though she knew he wouldn’t understand why she was so excited by them, he’d definitely understand her excitement. The birthday girl’s face appeared on her tablet first and Victoria felt a wave of love. “Hey! Happy, happy birthday, gorgeous Malie!”

  One by one her friends appeared on the tiny screen. Could this day get any better?

  She found a bench a few meters up from the shop and sat. “Malie, what do you have planned for the day? Tell me it involves sun, surf and...” She was jokingly going to say sex, but Malie was notoriously quiet about her relationships. Like the rest of them, she hadn’t forged anything lasting or meaningful with a guy since the accident, and they’d been too young to really commit before it. They’d all just focused on their own healing, stuck together as such a tight unit they’d not let anyone else in.

  Victoria laughed. “...And sex on the beach? I mean the cocktail, obviously.”

  “Of course! Nothing else entered my head. Apart from the fact that sand gets everywhere and can be...exfoliating on sensitive parts. So I’ve heard.” The birthday girl winked, beaming all the way from Hawaii. She looked so well with her glowing bronzed skin and bleached curls. Her Devon accent was tinged with the teeniest USA twang. “It’s so lovely to talk to you all. I’ve already done my most favorite thing today.”

  “Let me guess.” Zoe drummed her fingers on her chin as if trying to work out a very difficult puzzle. “Surfing?”

  “You got it.” Malie stretched out her arms as if she was doing a yoga pose. She was wearing a zipped-up pink rash vest and bikini shorts, her hair was still damp after her swim and she looked simply gorgeous. Behind her the sea sparkled. It looked like paradise. “After this I’m going to teach some classes with Kailani, then drinks with friends.” The way she said friends didn’t sound like anyone special.

  “No foam parties planned?” Lily laughed.

  “If there was, I’d be fine. Not like some people I could mention, Zoe Tayler.” Malie’s smiling eyes widened accusingly.

  Zoe’s crinkled. “Hey! I had a great time. Too bad you all got lost for three hours.”

  “We were looking for you,” they all cried at once, the way they must have said it a hundred times before.

  “Good times.” Victoria squinted at the screen. Oh, to be that young and innocent again. “Hey, birthday girl, how’s the teaching going?”

  Like Victoria, Malie’s way of healing from the accident had been to throw herself into helping others. The surf school she ran with her godfather, Kailani, had specially adapted boards and equipment for kids with special needs. Victoria didn’t really n
eed to ask her friend if she was enjoying it because the moment her job was mentioned her face lit up.

  “I love it. It’s the best thing. Ever.”

  “No sexy city boys over for you to give lessons to?” Lily chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “I’ve no need for city boys when the surfer dudes are all hot, hot, hot and up for fun! Besides, lessons are for teaching, I would never be so naughty as to mix up...” Malie’s face came closer to the screen, her wild curls coming into full focus. “Where are you, V? It looks different to usual.”

  “Oh! Let me guess! It’s not Chelsea. Is that...are you in France?” Zoe peered closer. “That looks like a French street sign.”

  Victoria turned ninety degrees, trying to get the telltale sign behind her out of view, but it was too late. Typical that the travel writer could discern the French vibe no matter how careful Victoria had been at trying to shade the screen. She tried to sound nonchalant instead of as excited as a child at Christmas.

  “It’s just a work thing. Yeah. Paris.”

  “What kind of wine bar work takes you to Paris? Oh, are you doing a tasting? Isn’t it Beaujolais nouveau season?” Zoe’s eyes were wide and bright, and Victoria felt a pang of wistfulness. It was so good to catch up with them even if she was keeping a little part of her life secret. She pushed away the guilt. This wasn’t the time to go into details about him and their deal, especially as it was ending. How had life become so complicated that she was keeping secrets from her friends?

  But she needn’t have worried, Zoe was still in full travel-guide mode. “Whereabouts are you? I know a fabulous place in the eighteenth arrondissement. They do the best confit in Paris. Locals only, no tourists filling it up and you won’t find it in a guidebook.”

  One of the great things about having a travel writer as a friend was that she always knew the best eating and drinking spots the locals frequented. “Brilliant. Message me the name and I’ll check it out.”

  “And then there’s this gorgeous bistro in Montmartre...give me a sec I’ll double-check the name.” Zoe disappeared from shot. Lily wasn’t saying anything now. She just looked at the screen with an emotionless expression and Victoria wondered what she was thinking.