by Arlene James
“Would you care for tea while you wait?” the female clerk asked solicitously.
“Yes, I think I would.”
“Will you be requiring dinner reservations?”
“Ah, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“If you’d prefer to dine in this evening, I’d recommend a reservation. We have an excellent little restaurant that draws quite a crowd most nights.”
“I see.” She glanced over her shoulder and through the window to the street bathed in cold, drizzling rain. “I’ll be eating out tomorrow,” she decided, “so I might as well stay in tonight.”
“You can always take room service.” The clerk picked up a small brochure explaining the location of the restaurant within the building and its hours of operation. “Most of our guests seem to prefer the restaurant, however. If you so desire, you can make your reservations in person at tea, or I can handle it for you.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Avis said, pocketing the small brochure.
“Just follow the hallway to my left,” the clerk said with a nod. “We’ll notify you as soon as the room is ready.”
“Do you have a map of the local area?”
“Oh, yes, and also a list of businesses you might find of interest.” The young woman handed over both, a placid smile on her pretty face. “If you’d like some reference material on the greater London attractions, you can see the concierge, who will also be happy to make any bookings you might require.”
Avis nodded. “Thank you.”
She stopped by the concierge’s desk and picked up several brochures from him before following the hall to the restaurant, which sat across the way from the closed bar with its heavy brass and gleaming ebony fixtures. Her complementary tea came with cheese toast and a platter of fruit, all served cheerfully but unobtrusively from an ornate silver trolley in the small but equally opulent dining room. Sitting at a table dressed with a crisp white cloth and fresh flowers before a cheery fire in the marble-faced hearth while sipping a cup of strong, milky tea, the reality of her situation settled over her at last.
She was in England. London and all its treasures lay waiting for her beyond this safe, warm, comfortable place. And somewhere nearby was Lucien Tyrone. She shivered, but whether with anticipation or distress she honestly couldn’t say.
She had ventured out on her own, well bundled against the continuing drizzle, down the street and around the corner to the chemist’s, according to the concierge. Luc approved and, in truth, had expected nothing less. She had journeyed all the way to London on her own, after all. He would be surprised, even disappointed, if she had then hidden away timidly inside this comfortable little hotel. Besides, it suited his purposes to have her safely out of the way when he finally checked in.
Though he had asked his friend to warn the staff that he wanted to keep a low profile, a direct call from the chairman of the board of governors of the hotel’s parent company was bound to set off some alarms with the staff, and seeing him being greeted rather obsequiously by the manager of the hotel himself would undoubtedly have made Avis think.
Though she might not come to the conclusion that he was shunning a very fine townhouse, much to his housekeeper’s dismay, in order to set himself up near her in a small hotel suite. She almost certainly would have realized that his plans had been made very last-minute, say on the drive in from the airport in his chauffeured limousine, which was why he’d thought it best to send her along by herself in a cab.
He wasn’t going to take any chances on derailing his campaign. Oh, it wasn’t as if he had lied to her, not technically, anyway. He just didn’t think it wise to tell her more of the truth than she needed to know at this time.
On the other hand, Lucien Tyrone never considered whether or not he was due whatever information he deemed necessary to his cause and neither, apparently, did those of whom he sought intelligence, so he hadn’t thought twice about asking for Avis’s room number, where she had gone and what plans she might have made. The hotel staff apparently hadn’t thought twice about telling him whatever he wanted to know, so he didn’t hesitate to have himself a place added to her dinner table. He did, however, try to make their meeting in the dining room look somewhat unexpected.
“Well, hello again. Mind if I join you? Or are you expecting someone else?”
For a moment she merely stared up at him from her burgundy leather club chair, her wide eyes a heady blue, thanks in part to the long-sleeved, cunningly simple dress that she wore. Made of a slinky knit fabric of red-violet, it clung to her delicious curves with loving detail and yet remained surprisingly modest, despite a soft neckline that puddled inviting over her impressive cleavage and called attention to the elegant V of her collarbone. A man could slide his hands inside that top and reach just about anything he wanted. Luc leaned forward slightly, making her a gentle bow and letting the hang of his suit jacket and tie camouflage a certain disturbing development below his waist.
“Feel free,” she said, sweeping a graceful hand at the empty chair to her left, where a setting of china awaited him.
Satisfied, he took the seat and absently received the menu offered by the servant hovering at his shoulder. “Any suggestions?” he asked of her.
“I usually just go for the special,” she confessed. “The waiter said it’s commonly called ‘Jenny in snow’ or something like that.”
He snapped his menu closed and nodded at the waiter. “Ah, yes. A lovely hunk of beef slow-roasted in a potato and salt crust. Not so good for the blood pressure, I’m sure, but a delight on the tongue. Perhaps we’d better order a good red wine to help the digestion.” She rolled her eyes, smiling. “You may scoff,” he told her with a mock frown, “but the Europeans swear by it.”
“They do seem to have a lower incidence of cholesterol and heart disease than we Americans,” she conceded wryly.
“Speak for yourself,” he quipped. “I’ve enough healthy Mediterranean blood pumping through these veins to eat as I choose.” He swept his gaze over her and added softly, “Then again, you look the very picture of health yourself. A beautiful thing. To be healthy.”
She dropped her gaze, a demure blush rising to her cheeks, and he silently congratulated himself on hitting just the right note. He picked the wine, unimpressed by the selection.
Early on, conversation revolved around her drive into the city. He expressed regret for not having been able to offer her a ride into town but didn’t explain why that had been the case. When he casually mentioned that he had gotten more done that afternoon than expected and so would have the next day free, she naturally assumed that his endeavors had involved business, which they had, at least so far as rearranging his schedule. Now to arrange hers.
“Have you planned your conquest?”
“Conquest?”
“I expect you’ll take the city by storm,” he teased, “but with so much to see and do, one must plan. Oh, but your escort will have laid down a route for you, I suppose.”
“Escort?”
Her obvious confusion put to rest any doubts he might have had about the possibility of her meeting someone here, but he wisely didn’t let on. “Yes, is he local? Or perhaps the person you’re meeting is a she?”
Avis blinked at him, and the sultry movement of those smooth eyelids did wildly erotic things to his insides. Then her blush rose again. “Oh. Ah.” He smiled, too charmed by her embarrassment to let her off the hook. “That was only…actually, I only meant that I intended to engage a tour guide.”
He contrived surprise and tried to keep the delight under wraps. “Well, in that case, you must let me be your tour guide.”
Her chest heaved as she surreptitiously caught her breath, lifting that lovely bosom so high that his mouth began to water. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense. You’d be doing me a favor, actually. Despite today’s progress, my business is not going to proceed as quickly as I’d planned. You know how it is. I’m afraid I’m going to have lots of time on my hands this trip
, and once you’ve seen the sights, the only way to really enjoy them again is to show them to someone who hasn’t.” A veritable parade of emotions made its way across her face, delaying her answer long enough for him to add a heartfelt, “Please. I can guarantee you all the highlights and some secrets you’ll miss otherwise.” How true. How very true.
She gave in with some trepidation. “Well, I wouldn’t want to monopolize all your free time.”
“We can play it by ear,” he assured her, “but I am available tomorrow.”
She let out a tense breath and laughed a little. “All right, if you’re sure.”
“Positive.” He smiled and decided to push a bit. “If you have no plans for later this evening, perhaps you’d like to come out to the theater with me. The production has been running for a while, so I’m sure there are tickets to be had.” He had them, in fact, in reserve, a box for the whole season. He hadn’t even intended to use them tonight, which was just as well since she shook her head firmly.
“I really need to get some rest tonight if I’m going to get the most out of tomorrow.”
Oh, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “You didn’t nap this afternoon then. Very good. It’s always best to hold out, get on the local schedule right away.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard that’s how to beat the jet lag.”
They talked about that and other things to do with travel until their dinners arrived. And then they moved onto the next day’s agenda. He steered her away from governmental buildings and royal establishments where he might be able to arrange private tours for her later. The museums she could manage safely on her own while he had to tend to business, since he couldn’t put off everything entirely, but he didn’t tell her that. With some prodding on his part, they finally settled on the obvious, the colossal Ferris wheel known as the London Eye, the replicated Globe Theatre, with London Bridge thrown in if time allowed, and of course, the Tower of London. Some of these were among the more “touristy” of London’s offerings, in his opinion, but should not be missed, nonetheless.
“I know a wonderful little place overlooking the Thames where we can have lunch, if you like,” he suggested hopefully.
“Sounds perfect.”
He grinned. “What a lucky thing that we met. I’d have been bored to tears otherwise.”
She gave him another of those reticent smiles, part pure shyness, part reluctance and suspicion. His mind worked furiously to find a way to eliminate the latter, but before he could properly apply himself to the problem, a hearty voice assaulted his ear.
“Hello! It’s Tyrone himself. How are you buddy boy? Slumming a bit are we? Good to see you. Imagine bumping into you this way. And who is this beauty?”
As usual, Colbert barely drew breath between questions and statements, let alone wait for reply. Luc jovially accepted the inevitable and rose to greet his old chum.
Col was a bluff, good-natured fellow with a rapidly receding hairline and a waist that seemed determined to make up the difference. The two had “racketed around town” together at one time, to use Colbert’s parlance. Col’s marriage had put an end to that, but they dashed off notes to one another from time to time, though actually getting together always seemed impossible especially since Althea’s death. Luc suspected that most of the responsibility lay with Lady Colbert, who seemed to fear that a single Lucien would lead her husband into pursuits designed to threaten their carefully guarded wedded bliss.
After rising to accept Col’s back pounding and delivering his own greeting in kind, Luc made the introduction. “Allow me to present Mrs. Avis Lorimer. Avis, you’ve the dubious honor of meeting Sir Ponder Colbert, London Minister of…what is it again, Col?”
“Fiduciary Disbursement of Avenue,” Col announced importantly, then clarified, “my office doles out the funds for street repair in this old burg. How do you do, Mrs. Lorimer.”
“Fine, thank you. And yourself?”
He waved a pudgy hand self-importantly. “Busy. Busy day and night.”
“I can believe that, considering how much road work I encountered on my drive through the city this morning.”
Col made a face. “Barriers only, most likely. That’s the trouble with the system. Contractors get first payments the instant the barriers go up, so they rush out and set up traffic cones, even block off entire streets, before the ink dries on the contracts, then it’s months before the real work begins. Filthy nuisance, but can I get it changed? Not on your life.” He turned instantly to Luc again. “Gad, it’s good to see you, even if you do look ten years younger than me.”
“Excuse me,” Avis said, quickly rising to her feet. “I’m exhausted, so if you don’t mind I’ll just leave you two gentlemen to visit.”
“No need to rush off on my account,” Col assured her.
“I’m ready to call it a night, frankly. Been a long day. Nice meeting you.”
Col bobbed a quick bow. “A pleasure.”
Before she could get off, Luc captured her hand. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he softly inquired, “Is eight too early to meet down here for breakfast?”
“That’s fine,” she replied, smiling even as she pulled away. He watched her walk out of the restaurant, marveling at how that dress so fluidly delineated her curves. She would be glorious naked.
At his elbow, Col rocked back on his heels and cleared his throat. “And Mr. Lorimer would be where?”
Luc slid him a sideways glare. “Dead and buried for some years now.”
Col grinned. “Still the same old Luc. Trust you to come up with the most delectable widow on two continents. No doubt the bed she’s about to climb into is yours.”
“Not tonight,” Luc said easily, reseating himself. He leaned forward as Col pulled out a chair of his own and added confidently, “But tomorrow night will be a different story.”
“Cocky,” Col pronounced, signaling the waiter. “Now tell me what evil you’ve been up to while I get a drink and cancel my meeting.”
Avis paced the room in her bare feet for some time before coming to a decision firm enough to allow her the rest she so desperately needed. She had no illusions about Lucien Tyrone’s intentions. Kenneth had destroyed any silly trust she might have had in a man’s friendship long ago, which was also the last time she had been so ardently, systematically pursued. Lucien wanted sex, a brief, torrid affair to relieve the tedium of business travel. In the long run, she supposed his goal was less harmful than Kenneth’s had been.
Oh, he, too, had been after the hot and sweaty release of sex, but more than that he’d wanted someone pleasant whom he could manipulate, someone to make his life comfortable and easy. She’d been just gullible and emotionally destitute enough to fall into his trap.
The gullibility no longer existed, but to her dismay, her own desires remained. She had known from the moment she’d sat down at the dinner table for whom that extra place setting had been laid, but instead of telling the waiter that a mistake had been made, she’d sat there like an idiot just waiting for him to put in his appearance. And that dress. A simple skirt and blouse would have sufficed, but she’d worn something designed to make him take notice, and it had worked. Better than she’d hoped.
She plopped down on the foot of her bed, which was surprisingly firm, and admitted to herself a difficult truth. All right, so she wanted to be found lovely and desirable by a lovely and desirable man. It was only natural. She was a woman, after all, and no one understood the dangers better than she did.
She had tried so hard over the years not to think that she had allowed, no, helped, Kenneth ruin her life, but the fact was that almost from the beginning she had felt trapped and miserably unhappy in her marriage. She was determined not to let anything similar occur again. Why was she having difficulty convincing herself that it would in this case?
She pondered that for a moment and came to the conclusion that this trip was a moment out of time, a complete departure from her daily life. Once she and Lucien Tyrone parted ways, that
would be the end of it. She would return to her life, and he would return to his. They lived half a continent apart, for heaven’s sake, and if nothing else, his work would keep him far away from her. Surely she could afford to let down her guard for a few days. He was so very entertaining. Seeing London with him would be a once-in-a-lifetime treat. It didn’t have to be more than that. She could always walk away if it got too complicated.
Just knowing that she had devised a convenient justification for herself, she felt better. Sliding down into the quite firm bed, she took a last look around her before shutting off the light. The room was on the small side, but the furnishings were elegant and traditional, with gleaming rosewoods and cool, restful greens to recommend them. The landscapes on the wall were tastefully done, the flowered draperies decorative without being ornate. A pair of wingback chairs and a side table had been placed in front of the smallest fireplace she had ever seen. An electrical unit had been installed inside the fireplace, so she was not to have the luxury of a real fire, but the red glow of the now-cooling unit lent a cheery ambience to the room. She was content for the moment. Tomorrow would bring its own adventures, but for tonight, rest was all she wanted.
Switching off the light, she snuggled into downy pillows that made up somewhat for the hard mattress and let herself drift away.
Chapter Four
She skipped. She couldn’t help it. There inside the imposing gray walls of the old fortress known as the Tower of London, sunshine warming the soft spring air and verdant green beneath her feet, surrounded by historical significance and unbelievable treasure, with a laughing, indulgent man at her side, what else was a woman on a trip of delightful discovery to do but skip? Luc laughed and let her go, turning with her, his arms outstretched as if to catch her should she stumble, while she skipped in circles around him.
Breathless, she finally collapsed on a bench, pulling him along with her. “My feet are killing me!” She didn’t quite mean that; she was still full of the wonder of the day.