Bonnie grinned. There were few things Ana loved more in the world than brunch. It was comforting to know some things never changed. “Sounds like a plan.” She was about to end the call when Ana spoke once more.
“And Bonnie?”
“Yes?” Her gut clenched, expecting Ana to demand she tell her what had happened, to give some explanation as to why she was looking for a place to stay when she should be snuggled up at home with her fiancé.
But, “Love you,” was all Ana said.
Warmth lit inside Bonnie, a heating pad of affection easing the aching tension more than any cup of tea ever could. “Thanks.” She may have made a bad choice in husband material, but her friends were top of the line. “Love you too. See you soon.”
CHAPTER 5
THE RUMBLING WHINE of electric guitars burst from Theo’s mobile as his alarm went off. He rolled toward the nightstand, blindly fumbling for his phone. Set to play Guns N’ Roses, his favorite band was well into the opening verse of “Welcome to the Jungle” before Theo finally managed to grab hold of the bloody thing and cut off Axl mid-scream.
He rubbed his eyes, waiting for the numbers on his screen to come into focus. A quarter past eight in the morning. Which meant it was after one in the afternoon back home. He should be wide awake. He hadn’t been out very late last night. After escaping the throng of Shakespeare characters, Lo and Cassie had treated him to supper and then dropped him at his hotel around ten. But ten p.m. in Chicago was three a.m. in London.
Jet lag aside, his arse would still be dragging this morning after the night he’d had. It would have been nice if Logan had warned him he’d feel like he was carrying around a bundle of soggy laundry in his gut after eating almost half a deep-dish pizza. Theo had been ravenous, and assumed his hearty British constitution could handle anything, but even the thickest steak-and-kidney pie had nothing on the famous Chicago slab of dough and cheese. He set the phone aside and rubbed his belly, knowing it wasn’t indigestion that had kept him awake either.
No, the problem was lower down.
Last night, after he’d returned to his hotel, he’d still been preoccupied by his encounter with Bonnie. He could have sworn he saw her mane of wild red curls in the lobby, standing at the check-in desk. And even though he knew it was impossible for her to be there, he’d almost approached the woman, but changed his mind, deciding one, he’d had too much liquor and not enough sleep, and two, he needed to stop obsessing about the redhead.
But he couldn’t stop the dreams.
Shifting beneath the covers, he let his head fall back on the pillows and palmed himself as he recalled the dreams that had kept waking him up—and kept him up—most of the night. The moment he closed his eyes, she was there. Laughing, bright blue gaze beaming up at him, twinkling with wit and humor. Delicate fingers dabbing at the stain on her dress, the front of the old-fashioned gown stretching tight across her breasts. His cock, already stiff, thickened, throbbing in his hand.
You’re a randy lech, mate, Theo cursed himself. But he didn’t stop. He stroked his length, up and down. Not yours, you can’t have her, she’s not yours, he chanted silently, eyes closed, mouth dry as his hand worked faster, hips lifting from the bed, back arching, head pressing deeper into the pillows.
Glorious red curls, pink cheeks kissed with freckles, sweet rosebud smile. He wanted to feel her soft full lower lip sliding across the tip of his cock as she wrapped her mouth around him … he gritted his teeth and pumped harder. Notyoursnotyoursnotyours. Theo groaned deep in the back of his throat, release whipping through him and wiping out coherent thought.
When the second alarm he’d programmed sounded, Theo threw his phone across the room. It landed on the plush carpet with a harmless thump, guitars still screeching. He kicked the covers off and growled, letting the music rage while he brushed his teeth. It matched his mood. And he wasn’t worried about disturbing his neighbors. The Waldorf’s suites were impressively soundproof. Even the noise of the bustling city beyond the wall of windows in his room barely registered.
By the time he’d showered, shaved, and finished buttoning up a crisply starched shirt, Theo was feeling better. More in control. He retrieved his phone from the floor and had just silenced it when the bloody thing blared to life again. This time with the chorus of Guns N’ Roses’s “Patience.” Always a good reminder when dealing with his mum. He thumbed the answer key and steeled himself. “Good morning, Mama.”
“Morning?” His mother paused. “Oh, my yes, quite right. But it’s not dreadfully early. You were awake, of course.”
“Of course.” He managed to keep the snark from creeping into his voice.
“I hope you had a pleasant evening.”
“Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Caught up with Logan.”
“Your chum from St. Andrews? How nice. It seems everyone is visiting Chicago these days.”
“Oh?” Blast. Had word already gotten back to his mother about his encounter with Dame Barbara Busybody and the professor? Barbara Hamilton was a notorious gossip, as was his mother, for that matter. Still. He could hardly see their little tête-à-tête last night causing a stir. He’d been exceedingly polite, their conversation—aside from the reference to Bonnie—exceedingly boring.
“Indeed. Did you know Prince Harry was there recently? Supporting the opening of a foundation or some such. It was in all the papers.”
Even though his mother couldn’t see him over the phone, Theo still smothered the instinctive grin creeping across his face at his mum’s mention of “the papers.” He knew it wasn’t the Times she was referring to. A lover of gossip in all forms, she had a not-so-secret addiction to tattlers.
“And to think, both he and his brother are married and settled down now…” His mother paused pointedly. When Theo didn’t take the bait, she continued, “You don’t suppose either of them will be at the ball this evening?”
Theo snorted. “I’m afraid I’m not up-to-date on the royal family’s social calendar, Mama, but I’d say it’s doubtful.”
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” Another pause. “Well, the reason I’m calling—”
“There’s a reason for this call?” Theo couldn’t resist goading his mum a tad. They both knew she wasn’t calling for a chinwag. Theodora Wharton did everything for a reason.
Not taking the bait either, she continued, “I’ve just returned from lunching with Edith Fairfax. She’s delighted you’re escorting her daughter this evening. As am I. Lady Camille is such a pleasant young woman. And so pretty.”
“Mmm,” Theo replied. The girl he vaguely recalled from his childhood was neither of those things.
“Well, as I said, I was chatting with Edith, and we lighted upon the lovely idea that you and Camille should schedule a little reunion first, before the ball tonight.”
“Oh?” Bloody hell. “Seeing as I barely know her, I’d hardly call it a reunion.”
“Yes, well. That’s precisely my point. We think it would be very nice of you to call on Camille this afternoon, allow the two of you time to get reacquainted.”
“Mama…” he began, tamping down the exasperation rising in his chest. Patience.
“Edith is ringing up her daughter right now, so Camille will be expecting a call from you. My dear boy, you wouldn’t leave the poor girl hanging, would you?”
“No, I don’t suppose I would.” He sighed, unable to completely conceal the irritation in his tone this time. His mother had always been relentless in her matchmaking campaign and Theo had always accepted the practicality of her machinations, in theory. But lately, she seemed to be dialing up the intensity of her efforts. In response, he found himself growing increasingly testy whenever the subject arose. The endgame was approaching faster than he’d thought. Granted, he tried not to think about it. Much.
“Then it’s settled,” his mother said. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint her.”
Translation: I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.
“Perhaps you two
could meet for tea? Do they do that sort of thing in Chicago?”
“I’m sure I can manage something.”
“Well, make sure it is something nice. Not to mince words, but it’s imperative you make a good impression.”
“Mama, may I ask, what are you up to?” He knew exactly what she was up to, but he wanted her to come out and say it.
“Nothing!” she refuted. After a pause, she added, “Only, it would be wise, one should think, if we could strengthen our family connections at this crucial time. And the Fairfaxes are well-liked.”
“Not to mention well-off,” he added tartly.
“Quite.”
And there it was. As she herself had said, his mother was not one to mince words.
“Very well,” he capitulated.
“You’ll arrange something for this afternoon, then?” she pressed.
“For this afternoon,” he agreed. As if he had a choice.
His mother gave him Camille’s number. “Are you writing that down?”
“I am.” He scribbled the information on a hotel notepad, a sense of inevitability stealing over him. So much for feeling more in control. His darling, scheming mama had likely been planning this casual suggestion for a “chance to get reacquainted” all along. As in England, Theo was her pawn; she had simply moved him across the chess board.
“And I have her electronic mail address as well,” she added.
“It’s called an email, Mama.”
“As you say,” she huffed. “Where will you be taking her?”
Theo tapped his pen against the notepad, a wicked, rebellious thought occurring to him. “I hear the Drake hotel presents a fine tea service.”
CHAPTER 6
SUNLIGHT BURNED THROUGH Bonnie’s closed eyelids. She rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut tighter, but the glaring light continued to sear her retinas. Odd. There aren’t any windows on this side of my bedroom … Her lids popped open. Spring sunshine beamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, so bright she expected to hear trumpets blaring and angels singing.
She sat up and fisted her hands, rubbing her eyeballs. Right. She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was in the posh suite of a Gold Coast hotel, the east-facing wall of windows offering a panoramic view of the sunrise over the city and Lake Michigan. And the bed she was ensconced in was not her own, but a king-sized confection of downy comforters and luxurious sheets. She pulled the ultra-soft, ultra-smooth covers over her head and lay back down, trying to blot out the image of what she’d seen happening on her own bed last night. But just as the morning sun broke through the darkness of her cocoon, the memory of last night broke through the haze of her thoughts.
Damn it, Gabe. Did you have to do that on Grandma Mary’s quilt?
Bonnie rolled over, smashing her face into the plush pillows. The annoying sunlight couldn’t get to her now, but neither could necessary air. Still, she lay there, face buried, until her lungs ached. Turning her head to the side, she inhaled, gulping oxygen. Something vibrated near her hip. What the hell?
She searched beneath the covers. The vibrating was her phone. She’d set it to silent last night after Gabe had tried calling twice. It rang again, buzzing against her palm, the screen lighting up with Gabe’s number and picture. Nope, not talking to you, jerkface. She sat up and glared at her screen.
The photo was one she’d taken of Gabe last summer when they’d gone for ice cream at Navy Pier. Her stomach lurched violently. Had he been cheating on her even then? It was very possible the day she’d snapped this picture, the man grinning up at her with the goofy-sweet smile she thought she knew so well had been fucking somebody else.
Her phone went still, the screen dark. Either it had clicked to voice mail, or he’d given up. She dropped the phone and rocked back and forth on the mattress, arms wrapped tight around her middle. Everything hurt, like she’d been hit by a truck. In a way, she had. The realization Gabe had been cheating on her had run her over, pulled the rug of reality out from under her. Because what she’d believed to be real, had been a lie. The man she thought she’d been engaged to didn’t exist, and neither did the future she thought they would have together.
Slowly, she stopped rocking and unclasped her middle. She stared at her fists, at the bare ring finger on her left hand. Maybe she could stay in bed all day. Wake up once the sun had retreated to the other side of the city. Bonnie knew what the mature thing to do was. The mature thing was to go back to her apartment and face Gabe.
And she would. Eventually. She needed clean clothes, after all. But she didn’t want to be mature today. She wanted to hide out for the rest of the weekend in this sanctuary of a hotel suite and continue to reject Gabe’s calls. As if conjuring the devil with a thought, her phone vibrated again. She reached for it and slid her thumb over the reject button.
A small wave of pleasure rippled through her. Yes, she rejected him. She rejected the cheating-asshole-scum-of-the-earth-excuse-for-a-man she’d almost married.
Well, not even almost. He’d done her that much of a favor. God, just imagine. If they had picked a date and she’d already sent out invitations to a hundred-plus people, had put a deposit on a venue, bought a dress … If she’d found out about his extracurricular activities after all that?
The thought of having to tell people the wedding was off made her wish she had a fainting couch handy.
Telling people the engagement was off was going to be bad enough.
Especially telling her mother.
Oh God, her mother.
Mom never had a wedding of her own, the day after turning eighteen, she and Dad had strolled into the county clerk’s office and got married by a justice of the peace. No frills, no fuss. And while Bonnie’s parents’ marriage was strong, getting married and having a baby so young had been a struggle for the couple in other ways. They’d had to start out on their own with nothing.
When Bonnie was in middle school, her mom had decided it was time to finally venture into the workforce. She’d earned her certification to become a travel agent and enjoyed helping people plan all the fancy vacations she could never afford to take herself. Mom had been a big part of making Bonnie’s dream vacation a reality last summer, helping plan the itinerary with such joy and excitement you’d think she had been going along too. But that’s just how Connie Blythe was; she threw herself into everything she did 110 percent.
Which was one of the reasons why it was going to be so hard to tell her mom the wedding was off. Connie’s latest pet project had been Gabe and Bonnie’s wedding, and more importantly, their honeymoon. Her mother had spent hours perusing websites and stockpiling glossy brochures of smiling couples lounging on beachfront hammocks, traipsing through exotic city streets, and dining with a view of breathtaking landscapes. Mom had put together several honeymoon package options, and now Bonnie was going to have to tell her to forget all about it. There would be no wedding, and there would be no honeymoon.
Her phone buzzed. A text this time. But it wasn’t Gabe, it was Cassie.
Did her best friend already know the wedding was off? Had Gabe called Cassie, looking for Bonnie, and explained what happened? She braced herself and opened the text.
Cassie: Are you free this afternoon?
Bonnie glanced around the hotel room. Studied the giant flat-screen TV and the big bed she’d planned to hide in all day.
Bonnie: I’m not sure.
Cassie: Come on, this is important.
Bonnie: What’s important? She held her breath, waiting for the answer.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Cassie.
Bonnie didn’t pick up right away. Instead, she turned the volume on her ringer back up, listening to the song. A few months ago, Cassie had suggested they make special ringtones for each other. Bonnie had picked a Spice Girls song. It annoyed the hell out of Cassie, but as an unabashed fan of what her friends referred to as nineties chick-pop, Bonnie loved it. Once the chorus ended, she answered the phone.
“Bon? Is everything
all right?” Cassie’s voice was curious. Unsure, but not upset.
She didn’t know.
“Yeah.” Bonnie took a breath and fiddled with the ends of the hotel’s bathrobe tie. Lying to Cassie was never easy. “What’s so important, anyway?”
“Come on, Bon. The offer from last night. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Are you free this afternoon or not?” Cassie demanded.
The robe’s tie slipped from her fingers. “Huh?”
“Cambridge? Shakespeare? Remember? Philip, Barbara’s professor friend, flies home tomorrow, and they were hoping to meet with you today.”
“Oh.” With everything else that happened last night, she’d completely forgotten about the Cambridge offer. A clear sign of the current Dumpster fire status of her life—amazing dream job opportunity falls into her lap and proceeds to slip right out of her mind.
“You don’t have to say yes, but at least get all the details, so you know what you are saying no to.” Cassie continued, adding a seductive purr to her voice, “They want to meet for high tea at the Drake.”
Oh, her friend was good. Cassie knew all her weaknesses. “Your idea, I’m guessing?”
“My suggestion.” Cassie laughed. “Which they asked for. Well? Are you going?”
Cambridge. Shakespeare. England. One dream had just been shattered, why not make another come true? Could she do it? Could she really pack up everything and leave it all behind? It would only be for the summer. It wasn’t like she was giving up her job—or her life—messy as it was. And what was she leaving behind, anyway?
“Fine.” She glanced down at the hotel bathrobe again, and then at the discarded costume slung over a chair. If she was going to do this, she’d need some clean, twenty-first century clothes. “Tell them two o’clock.”
CHAPTER 7
COWARD THAT SHE was, Bonnie did not go back home for a change of clothes. Instead, she donned her wrinkled Ophelia gown and hit Michigan Avenue with vindictive glee, giving her for-emergencies-only credit card a workout at Water Tower Place. Discovering one’s fiancé was sleeping around most certainly qualified as an emergency in dire need of retail therapy.
Smitten by the Brit--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 4