Meet Me in London: The sparkling new and bestselling romance for 2020. Perfect escapism, for fans of Lindsey Kelk and Heidi Swain.

by Georgia Toffolo

  She tried lifting the box higher in her arms to relieve the weight from her wrists, but it was so big it almost obscured her view. She raised her head and stuck out her chin to peer over the top but out of nowhere something big and hard whapped her in her side, forcing all breath from her lungs. The box in her arms lurched hard right, tipping her with it and suddenly her legs were whirling out of control and she was falling… the pavement coming up to meet her far too quickly.

  Her breath caught tight in her lungs as she fell. ‘Noooo!’

  Chapter Three

  ‘WHOA! WHAT THE HELL?’ Heart thumping like rapid gunfire against his ribcage, Oliver flung his arms out, fighting to keep upright. Just. Adrenalin pumped through him and he twisted to see what had hit him.

  To his left a squeaking, giant cardboard box juddered upwards and sideways – almost in slow motion, but not slow enough for him to stop it – then crashed into the gutter spilling its contents across the ground, spools of bright yellow ribbons wheeling into the road causing a black cab to brake hard, tyres screeching and crunching the plastic flat into the tarmac. The air filled with the smell of burning rubber. The driver tooted his horn and shouted something unrepeatable that would give Oliver’s mother apoplexy.

  What the hell? Chaos. Utter chaos.

  Over in the gutter the box squeaked again. Oliver stepped closer to investigate. Sprawled underneath was a woman in a long, bright-blue winter coat and dark hat, her face obscured by a mask of cobwebs and skeleton bones.

  ‘Damn. Andrew, I’ve got to go.’ Ending the dysfunctional conversation he’d been having with his equally dysfunctional cousin he shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped over swathes of hideous yellow-and-white fabric decorated with grimacing Easter bunnies. He ignored the pain in his stomach from the collision with what he imagined to be the woman’s elbow and called out, ‘Hey. Hello? Are you OK?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not.’ Her voice was muffled underneath the Halloween fabric as she lay unmoving on the ground. It was almost dark now and he imagined she must be cold and possibly in pain lying there. So he was surprised when her words lashed out, ‘You weren’t looking where you were going.’

  ‘I wasn’t going anywhere. I was standing quite still on the pavement…’ Or had he been pacing? He’d been angry, that’s for sure. He’d been clenching his hand into a tight fist, he’d been holding his anger back by a thread, he’d been spitting out words through a very tight jaw. OK, yes, he may have been pacing. But if she knew that she might sue him for damages or personal injury. That was all he needed. A lawsuit on top of his cousin’s mess. ‘I was quite… still. Having a chat, minding my own business… are you OK? Do you need an ambulance?’

  ‘I think…’ Slowly, she stretched out her limbs one by one. Arms first, then legs. Long, shapely legs encased in thick dark tights, and he reminded himself she was an injured stranger so he shouldn’t be admiring anything.

  ‘I think I’ll live. Just.’ Her voice was strained, but a little softer as she tugged the fabric from her face, squeezed her eyes tightly closed and winced.

  So did he. Great.

  As if his day wasn’t bad enough already. This was the woman from the bar last night. The one he’d proposed to, like the idiot he was. If she didn’t sue him for actual bodily harm, she would probably sue him for psychological damage incurred by an awful, clumsy proposal. He deserved it.

  He crouched down, thought about touching her head to check for fractures or grazes, considered that might seem a little forward, so simply said, ‘Don’t move. We need to check you’re OK. Where does it hurt?’

  ‘Everywhere.’ Groaning, she put a hand to her hat and sat up, her warm brown eyes flickering open, then darkening in recognition. ‘Oh. You. Just my luck.’

  ‘Great. Thanks.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was wobbly, but he wasn’t sure if there was a hint of insinuation there too. Are you a stalker? Or something. Something untrusting. She was wary and she had every right to be after his performance last night. He decided to keep things low-key.

  ‘I work…’ He waved his arm randomly towards the family shop. ‘Here…’

  She followed his arm and her eyes lost a little of their guarded wariness. ‘Ah. On this street?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course you do. That’s why you were in the bar last night. We get a lot of locals in.’

  ‘I popped in for a drink after work,’ he explained, even though he didn’t need to. She looked so pale he thought shock might be setting in. ‘Come and sit down for a minute, get your breath.’

  He offered his arm to help her stand but she shooed it off. Slowly easing herself upright she took in the steps to the department store and shook her head, eyes narrowing. ‘I’m not sitting here. If the owner comes out and finds us on his steps, he might growl at us. I heard he has a terrible temper. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of him if he’s going to be my neighbour. The bar’s just down there. It’s two minutes’ away.’ But she blinked hard and swallowed and then stood stock still, her complexion chalk white. ‘Actually, I do feel a bit dizzy. Maybe I need to sit down. I’ll take a chance on the owner. He can’t get mad at an injured woman, can he?’

  Oliver wasn’t so sure. If, by ‘owner’ she was talking about Andrew then he’d probably growl at a smiling baby. Safe to say his cousin didn’t cope well with stress, or with things not going his way, or working to a schedule, or working full stop. Entitled didn’t come close to describing him.

  And now Oliver was fixing his mess. Again.

  Something held him back from telling her that he was now in charge at the department store. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep that from her other than he felt she’d take a stab at him if she knew, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her any more agitated than she already was. She’d hurt herself and needed to sit for a minute. He needed to make sure she was OK. Anything else could come later.

  ‘I don’t care what anyone thinks, we’re going to sit you down.’ Picking up the box he balanced it on one arm and, ignoring her mumbled words of I’m fine, which she clearly wasn’t, he wrapped his other arm round her waist and steered her to the pale stone steps of the grand entrance. Then he sat her down and patted her back as she put her head between her legs. ‘Do you think you need to go to hospital?’

  ‘No. I’ll be OK. I just need a minute. My heart’s racing and I feel woozy, but that’s the adrenalin. Shock. I’ve had it before.’ She lifted her head to look at him. ‘It wears off eventually, you just have to ride it out.’

  ‘Oh? You’ve had it before?’

  Her eyes drifted up as if she was remembering something very difficult and he wondered what had happened to her. Then she looked back at him. ‘A long time ago.’

  But significant enough to make her react like that and to mention it. ‘You make a habit of barrelling into people?’

  ‘No, I don’t routinely launch myself at a man’s feet.’

  ‘Good to hear. Are we saying this was just an accident?’ He didn’t have the bandwidth of mental space or energy for any legal action. He looked at the mess of fabric and the battered box.

  And so did she. Unfortunately. She seemed very attached to her box, he only hoped it didn’t have something valuable underneath the hideous material.

  ‘It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been looking where you were going,’ she threw at him.

  ‘Ditto. It is a very big box. I’m surprised you could see over the top. If you could actually see over the top?’ He let the insinuation hang there for a moment.

  She had the good grace to look a little culpable and then smiled ruefully, her large dark eyes soft. ‘Oh, OK, maybe we’re both to blame.’ She sighed, twisting round. ‘Keep an eye out for the owner, in case we have to make a run for it.’

  He hid his smile. ‘Sure. What does he look like?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ A shoulder lifted. ‘I’ve just heard things.’

  Phew. Technically, Oliver w
asn’t the owner, his father was, although in time – soon, if his father got his way – Oliver would take over the business. ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘Apparently he has some deal with a wheel-clamping company and gets my friends’ cars towed away on a regular basis. He’s got the backs up of the local shopkeepers – everyone thinks this new fancy department store is going steal their business and some of them have approached him for a meeting. But instead of working with them to create community harmony he’s refused to answer any calls or put anyone’s mind at rest. And just look at the mess. There’s rubble and rubbish everywhere. But will he clear it up? No.’

  She was right. No matter how much he’d told the builders to clear up after themselves they always left the street dirty and the skip down the side street was overflowing.

  He swore silently and made a mental note to try to repair some of the PR disaster Andrew had created. Just another thing to add to the ever-growing list. ‘Surely he’d want keep the locals on side?’

  ‘I guess it’s just business to him, this fancy building is just another jewel in the mighty Russell crown. I’ve heard they’re worth billions. But to these people…’ She pointed to the clothes shop across the road and the jewellers’ next door. ‘It’s their livelihoods, the money they make from selling their stuff puts food on their tables and pays for their kids’ clothes. He doesn’t seem to understand that. It’s just profit and loss to him. There’s a good local business network here, a great community spirit and he’s stomping all over it.’

  ‘Sounds like a piece of work.’ Sounds like Andrew.

  ‘Exactly. That’s what I heard. Oh.’ Her shoulders sagged as she stared over at the bent and broken spools which were crushed on the tarmac. ‘My lovely ribbon. It’s ruined.’

  He hadn’t bothered to pick up the dirty spools because they were too damaged. Plus, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would be emotionally attached to something so hideous. ‘I think you need to go to hospital. You might have a concussion.’

  She frowned and ran a hand over her hat. ‘I don’t think I hit my head.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because anyone who thinks that ribbon is lovely has something not quite right going on in there.’ He gently tapped her hat and she laughed. The sound was light and frothy in the darkening night. The air was full of street noise: the hum of car engines, the screech and rattle of a bus, the chatter of shoppers, but he zoned into that bubbly laugh and something in his gut flickered to life.

  ‘Wait.’ He ran out into the road, dodging traffic to pick up the grubby ribbons. As he walked back he stole a moment to take her in. She was lit by a streetlight, her face so pale. Last night he’d been drawn to her fair complexion but today her skin was bloodless from shock. Sitting on his step, her knees hunched up, that huge coat swallowing her, she looked almost vulnerable – except for the light in her eyes that mesmerized him, and the sharp whip of her tongue that made him smile. And prickle with awareness. He held the ribbon out to her. ‘Do you think it’s salvageable? Would you even want to?’

  ‘You’re right, it is fairly ugly. But it’s all I could afford. It’s not for me, anyway. It’s for my kids. Not my kids, obviously. I don’t have any.’ She shook her head quickly, then winced again, holding her arm across her belly. ‘It’s for my class. I teach fashion design. I needed some fabric because they couldn’t afford it and Betsy gave me this on the cheap. And now I’m rambling. Great stuff, V. Maybe I do have a head injury.’

  He couldn’t help smiling. ‘You’re doing fine. Really. Hey, I saw someone unload a vanload of fabric earlier on and take it into that building.’ He pointed to his store. ‘I also noticed there’s a door wedged open down the side street. Do you fancy sneaking in and seeing if they’ve left any lying around for you to… relocate?’

  ‘What? Really? Steal some?’ Her eyes widened in shock. ‘What kind of an example would that be to my students?’

  ‘I was joking.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You had me at vanload of fabric.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Does that mean there’s going to be a haberdashery department, do you think?’

  ‘Apparently.’ Third floor. He shrugged, not wanting to give anything away.

  ‘I hope there is. It’s so close to where I live, I could pop in for anything I want. Just imagine, damask silk on tap. But that will also mean curtains for my bank balance.’ The corners of her mouth tipped upwards at her own joke and she looked gorgeous. Even in the dusky light he could see the colour had started to return to her cheeks and her enthusiasm for bits of material made her eyes dance and shine.

  ‘I’d love to have a sneak peek inside. Guess I’ll have to wait until the grand opening.’ She made quote marks with her fingers to emphasize the last two words. ‘Although it doesn’t look anywhere near ready. Maybe the owner’s grumpy because he’s woefully behind schedule.’

  ‘Probably. It must be a mission to run somewhere like this.’ He thought for a moment, wondered, should he? Why not? ‘Look, I happen to know the security guard – d’you want to see if he’ll let us in for ten minutes to look round?’

  She frowned. ‘Is the big boss around?’

  ‘I’ll check.’ He picked up the battered box and walked her down the side road to the security entrance. Had a quiet word with Stan, then beckoned her in past the little security room filled with blank TV screens ready for the security camera system to be operational – another thing on his seemingly endless list of things to do. ‘Stan said we’re good to go in. He can look after your box too. Just leave it here.’

  With an excited smile she thanked Stan, then Oliver led her through the dark, dusty warren of corridors that took them past staff lockers and changing rooms, the huge electricity transformer room and the service lifts.

  ‘Wait, er…’ She’d lowered her voice to an excited whisper, her breath on his neck as she closed in behind him. Her scent curled around him, making him inhale, sharply eager for more. Fresh. Feminine. Attractive. Like her. She was pretty, funny and soft at the edges with a sharp tongue. She wasn’t guarded, she appeared to be a what you see is what you get woman… and he liked what he saw. She also smelled good. Something primal spiked inside him as she bit her bottom lip and said, ‘This is embarrassing, but I don’t even know your name.’

  He took a step away from her, removing himself from the proximity that was causing his body to react. He couldn’t admit who he was now, could he? Not when he’d managed to calm her down and promise an adventure that would make her forget the bump to her body and the destroyed hideous ribbons.

  He just hoped Stan wouldn’t give the game away, because then he’d have to tell her who he really was. And then she’d leave.

  And he didn’t want that particular refreshing bubble to burst just yet.

  Chapter Four

  ‘SORRY. OLIVER. OLLIE. WHATEVER.’ He stuck out his hand deciding not to fill in the surname gap unless she asked.

  She fitted hers into his and shook firmly. ‘Oliver. Nice to meet you. Do you work here in the store? Is that how you know Stan and your way around?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Her hand was warm and the touch of her skin against his made something in his gut unravel.

  ‘So, you know the boss?’ Her voice was tentative, possibly regretful as she let go of his hand.

  ‘Yes.’ Not a lie.

  ‘And you let me say all that stuff about him?’

  ‘Just letting you vent. He does tend to have that effect on people.’ He tried for a smile, looking into her eyes and trying to interpret what she was feeling. Her eyes were dark but not angry. She looked, more than anything, intrigued.

  ‘What’s he like?’ she asked, her voice still low.

  ‘Like you said. Grumpy.’ Disappointing. ‘But I think he’s working on it.’

  ‘Sounds like he needs to.’

  Oh, he does. He waited for her to follow him through the door and out onto the ground-floor retail space. It wasn’t finished, not even close, but with only a few of the concession stand
s in place you could better see the crystal chandeliers, the huge windows, the walnut parquet flooring imported from France and the renovated columns. Quite frankly, it was magnificent. The jewel in Russell & Co’s crown. Or it would be, once he’d put his stamp on it.

  She brushed past him into the floor space and gasped. ‘Wow. It’s huge.’

  ‘Three buildings knocked into one. Not something that happens much these days, especially in Chelsea… so I understand. Obviously, we have some clearing up to do before the rest of the concession stands set up. But a lot of the other floors are almost ready. We have jewellery and watches at the rear of this floor, fashion on floors one and two. Toys and children’s wear on floor three, with haberdashery at the back.’ His heart took a punch as she smiled at that. He’d never given fabric a single thought other than what his shirts were made of. Funny how she seemed to be delighted by it. ‘Kitchenware and linens on floor four along with a restaurant. The chef’s got two Michelin stars.’

  ‘Wow. I didn’t think it’d be so impressive. You’d never know from the outside. The windows are filthy.’

  ‘Window cleaning is happening first thing Monday.’ Along with organizing the installation of the point of sale computer system, wifi, most of the restaurant fixtures and fittings, setting up the back offices for HR, the training space and meeting rooms, and a million other things Andrew hadn’t got around to organizing. ‘Oh, and the whole place is almost exclusively powered by solar panels on the roof.’

  But Victoria was oblivious. Her mouth gaped as she looked up at the lighting, the myriad different-sized globes looking as if they were floating in mid-air. ‘Those chandeliers are stunning.’

  ‘Italian. Handblown,’ he said, then winced. He kept giving too much information away.

  But she didn’t really seem to care. ‘How do you know that? Are you involved in the refit?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ That wasn’t lying either, he just didn’t need to admit exactly how much he was involved. He took her to the main window, currently shrouded in builders’ dust. ‘We have heavy velvet drapes to hang. Twelve feet… that’s a lot of fabric. There’s going to be a ten-foot Christmas tree in that corner. And we’re doing a fun winter display here.’