Page 2 of Stars Shine In Your Eyes

Her gaze landed on a man in a well-tailored suit. As he was turned slightly to one side, she could tell that he was on the phone and that he looked irritated. He also, she couldn’t help but notice, cut a fine figure. He might wear a bespoke Italian suit and handmade loafers, but the body beneath the fine threads looked like it just got off the rugby field. His thousand-dollar haircut looked ruffled, as though he ran his big hands through it when he was frustrated. In fact, he looked a lot more like an athlete than a business tycoon, whatever his wardrobe said.

Just because she had no interest in seriously dating anyone or getting married, she was still a warm-blooded woman. She could appreciate a good-looking man when she saw one.

She wondered what his story was. Was he a highflier in the corporate world, and a deal that he was trying to save was going bad? Or was he here to meet someone flying in from, say, Australia, with whom he was going to begin working? Or was he here to meet one of the beautiful British blondes in their sleek pencil skirts and impossibly high heels?

Just then, he turned so that she could see his face… and her heart stopped, along with her breath. As though he felt her staring, he glanced up, and his blue-gray eyes rested on her for a second. She glanced away, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring at his square-jawed face or the strong nose that was even more attractive for having been broken at one time.

This man reminded her of a boy she’d once known, a British exchange student named Malcolm Sullivan, who had come to Coeur d’Alene for his senior year of high school. Everyone had had a crush on him. The British accent alone would have been enough, but his good looks and his slightly wicked smile had sent all of the girls at her high school over the edge. No surprise, he’d dated the most popular girl in school—the cheerleader, the class president, and, unfortunately, one of the mean girls.

No. It couldn’t be him. What were the chances that she’d see a guy she went to high school with at Heathrow Airport?

Still, the sight of him took her back.

Josie had always been a bookworm, reading a book even as she went from class to class and definitely during lunch breaks. Back in high school, she’d had big glasses too. Brianna Sterling had made Josie a target right from freshman year. Bumbling Bookworm was what Brianna and her friends had called her. Then it just got shortened to Worm.

Josie had acted like it hadn’t bothered her, but of course it had. And through it all, Malcolm hadn’t seemed to know that Josie existed.

Why would he? She was two years behind him in school, and she certainly wasn’t going to any of the parties or dances that he was invited to. The only reason she’d gone to prom was because another senior that she was friendly with—and who also loved to read—had asked her to be his date. Although Josie guessed he had a bit of a crush on her, and she didn’t want to lead him on, she’d agreed to go. Just so she could see what a school dance was like before she graduated.

In some ways, it had been better than she thought. The hotel ballroom the prom committee had booked was better than a decorated gym would have been. It was also fun dressing up and going to a fancy dinner with her date, even if they were both pretty awkward and didn’t really know what to say to each other. At least, until they started talking about their favorite books.

In other ways, however, prom was way worse than anything she had imagined. Because when she looked at the couples dancing close, some of them kissing before they were pulled apart by the chaperones, it was hard to ignore the longing inside for someone who made her heart race. For someone she could laugh with and also spend time reading with, side by side on a comfy couch. It also hadn’t been great when her date made a move to kiss her. She hadn’t reacted quickly enough, so his wet lips and tongue found their way not only inside her mouth, but all over her cheeks too. She remembered pulling away and making a quick excuse about having to go to the bathroom.

Rather than going to the bathroom, however, she went outside the hotel to a private area down by a pretty little garden with a flower-covered pergola where she guessed they hosted weddings.

By that point in the evening, she didn’t want to go back inside. The music was too loud. Her high heels were hurting her feet. The ballroom was starting to smell like sweaty teenagers. And she really, really didn’t want to risk her date kissing her again.

That was when Malcolm Sullivan suddenly appeared. And that was also when everything changed. A few moments with her British crush gave her both her highest high and her lowest low.

All this time later, nearly fifteen years since Malcolm had kissed her—and she could still remember every detail of the kiss as though it had happened yesterday.

In any case, there was no way this man in the airport could be him. Seriously, what were the odds that one of the first people she’d see after landing in London would be Malcolm Sullivan? Or that so many years later, she’d recognize the boy she’d kissed so long ago?

Clearly, her tired, overstimulated imagination was playing tricks on her. She had never forgotten the way he’d drawn her into his arms, looked deeply into her eyes, then kissed her. For a few perfect moments, she’d felt safe and perfect and alive and beautiful in his arms.

Until it had all come crashing down when she learned the kiss was a prank. He’d mocked her for thinking the kiss was heartfelt by telling her he’d done it on a dare. That cruel joke had nearly destroyed her fifteen-year-old heart.

She’d told herself a million times over the years that she’d surely built up their kiss in her memory as being way better than it had been. Heck, she’d been fifteen years old. What fifteen-year-old being kissed by a British dreamboat wouldn’t have thought that he was everything? Except he definitely hadn’t been a dreamboat in the end. Not by a long shot.

But as the man shoved his phone into his pocket, and she could see his face better, it grew harder and harder to convince herself that he wasn’t Malcolm Sullivan. The height was correct, and though he’d filled out more, his body had the same athletic grace. His face was even more attractive, with a few laugh lines around the eyes.

She rubbed a hand over her own eyes. Jet lag. She probably should have slept more on the plane, but she’d been reading such a good book by a British author named Tasmina Perry that she hadn’t slept much at all.

Her exhaustion was the only thing that could explain it. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off the man as he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, glanced at his watch as though he really had better things to do, unfolded the paper, and held it toward the stream of incoming arrivals.

Josie Hartwell.

Her gasp was loud enough that several people looked her way. The Malcolm Sullivan lookalike was there to pick her up. How could this be? Where was Mari?

Josie fumbled for her phone in her carry-on bag and realized it was still on airplane mode, so if Mari had tried to get ahold of her, Josie wouldn’t have gotten her message. Of course, as soon as she took it off airplane mode, a series of text messages came flying in from Mari, who apologized profusely for being unable to pick her up. Her helper at the bookshop had called in sick, and she had a Mathilda Westcott fan group coming that afternoon, so she couldn’t close the store and come to the airport. Mari explained that her partner’s brother Malcolm would come get Josie, which she hoped would be okay because it was his houseboat that Josie would be staying in. Mari suggested that he could even help her get settled before bringing her by the bookstore.

Josie took a deep breath. She wouldn’t let herself treat this as a disaster. The name of Mari’s boyfriend’s brother was Malcolm. So this had to be Malcolm Sullivan standing there, looking impatient. She got the feeling he was usually the one being greeted at airports by drivers with signs, not being the driver.

Okay. Calm down. It was no big deal that Malcolm Sullivan was picking her up… and that she was also going to be staying on his houseboat! There was no way he’d remember her. Not a forgettable fifteen-year-old called Worm.

Planting a big smile on her face, she walked toward him. “Hi. I believe you’re here to pick me up in place of Mari Everett.”

He had been holding the sign with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. He glanced up at her as though annoyed that she’d interrupted his web browsing. She almost found herself apologizing for disturbing him, but since he was here to pick her up, she worked to keep the smile firmly planted on her face, her lips almost wobbling from how much she was trying to look happy.

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