Page 70 of The Attraction File

Stepping inside, I turned one last time to see Edgar wink and then stroll across the hall to his room.

Yeah, that was weird. Just Edgar being Edgar I guess.

Once the door firmly shut behind me, I removed my fart clothes and decided to take a quick shower. I flung my pink silk scarf on the nearby coffee table and made a trail toward the bedroom with my discarded clothes. I didn’t want to smell that driver’s gas all night in my hair. If Edgar knocked on my door while I was in the shower tough. He could wait until morning.

I moved through the bedroom and past the bed with its frilly and flowery bedspread, into the bathroom. Everything was decorated to appear as if it came from the English country from times past, including the clawfoot tub with a paisley wraparound shower curtain.

The shower was relaxing and once I got out I felt refreshed. Enough so that I decided to get a little writing done. I dried my hair and threw on the fluffy white hotel bathrobe. Just as I was digging around in my bag to find my laptop that sat on the wood coffee table, I heard a knock at the door.

Damn. It was probably Edgar.

I went to the door and opened it to find a man standing there with a rolling cart.

“Room service.” His British accent a welcome change from the Chicago one I’m used to.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“It was paid for by room 324.”

I glanced up and saw Edgar’s door. He was room 324.

“Fine. Come in.” I knew Edgar was up to something, but at least I was getting free food out of it.

Once the server left, I opened the silver cover. It was a cookie. Just one cookie. There was nothing else on the tray.

I had dessert at the restaurant. It was a nice raspberry tart, so I didn’t understand why Edgar would be sending me what looked like a sugar cookie.

Was that some sex reference I wasn’t getting?

As I inspected the cookie, I heard another knock at the door. I huffed over and threw open the door expecting to find Edgar but instead, I found another server.

“Sorry, Miss, but Richard forgot this with your order.” He held up a drink. A glass with amber liquid and ice.

I reached out to take the glass and shut the door.

One cookie and a drink.

I put the tip of the glass to my nose and took a sniff. It smelled like tea. Iced tea. But they didn’t have iced tea in England. Maybe some places had it but I knew it was more of an American thing.

Did Edgar think I was homesick after only half a day in another country? And why iced tea? I only drink that in the summer when it got hot.

After I put the glass down on the tray there was another knock on the door. This time when I opened it Edgar was standing on the other side.

“Thank God,” I said.

“Evaleen, I may be good but I’m not God.” His dimples deepened as his lips curved. He still had his white button up shirt and gray suit pants on, but the tie and jacket he left behind.

“Get in here.” I waved him inside and came to stand by the food cart.

“Can you explain this, Edgar?”

“It’s funny you should ask.” Edgar removed his hand behind his back to produce a book. The book he was reading on the plane.

“Here, Evaleen, if you could read the passage I underlined.”

I rolled my eyes but decided to humor him if it would get him to explain himself. Edgar seemed to underline several lines.

Oh no. He knew.

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