Page 126 of Joker in the Pack

With the focus on Lilac Cottage, I’d never stopped to think about Nye’s home, but no, I didn’t want to put on a show.

“Do you live near here?”

“Not too far. We can borrow a pool car for this evening.”

I had an awful thought. “What about the keys to your flat? Did you have them with you when we jumped out the window?”

He just looked at me.

Oh. Right. “You don’t need a key, do you?”

“I’ll get the door open for tonight. One of my colleagues lives in the same building, and I can pick up the spare from him tomorrow.”

Soon we were driving through the streets of London, deserted save for the occasional black cab.

“Where are we going?”

Nye glanced across, a little sheepish. “Chelsea.”

Chelsea? I figured his job at Blackwood paid well, but I couldn’t picture him living in millionaire’s row.

But he did, in a huge apartment building right next to the Thames. I bet the views must be spectacular from the roof terrace I spied in the early morning light. Who on earth could afford to live on that floor?

Nye, it turned out.

He led me into the lift in the underground car park, and I watched the numbers on the panel count up until they reached twenty-five.

“The penthouse? You live in the penthouse?”

He shrugged. “I like to watch the boats on the river.”

It only took him a minute to let us inside, and he punched a code into a scary-looking alarm panel then clicked on the lights.

“Well, this is me. Make yourself at home.”

Wow. I followed him into the lounge, tastefully furnished in creams and greys. A fluffy sheepskin rug lay in front of a designer fireplace in brushed steel, and the coffee table looked too expensive to risk putting a drink on. But there was something missing.

“Where’s the sofa? You weren’t redecorating at all, were you?”

“I just wanted you to have something nice to sit on. Please don’t be mad.”

How could I be mad? That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. I flung my arms around him.

“You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, Nye Holmes.”

He gripped my bottom and hoisted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. “How tired are you?” he asked.

“Not so tired that I don’t want to rip your clothes off you and kiss every inch of your naked body.”

He looked shocked. I felt shocked.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” I tried to backpedal in a hurry. “Stress, I think. It must have been stress.”

His answer was to carry me through to the master bedroom and lay me on his luxurious quilt.

“I’ll have to get you stressed more often. Rip away.”

CHAPTER 36

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