Page 4 of Getting Lucky in London

In the last year, my attempts to date had been fewer and farther between. At twenty-nine, the yearning for a home and a family had grown. I wanted to find a woman I could grow old with. I knew, or at least hoped, she was out there somewhere, but the search was disheartening.

That didn’t mean I was dead. I still had needs, and I’d recently ended one of those temporary distractions. It hadn’t gone well.

“You haven’t been over in a while. Why don’t you drop in tonight?” she asked with renewed determination to cheer me up. “I’ll cook your favorites, and you and Robbie can talk about the design of your new project.”

Robert Townes had hired Michael upon my arrival in London and made me a partner in his firm four years ago. Robert had become the father Brandon Winters could never be. When I introduced Robert to my mother, the attraction between them was palpable. They now lived together, and I’d watched my mother come alive. She was happy, truly happy.

“I’d love to, but I can’t.” I glanced at my watch. Just enough time to get home and change. “I promised Dominic I’d meet him and Sarah and his little sister at the art exhibit.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Her eyes brightened, and she rose from her seat. “I won’t keep you then.”

I stood and followed her to the door.

She rose on tiptoes to kiss my cheek and straightened my tie. “Give Dominic my love and tell him we should all get together soon.”

“He’ll like that. He’s always had a soft spot for you,” I teased.

“That’s because I spent more time withhimthan withyouwhen I came for your games. I suspect he needed a mother figure in his life.”

“Yes, and you were great with him.” I opened the door for her. “Love you, Mum.”

“Love you, darling.” She left me feeling much better or, at least, not in the doldrums I’d been in before she arrived.

Returning to my desk, I was suddenly looking forward to going out tonight. I checked my phone for Dominic’s reply to my text asking what time to meet him at the gallery. No answer, but it was still early. I’d keep trying. And if Dominic was a no-show, I’d work the room for possible new clients for the firm.

One thing was certain, though. I was bloody well not in the mood for another distraction.

Chapter Two

Danielle

“Yer here, miss,” the cabbie announced.

Peering out the taxi window at the line of people waiting to get into the gallery, I tried to shake off an onset of nerves threatening to overtake me at the prospect of running into Michael.

“Miss?”

“Sorry.” I turned back to the driver. “How much do I owe you?”

He rattled off a figure, and I opened the clutch bag that matched the little black dress I’d packed in case Dominic and Sarah took me out on the town. The purse was only big enough to carry my phone, a tube of red lipstick, my brother’s keys, some cash—U.S. dollars, so those were useless to me now, and I’d forgotten the money in the envelope he’d left—and a credit card. I unzipped the compartment where I’d stashed the credit card and pulled out…a condom.

Heat flooded her cheeks.Jesus, where did that come from?

The answer came when I read the black writing on the neon yellow wrapper. Mardi Gras two years ago.

“We don’t accept those, miss,” the driver said and bent forward, cackling, his hand slapping the steering wheel.

Mortified, I shoved the condom back in my purse and pulled out the card. “Here.”

Wiping his eyes, he slid it through the reader and handed it back to me. “Sorry, miss. But don’t worry. Some young bloke’ll be right happy to help ya with that.”

I couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough. Smoothing my dress, I looked around to make sure no one had witnessed my embarrassment. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own world and totally oblivious to mine. The cab pulled away from the curb, the driver still laughing at my expense.

I hooked the long silver chain of the black clutch over my shoulder and found my place at the end of the line. If the condom fiasco was any indication of the night to come, I should go home now.

Minutes later, I made it through the gallery door, handed my ticket to a sleek brunette in black silk, and mingled with the crowd ranging from young bohemian trendsetters to wealthy, upper class connoisseurs. Carrying flutes of champagne, waiters wove between the gathered cliques.

I grabbed a glass to bolster my waning courage. I’d spent the last few hours talking myself in and out of attending. What difference would seeing Michael make to my life? Then again, I owed it to myself to at least try to have a good time and enjoy his company. But what if he dismissed me again?

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