Page 1 of Getting Lucky in London

Chapter One

Danielle

Rolling my suitcase behind me, I stepped inside my brother’s flat in Chelsea, just outside central London, and then right into his outspread arms. Three years had passed since Dominic left New York after I graduated from college, and though we talked once a week, it wasn’t the same. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Daisy.” His use of my nickname was as warm and comforting as his embrace, and it soothed my guilt for intruding at such short notice. Only he had ever called me Daisy, never Danielle like our mother did or Dani like my friends and coworkers.

He kissed the top of my head and stepped back. “You look great.”

“You’re sweet, but look atyou.”

His tall, lanky frame had filled out, more man now than the boy he’d been before moving. He looked like the pictures of our dad when he was young—jet black hair, deep brown eyes, and chiseled features that rivaled the angels. But telling him that would put a damper on their reunion, and the nervous energy rolling off him was bad enough.

“I’m sorry, Daize. I feel really bad about not picking you up at the airport. And for leaving on your first day here.”

“You couldn’t have predicted Sarah’s father would have a heart attack this morning.” I folded my arms across my ribs and gave him a you’ve-been-keeping-secrets-from-me look. “I didn’t realize things were that serious between you two.”

“Neither did I.” A lopsided grin split his face. “But I can’t let her go alone.” He grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

He led me past the living room and into the small kitchen at the back of the house. He’d only been dating Sarah a few months, so if he was willing to miss work for her, he had to be head over heels. He never missed work. “So is shethe one?”

“I think so.”

I draped the sweater I’d worn on the flight over one of the backless barstools at the counter. “I hope so. You deserve to be happy.”

His head tilted to one side. “Are you?”

“Well, if I get the job,” I said, placing my purse on top of the sweater, “I’ll be happy to be closer to you. It’s too long between visits.”

He grimaced. “I know, but I promise I’ll have my fingersandmy toes crossed tomorrow, whether I’m still in Cape Town or back here.”

“I’m really sorry for coming at such an inconvenient time.” The job interview had come out of the blue on Tuesday, and they’d demanded an in-person visit by Friday.

“Stop apologizing.” He waved a hand, dismissing my guilt. “I’m just happy to see you.”

I hadn’t even considered changing jobs, but when this one opened up, I jumped at the chance to live closer to Dominic. All we had was each other. Well, except now, he had Sarah.

The last few days had been a whirlwind. I’d managed to take off work, secure the seven-hour midnight flight out of New York last night so I’d have time to catch my breath before the interview tomorrow, and now, it was—

I looked at my watch. Two p.m. London time. “What time is your flight?”

“Five.”

“You’d better get a move on. You don’t want to keep Sarah waiting.”

As if I’d lit a match under his ass, he disappeared up the stairs, giving me time to look around his new Chelsea digs. This flat was bigger than the tiny place he’d lived in the last time I visited. Definitely nicer. The bottom floor had been remodeled into a popular open-concept design. He’d worked hard to move up the corporate ladder and far beyond the little rundown shack we’d grown up in.

A minute later, Dominic came down the stairs, his luggageclank, clank, clankingon each step.

“Your room is the first door off the landing.” He left his suitcase and joined her in the kitchen. “There’s food in the fridge. I stocked it when you said you were coming. I might not be here when you leave, so”—he pulled his keys from his pocket—“take my car if you want to go anywhere you can’t get to by foot or by taxi. Sightseeing in the country or whatever.”

I’d seen the flashy trophy car parked out front. “Ha! These people drive on the wrong side of the road. I’m not risking your new baby.”

“Oh thank God.”

I chuckled at the relief on his face. I was a terrible driver and had the record to prove it, so his feelings were totally justified. Besides, sightseeing alone was boring, but I wouldn’t tell him that. He’d just feel guiltier than he already did for leaving. Another thing we had in common—guilt for everything and anything.

Dominic tapped an envelope on the counter. “Sarah and I wanted to take you out tonight. I bought four tickets to an art exhibit at a local gallery. We thought you’d like it. I gave one to Michael, but there are three left if you want to ask someone from the museum.”

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