Page 27 of Getting Lucky in London

His gaze met mine over his mug. Something flickered in those stormy depths. Relief? Maybe. But his whole body seemed to relax. He shook his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “No, afraid not. I’ll be spending it with a woman who has a sassy mouth and killer legs.”

“And what will the two of you be doing?”

“Well, for starters, I’ll bedoing her…on this island.” His nod encompassed the white slab of sleek marble as he ladled tomato soup into a small bowl as if he were talking about gardening.

Heat rushed to my core and slickened the inside of my thighs as I imagined myself lying on the cold stone, Michael between my legs, pumping that delicious dick into me. I almost squirmed in my seat. “Oh? tell.”

“Actually,” he said, his tone turning serious, “if you don’t have anywhere to be, I would like to take you to my favorite place in London.”

Leaning an elbow on the counter in disappointment, I rested my chin in my palm. “Unless it’s in this house, I can’t go.” I waved a free hand to indicate his dress shirt barely covering my body. “No clothes.”

“Mum brought a change of clothes for you this morning.”

I sat up straight. “She did?”

Nodding, he placed a plate of grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup in front of me. “Or, since we now have your keys, we can go by your place to get some of your clothes.”

I shoved the sandwich in my mouth and took a big bite, trying to figure a way out of his suggestion. Take him to Dominic’s? No way. When the answer came to me, I swallowed a lump of cheese. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want to wear something your mom designed?”

The light in his eyes dimmed a little as if he were disappointed in my answer. I couldn’t imagine why. Unless he wanted to know where to dump me later. No, no, no. I wouldn’t let my insecurities ruin the time I had left with him.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling I’d somehow let him down.

Shoving aside my doubts, I slid my leg against his under the counter. “So, you think I have killer legs?”

****

Danielle

“Is this appropriate for your favorite place?” I twirled at the foot of the stairs for Michael’s approval. I’d used his brush, braided my hair, and tied it off with a rubber band I found around the celery in the refrigerator. Nothing I could do about makeup, so I scrubbed my face clean.

His gaze slowly roamed my body before settling on my face. “You’re perfect.”

The jeans Laura had chosen fit like a dream. The blouse, a soft pink with tiny white flowers, had long flowy sleeves that poofed and gathered at the wrist. The sheer gauzy material revealed an underlying white cami. I’d ditched the black bra, but the cami was tight and held the girls in place.

The only thing that didn’t fit with the ensemble was the stiletto sandals. First thing, wherever we went, I was buying a pair of flats.

Michael handed my purse to me, and I looped it over my head, so the strap rested diagonally between my boobs and the clutch settled on my hip. He grabbed my hand and wove his fingers with mine, his excitement infectious as he swept me out the door.

Instead of heading to his car, he walked me up the sidewalk. I matched his long stride to keep up with him and grimaced at the pinch of my sandals. “Are we going to your mother’s again? Is that why we’re walking?”

He gave me a funny look, then my meaning seemed to catch up with him. “Right. Mum’s house isn’t far, and I did tell you I like to walk there, but no. It’s a bit farther where we’re going.”

“Not that I’d mind spending time with your mom,” I explained. “She’s a fascinating woman. I just don’t think these shoes were made for hiking. I need to stop somewhere to buy something comfier.”

“Not to worry, lu—sorry.” He slowed his pace. “Where we’re going has everything you could ever need.”

“You’re being awfully mysterious.”

“We all have secrets, but you’ll know mine as soon as we get there.”

I chewed my lip as I sank deeper into the pit of deceit I’d dug myself into. I wanted to tell him everything and hoped he’d understand, but I just couldn’t risk losing the precious and quickly diminishing time I had with him.

A couple of blocks from his house, he stopped at the corner. “I’m going to leave our transportation up to you. Would you rather take the underground or ride the bus?”

“Hmm, the underground sounds intriguing, but I don’t want to be down in the dark. I want to do the touristy thing. I want to see the city.”

“Double-decker it is, then.” He pointed to one of the iconic red double-decker buses pulling up.

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