Page 42 of Prelude To You

Felix turned in his seat. “Surely you’re joking. Meg will fucking kill me if I drop you off in the middle of traffic.”

“Meg doesn’t need to know. Besides, nothing’s moving.”

“Isabel…”

“Okay here I go, I’ll text you when to come get me. Thanks Felix!”

I opened the door and stepped into a cesspool of honking horns, everybody pissed off at whatever was blocking traffic.

I crossed in front of the black Range Rover, and at that moment my foot almost slipped out of the shoe. For a fleeting second, I held on to the Rover. Then I got my balance and maneuvered to the sidewalk. Soon after, I reached the hotel driveway.

The lights of the grand hotel beckoned just ahead. And it was quite the sight to behold.

12

ROMAN

What were the chances she’d be at the bookshop again? It was a little preposterous that I was about to haunt the bookshop looking for a girl, like some smitten teenage boy. If, and that was a bigIF, I found her there, what exactly was I going to do anyway?

I thought taking care of this incessant need in the shower would soothe the craving that sizzled through my veins, but that turned out to be a very temporary fix. The mere anticipation of seeing The Dancer again gave me palpitations. Her small moan of pleasure during the second kiss still echoed in my ears.

Walking into the bookshop filled me with a rush, as if there was no doubt The Dancer would be here somewhere, sitting on a bench scribbling down recipes. I strolled to the back of the store, and my gaze landed on the spot where we kissed. The memory pulverized any last tendril of hope that I might move on from this and forget we’d ever met.

Penny, one of the bookshop attendants, bolted toward me, a beaming smile on her face. “Hi sir, how are you!?”

“Hello Penny,” I said, wondering if I should ask her outright whether she’d seen The Dancer. “I’m fine, and I hope you’re doing well.”

She nodded fiercely. “I’m great! Where’s your girlfriend? Oh my God, you guys make the cutest couple. We were all a bit worried that you’d never come back here again after what happened last night. But anyway, Rick has been let go, if that makes a difference.”

Small loss. Though I supposed he had brought us together, even if only by being a complete dolt. “I was wondering if you’d seen her,” I said casually. “I thought she said she was coming here.”

Penny shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, I haven’t seen her come in here at all today, and I’ve been here since noon. Can’t you just text her?”

That would be the obvious thing to do, wouldn’t it? But texting The Dancer was not possible because, idiot that I was, I hadn’t gotten her number. My smile made it clear that I intended to do just that. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Thanks for your help, Penny. Have a good night.”

“Okay, goodnight sir. Tell her Penny says hi. I was the one who gave her your card.”

“Excuse me?”

“The black card you forgot on the couch. I asked her to give it to you.”

And then it came to me. I was using the formal invitation to Cyrill Peyton’s auction as a placeholder in the book I’d been reading. In my chivalrous effort to come to the damsel’s rescue, I’d left it behind.

“Oh right.That card. Thank you, Penny.”

I strolled out, disappointment dragging me back to brutal reality What the hell was I doing? I had nothing to offerher. Perhaps one night of pleasure. But would that soothe this relentless desire I felt raging inside of me?

And what about her? Who said she’d fallen victim to the same irrational and tantalizing feelings that haunted me?For all I knew she’d pushed the incident to the farthest corner of her mind.

Get in the car. Go home.

There was a business merger that needed my attention, and still I considered hanging around the bookshop on the off chance she might visit later tonight. The insanity of it all was starting to chafe my nerves. I decided to go to the auction, show my face, and go home.

Deep down though, I knew I’d probably check the bookshop again. Unless I grew a brain between now and then.

As Steven noted,the hotel wasn’t far from the bookshop. I veered the Range Rover through traffic until I hit congestion, right down the street from the Belmont Hotel.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was my own fault I found myself stuck in traffic, when I could be working at home. I turned the music up. It was Mozart’s Requiem, quite appropriate considering how fucked I was.

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