He must have been the one who caught me with his elbow. I hadn’t realized I’d followed him out.
I shook my head. “I should have been more careful.” I glanced down at the tracks now the train had left the station. “There it is.” It didn’t look like my phone had been damaged at all. “Do you think I have time to just jump down and grab it?” I asked him.
A look of horror crossed his face and he pulled me away from the edge of the platform. I glanced down at where his hand was touching my arm. He’d moved me with such force, as if I were just a doll, and I might have been imagining it but I’m sure I could feel the heat of his skin through my coat. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “The station staff may be able to retrieve it after service closes this evening. If not, call me and I’ll replace it for you.”
I was so busy staring at him I almost didn’t hear what he said and then it registered.
“This evening? No, I need it now.” I started to panic. I had to get to my interview, and with less than five pounds in my wallet, I couldn’t even buy myself a map. “I need the map for directions; I have somewhere to be.” I grabbed his arm, which was still touching mine.
The stranger glanced down at our linked arms and back up into my eyes, with the same expression he’d had on the tube, as if he wanted to say more than he did.
I needed to focus. I had to get to this interview. “Maybe you can give me directions.” I dived into my tote and pulled out the piece of paper that had the address of the barristers’ chambers. Thank God, I’d written the address down. “I need you to tell me how I get here. I can’t be late.”
I showed him the address, which he glanced at, then looked back at me—those blue eyes studying what he saw. “I’m going there myself. I’ll walk you.”
“You will?” Even if he hadn’t looked like he’d just stepped out of a Tom Ford ad campaign and had seemed to make my knees a little weak just from looking at me, I’d have broken all my rules about never getting married and accepted any proposal he had for me in that moment. There was no way I could not turn up to this interview.
He nodded. “And it’s the least I can do.” His voice was like crème br?lée—silky smooth with a hint of gravel. Yum. I’d lick the bowl if I had a dishful of him.
For a second, I forgot I was teetering on the brink of disaster.
“Come on,” he said, striding toward the exit.
We didn’t speak on the escalators up to the surface. He stood in front of me, his brow furrowed, as if he was thinking through a complex problem. I didn’t like to interrupt him, but it seemed odd not to talk to him.
“So, are you on your way to work?” I asked as we exited the turnstiles.
“I am,” he said.
His words were clipped and formal. He was hardly full of conversation. I was pretty sure he’d be happy if there was only silence between us. That only made me want to know more about him.
“I have an interview. For a job,” I said, hoping it might encourage him to tell me more about himself. What did he do for a living? Was he a diamond trader? A professional polo player? Maybe he was royalty? He had a regal air about him. “I want to make a good impression. My sister would say I am unreliable, but I’m never late. I hate lateness. It’s the worst—so arrogant.” I was babbling. He was making me nervous. Men never made me nervous.
“Arrogant?” he asked, his brow still furrowed as I struggled to keep up with his pace as we headed left down the street.
Before I had a chance to answer, his phone began to ring. “Knightley,” he answered.
His name was Knightley? Fuck me. A British guy with a sexy, romantic name, who might possibly be the best-looking man I’d ever laid eyes on, was rescuing me from near disaster. It wasn’t just Darcy’s country house that was like something out of a Jane Austen novel.
He glanced over his shoulder at me and held the phone against his shoulder. “I have to take this, but we should be there in just a few minutes.”
“No problem,” I said. I didn’t give a crap if he was on the phone. I was still going to make my interview, and if he wasn’t looking at me, it meant I could stare at him. I glanced across and took in his high, tight ass. Jesus, would he mind if I lifted his jacket a little to make sure it was as good as it looked? I liked a man with a nice ass almost as much as I liked a man with big hands and a strong mouth. They were all important accoutrements to being good in bed. And those eyes, the way he looked at me? I shivered.
We crossed over the sidewalk, went through a gap in the buildings, and suddenly we’d disappeared into the back of a closet—wardrobe—and come out the other side. Five seconds ago we’d been surrounded by traffic, noise, and a thousand people, but here, birds sang and Dickensian buildings sat around a large square with trees everywhere.
“Where are we?” I asked, looking around.
My handsome stranger glanced back at me and then pointed toward the entrance of a park as he continued his conversation.
This didn’t even seem like London. It was more like a Disney version I might discover in Florida. We crossed a cobbled street that had no cars on it, despite it being the middle of rush hour, and headed into a park surrounded by black railings. The grass was neatly mown, and a few people sat on benches enjoying their coffee or reading the newspaper. Where were we? I knew from my walks over the last two weeks that London had its share of beautiful parks. I’d visited Hyde Park and St James’ Park and some of the squares had buildings on all four sides, facing a small garden. But this? It was like a square on steroids. Eventually, we came to the exit and I saw a sign for Lincoln’s Inn Fields. I’d have to Google that when I got home. If I got home—had those kids ever left Narnia? Somehow, I’d have to find my way back.
A shrill chime of a bell caught my attention but before I could figure out where it was coming from Knightley’s arm was around my shoulder, pulling me out of the way of an oncoming cyclist and toward him. For the second time this morning, my hands pressed up to his chest out of instinct as I tried not to fall over. His touch felt protective and strong like before on the tube and I just wanted to sink against his body and breathe him in. He was saving me from disaster at every turn—on the tube, walking me to my interview, and then with this bike. The bike passed, and I looked up to find Knightley’s eyes boring into mine.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t reply but he didn’t move or look away either. For a moment I thought he might kiss me. I sensed that he wanted to, and I would have kissed him right back. But he didn’t, and we just stayed there for a couple of moments. Still. Staring at each other as if this look we were sharing was even more intimate than a kiss.