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She stiffens slightly and shakes her head. “Not unless you’ve spent a lot of time in southwest London.”

Noah’s eyebrows pop over his sunglasses, and his brow furrows. Then, the huge, sly grin I remember splits his beard. “Holyshit.You’re English?”

“I am.”

Noah slaps me on the arm. “I’m glad your time there was so fruitful.” He glances back at the house. “It’s a shame my mother’s locked up in her bedroom. She was a real anglophile. She would have loved meeting you.”

That sets off my radar—him calling her an anglophile firms up a real connection to the UK.

“Has she been before?” Jules asks in a matter-of-fact way.

“A lifetime ago,” he says and then slips his sunglasses back on. “Down to business. There’s been a slight change in plan. My dad’s held up by a call so he’s still in his office. I’ll drive us over, and he’ll meet us there.”

I nod. “That works.”

“I swear I know you,” he says to Jules.

“I have one of those faces,” she says with a smile but turns so she’s standing in front of me with her back to him. She gives me a wide-eyed “What the fuck?” look but says, “Have a good lunch, my love. I’ll see you later.” She lifts up on her toes, kissing my cheek.

“Later. Drive safely.”

She climbs back in the Dodge Charger we rented, and I’m distracted by how fucking hot she looks behind the wheel of that car. I watch her drive away.

“I bet you could listen to her talk all day, huh?”

“I could,” I agree. “So which way to your car?”

I turn to face him. His eyes are on the retreating tail lights of Jules’ car, and only when she turns out of the driveway does he turn to look at me. “The car is being brought around now. It’ll be just a minute.”

“No problem, no rush.” I’m sure Jules is idling around waiting for us to leave before she comes back.

“So you got money to burn or you just a sucker for my projects?”

“Neither. I like the sound of it, want to hear more and hope we’ll find a common ground.”

A black Corvette swings from around the back of the house and stops right in front of us. A young man dressed in all white hops out. “Mr. Royale, she’s got a full tank and fresh detail.” I feel bad misleading him, but Jules needs answers.

“Thanks, Bola.” He gives the man an impatient but civil smile and climbs in.

I fold myself into the cramped interior of the car. “Hit that button, the seat will push back.”

I do and am relieved when my legs have room to extend. “Nice wheels.”

“I agree. My wife hated it.”

“Hated? Like past tense?”

“Yep. She left me three months ago.”

“Oh man. I hadn’t heard that. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I didn’t advertise it, and she seems to have gone to ground. I don’t even know where the fuck she is,” he grumbles in his deep gravelly voice.

“Is that why you’re moving?”

“Yeah. I can’t stand being in this city without her. Everything reminds me of her, and it’s making me crazy.”

“I’m sorry. And shocked. You guys were attached at the hip.”