Page 6 of An American in London

“How long are you in town for, Tuesday?” Nick asks as he puts his napkin on his lap.

We’re seated around a square table with Nick and Ben opposite each other and me between them.

I feel a little awkward, but having company at dinner feels good.

And with two handsome British guys? I’m not about to file a complaint.

I suck in a breath. “Thirty-four days.” I glance across at Ben, but his expression gives nothing away.

“The bank I work for has been taken over by a UK bank, and they’re trying to consolidate the two management-track programs. We all have to do a stint as a project manager, working directly with a member of the C-suite.

Then they decide whether we deserve a place on the new program. I drew the CEO.”

“Could be outstanding, could be a disaster—depending how good you are at your job,” Nick summarizes accurately, although I’ve been trying not to think about the disaster angle.

Ben inexplicably growls again, and goose bumps scatter across my skin.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I reply.

“Did you grow up in New York?” Nick asks. He’s friendly and attentive, but not in a way that I feel he’s coming on to me. It’s almost as if he’s treating me like Ben’s girlfriend.

“Raised upstate, then moved to the city when I went to college.”

“New York’s fun, isn’t it, Ben?” Nick asks. “I had my stag do there.”

“Your what now?” I ask.

“A party with the boys before I got married.”

“Oh, a bachelor party. You came to New York? Where did you stay?”

He nods at Ben. “Ben very generously took us over on his jet, and we stayed at a hotel in Midtown. The Avenue. Know it? The bar there is epic.”

I narrow my eyes. A jet? Who am I dining with?

“Hold your horses, cowboy,” I say, and I turn to Ben, who’s perusing the menu.

“You have a jet?” I take in his suit a little more carefully.

Having hung out with Jed and his corporate attorney friends, I’m used to a nice custom suit.

And Ben’s is certainly nice. It’s a dark navy and makes his shoulders look wide enough to carry the Titanic .

“I’m going to have the lamb,” he says, ignoring my question. “And I think I’m going to need another glass of cabernet.”

“Not like you to be drinking by the glass.” Nick points his thumb at his friend. “He’s one of those who likes the best of everything, so even if he only wants a glass, he’ll order a bottle of something very old and expensive and only have a glass.”

I shake my head. “How wasteful. You’d never catch me wasting wine.”

Nick laughs and calls the waitress over.

She stares right at me. “What can I get you?”

My heartbeat quickens and I glance between Ben and Nick. I can’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant and ordered for myself. Jed would always order for the both of us, depending on what he wanted to try. “Uh ... gosh, I’m not sure. Whatever you suggest.”

Ben shoots me a disapproving glare. “Pick what you’d like.”

Nick interrupts the awkward pause. “I’m going to have the cod.”

“Cod,” I say, scanning the menu. “That sounds good. I’ll do the same.”

Ben orders the lamb and the waitress disappears.

“Tell me more about this friendship you two have,” Nick asks. “Excuse me for being nosy, Tuesday, but new friendships aren’t really on-brand for Ben in my experience. Is it a holiday romance?”

Ben chokes on his wine and thumps his chest with his fist to try to catch his breath.

I can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “I have a confession,” I say.

“Apart from not sleeping with your very attractive friend here, I’m also not really friends with him.

I keep running into him, and if I were a different type of woman, I’d say the universe is telling us we need to know each other.

Something in his frown and tight jaw tells me he needs a friend like me. ”

Nick smiles at me and then glances at Ben. “You know, I think you might be right.”

“She’s being ridiculous. I don’t need anything. Or anybody.”

Instinctively, I reach for his arm to comfort him and a buzz of electricity dances across my palm. “Don’t say that.” I think he feels it, too, because he pulls his arm away like I’ve slathered him in mud. He proceeds to stand, take off his jacket, then place it on the back of the chair.

If I thought he was handsome before—which, no doubt, I did—the bright white of his shirt lights up his face to a truly devastating effect.

The contours of his cheekbones are so high, I’ve got altitude sickness just looking at them.

His face is the kind photographers love to take pictures of and painters like to recreate on canvas—he’s a classical beauty.

An image I’m much more used to seeing carved in marble or up on the big screen in a movie theater.

My gaze follows his throat to his open collar and down.

There is no disguising his fit, lean body under the thin white cotton.

“Did you just flex?” Nick asks Ben.

“What?” Ben asks, picking up his glass of wine. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think you’re trying to impress our American friend.”

“I told you, she’s not my friend,” Ben says. “She’s my stalker.”

“Nope,” I say. “I’ve never followed you anywhere. And FYI, I’m staying at this hotel, and you kidnapped my cocktail. Who’s stalking whom, exactly?”

Nick grins. “If he didn’t want you to join us for dinner, believe me, you wouldn’t be here. Ben is not a man who puts up with things he doesn’t like.”

Ben starts to protest, but before he can vocalize what we all know he’s thinking, I interject. “Ben told me you were meeting to discuss business. What business are you in?” I ask.

I want to change the subject. There’s no doubt Ben is attractive, but I’m not interested in romance at the moment.

I want to focus on work. It feels more solid than being a girlfriend.

I was blindsided by Jed dumping me, and although the initial hurt has faded quicker than I expected, I’m not ready for anything new—not even a holiday romance.

“I’m in property development,” Nick says.

I nod and turn to Ben. “You too?”

Ben shrugs. “Among other things.”

“What are we discussing?” I ask, glancing between the two friends.

“Ben wants to buy a group of hotels, but the owner doesn’t want to sell.”

“Nick,” Ben growls. “We’re not going to talk about business in front of—”

“Oh, don’t worry about me!” I say. “My ex-fiancé was a corporate attorney. Practically all he did was discuss business. I won’t be offended at all.”

“I’m not concerned with you being offended,” Ben says, his jaw tight. “I’m concerned about confidentiality. I don’t discuss my business affairs with strangers, even if I am stalking them.” He delivers the line in such a deadpan way, I nearly miss it.

“Ha! So you admit it,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

Ben’s expressionless, despite plenty of evidence that he has a real sense of humor in there, hiding deep down inside.

“And I work in banking,” I reassure him. “I’m a professional—completely trustworthy. I’m not going to tell a soul.”

“I’m not discussing it,” Ben says.

“I think you’re going to want to hear what I’m going to say,” Nick says. “Because the duke is hosting a shooting party the weekend after next, and I’m invited.”

Ben freezes, his glass halfway between the table and his deliciously full lips.

“I’m taking Elizabeth, obviously,” Nick continues. “I mentioned I was meant to be away with an old friend and managed to get the invitation extended to you and your significant other too.”

Ben places his glass back on the table. He seems to lift himself up in his chair by five inches. “Are you serious?” There’s a grit in his voice I haven’t heard before.

“Completely. So stop fucking around and let’s make a plan.”

“We need to stop fucking around and make a plan,” Ben echoes.

I’m not quite sure who the duke is, or what the hell a shooting party is, but apparently it’s serious.

And also, honestly, it sounds a little dull.

I might ditch dinner and go rewatch one of my favorite Daniel De Luca films. I’ve got the urge to snuggle up with some popcorn and press “Play” on The Lady Loves a Loser .

I loved that one so much because Daniel and Olivia Lamb, who gives Elizabeth Taylor vibes, really seem to hate each other for the first part of the movie, but it’s completely obvious they’re perfect for each other.

“You know, I’m going to leave you guys to eat your dinner and make your plans in peace. I’m hanging up my stalking shoes and gonna slip on my Netflix slippers.”

“Please stay,” Nick says. “I actually think you might be helpful to Ben.”

I pause and stay silent, expecting him to elaborate. How am I going to be helpful planning a trip to a shooting party?

Nick looks at Ben with a serious expression.

“What?” Ben asks.

“Ask her to stay, mate. You might need her help.”

“I very much doubt that. But Monday is welcome to stay if she’d like. No doubt she’ll make better company than you.”

Another joke. A twirling ball of amusement spins in my stomach. Saturday Night Live will sign this guy up if he’s not careful.

“Stay, please,” Nick says again. “I’ll explain my plan.”

Our appetizers arrive, and when the waitress leaves us, Nick leans into the table as if he’s about to tell us the location of the Holy Grail.

“I’ve been working directly and indirectly for the Duke of Brandon for years now,” Nick says.

“He’s a huge landowner in the UK and the only shareholder of the Castles and Palaces Hotel Group.

Ben wants to buy the hotel group—it’s one of the most prestigious in Europe.

Small, boutique hotels, often in some of the most historic houses in the United Kingdom. ”

“It’s good business,” Ben says.

“And he has other reasons,” Nick says to me. “Anyway, the duke doesn’t want to sell.”

“He won’t even take a meeting with me,” Ben says, as if it’s completely ludicrous anyone wouldn’t cut off their arm to have a meeting with him. Maybe they would. He could be Harry Styles’s dad for all I know.