Page 26 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)

“Nearly there,” I whispered to Sean, as I guided him out of the lift and along the corridor. “Where’s your key?” I asked as we reached his room.

“In my jeans pocket,” came back his muffled reply.

I felt inside his wet denims that I’d been carrying in my arms across the park, pulled out the key card, and let us both into his room.

“Phew,” I said, dropping his damp clothes on the floor. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”

“Do you think anyone noticed?” Sean asked, pulling off Goofy’s head.

I laughed. “Of course they noticed—you’re just lucky no one stopped and asked you for a photo.”

“I mean they didn’t know it was me?”

“I doubt it. But you have to get this costume back to that guy first thing tomorrow or he’ll lose his job.”

“But gain €300!”

“You’re getting €100 of that back on safe return of his costume, that was the deal.”

“Hmm, about that, couldn’t you have found something a bit cooler for me to disguise myself in than a seven-foot Goofy costume?”

“Are you kidding?” I said, flopping on the bed. “It was Goofy or nothing. You’re just lucky he was still on site; all the other characters have gone home.”

“Yeah I know. Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s OK. It was worth it just to see you dressed like that.” I grinned. “Who would have thought it, Mr. Sean ‘I hate movies’ Bond dressed as Goofy! What would your dad say if he knew? After all the stick you gave him at the wedding for dressing as Chewbacca too!”

Sean struggled with the suit. “Are you just going to lie there mocking me all night, or are you going to help unzip me from this thing?”

I tilted my head to one side as if I was considering it. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” I said when Goofy’s paws rested on his hips. I stood up again and undid the hidden zip at the back of the costume. “There you go, free again.”

Sean stepped out of Goofy’s body wearing just his underpants—I’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing anything else.

Maurice—who had originally been wearing Goofy when we found him—had been wearing leggings and a T-shirt when he’d stepped out of the suit.

I’d been keeping watch outside the men’s toilets while Maurice helped Sean zip himself back inside Goofy before we made our escape across the park.

I looked away—but not before I noticed what an extremely fine body Sean had.

I’d realized he wasn’t exactly overweight when I’d seen him wearing T-shirts and jeans.

But in the flesh—boy, did he scrub up well.

He wasn’t overly muscular, but he was toned, and there were reasonably-sized bulges in all the places there should be.

“So what sort of view do you get from your window?” I hastily asked, going over to it and looking outside.

“Er, probably one much like yours,” Sean said as he went into the bathroom. “I’ll just take a shower to warm me up a bit—that water was bloody freezing.”

“It’s a good job you fell in near Australia, then,” I called, “and not the North Pole!”

“Yes, yes, very funny!”

I turned away from the window now that it was safe to look back in the room again and sat down on the bed.

I thought about what had happened tonight.

Sean had been lucky; the accident could have been much more serious.

He should probably put something cold on his head, or he’d have a huge bump in the morning.

I picked up the phone and called down to reception, asking if we could have either an ice pack or a bowl of ice. The receptionist said she’d see what she could do.

“Calling us some room service?” Sean asked, emerging from the bathroom. This time he had only a white towel wrapped around his middle and his damp skin glistened with tiny droplets of water.

I swallowed hard.

Sean opened up his wardrobe and pulled out a white shirt and blue jeans.

“Well?” he asked, turning to face me.

“Oh…er, no…I was just asking if they had an ice pack we could use. You should put something cold on your head—where you banged it. ”

“Are you worried about me, then?” he asked, grinning.

My stomach had long ago given up its gymnastic routine. It had now moved up a gear—to another Olympic sport—and was currently involved in a thrill-providing, super-fast bobsled race.

“You did bang your head pretty hard.”

Sean gently touched the back of his head. “Ouch.” He winced. “Yep, it’s still there.”

“Let me take a look. You didn’t cut it open, did you? I haven’t seen any blood. But you never know.”

I wished I’d waited until after he got dressed to ask him that, as Sean sat down beside me on the bed, still wearing only the towel.

I stood up and very gently moved his damp hair about on the back of his head. A small moan escaped from Sean’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No…no, not at all.” Sean tilted his head back to look up at me.

He had that look in his eyes again—the same one he had on the first day we met and sat on the park bench in Notting Hill.

The same one he had when he came to ask me to go to the opera with him and found me in my bathrobe.

And the same one he had outside Bill’s house, just before he was going to tell me something.

My hand still rested on the top of his head. But it was now stroking, rather than just moving Sean’s hair around.

Sean took hold of my hand—he looked at it for a moment before he gently began to trace the lines along my palm with his finger.

“Scarlett,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. “Oh, Scarlett,” he sighed. Then he looked up at me again, his eyes telling me everything his voice could not.

There was a knock at the door and we both jumped. “That will be your ice!” I said in an overly bright voice, quickly pulling my hand away.

I don’t think the night porter had ever seen anyone quite so pleased to hear him knocking at their door, as I grinned inanely at him like a bizarre mix of Jack Nicholson in Batman and the Cheshire Cat on speed.

“Your ice pack, madam,” he said.

“Thank you…” I looked at Sean; he was already up and producing a note from his wallet.

“Much obliged, Joseph,” he said, handing the porter the money.

“If there’s anything else, sir…madam, don’t hesitate to call, will you?” He glanced briefly at the bed, and I realized Goofy’s head was still lying there. Quickly I moved in front of it.

“We will,” Sean said. “Thank you again, Joseph. Good night.”

“Good evening, Sir.”

Sean closed the door and turned to look at me. “I guess I’d better use this,” he said, holding up the ice pack. “It’s suddenly got extremely hot in here—I could do with cooling off a bit.”

You’re not the only one, Sean , I thought as I tried to steady my breathing again. Believe me, you’re not the only one .