Page 10 of Love Affair in London (Once Again #12)

I t really was him. The to-die-for gorgeous hunk from the first-class lounge and on her flight. It was too much coincidence to be possible. Yet there was her phone on the coffee table in front of him.

She collapsed into the chair opposite, her knees seeming to give way.

But she kept enough mental capacity not to say, You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen .

And instead came out with, “You’re a lifesaver.

” He handed her the phone, and she clutched it to her chest. “I really thought a pickpocket had taken it. I was jostled on the bridge, and after that, it was just gone.” She flicked her fingers in the air, imitating the poof of a magician’s wand.

“I looked everywhere. I swear, I should never have put it in my pocket but zipped it away in my bag.” She patted her purse.

Out of breath, whether from his looks or the return of her phone, she finally stopped babbling.

That gave him time to say, “I’ve heard you have to beware of pickpockets around all the major tourist attractions.

But I was walking up the Tower Bridge stairs when I saw a woman step on it.

I thought it was her phone. But when I asked, she just shook her head and walked on by.

So I picked it up. Luckily, it wasn’t damaged.

” He eyed her, brow raised. “But I didn’t see you.

” His tone implied that he would have recognized her.

“You’d never have known it was mine even if you had.” She couldn’t stop holding the phone in a tight grip. “I would have noticed you. I mean, you were on my flight.”

Her cheeks turned hot, her words making it sound as if she’d been watching him. Which she had—and having a few fantasies too—but she willed the color away and the heat to fade. “Did you come right back here? I haven’t been gone that long.”

He crossed his legs as if settling in. “I figured someone would call the phone eventually. If they didn’t, I planned to turn it in at the desk. Sitting here, I’d have a point of reference to say where I was if I got a call.”

“I really want to hug you right now.”

He laughed. Then she laughed, even though she should have been embarrassed. He could hardly know how badly she wanted to throw her arms around him. “Can I buy you a Starbucks coffee, a latte, a mocha, anything you’d like?”

He put his hand on top of the cup sitting on the table. “Already got one. But thanks for the thought. You don’t owe me anything. It was my good Samaritan deed for the day.”

And what a good Samaritan. His voice was deep and trickled over her skin like chocolate sauce drizzled over whipped cream, setting her nerves ablaze like the first sip of a good mocha.

“But I have to repay you.” She held out her phone, shaking it in the air. “My whole life is on here. My calendar, my contacts. Not to mention the entire itinerary for this trip and all the tickets I’ve prepaid.”

He smiled such a devilish smile, as if he had hidden depths. God, he was so handsome, in his early forties, his salt-and-pepper hair giving him a deliciously distinguished air. And now she had an excuse to stare.

“Honestly, you don’t owe me. Like I said, I found the phone and planned to turn it in. It was as simple as that.” He held out his hands, fingers splayed.

Piper gave a vehement shake of her head. “It’s not simple at all. A lot of people would have kept it and restarted it back to the factory settings.”

Or a pickpocket could have grabbed it off the ground and hacked into it long before she even knew it was missing.

“You don’t want me to lose my good Samaritan status by having you pay me back?”

She mock-gasped. “I wouldn’t, under any circumstances, want you to lose your good Samaritan badge. We’ll just keep my buying you coffee between us. How does that sound?”

He was laughing at her now. “You are persistent. But I give it even odds that one of the conference colleagues you’re here with would also have had the itinerary.”

She puffed out a breath. “That’s the point.

I’m here on my own for vacation. I have no one to rely on.

Nothing but my phone.” She wasn’t about to tell him she was a runaway bride.

Not that she was truly a runaway, since she’d told Roger she wouldn’t marry him before the wedding rather than just not showing up.

“I assumed you were attending a conference or on a work gig. Since you were traveling alone on the plane.”

So he’d actually wondered about her as he passed her in the plane’s aisle. It gave her a little thrill.

“That’s adventurous,” he added. “Vacationing by yourself.”

“My…” She paused. How should she address Roger? “My friend had to cancel at the last minute. I didn’t want to waste everything, the flight, the hotel.” The tickets she’d bought online for the Tower of London, Greenwich, and other sites.

“I’m sorry your friend couldn’t come. But I still think it’s bold to come on your own.”

She let the smile grow on her face until the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“I know how I can pay you back. I’ll take you to Sunday roast. That’s where I was headed.

Please. Join me.” She was too many years older to actually have designs on him.

Other than in her fantasies. “It would be nice to have the company.” All she really wanted to do was thank him.

“Sunday roast?” he asked, which wasn’t a no even if it wasn’t a yes. “Something special here in England?”

She could sell him on it. “They have a midday Sunday roast at all the pubs. Beef, lamb, pork, or turkey. But beef is traditional. Then there’s Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, and usually cauliflower cheese or broccoli.

” She leaned close as if she couldn’t speak too loudly or the surrounding tourists would immediately rush to the nearest pub.

“We might even get English trifle for dessert. But here in England, they often call it pudding instead of dessert .”

“And what is Yorkshire pudding?” His eyes went wide with curiosity. “Dessert with your dinner?”

She gasped and let her jaw drop in feigned amazement. “You don’t know about Yorkshire pudding?”

His eyes lit up, probably at her expression, and he chuckled. “Sorry, never heard of it.”

She gazed at the ceiling as if expecting it to fall. “How to describe Yorkshire pudding?” Then she looked at him again. “The closest thing is a popover. There’s a big dip in the center and you load it up with gravy. And, oh my God, it’s so good.” She made exaggerated gestures and voice impressions.

He was full-on laughing now. “After the way you describe it, I don’t know how I can pass up Sunday roast with Yorkshire pudding and English trifle.”

She put one finger to her cheek. “But they might not have English trifle. It could be rhubarb pie with hot custard. Or sticky toffee pudding. We’ll have to see.” With a smile, she asked, “Have I convinced you?”

“Absolutely.” His grin made her stomach flip. “I can’t miss discovering what Yorkshire pudding is like.” He leaned forward in his chair, dropping his voice low. “Tell me, did you make sure your flight arrived in the morning so you could have Sunday roast in the afternoon?”

She laughed loud enough to turn heads and didn’t care. “Of course I did. I’m not stupid. I want as many Sunday roasts as I can get before I leave.”

She didn’t tell him that roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was Roger’s favorite.

She’d converted him, too, and had arranged their morning arrival so they could have Sunday roast on both their first and last day in London.

Was it crazy to say she’d even planned the time of her wedding so they could take a Saturday flight out in time to arrive on Sunday morning?

Yes, this man would think she was ridiculous.

“I didn’t make a reservation,” she admitted. “Just in case something went wrong. We might have to wait a bit.”

“I’m not all that hungry after everything they fed us on the plane.”

She wanted to clap her hands in delight, but behaved like an adult. “I’ll just run back to my room and freshen up. And then we can go?” The slight rise in her voice made it a question.

He waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

She was afraid she looked a mess after her frantic search for her phone. “I’ll be right back.”

He called after her. “Wait a minute.”

She turned, cocking one hip as if she couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. Please, don’t let it be a retraction .

“I don’t even know your name.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d been so excited she hadn’t even thought to give it. And she hadn’t asked him. “I’m so sorry.” She returned, tapping her temple. “Losing my phone blew a few brain cells. My name is Piper Alexander.”

He rose, held out his hand. “I’m Jared Hart.”

And that first touch of their hands was electric.

Jared watched Piper Alexander head to the elevators.

She was a good-looking woman, with a mouthwatering figure in those tight leggings.

Her loose blouse beneath the windbreaker hinted at a bounty beneath.

She was older than him, somewhere in her mid-fifties, he presumed, but her slightly curly hair was still blond, hints of red and gold streaking through it and an underlayer of brunette.

He didn’t care about her age; she was simply lovely to look at.

He still didn’t expect her to pay him back for finding her phone.

It was chance that he saw the woman step on it.

There were so many people, he could easily have missed it.

Picking it up, he’d tried to open it to see if he could call one of the favorites, but it was locked.

Instead of heading up the stairs, he returned to the hotel, figuring the phone’s owner might come there, the hotel being so close to two major tourist attractions.

He could have turned it in at Reception, but he ordered a Starbucks latte and waited for someone to call the phone.

Serendipity reigned when that someone was her .