her arms. “I’ll get my things.”
“There’s a packed suitcase in the boot,” said Albert. “Clothes, toiletries, everything you might need.”
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “He was so sure I’d say yes?”
“No, no. Not exactly. He just told me to take are of everything. Even coffee.” Albert smiled hopefully.
“He’s lucky to have you, Albert. At least let me get my purse.” She turned to Carmen. “I won't be gone longer than one night , Carmen. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Carmen nodded and, smiling, proceeded to open up Candied Locks.
Eliza went up to her flat and slipped into a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and cropped sweater. She brushed her teeth, turned off the coffee press, and looped her purse over her shoulder.
Apparently, she was on her way to Devon.
* the end of London Lace #2 *
This is the second story in a planned series. For a preview of London Lace #3 (now available), turn the page.
Show the author some support by posting a review, or liking the Orly Press Facebook page.
Check out other great titles at www.orlypress.com .
A SECOND CHANCE - Preview of London Lace #3
A sleek black Mercedes peeled away from the Piccadilly curb where the millinery salon, Candied Locks, sat open without its owner working feverishly in the back studio. The owner, Eliza Keating, sat in the back seat of the black Mercedes feverishly wondering what she was doing jumping in a car and heading to Devon to meet with a man whom the general public believed to be engaged to someone else.
The paper sitting beside her on the seat was proof.
Well, she conceded, it was The Sun , a social gossip rag, and the reporter had only suggested the imminent ringing of wedding bells. But there was the photo of Todd with another woman who happened to be very pretty, and young, and Todd was caught smiling as he stod beside her. Eliza knew – even though she still didn’t know Todd that well –that smiling like that was not a common occurrence for him.
“Albert, why am I doing this?”
Albert, Todd’s driver, glanced in rearview mirror and smiled at her.
“Because it’s the right thing, Miss.”
“You can’t know that.”
“As much as I can know anything, this is the right thing. I’m sure of it.”
Eliza sighed and looked out the window. Maybe it wasn’t about right or wrong. Something about her decision felt very right and something about it felt very wrong.
Her body was screaming, Right, Right, Right ! Her mind was beginning to make a list of everything that was wrong: she knew next to nothing about him; he had a ‘complex history’ (his choice of words to avoid discussing a prior engagement) with the now-married socialite Lady Jocelyn Elliot; half of London assumed he was now engaged to a different socialite, Melissa Selfridge, who also happened to be the daughter of one of his horse buyers; he seemed to prefer horses to people and the country to the city; he was from an aristocratic family, while she was not; and he had terrible manners.
He was, however, also: dashingly handsome; unpredictable; passionate; virile; attentive to her sexual desires; sometimes funny, other times deep; friendly and sincere with the people he liked and the animals he cared for; not preoccupied with wealth or status or conventional ambitions, yet independent and self-motivated; and, most importantly, he was searingly, scathingly hot . Her body placed a lot of stock in this virtue and her mind was not impressed. You can’t base a relationship purely on sex, her mind-self reminded her body-self. Who said anything about a relationship? Her body had a point.
Todd had already reached a deep place inside of her, way beyond skin deep. She might try to deny it – her body, after all, was only concerned with the depth of pleasure every inch of her skin could endure – but her mind was looking out for that tender bleeding muscle tucked behind the protective cage of her ribs. Her mind didn’t want her heart to
“There’s a packed suitcase in the boot,” said Albert. “Clothes, toiletries, everything you might need.”
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “He was so sure I’d say yes?”
“No, no. Not exactly. He just told me to take are of everything. Even coffee.” Albert smiled hopefully.
“He’s lucky to have you, Albert. At least let me get my purse.” She turned to Carmen. “I won't be gone longer than one night , Carmen. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Carmen nodded and, smiling, proceeded to open up Candied Locks.
Eliza went up to her flat and slipped into a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and cropped sweater. She brushed her teeth, turned off the coffee press, and looped her purse over her shoulder.
Apparently, she was on her way to Devon.
* the end of London Lace #2 *
This is the second story in a planned series. For a preview of London Lace #3 (now available), turn the page.
Show the author some support by posting a review, or liking the Orly Press Facebook page.
Check out other great titles at www.orlypress.com .
A SECOND CHANCE - Preview of London Lace #3
A sleek black Mercedes peeled away from the Piccadilly curb where the millinery salon, Candied Locks, sat open without its owner working feverishly in the back studio. The owner, Eliza Keating, sat in the back seat of the black Mercedes feverishly wondering what she was doing jumping in a car and heading to Devon to meet with a man whom the general public believed to be engaged to someone else.
The paper sitting beside her on the seat was proof.
Well, she conceded, it was The Sun , a social gossip rag, and the reporter had only suggested the imminent ringing of wedding bells. But there was the photo of Todd with another woman who happened to be very pretty, and young, and Todd was caught smiling as he stod beside her. Eliza knew – even though she still didn’t know Todd that well –that smiling like that was not a common occurrence for him.
“Albert, why am I doing this?”
Albert, Todd’s driver, glanced in rearview mirror and smiled at her.
“Because it’s the right thing, Miss.”
“You can’t know that.”
“As much as I can know anything, this is the right thing. I’m sure of it.”
Eliza sighed and looked out the window. Maybe it wasn’t about right or wrong. Something about her decision felt very right and something about it felt very wrong.
Her body was screaming, Right, Right, Right ! Her mind was beginning to make a list of everything that was wrong: she knew next to nothing about him; he had a ‘complex history’ (his choice of words to avoid discussing a prior engagement) with the now-married socialite Lady Jocelyn Elliot; half of London assumed he was now engaged to a different socialite, Melissa Selfridge, who also happened to be the daughter of one of his horse buyers; he seemed to prefer horses to people and the country to the city; he was from an aristocratic family, while she was not; and he had terrible manners.
He was, however, also: dashingly handsome; unpredictable; passionate; virile; attentive to her sexual desires; sometimes funny, other times deep; friendly and sincere with the people he liked and the animals he cared for; not preoccupied with wealth or status or conventional ambitions, yet independent and self-motivated; and, most importantly, he was searingly, scathingly hot . Her body placed a lot of stock in this virtue and her mind was not impressed. You can’t base a relationship purely on sex, her mind-self reminded her body-self. Who said anything about a relationship? Her body had a point.
Todd had already reached a deep place inside of her, way beyond skin deep. She might try to deny it – her body, after all, was only concerned with the depth of pleasure every inch of her skin could endure – but her mind was looking out for that tender bleeding muscle tucked behind the protective cage of her ribs. Her mind didn’t want her heart to
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