frame and broad shoulders making the narrow hallway look even pokier than usual.
Note to Louisa: never tell a guy you’re falling in love with him on a first date—she grinned to herself—even when it’s the truth. He’ll think you’re a basketcase.
She hummed a current chart hit as she freshened herself up and scoured her tiny galley kitchen for coffee. In the end she had to settle for herbal tea. He walked into the kitchen ten minutes later—looking so gorgeous she had to stifle a romantic sigh—and took the steaming cup ofrosehip and ginseng tea she handed him without complaint.
She blew on her own tea, felt the pleasant little skips of her heartbeat as his gaze fixed on her face. ‘We have a problem,’ he said.
Her throat thickened at the serious tone.
He placed his mug gently on the counter.
‘What is it?’ She forced the question out. It occurred to her she’d been tumbling into love with this man all evening and she knew next to nothing about him. Was he about to tell her he had a wife and five kids?
‘The condom broke.’
‘Oh!’ she said, relieved for a split second.
‘You’re on the pill, then?’
She sobered. ‘Well, no—not exactly.’
‘I see.’
‘But it’s okay. I don’t think it will be a problem.’
‘How so?’
She didn’t think telling him about her wildly irregular periods or the fact that she hadn’t had one in nearly two months would fit with the romantic mood, so she settled for, ‘My period’s due in the next couple of days.’ Probably. ‘I’m right at the end of my cycle. I won’t get pregnant, I’m sure.’
‘Okay. Good.’ He settled back against the counter, crossed his long legs at the ankles. ‘But I’d like you to contact me if there’s a problem.’
‘Of course,’ she said, not quite able to ignore the tingle of apprehension. Why would she need to contact him if they were dating?
He picked up his mug. ‘You know, Louisa, I’ve enjoyed myself tonight.’ His eyes swept over her. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re sexy, and you’re really very sweet.’
Sweet? Louisa gulped her tea as the feeling of rightness that had surrounded her all evening dimmed. Was she imagining things, or did that sound ever so slightly patronising?
‘You’re not at all what I was expecting,’ he continued. ‘All of which makes the confession I’ve got to make very hard indeed.’
Confession? Okay, she definitely didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What confession?’
‘First things first,’ he said, putting his cup down on the counter. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?’ It didn’t sound like a question, but she answered it anyway.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, sending him a saucy smile over the lip of her cup. ‘You’re Luke—Jack’s squash partner.’ And my very own Prince Charming, she would have added, but she didn’t want him to think she was a stalker. Any more declarations of undying love would have to wait until they knew each other a bit better.
To her dismay, he didn’t return her smile but looked down at his feet. ‘Hell. I thought as much,’ he muttered.
She clenched her hands round her cup, tried to ignore the cold feeling creeping over her. Something was wrong. But what?
When his gaze met hers it was deadly serious. ‘I’m Luke Devereaux, the new Lord Berwick. You featured me in your Most Eligible Bachelors list this month.’
‘You’re..? Oh, I see.’ But she didn’t see. Her cup rattled and she plopped it down, spilling red-tinted water onto the counter.
They’d only had one rather blurred paparazzi shot of him for the magazine, but now she could see the resemblance. Still her mind wouldn’t quite engage.
‘What a bizarre coincidence,’ she said dully.
She should be overjoyed, she supposed. The man of her dreams had just turned out to be one of the most soughtafter bachelors in Britain. But she didn’t feel overjoyed. She felt as if she’d
Note to Louisa: never tell a guy you’re falling in love with him on a first date—she grinned to herself—even when it’s the truth. He’ll think you’re a basketcase.
She hummed a current chart hit as she freshened herself up and scoured her tiny galley kitchen for coffee. In the end she had to settle for herbal tea. He walked into the kitchen ten minutes later—looking so gorgeous she had to stifle a romantic sigh—and took the steaming cup ofrosehip and ginseng tea she handed him without complaint.
She blew on her own tea, felt the pleasant little skips of her heartbeat as his gaze fixed on her face. ‘We have a problem,’ he said.
Her throat thickened at the serious tone.
He placed his mug gently on the counter.
‘What is it?’ She forced the question out. It occurred to her she’d been tumbling into love with this man all evening and she knew next to nothing about him. Was he about to tell her he had a wife and five kids?
‘The condom broke.’
‘Oh!’ she said, relieved for a split second.
‘You’re on the pill, then?’
She sobered. ‘Well, no—not exactly.’
‘I see.’
‘But it’s okay. I don’t think it will be a problem.’
‘How so?’
She didn’t think telling him about her wildly irregular periods or the fact that she hadn’t had one in nearly two months would fit with the romantic mood, so she settled for, ‘My period’s due in the next couple of days.’ Probably. ‘I’m right at the end of my cycle. I won’t get pregnant, I’m sure.’
‘Okay. Good.’ He settled back against the counter, crossed his long legs at the ankles. ‘But I’d like you to contact me if there’s a problem.’
‘Of course,’ she said, not quite able to ignore the tingle of apprehension. Why would she need to contact him if they were dating?
He picked up his mug. ‘You know, Louisa, I’ve enjoyed myself tonight.’ His eyes swept over her. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re sexy, and you’re really very sweet.’
Sweet? Louisa gulped her tea as the feeling of rightness that had surrounded her all evening dimmed. Was she imagining things, or did that sound ever so slightly patronising?
‘You’re not at all what I was expecting,’ he continued. ‘All of which makes the confession I’ve got to make very hard indeed.’
Confession? Okay, she definitely didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What confession?’
‘First things first,’ he said, putting his cup down on the counter. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?’ It didn’t sound like a question, but she answered it anyway.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, sending him a saucy smile over the lip of her cup. ‘You’re Luke—Jack’s squash partner.’ And my very own Prince Charming, she would have added, but she didn’t want him to think she was a stalker. Any more declarations of undying love would have to wait until they knew each other a bit better.
To her dismay, he didn’t return her smile but looked down at his feet. ‘Hell. I thought as much,’ he muttered.
She clenched her hands round her cup, tried to ignore the cold feeling creeping over her. Something was wrong. But what?
When his gaze met hers it was deadly serious. ‘I’m Luke Devereaux, the new Lord Berwick. You featured me in your Most Eligible Bachelors list this month.’
‘You’re..? Oh, I see.’ But she didn’t see. Her cup rattled and she plopped it down, spilling red-tinted water onto the counter.
They’d only had one rather blurred paparazzi shot of him for the magazine, but now she could see the resemblance. Still her mind wouldn’t quite engage.
‘What a bizarre coincidence,’ she said dully.
She should be overjoyed, she supposed. The man of her dreams had just turned out to be one of the most soughtafter bachelors in Britain. But she didn’t feel overjoyed. She felt as if she’d
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