Shadows of the Past Page 5

  The corners of his mouth lift. “It’s nice to meet you, Kayla.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “So tell me about yourself.” Oliver puts his cup of coffee to his lips and then glances up at me. Dark hair falls into his eyes and he sweeps it back with his hand. The past few times I saw Oliver, he was very pulled together. This morning he’s a mess of floppy hair, damp with sweat, and a jogging suit that looks new. It’s hard to look away he’s so beautiful.

  I shrug. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve been touring Europe for a while, and London was on my must-see list.” I lift the cup of white mocha to my lips and sip. The hot liquid slides down my throat and chases away the chill. I moan contentedly.

  When I look up, Oliver is watching me. “Orgasmic coffee?”

  I smile and duck my head, wishing my hair wasn’t in a ponytail so I could hide behind it. “Maybe. Can we talk about something else?”

  “I’ll indulge your request if you share your bun with me.” His smile is soft and sincere despite the playful innuendo in his voice.

  I push the scone toward him. “Go nuts.”

  “That means I can eat it, right?” He’s smirking now, and I know his mind is in a dirty place because of the giddy tension in the air. I kick him under the table.

  “Behave yourself or next time I’ll ask Barkley out and leave you home.”

  Oliver sips his coffee and takes a bite of the pastry. “That devil steals all the women.”

  “He can’t say that about you. I was starting to wonder.” My tone is light, teasing.

  “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  A huge grin spreads across my face as I hold my cup halfway to my mouth. “Nope.”

  “Very well, I deserved it. I can’t say I’d speak to a woman again if she behaved the way I did. Add in Barkley, the phone, the slight stalker tendency—”

  I laugh. “Slight?”

  “Well, let’s just say I won’t do that again.”

  “Cheers to that.” I lean forward and click my cup against his, before raising the glass to my lips. As I take the first swallow, I feel his gaze on me and look up. Oliver is watching me, his gaze locked on my lips.

  He snaps out of it and clears his throat before shifting in his seat.

  “Well, I told you about my wonderful evening that led to the most horrific mistake I’ve made in a long time. What had you down the night we met?”

  I put my cup down and lean back in my seat.

  “It’s not something I talk about.” He nods and shoves the rest of my scone in his mouth. “Do you normally eat like that? Those habits would make my hips double in size in a week.”

  Oliver looks at the two empty plates and grins sheepishly.

  “I admit I have horrible eating habits. I tend to eat everything or nothing. There is no middle. I dare say I’m afraid I don’t ration myself very well when on my own.”

  “Ah,” I look down and feel a smile wanting to form. I can’t stop flirting with him. “So you have your own minions that feed and bath you? Do they know you escaped?”

  Oliver laughs. “Funny. And how did we end up talking about me again?” I offer a coy smile and sip my coffee. “Right, you flipped things around. I will find out more about you, Kayla. It’s not often someone catches my attention the way you have.”

  “It wasn’t intentional. I’m anti-attention.”

  “I had no idea,” he says dryly. “So, how long have you been in London?”

  I don’t really want to get into it, but I can answer this. “A few years, I suppose.”

  “And I assume you started off sight-seeing and decided to stay.”

  Shaking my head, I reply, “Not really. Actually I haven’t gone to see anything. Emily dragged me on the London Eye once, and I ride the tube, but that’s about it.”

  “That’s horrid! Are you saying you walk in Kensington Gardens but have never seen the palace? Or the Tower? Or anything?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I never had time or money. I guess I thought I’d get there one day. It’s not like those things don’t interest me. Actually, I’m kind of fascinated by the Old World, but I’ve never found the time to go.”

  “Wow.” He seems truly shocked.

  “You’re displeased?”

  “Not really, just surprised. I suppose it takes money and time to see these things.”

  “It does.” I sigh and try to change the subject. “I’ll get there eventually.”

  “Thank God you didn’t swear off pubs.” He smiles at me hoping I’ll reveal more about the night we met, but I don’t. My mind wanders through my memories, finding nothing safe to tell him.

  It’s as if he can tell I’m lost in the shadows, because he says kindly, “Just promise me one thing.” He leans forward and places his hands on the table, so close to mine. “One day, promise to tell me why you agreed to go home with me that night.” I squirm in my seat. As I go to pull my hands away, Oliver places his palm over mine. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.”

  I nod and think for a moment, wanting to tell him something. I pull my hand away and find my eyes will look everywhere but at Oliver.

  “You didn’t hurt me, I was just shocked. That’s all. And what you said before made sense. I wouldn’t want you to be a rebound either. You seem… Sweet.”

  “Sweet?” He sounds surprised.

  “Yes,” I downgraded sexy to sweet when I was talking and planned on plowing through my thoughts, but he stops me.

  “Old ladies are sweet. Babies are sweet. Can you honestly look at me and say I’m sweet?” His voice rises a little by the time he finishes that last part.

  Leaning forward, I pinch his cheek. “You’re a sweetie pie!” He swats me away, feigning offense, but smiling.

  “Sweet indeed.” He says the words like they’re rancid in his mouth.

  His phone rings and he lifts it from his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he says, “It’s the vet.”

  His smile fades as he swipes the phone to life. I feel like I should give him privacy, so I stand and walk past him, touching his shoulder as I go by. I feel bad. I’m upset his dog knocked me down and made me lose my phone—and probably my locket—but I wouldn’t have wished bad things on him or Oliver.

  I stand at the counter for a second and order another scone. When I return to the table, I place it down in front of Oliver. He has a spaced out look on his face, which worries me. “Is he all right?”

  Oliver nods. “Yes, he is. Please, sit.” He rips the bun in half and offers the bigger piece to me.

  “What happened? Why was Barkley sick?” I hold onto the scone for a second, wondering why he’s so upset.

  “He ingested something. It was caught in his stomach. The vet removed it and said he’ll be fine.”

  I touch his hand, and Oliver looks up at me.

  “Well, that’s good, right?”

  “Yes, it is," he nods. "That dog eats everything. I’m afraid he knowingly jumped you to try and take your cell phone. He likes to chew up the plastic. I was afraid he swallowed a battery or something awful.” He takes a breath and looks up at me. “But he’s all right.”

  “I’m glad. You two are good together—like a new kind of power couple. Best friend and beast.”

  He laughs. Leaning forward, he asks, “And which am I?”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Oliver's eyes drop to my mouth when I speak, and his breathing speeds up. My lips part as tingles shoot through me. I have to drag my eyes away from his lips.

  The air around us is practically alive with the tension. It’s like we're in our own little bubble, only aware of each other. The way he looks at my mouth makes me want to lean in closer and close the distance. There’s a magnetic pull between us that is so hard to fight. Just as his lips are about to brush against mine, his phone rings.

  Oliver startles and jerks away, blinking rapidly as if he were waking up from a dream. Reaching for his pho
ne, he looks at the screen. There’s no picture, just a name:

  SOPHIE

  He mashes his lips together and swears under his breath when he sees the screen.

  "Sorry, I need to take this." Playful Oliver vaporizes, and in his place is a guy who scares me a little. His eyes grow cold, and his jaw locks up tight as he turns to walk away from me. I watch as he puts the phone up to his ear. "What do you want?"

  CHAPTER 11

  "Hullo, American Girl." Even if I didn't know his voice, the nickname would clue me in. It's been almost a week since the last time I saw him. I refuse to admit I missed him, and I definitely didn't wonder about him even a little bit.

  I don't turn to acknowledge him when I say brightly, "Oliver." His footsteps follow me down the stairs and out of the hotel. Suddenly, he's in front of me, and I'm forced to stop to avoid crashing into him. His eyes are sparkling with mischief, and his smile is genuine when I look up at him.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Shift finished?" he asks hopefully.

  "Maybe. How’s Barkley?”

  “Recovering, thanks for asking. Soon he’ll be attacking cell phones again. I tried giving him a stuffed rabbit and he just looked at me funny.” Oliver makes a face. “So, I have news.”

  “Well, let’s have it." We walk down the street to get away from the doors at work. I don’t want Reggie to know any more about my personal life.

  "I want to take you to see my favorite parts of the city, and before you object, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  I sulk and slump my shoulders while dragging my feet. “But Oliver,” I whine, teasing him. “Are you going to make me eat gross food and sip tea?”

  “Oh, drat. You spoiled my surprise.” He makes a face and looks over at me. “Well, are you able to take a few days off?”

  I laugh at that.

  “Uh no. I’ve got to work if I want to eat and keep a roof over my head.”

  “I don’t know. I think that blonde might let you stay for free in exchange for sexual favors.”

  I let out a honk of a laugh.

  “You did NOT just say that!” I stop and stare at him with my jaw hanging open. He laughs so much that it shows off a set of twin dimples.

  “I’m just saying that Emily can be persuaded, so if your boss is a tyrant you have a plan B.”

  “That’s not a good plan B. Dear God, man! What do you do for a living anyway? Sit around looking pretty?” Oliver laughs and falls into step beside me again.

  “That sums it up fairly nicely, I’d say. All right, I’ll let you in on my secret.” I glance over at him after he pauses. “I’m an underpants model.”

  I start laughing again because he’s the last person I’d expect to see pictured scantily clad on the side of the bus.

  “Ah, I knew you were hiding something. That explains it.”

  “Yes, you see I feel overexposed most of the time. It’s nice to wear clothes.” He smirks and nudges me with his elbow. “Seriously though, I’d like to show you around. This is a great city and I picked some places that will pique your interest, history buff.”

  “Ah, well, if you put it like that.” We stop in front of his hotel. The doorman doesn’t move, but obviously recognizes Oliver. “You wicked man, you, appealing to my inner nerd. How can I say no?”

  “Smashing.” He clasps his hands together, truly excited. It’s nice to see. “How is Monday for you?”

  “That works.” Is this a date? Going on a tour at some historical site isn’t dating, right? He’s just being nice.

  The feeling of his hand in mine jerks me back to the present. He's touching me, and making my skin tingle. It's been so long since anyone has touched me, not counting the night of the near-hookup.

  The truth is, I try so hard to keep everyone at a distance, physically and emotionally, but Oliver somehow smashes every defense. He's like a puppy, wiggling through the tiniest spaces in the walls I build to keep everyone out. I don't even know he's broken through until it's too late.

  “Come up for a little bit.” Oliver watches me, waiting. “I can tell you my plans.”

  A cold jolt shoots through me and I step away. I can’t breathe. Something about the way he says it makes me freak out. I feel the tightening of my throat and the rapid thumping of my heart. My feet want to run, but I’m glued to the sidewalk. “I can’t. I really need to get home, but thanks.”

  Oliver offers a polite smile and holds his hands behind his back. “Well then, I’ll have to surprise you.”

  “Yeah, that works. I need to go.” I’m ready to bolt when he takes my wrist.

  “Kayla, I didn’t mean to spook you. We’re friends, that’s all. I was asking if you wanted to come up and chat instead of standing in the street. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He seems to know what I was thinking. I feel like a skittish cat; if there were a tree here I’d climb it.

  “Oh, I know.” I stumble on my words and feel incredibly awkward. So this affection thing is one-sided, after all. I’m so mental. “Of course. Hey, I guess I’ll meet you here on Monday. I know where you live so don’t do anything weird.” Oh God. Did I just say that? I grimace and start to back away.

  “I’ll try to behave myself, but I can’t make promises for Barkley.” He shakes his head and is about to say something, but I cut him off.

  Walking backward, I ask, “What time?”

  “Noon?”

  “That works. Ow, freaking frick!” I bite off my slew of words and look behind me. I walked into a huge flowerpot. Oliver moves to step toward me, but I laugh. “I’m a dork. I’m fine. I’ll see you Monday. Bye!”

  Oh, God, someone shoot me, please. I’m that girl—the clumsy git who trips on her feet when Mr. Dashing is near.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Have you heard a word I've said?" His voice startles me out of my head, and we're standing at the base of a huge staircase. I look at the staircase and the paintings on the wall in awe, his question forgotten.

  I feel bad, but my brain shorted out when he took my hand. I was freaking out about the touch, wondering if I should pull away. It made me lose sight of what he was talking about. Seeing my expression, he softens.

  "This is the King's Staircase." We walk up slowly, studying the paintings on the walls, depictions of people at court, dressed in all their finery. They look so lifelike, I find it hard to believe they are just paintings. As we climb the stairs, we stop to study each glass box filled with figurines in different scenes.

  "Oh, Oliver," I breathe, "this is amazing." I'm completely entranced.

  We walk through the King's Apartments and a few other areas of the palace, but the place I'll remember most is that staircase. I've never seen anything like it. It has an opulence that is unique to this side of the ocean. Paintings are everywhere, on every surface, even the ceiling.

  He continues to lead me through more rooms, showing me dresses that date back hundreds of years. They belonged to former queens, some even belonging to Princess Diana. Her eldest son lives here now, but since he and Kate had the baby, they aren’t here much. At least that’s the latest gossip. They wanted to raise the child themselves with no nanny.

  Oliver leads me into a room filled with little chairs. They’re all empty, save one. My heart contracts when I read the sign. This was set up to commemorate all seventeen children Queen Charlotte lost. The chairs range from tiny infant-sized seats to a chair big enough for her son who died when he was eleven. It’s like a birthday party for her dead children and the evocative nature of the display rips my heart out. I could barely survive losing two children; I can’t fathom losing seventeen.

  “I need to find the ladies' room," I say, rushing out the door. "I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?” Before Oliver can answer, I’m gone.

  I shove into a tiny restroom and try to gather my thoughts. I’m a shaking mess. I turn on the sink and splash some water on my face, then dry it off. I stay there too long, breathing, trying to regain my footing, but it feels as if I’ve been whacked
on the back with a cane. I can’t breathe.

  I lean back against the sink and fish my phone from my pocket. I could have Emily call me in a few minutes and say something came up and I have to leave. The problem is, until now, I didn’t want to leave. I was having a nice time, and I loved the palace.

  “Screw it.” I can’t share this with him. Emily doesn’t even know. I call her quickly. “Hey, call me back in five minutes and tell me that they need me at work.”

  “Uh huh. Is this about your non-date?”

  “No, I just need an out. Will you help me or not?” I sound panicked and am having trouble keeping my voice steady.

  “Did he hurt you? What’s wrong?” Emily sounds alarmed.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. I just feel like I’ve seen a ghost and I don’t want Oliver to see me nuts. Please, just call in five, okay?”

  “Of course. Come home. We can watch trashy TV and play Jenga. I found a cat edition!” She squeals and hangs up.

  Crap, I walked right into that.

  After I catch my breath, I head outside to the gardens. Oliver is waiting for me. “Hey,” he smiles carefully and tips his head to the side to catch my gaze. “Everything all right?”

  I tuck my hair behind my ear and nod, fake smile firmly in place. “Yeah, of course. It was just a little warm up there.”

  “Warm?”

  “And cramped. All those people make me a little claustrophobic. Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush out like that.” I walk toward the manicured gardens. “This is lovely.”

  Oliver nods and we walk through in silence. I stop every few feet and look at the flowers, wishing Emily would hurry up and call. I have my hand in pocket, tapping my phone. When it rings, I pull it out. “It’s Emily. One second.”

  Oliver nods and steps away for a moment to offer some privacy.

  “This is your afternoon booty call. Get your ass home for some pussycat Jenga with your bestie. Now, girl, and I won’t take no for an answer!” Then she purrs into the phone, unexpectedly.