She heard the key card in the lock just before lunch and looked up. Instead of Archer, in walked an enormous bunch of pink lilies, and her face involuntarily broke into a smile. Archer moved the flowers to the side and grinned at her. “Hello, lovely,” he said, his face filled with affection.
Everything she’d rehearsed, the stoic, calm greeting, flew out of her head as she launched herself off the couch and threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her close with his free arm, laughing gleefully at her effusive hello. She breathed in his spicy scent mixed with the sweetness of the lilies.
“I missed you,” she mumbled into his neck. When she lifted her face to his, he looked into her eyes for a moment before bending to press his mouth softly to hers.
“I missed you, too.” He stepped back slightly, and she felt the loss of his touch intensely. “These are for you, as a thank you gift for being so patient.” If only he knew how much I deserve these.
“Thank you,” she said graciously. She was about to take the flowers from him when his expression changed, suddenly serious. “Chloe, something’s happened. What is it?” That he could know that just by looking at her answered Chloe’s most pressing question, the one that had played on repeat in her mind ever since Madison’s intrusion.
He feels the same way.
“Well … look, there’s no easy way to tell you, so I’m just gonna say it. Madison let herself into the room and found me in the bath.” In any other circumstance, the look on his face would have been comical. “Yes, that. That was pretty much my reaction too.”
Archer seemed to gather his wits somewhat, placing the bouquet on a table near the door before making his way to the couch. He plopped down, a frown settling onto his handsome features. Chloe sat next to him and tucked her feet beneath her.
“But I don’t … why? And how was she even let in here? Oh, Chloe, I’m so, so sorry.” He shook his head, obviously still in disbelief.
“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologise. She does, but not you.”
Archer angled his body towards her, his expression changing from confusion to concern, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek. “Are you all right? She didn’t do anything to you, did she?”
From the way he’d asked the question, it was clear that her encounter with Madison could have been far worse.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Unless you count saying cruel things to me but, you know … I’m a big girl and all that.” Chloe smiled feebly.
“God, I’m so, so sorry. Here I am inviting you to London with me so I could spend proper time with you, and I’ve gone and put you in the firing line.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and blew out an exasperated sigh.
“Archer, this isn’t your fault. But I do think you need to talk to her.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so. Quite right. And the hotel. I can’t believe they let her in here.”
“Yes, well, she had her own key card, so someone on the front desk was a little lax in the security department. And she did say that a member of your publicity team alerted her that you were staying here.”
“Bollocks! Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!”
Chloe couldn’t help the snicker that burst from her mouth. It was such a silly swear word, like something out of a Monty Python sketch.
“What?” His eyes, filled with mirth, met hers. “Are you disparaging my choice of profanity?” he asked with a mock-serious glare.
“Never.”
“Like buggery, you weren’t, Ms Sims.” He gave her a look worthy of a pantomime. Chloe wouldn’t have been surprised to suddenly hear a chorus of, “Look behind you, look behind you.”
She sighed dramatically—two could play at this game—and returned the hard stare. “Mr Tate, may I remind you that I am from Australia where we say the F-word on TV and include words like ‘bloody’ and ‘bugger’ in award-winning ad campaigns. Yes, I know that those are the height of profanity here in the UK, but in ’Straya”—she bunged on a broad Aussie accent—“they are regularly heard on the playground.”
His mouth puckered in an obvious attempt not to smile. “Is that so?”
It was time for the big guns, the Ocker accent! “Yeah, mate, so drop the airs and graces and let’s call a spade a spade. Your ex is deadset batty, mate. For realz.”
He threw his head back and laughed, then, regarding her with an amused smile, conceded the win to her. “Good lord, that accent. Very Australian, well done you.”
“You know, there some are people who, when they meet me, think I’m English—Americans mostly.”
“Is that so?” He seemed dubious.
“Yes. Maybe it’s because they think all Australians sound like the Crocodile Hunter.”
“Crikey!”
“That was an appalling accent, by the way. I thought you we supposed to be a good actor.”
“Oh, you’re in trouble, you are.” He stood and before she knew what was happening, he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he deposited her unceremoniously with a plop and climbed on top of her. She was giggling so hard she didn’t have time to escape.
“Archer, stop, stop!” His legs straddled her hips and, hovering over her, he peppered kisses over her face and neck, before finally sitting back and regarding her with a grin.
“Do you really want me to stop?”
She shook her head and he dipped his to capture her mouth in a delicious kiss, then raised it just enough to meet her eyes. One finger trailed the features of her face and she watched as his gaze followed. “You have the most extraordinary eyes,” he whispered. She lowered her lashes and smiled softly, flattered by
