Uh-huh. She’d lost it.
Fortunately, he’d be gone in a second. Every day he stood on the path for a few stunning moments before a gleaming black car pulled up and paused only long enough for him to get in before gliding away. No mixing with the masses on public transport for him.
Nina expected the smooth engine would pass her in two seconds. Except as she watched behind her big sunglasses, the guy stopped on the pavement, glancing impassively down the street toward her. And then he turned and actually started to walk.
While billboard perfection when standing still, when moving he exuded graceful, mesmerizing, power. Like a dangerous animal that’d be invincible should he decide to pounce—the kind who only had to fix you in his sights to have you immobile and in thrall.
Nina didn’t have time to be immobile, but she was enthralled. She followed—pressing her lips together to stop the smile. He was going on the Tube? Really? By the time she got into the station he was taking a ticket from the machine. A second later he was through the turnstiles and striding down the escalator.
Nina swiped her weekly pass and went past the tiles with their distinctive Sherlock Holmes silhouette—her smile widened. That she lived in London? That she was going to France and Germany and beyond? She still had to pinch herself to believe it.
The roaring sound grew louder as the escalator descended. She knew what it meant—a train had just pulled in. Her heels clattered as she walked faster. As she got to the platform, she glanced at the board to check the destination. Already the recorded message to stand clear of the door was playing. Damn, it was her train—Jubilee line—and it was going to be ten minutes until the next.
She ran. She couldn’t be late, she was solo at work today and even though it was Sunday there was money to be made and every penny would help her Euro-trip last a few days longer. The mechanism whooshed, signaling the doors were about to close, but she was three meters out. Too far to run or jump and flying wasn’t one of her abilities.
“Nooo,” Nina groaned, still running even though she knew it was useless.
Through the window, the crowd on the carriage didn’t notice her—staring up, down, away from anyone else’s eyes, already in the insular, determinedly isolated poses that only public transport could induce. Nina stared, wishing she were one of them.
She stopped as the doors slid closed. Because there he was, right inside the doorway of the nearest carriage. How typical he’d have made it—no doubt all doors remained open for him. Nina glared at the edge of the platform, muttering bad words beneath her breath. As she did, the doors made that lurching, screechy sound the way they did when something blocked them. Then she heard them slide again—open. Her jaw dropped open when she saw the obstacle in the way of the door was a broad shoulder—his broad shoulder.
She didn’t muck around. She leapt the two steps to get on board. A second later it was a driver’s voice—not a recorded message—tetchily reminding passengers to please stand clear of the doors. The gorgeous guy straightened up, no longer making the barrier that had helped her.
Surprised—and thrilled—at his gesture, she smiled at him. “Thank—”
Her voice died. So did her brain. She totally forgot what she’d been saying because she saw he’d taken his sunglasses off. All she could do was stare as a different thrill shivered down her spine and sent her heart drumming into overdrive.
She’d imagined his eyes would be a gorgeous brown—glossy and dark and chocolaty. They weren’t. They were blue. Brighter than a kingfisher’s wing, yet cooler than a mountain spring, because though bright, they were pale. And right now they regarded her intensely. Startled at the unexpected help he’d offered, she kept staring at the unexpected lightness in his eyes.
His lips curved, ever so slowly, and then that smile tiptoed into his eyes as well, softening the clinical, drilling assessment. “You’re welcome.”
Oh dear heaven, he was foreign. Not “boring” foreign like her. But speak-another-language foreign—his English lilted and tilted and intrigued. Hopeless at identifying accents, Nina reckoned he could be from any land where the Mediterranean lapped. There was warmth in his words and smile and tone that made her think of olives and tomatoes and sweet drizzling oil.
She rapidly blinked. No need to get giddy about it—she could get a grip. She was off to the Continent in a little over a week and maybe there’d be gorgeous men on every street corner... More attainable ones hopefully—this guy was in another realm.
The train raced through the tunnel and Nina grabbed the steel pole at the opposite side of the door to him.
Balance, woman. Calm down.
She looked away, embarrassed at her gawping. But yeah, for a moment there’d been a connection—when he really saw her and she most certainly saw him and—Oh my. But she wasn’t going to turn puppy-eyed and it wasn’t like she’d try to talk to him, certainly not in this crowded, quiet carriage with everyone eavesdropping. His action in helping her had been a random act of kindness—not attraction. Nina never attracted guys like that.
She studied the map stuck above the door and followed the silver snail line showing the Jubilee’s route. The train would take them through the center of London and down to the Southside and then out east to the Docklands—where the financial institutions were and the mall where she’d worked for the last four months.
Today, instead of the commuter crush of weekday mornings, there was a hefty number of tourists onboard. She didn’t try to find a seat. Nor did he. She’d have this one journey across from him—sharing the same air.
Yes, she was this tragic. And it was definitely time she went abroad, found her inner fun-time girl, and had a fling.
