The song ended and the train still didn’t move. And now that she was seated beside him, she couldn’t gawp at his gorgeousness without being painfully obvious—so she looked at the floor. The flashmob participants chattered excitedly for a bit before spreading back out along the carriage. And then—just when Nina knew they would—they started the show again. Being stuck between stations with a bunch of singers on repeat? There was nothing to do but laugh—and groan.
“You don’t like it?” He leaned close so she could hear him over the crescendoing crowd.
Nina suppressed a shiver—her skin prickling with delight at his proximity. So hot. “It was great the first time.” She tried to accentuate the positive.
“But you’d rather the first was the only?”
It was an effort not to giggle like an overexcited schoolgirl, giddy because her crush was actually talking to her. It might only be because they were stuck, but it was nice to know he wasn’t as aloof as he’d always appeared on the pavement. “Well, they’re amazing, but… it’s pretty full in a small space.”
“There might be more of this kind of thing in the next few weeks, everyone’s amped for summer.” He awkwardly shifted his feet as a dancer box-stepped her way down the narrow aisle.
“I’m going traveling,” she blurted with a nod. She was escaping London asap. So many of her supposed friends were coming over from Canada to “do” the UK, and she didn’t want to see much of them. While she had to meet up with a few tonight, after that, she was out of here. And that was good. That was what she wanted. Mostly.
“Whereabouts?”
“Europe.” Anywhere that wasn’t here where all those friends of her ex were congregating.
He cocked his head, a small frown furrowing his brow. “When do you go?”
“Next week.”
His eyes widened and some expression flashed on his face—disappearing too fast for her to decipher. Damn. She needed to read more of that body language book.
In the pause, the singers started from the top again.
“For a moment, I thought it was going to be one of those flashmob wedding proposals,” she chuckled, wanting to prolong the conversation for a few minutes.
“Flashmob proposal?” His brow wrinkled.
“Where the guy…” she trailed off. No. To-Die-For here wouldn’t be the type to surf wedding websites and watch the proposal of the week and feel somewhat deflated about his own.
His gaze darted to her hands—her bare fingers. No. She’d never gotten the ring despite the on-bended-knee question. Then she saw his attention slide further south.
Wow, he hadn’t noticed her before, but now he was scoping out her legs? Nina chewed her lower lip to hide her smile because she was scoping far more than his legs. Sitting this close she could feel the warmth of him, could see the cords of muscle in his arms. The only imperfection she could find was a small scratch on the back of his hand. Pulling her focus away from him was an effort—she made herself glance at her watch.
“You’re worried you’re going to be late?”
She nodded. The fans were on the fourth rendition of their rousing song already and still the train’s engine was eerily silent.
“Work?” he asked.
She nodded again. “And you?” she asked.
“Yes. But my client won’t mind if I’m a bit late.”
So he was a banker. It figured. He had the money, the self-assurance. So why not the private car today? If he worked at Canary Wharf, he could give her a ride every morning. Her face tingled, heating at the double entendre. Oh yes, a ride—every morning and night…
She cleared her throat. Since when was she so one-track minded, thinking of nothing but sex? Was she over Corey at last? It was beyond time. But the sensible bit of Nina wasn’t ready to toy with another guy who was probably just as obsessed and image driven. She was going to travel—alone and indefinitely—finally free to do and be what she wanted. Just herself, no longer trying to live up to someone else’s expectations of interesting and cool. By herself she couldn’t bore anyone else, right?
“You don’t mind working on a weekend?” he asked, managing to speak over the fifth rendition of the supporters’ song.
“Not at all,” she said with a smile. The weekend customers were more fun. It was sometimes busier than weekdays, too, which made for fast-passing days. “I wish I was working even later tonight, to be honest.”
“Why’s that?”
“I have to go out later and I don’t want to.” She really didn’t want to.
“It’s not dinner at Pascal Dumont, is it? Because I have to go there tonight and I don’t want to either.” He looked sheepish.
Why didn’t he want to go there? “No,” Nina said disbelievingly with a laugh. As if she’d go to dinner at a Michelin-starred celebrity haunt? Booked out almost a year in advance, she’d heard the appetizers alone cost a bomb. “Mine is merely a meet up in a pub in North London.”
“With people you don’t want to see?”
She shot him a glance. Perceptive, wasn’t he? She nodded slowly. All Corey’s friends whom she hadn’t seen since she’d broken off their engagement. The entire time she’d known them, she’d been with Corey. She’d known them because of Corey. And most probably they’d known more than she had about the true state of their relationship. Humiliation central.
“Can’t you come down with a migraine?” He teased, clearly having read the dread in her face.
Resolutely she shook her head. “It’d be too obvious.” She wanted to show them she was over it. That she didn’t need their sympathy or their pity—and that she could blank the bitchy laughter behind her back. Corey had been the catch, the one everyone wanted. And no one had been able to believe he’d picked her—least of all Nina. And then his deceit stripped her confidence even further. But was she was supposed to be so grateful to have him
