“Of course. If you take a seat out in the lobby, I'll bring them to you.”
“Thank you,” London says and moves into the lobby to a table near the window. Her stomach drops when she watches Declan jump from the carriage across the street. He hurries to speak to the driver and whips around to stare at the bank. She bites her lip and waits to see how he handles this. Will he be angry with her?
The clerk drops the boxes with the tapes down on the table and smiles. “Let me know when you're done.” London works her way through the tapes and writes down the information she needs.
Declan speaks to the driver and has him pull the carriage over to the bank while he walks across the street. “This ought to be good,” he grumbles.
London jumps when the bell rings over the door. She doesn't turn to greet him when he spots her working, but instead, she continues writing. “Almost finished,” she says softly when he steps beside her, and she keeps writing. Looking up with a triumphant grin, “Done.”
Declan has to stifle a grin at the excitement on her face.
“What time do you print the tapes daily?” she hurries to ask the young clerk who has returned to claim the box.
“Usually early morning, but if you want to get copies, I'd suggest coming after lunch. We are usually crowded first thing in the morning. Everyone wants to see the tapes.”
“I’m sure, thank you,” she turns to look at Declan. “We need to talk!”
“Over dinner,” he offers his arm, and she accepts holding her prized piece of paper.
Trembling with barely concealed excitement, she climbs into the carriage and waits for him to sit next to her. She turns to look at him. “Declan,” she starts to say.
“I asked you to wait, London. It's not safe to wander around on your own,” he snaps, cutting her sentence off.
“I'm sorry if I scared you, Declan, but it was only across the street and,” he interrupts her again.
“No buts, London, you’re a beautiful woman, alone in a strange city, you must be more cautious.”
“Beautiful?” she laughs his compliment away, and he leans forward, eyes flashing.
“Very,” he states.
London’s mouth falls open in shock. “I didn’t think about it,” she frowns and glances down at the paper in her hand. “I’ve been invisible for so long it didn’t seem necessary.”
“It is very necessary. You’re no longer invisible. I don’t want to lose you when I just found you,” Declan announces.
Touched beyond words, London stares at him in surprise and leans forward, kissing him softly, surprising them both. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks.
“For caring,” she sniffs.
Declan doesn't know what to say, he draws her into his arms across his lap and kisses her senseless. This kiss is different, more intense, marking her heart pound and burning the feel of him into her soul.
They break apart, and he smiles down at her, “I win.”
London laughs and pulls him back down, “You gave me leave to kiss you whenever I want. I think I'm the winner,” her smiles fades as he reclaims her mouth. Hot, moist, heat, and beating hearts.
When he lifts his head this time, he decides to be sensible and sits her away from him. London blushes and straightens her dress as he moves to the seat across from her.
“Tell me what was so important, London?” he asks.
“Oh, I forgot!” Blushing, she glances around and finds the crumpled paper. “I have to stop touching you, it makes my mind splinter.”
Declan laughs, “That’s the best compliment.”
London covers her face trying to regain her composure. “Please stop,” she asks quietly.
“I'm sorry, tell me,” he pulls her hands down, and she nods.
“Declan, I think we can sell your shares, the ones I bought, and get a much higher price.”
“I'm willing to listen, but first, we need to feed you.” The carriage stops in front of the Copper House Tavern, and London frowns.
“Did you hear me?” she asks. London is vibrating with excitement and frustrated that he could worry about food at a time like this. He lifts her down and smiles at her.
“Declan, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” she whispers as he guides her into the restaurant.
“Do you like seafood?”
“What? Yes I like seafood…” she replies and is tempted to stomp her foot.
His dark eyes trail over her face, and he has to stifle a laugh at the flabbergasted look.
“Here’s your table,” the waiter says, and London looks around for the first time. A corner table overlooking the waterway, decorated with candles and a bottle of wine with two glasses. The romance of the moment is not lost on her.
“This restaurant was built in 1776 and has remained in the original family,” Declan explains as he pulls out her chair and waits for her to sit.
“You’ve been here before?” she asks.
“Many times with my Grandfather,” he smiles and reaches for the wine bottle to pour her a glass. Unexpected emotion flickers in her eyes, and he hesitates. “Is something wrong?”
London leans forward, “I don’t drink alcohol.”
He instantly turns and calls the waiter back, “Take the wine away and bring us juice or tea?” he glances at London, waiting for her answer.
“Hot tea would be lovely,” she murmurs.
“Absolutely,” the waiter replies and moves away while London stares at him once more.
“What?”
“Just like that. You aren’t angry or demanding answers?”
“I don't need to know why London. I trust you.”
London glances out over the water and sniffs back tears. Declan reaches out and covers her hand with his gently, drawing her eyes to his. It occurs to him that she's been sorely treated during her life. Every protective instinct roars
