Page 23 of Veiled Fantasies

“I thought you were full,” he said.

“Dessert goes in a separate compartment.”

His eyebrows went up.

“You know, like cows have multi-chambered stomachs? I have a separate compartment for dessert.”

His eyes laughed and traveled up and down her frame. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say he was studying her the way a single man studies a single woman.

Such a pity he wasn’t single.

“So what brought you to London?” Erik asked.

He’d been asking a lot of questions that evening. Jill was delighted but simultaneously terrified that he’d find out what an utterly dull person she really was. Asking her about her college studies, her Spanish minor. She wondered what he had studied. What he didn’t study. What types of books he read at night in bed. What he wore to bed. How he liked his coffee in the morning. All those sorts of innocent things.

What had he asked? Oh, what brought her to London.

A man.

“A job,” she said, trying to forget.

“What kind of job?”

Ugh. He’d only be bored to find out. Jill wished she could say archaeologist or professional chef or UN delegate. Something actually interesting. “I’m with a marine insurance company. Boats. Mostly private yachts, and a few smaller commercial operations.”

His eyebrows went up. “Are you a sailor?”

As if on cue, a seagull cried overhead, white wings catching the last tint of the setting sun.

Not yet. But I will be.

She laughed the question off. “Someday, I’ll find a boat and sail away. After I learn the ropes!” She caught herself reaching a new level of dream weaving, mixing the studly guy fantasy with the sail-away-from-it-all one. “Do you sail?”

A long, considered pause. What memories were running through his mind now?

“Mostly just messing around on lakes as a kid.”

Fodder for her next fantasy—Mr. and Mrs. Perfect honeymoon in Greece. Sailing, sun, fun. Going to bed together after watching the sunset and waking up together to catch the sunrise.

The candle flickered and she looked up, losing herself in the fiery sky.

* * *

Erik blinked at the layers of pink, red, and orange streaking across the horizon. When was the last time he’d watched the sunset? Sunset with good company, in a warm, atmospheric place, and with the luxury of slowing down. It could grow on him.

She could grow on him. She already was.

A trilingual American living in London. A marathon runner. You don’t get that every day. Intrepid explorer, too. What else was she? Suddenly, he was burning to find out.

He really should think about something else. Like work. Anything but her.

If only he could. But instead of satisfying his curiosity, their conversation only fueled it.

“Been in London long?” he tried. What if she had a boyfriend? She hadn’t mentioned one. But how could a woman like this be single?

“About a year,” she said, suddenly intent on her napkin. “Do you ever work in London?”

All the time.But something inside whipped out a caution sign. “I work all over Europe. Asia, too.” He looked away, comparing the river scene to so many others. A fancy white motor yacht raced past a wooden dhow with a patched sail. Dubai really was two worlds, where little bits of old hung on between the new.

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