Page 6 of The Suitcase Swap

He hesitated, frowning. ‘You’re absolutely sure?’

‘I am.’ She held out her hand, palm down. ‘See? Steady as a rock.’

‘Okay,’ he said, though he seemed like he wanted to argue. ‘Promise me I won’t see headlines?’

‘Promise.’ She turned her hand, ready to shake on it.

He shook her hand automatically, then seemed momentarily startled by the contact, like he hadn’t expected her to touch him at all. Then he smiled, and she was once again walloped by how handsome he was. ‘It was a pleasure. Except for the part where you didn’t feel well.’

She continued to shake his hand, slightly dazed. ‘Same.’ They smiled at each other for a second more before he reluctantly stepped back, adjusted his suit jacket and his bag, then turned to walk away. Sophie watched him go. He had nice shoulders and long legs and shereallydidn’t want to get into the queue for immigration.

Ah, well. It was neither the time nor the place.She was tempted to shout after him – not that she had anything to say, she just wanted to see that smile again. But what would she shout? Welcome to New York? Nice arse? Surely she could do better than that. She was a writer. She considered words to be her friends, but as she watched him get smaller and smaller, she felt betrayed. Sophie felt like an artist in front of a blank canvas without any paints.

It wasn’t until he was totally out of sight that she realized she could have said, ‘Thank you.’ Or even just asked hisname. She covered her face with her hand.

Sometimes, Sophie, you are a complete and utter pillock.

At least she was starting to feel better. She grabbed her luggage handle and made her way to the back of the queue.

By the time she’d made it through the gauntlet that was the JFK customs and immigration system, she was dead on her feet. The only thing that made her feel better was seeing her son Tom waiting for her. When he caught sight of her, he brightened, smiling wide. ‘There you are! I was about to send the hounds after you.’ He enveloped her in a warm hug. ‘Wow, Mum, you smell like gin.’ His grin was highly amused. ‘Have a good flight, then?’

She groaned. ‘For the rest of the day I don’t want to hear anything about planes or gin. I want a shower, a nap and something to eat, not in that order.’ Now that the medicine had worked its magic, she was feelingmuchbetter.

He gave her a squeeze before taking her bags from her. ‘Come on, then. Marisa is waiting for us and the shower is calling your name.’

‘You’re an angel. Have I ever told you that?’

‘No,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It was usually the other way around.’ He threw his free arm around her and gave her another long squeeze. ‘I’m really glad you came, Mum.’

‘Me too, darling. Me too.’

‘What do you mean you didn’t get her name?’ Rahul’s incredulous voice drifted from the phone. Mike had texted his children as instructed as soon as he got to the furnished Manhattan flat his office had found close to the work site. He was exhausted down to his marrow and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed. Instead, he’d accept Rahul’s video call.

He’d mistakenly thought his son might distract him from the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from the airport. Her good humour. The way her hand had felt almost familiar in his own. Or the fact that he had, somehow, forgotten to get even her name. Instead, talking to his son was only making it worse.

‘I’m not normally the type of person who chats up ill women,’ he said dryly as he set the phone on the dresser, propping it against a decorative vase so that Rahul could still see him as he unpacked. His son was in the middle of making breakfast, the knife flashing as he sliced fruit on the chopping board. Mike wished for a second that he wasn’t in New York at all, but back in London, sitting in the same room as his son instead of watching him through a screen.

‘I’m not saying you had to go full, “Hey, what’s your star sign?” but exchanging names – hell, exchanging numbers – wouldn’t have been weird. Especially since you were worried about her.’

Mike snorted and hoisted his suitcase up onto the bed. The luggage tag smacked against the hard plastic shell as it landed. ‘ “Hey, what’s your star sign?” When did you turn into your grandfather?’

‘Hey, Granddad had game, and you’re dodging the discussion.’

Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘I honestly didn’t think of it. I’m going to be busy with work while I’m here anyway, so it’s not like anything could come of it.’ It wasjust . . . her sitting there, unhappy and rumpled and speaking nonsense. She’d been oddly . . . cute. He’d liked talking to her, even it hadn’t been for long, and he’d been reluctant to go. He should have stayed with her through customs. He could have said to hell with his schedule and made sure she was actually well, at the very least.

‘You don’t have to marry the woman, Dad, but I know you. You’re going to work the entire time you’re in New York. You’ll either skip meals or keep working through them. You deserve more than that. If you’d got her number, you could have met up with her and had lunch or something. One fun thing, Dad. I’d like you to do one fun thing while you’re there.’

‘You’re a bully, you know that? I have no idea where you get it from.’

Rahul’s voice quietened. ‘From Mum, that’s who. If she was here, she’d be chewing your ear off, Dad. She wouldn’t like you working yourself to death.’

He couldn’t argue with his son – Rahul was right. ‘One fun thing?’

‘Just one. That’s all I ask,’ Rahul said soothingly as he slid the sliced fruit into a bowl.

‘Okay,’ he said, unzipping his suitcase. ‘I can do that. I promise.’ He flipped open the case and stopped. That wasn’t his jumper, and he was certain he didn’t own a make-up bag. There was something decidedly lacy to the side. Without thinking, he picked it up, letting the silky cloth unfurl.

‘Good,’ Rahul said. ‘That’s all I—’ Abruptly, he stopped speaking.

---