Page 3 of The Rejected Wife

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Coffee.” That almost-smile is back. Dangerous and heart-stopping. “Just one. You owe me.”

2

Tyler

"Thanks for joining me." I send a second message on my phone, then lean back in my seat.

We’re in the coffee shop I brought her to, which is a short walk from the tube station where we disembarked.

She smiles wryly. "Not like I could refuse, after how you saved me."

"It’s five p.m. It’s almost the end of the workday.” I drum my fingers on the table. “If you had somewhere to be, you would've told me.”

I wait, hoping she’ll elaborate. Every little piece of information she shares with me about herself feels like I’m unwrapping something precious.

“I—” She looks away, then back at me. “I didn’t.”

"I'm a nanny. I have a degree in early childhood education. I currently work at a daycare center. So, you assumed right. I don't have any other plans today." Her gaze narrows, her expression turns considering. "Would it have stopped you from trying to persuade me if I had?"

“Honestly? No.”

She looks taken aback, then bursts out laughing. “At least you’re upfront.” She runs her eyes down my jacket, which I’ve worn over a button-down shirt. "You’re dressed like a business executive, so I assume you were on your way from a meeting? Though, you’re not the kind of person I'd expect to see on the tube."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"I get the feeling you don’t often take public transport."

"Oh?"

She nods. "That’s a tailored suit you’re wearing. Between that and your handmade Italian loafers…" She looks me up and down. "You can afford to be ferried around by a driver."

"I prefer to drive myself." I raise a shoulder. "But my car is being repaired. And there was no alternate chauffeur or car available from any of the services my office uses. And no cars on the various ride-hailing apps.” I raise my shoulders. “I was enroute to meeting someone. And running late.”

Her gaze widens. “Was it a date?”

There’s a strange note in her voice. Jealousy, perhaps?I can only hope.I lower my chin. “I cancelled it.”

“For me?” Her forehead furrows.

“This was more important.” I hold her gaze. “I had a sense that if I let you walk away without getting to know you better, I was going to regret it."

"Oh." A pleased light comes into her eyes before she banks it. "You are awfully forthright. And very confident of yourself.”

I wink. "I’m also not sorry for using my good deed to my advantage." I should feel terrible for playing on her guilt and insisting she have a coffee with me. I should… But I don’t.

When I saw her struggling with her handbag, my protective instincts surged. And when I looked into those warm brown eyes, saw the worry etched into her face and those soft, rosebud lips, something inside me melted. My heart seemed to stop. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. But that must, surely, be my imagination?

She seems taken aback by my comment, then pops a shoulder. "Is it your military training which makes you this…forward?”

"I was in the Royal Marines," I clarify. "Is it the military-style cut that gave me away?" I run my palm over the very short hair on my head.

"That and—" She nods toward my chest. I look down at where my dog tags peek out from between the lapels of my shirt. "Anyway, when you invited me out to coffee, I didn’t realize you’d bring me to the most exclusive coffee shop in London." She waves at our surroundings.

I take in the dark oak flooring, the statement counter, which is the focal point of the space, the mirrored brass countertops, the vibrant barstools, and the elegant, yet comfortable surroundings that provide a home-away-from-home ambiance, then turn to her, not seeing anything wrong with it. But what do I know?

"Do you not like the place?” I begin to push away from the table. “Should we go elsewhere?"

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