Page 40 of An American in London

A shiver snakes down my spine at the thought of things being kept private between us. But that’s not what he meant. He was just being funny.

I finish hanging up evidence I’m sponsored by Ralph Lauren, then grab my makeup and toiletries and head to the bathroom.

“You mind if I take the left side of the sink?” I call to Ben.

He doesn’t respond, so I take it as permission to do as I like.

When I finish unpacking in the bathroom, I go back to the bedroom to find Ben hasn’t moved.

“You want me to unpack for you?” I ask.

Ben frowns, then glances away from the window and meets my gaze. “You’re not my servant, Tuesday.”

I tilt my head. “Depends on your definition, I suppose.” He’s paying me to be here, after all. “If I was your fiancée in real life, maybe that’s what I’d do.” I would have unpacked for Jed.

Ben shakes his head. “If this was real life, you definitely wouldn’t be unpacking for me. We have plenty of time.” He turns back to the window.

“Right. Time. I might as well keep busy. Otherwise, what else are we going to do?”

“You mentioned nipple tassels ...” he says, like he’s just asked me if I remembered my phone charger.

I roll my eyes, but can’t conceal my smile. He’s so much funnier than I could have thought. I bet most people don’t see that side of him.

“Why don’t you take a bath,” he suggests. “It might help you relax. I can run it for you, if you like.”

“Run me a bath?” I ask, incredulous. I look up to check his expression to try to figure out if he’s being serious, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Isn’t that what engaged couples do for each other?”

I can tell by his tone, he’s entirely serious.

“Not in my experience,” I scoff. “I’m going to ...” He glances away from the window to look at me when I don’t finish my sentence. His gaze presses into me like fingertips on my hips. “Fix my migrating mascara.”

“As long as we’re not late,” he says. “I’m not sure how long migration issues take.”

I nod. “Not long.” Maybe when I’m wearing something more formal, I mightfeelmore like the fiancée of a man like Ben. A man who’s gorgeous and rich and powerful, and on top of all that, funny.

After my bath, I fix my makeup, run a brush through my hair, and squirt on some perfume before getting dressed. I’ve gone for the graysilk skirt-and-shirt combo tonight. It’s the kind of outfit that perfectly occupies the underpopulated ground between formal and casual.

I step out of the bathroom. “Ready?” I ask Ben.

He doesn’t look like he’s moved; he’s still standing, looking out the window. Except he’s changed into a blue suit and white shirt with a ... I do a double take when I see his tie. It’s exactly the same pink-and-blue polka-dot tie I bought Jed for Christmas, which he returned. He said it wasn’thim. But it looks great on Ben. I glance up at his face, and he’s staring back at me.

“You look—”

“No need for compliments when there’s no one to overhear,” I interrupt, crossing the room. I need to remind myself that we’re not actually a real couple. But the closer I get to Ben, the thicker the air seems. I stand in front of him, lift my hands, and adjust his tie slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice low. The timbre vibrates across my skin. I feel a blush blooming on my cheeks.

I brush my fingertips across his jaw because I can’tnottouch him. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Thank you,” I reply. “I like your suit.”

There isn’t an item of clothing in existence that would stop Ben looking like a god, so giving him any kind of compliment is almost ridiculous—an understatement. Nothing could convey quite how incredible he looks. It’s like saying there are seven days in a week. It’s true, but it doesn’t sayenough. It doesn’t mention that those days are stuffed full of sunshine and sapphire-blue skies. That they’re spent splayed on a blanket, watching boats go by and making daisy chains, dreaming about who you might become when you’re grown.

“My tie straight?” he asks, his eyebrow raised.

I reach up to his hair and push a stray strand back. “I think you’ll do.”

He grins that boyish grin I’ve only seen from him once before. “Let’s go.” He holds out his hand.

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