Page 45 of An American in London

“Do you think you’ll go back to the US?” he asks.

I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Of course. The position at the bank here is just for five weeks. It’s an opportunity to impress the CEO. Besides, where else would I go?” My friends are there. It’s the city I call home. “Anyway, I want to know what happened with the duke when I was gossiping to the duchess about Daniel De Luca.”

“Right.” He pulls back the comforter and settles down on the couch.

“So?” I ask.

“Ray?” he responds, and I’m flummoxed for a second until I realize he’s trying to make a joke.

“Nope.” I clear my throat in preparation to sing—or make the noise that, for me, approximates singing. I’m a horrible singer. “La, a note to follow So, Ti, a drink with jam and bread. That will bring us back—”

“Please stop that.” He winces in a brooding, hot way.

“Only if you tell me what happened with the duke. Is he going to sell?”

He tucks an arm behind his head, and I try not to swoon at his flexed muscles. He’s not one of those gym types who train twice a day and have a weakness for steroids. He’s not bulky, just tall and broad and ... I need a cold shower. I look away, afraid he’ll be able to see what I’m thinking in my expression.

“Too early to say. He likes you.” He glances at me and his mouth curls up slightly in an almost-smile.

I pause, wondering if Ben likes me too. Because I’m beginning toreallylike him. “He’s more charming than I expected,” I continue. “He definitely has some grump to his personality—maybe that’s a nationwide British thing—but he’s ... less formal than I was anticipating. Lighter than—”

“Than me.”

It’s an unspoken question he’s not looking to have answered, but I give him one anyway. “I don’t think you’re heavy.”

He raises his eyebrows in silent accusation.

“I’m serious. You’re not heavy. You’re ... taciturn, certainly. But when we were at your house, you ... I don’t know how to put it.” I think for a while, aware he’s watching me as I stare out the window, waiting for my words to come. “You don’t let the world see all of you. There’s a layer underneath the surface you don’t reveal very often.”

He looks away as I turn back to him, like I’ve caught him doing something he shouldn’t. It’s all the confirmation I need that I’m right.

“You seemed a little upset at the dinner table at one point. What was that about?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t remember.”

“The duke was talking about his father,” I press. “About wanting to make him proud. Do you feel the need to make your dad proud?”

“I know he’s proud of me. Can we drop this?”

His expression isn’t harsh, but I can see pain in his eyes. Whatever upset him is firmly embedded in that layer he doesn’t want to show me. I don’t push any harder. There’s no need to upset him or remind him of his pain.

“There’s darkness in everyone. But there’s also plenty of lightness in you,” I say. “I’ve poked a few holes in that armor of yours. I’ve seen it.”

He lets out a half laugh. “You might be right.”

“I’ve seen you without a tie already. Give me a couple of months and I’ll have you lip-synching to Taylor Swift songs and driving with the windows down.”

He growls as he stares at the ceiling. “I’m focused on the end goal.”

“Sometimes you have to have fun on the way.”

“So they say.Myfun is achieving what I set out to do.”

He’s so driven. So focused. I try to think about whether Jed was like that. He was certainly ambitious, but he never seemed so ... determined.

“I get that. But do you ever just kick back and relax? Do you ever call in sick and stay in bed and eat popcorn and watch movies all day?”

“Who would I be calling in sick to?”

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