Page 49 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“Sounds like it,” Sean said, raising an eyebrow.
I sighed and turned away from him to look out of the window, but the taxi was just drawing up in Lansdowne Road.
“Would you like to come into mine for a while?” Sean asked after he had paid the driver.
I hesitated again.
“I still haven’t come up with a plan for you yet, so a coffee is the least I can offer you until I do.”
I got the feeling he was trying to apologize for earlier. “Well—all right then.”
I followed him up the steps and into his house. I watched while Sean dealt swiftly with his alarm.
“I wish I was as quick with mine,” I said, looking around me. “Damn thing’s got a mind of its own.”
Sean’s house—much to my surprise—was decorated in warm and lively colors and had quite an exotic feel about it. Some of the influences seemed to be African, some Indian, depending on which room you were in. Big comfy-looking settees were adorned with cushions and throws, and everything was set against terracotta and sand-colored walls.
“I like your decor,” I said admiringly. “It makes Belinda and Harry’s look stark in comparison.”
“I think your home is as much an expression of who you are as your clothes,” Sean replied. “Maybe that means Belinda and Harry are stark and uninteresting people.”
“Well, they’re your neighbors.”
“Doesn’t mean I know them. This is Notting Hill, Scarlett—not Albert Square.”
I laughed. “So if everyone who lives here is stark and uninteresting, why are you here?”
“So I’mnotstark and uninteresting, then?” Sean said, raising his eyebrows. “I thought I was a geek earlier?”
“I didn’t say that. I said you were a walking encyclopedia—and I can see why now.” I stared at Sean’s book-lined walls.
“Nothing wrong in improving your mind with a bit of light reading. Take a look while I get us something to drink. I’ll be right back.”
While Sean was in the kitchen I cast my eyes over his bookshelves. Light reading? It was like entering a library. There were books on everything—from the history of art to travel guides, to cookery; from crime novels to the classics—Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, and Bronte…wait…Jane Austen? Charlotte Bronte? Did Sean actually read these? And then I saw it sitting there like a beacon shining out at me from the shelf:LoveLettersofGreatMen—the very same book that Carrie Bradshaw reads in theSexandtheCitymovie. There was no way Sean would read this—was there?
“Wine OK?” Sean asked, returning. “Ah, I see you’ve been inspecting my library.”
I jumped and turned away from the bookshelves. He held two empty wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.
“Yes, lovely thanks,” I said, quickly sitting down on one of the sofas, while Sean poured the wine. “So have you actually read all these books?”
“Yep, every last one. Why?”
“No reason, I just wondered.”
“Wondered if they were just here for decoration, I bet. That would be like you having DVDs in your house that you haven’t watched, and you just keep them out on show to impress people.”
Sean sat down next to me. “Anyway, before we get into another argument, let’s concentrate on your problem.”
Whichone?I thought.The fact that I’m deceiving my family by not telling them the true reason I’ve come to London for a month? The fact that the only person that can help me find my mother could be dead from flu by the end of the week? Or the fact thatwhen you sit this close to me my stomach starts doing its Olympic gymnastics routine?
“Hmm…” Sean looked deep in thought.
I tried hard to think about Fenwick’s and Bill. But my mind kept overriding these thoughts, and chose instead to think about Sean and what it might be like to kiss him…His kisses would be firm and powerful—the sort that took your breath away. Not weak and wet, and leaving you wanting to rinse your mouth out with antiseptic.
Oh my God, get a grip, Scarlett—what the hell are you thinking that for? You’re engaged to David, for heaven’s sake. Plus you barely even like Sean—why on earth would you want to kiss him? You must have thought about him as Brad Pitt once too often. Yes, that must be it.
I took a large gulp from my wine glass.
