Page 56 of A Colourful Country Escape
Oh.
He shepherded her back to the safety of the pavement, keeping her arm linked with his.
‘But London’s soooo … ’
‘Lovely?’
‘Yes, lovely! How did you know? You always know. Which is weird, isn’t it? Because at first we seemed so different.’ Was she gabbling? The night air really was intoxicating.
‘We should get a cab. I think you need some sleep.’
‘You’re the voice of reason,’ she said, cosying her head into his neck. Hmm, it felt good – she should try it out for a bit longer. Most men weren’t tall enough for it.
‘Thanks, Lexie. You make me sound so exciting.’
‘A taxi. You’re probably right.’ Experience told her this was the moment when they should call it a night, go back to their separate hotel rooms and definitely not drink another drop. She had a snuggly complimentary dressing gown and there would be plenty of trashy movies on TV. And yet … ‘Hey, didn’t you promise me something? Up there?’
Lexie lifted her head and pointed back up towards the glassy pyramid skyscraper they had just walked out of. She replayed their conversation. What was it now? Morocco? Pineapples? ‘A fortune cookie! You see, you are exciting.’
‘It must be your influence.’
She sensed the smile in his voice and gave his side a congratulatory squeeze, which only seemed fair. He’d grabbed her waist just moments ago, hadn’t he? Now they were quits – although he definitely had more muscle. What were those things called? Obliques? He had good obliques.
‘Come on, then, before I change my mind,’ said Ben, looking down at her feet. ‘Good, you’re wearing flat boots. Then we’ll walk the scenic route. I think you need the fresh air.’
After what felt like far too much walking, they made a snake-like path onto Tower Bridge, its blue-and-white steel arms outstretched to welcome them. Apart from the buzz of azure light, which seemed to encircle it like a halo, it reminded Lexie of Nutgrass Hall, with its majestic stone turrets. She wondered if it too was the gatekeeper to many strange secrets.
Lexie had been so busy absentmindedly appreciating Ben’s profile, she nearly missed the view. But when they reached the middle of the bridge and he twirled her around to take in the sapphire glint of the Thames, fiercely guarded by its towering buildings, it took her breath away. The gleaming edges of the Shard cut through the night like a golden-tipped sword, rising high above the lights of London. Lexie had seen some cities, but this was immense. She squeezed Ben’s hand. For all her travelling, she’d barely seen London. For once, Ben was showing her the way. A little part of her liked it.
He squeezed her hand back and she felt a happy sigh float out from her lungs. Sometimes his quietness was refreshing. Like he didn’t feel the need to fill the air with profound but pointless words. The view was overwhelming, but a reciprocal hand squish was communication enough.
‘Not boring at all,’ she whispered, silently happy they’d taken the long route.
They walked onwards across the bridge, back onto dry land, and began weaving through the city’s side streets. The long trek and chilly night air seemed to be fuelling her giddiness rather than sobering her up. Or was she just looking for an excuse to huddle into Ben’s side?
‘Let me show you this,’ said Ben, steering Lexie towards the floodlit dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. It stood tall, quiet and confident; another stunning sight she’d never seen.
Lexie’s eyes settled on the statue of Queen Anne, which stood fierce guard outside the pillared front. ‘She looks just like your interfering mother. Come on, let’s get a picture! It’s probably the closest the three of us will ever get to a family portrait.’
Lexie hoiked her tight dress above her knees, climbed onto an abandoned crate and pulled a protesting Ben up after her. They wobbled for a moment, their feet hopping like tap dancers as they tried to find their balance. Lexie wrapped her arm around Ben’s shoulders to steady herself and angled her phone to take in their faces, with Queen Anne scowling between them in the background. She took the shot.
‘We should try one without her,’ said Lexie, resting her cheek against Ben’s. The touch of light stubble against her skin made her nerve endings tingle. He was usually so polished, but this tease of late-night roughness was throwing a party for her senses. A wave of goosebumps rushed over her, and she shivered against him.
‘Are you cold?’ She felt his cheek move against hers.
‘No!’ she squeaked. She could not let him start stripping off his layers for her; she’d fall off the bench in a lusty quiver. Those bloody cocktails. Trying not to overthink how perilously close her lips were to his, she tilted her phone screen until the angle was perfect. Although if she moved her head just slightly …
Flash.She took the photo before her mind could start wandering off in all sorts of directions, the destinations of which she might never have clawed her way back from.
They stayed freeze-frame for a moment, as though realising how easy it would be to slip into a kiss. And then Ben moved his cheek away, coughed awkwardly, and stepped back down to safety. Just as Lexie was reasoning it was probably better not to break her neck on the wonky crate, he lifted his hands up to her waist and lowered her back onto the floor next to him.
Wow. She loved the chivalrous self-assurance a few cocktails gave him, not to mention the feel of his fingers so close to her flesh. But before she could close her eyes and dissolve into his heat, his hands were gone and he was rearranging his jacket.
Was he just being polite? Whatever was going on, this whole forbidden-fruit situation was getting frighteningly arousing. Noticing the tips of his ears were turning red like they did when he was embarrassed, she fiddled with her phone to give them a moment. God knew what she’d do if she didn’t.
Their selfie looked surprisingly good, although she couldn’t help noticing the original version with the disgruntled monarch between them.
‘Three peas in a bed … er … pod. I mean, we definitely wouldn’t … ’ Lexie flapped a hand, wondering what the hell Freud would say about this. Meh. Well, she didn’t speak German anyway.
