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“No wait, let me guess, blueberry pie,” she said before he answered. “Or don’t they make that in England?”
She’d remembered not only that pie was his favorite, but also that he preferred one with berries in the summer. No wonder he liked her so much already.
“They do, but since it wasn’t an option I ordered Eton Mess. It’s a traditional desert here.”
“Never heard of it and I’m a little afraid to ask what’s in it. I’m guessing there’s no chocolate.”
“No chocolate. Usually it’s a mixture of strawberries, meringue, and cream. None of the desserts on the menu contained chocolate.”
Paige’s gasp came through the phone. “Unacceptable. Where are you staying? I want to make sure I never stay there if I visit London again.”
“The Sherbrooke at Kensington Court. Don’t worry, there are plenty of other places where you can indulge in chocolate. I can make you a list of some of the best ones.”
“Please do.”
“Assuming everything goes the way I anticipate, I’ll be home no later than Friday. Are you free this weekend?” He had no ideas for what they’d do, but he wanted to see her again soon, and not because he wanted to get their required dates done and over with.
“Sorry, not this weekend. I’m covering for a coworker. But the following Saturday and Sunday I’m not busy.”
Even if he could guarantee some problem wouldn’t send him halfway around the world next week, he didn’t want to wait so long before he saw Paige again. Looked like he didn’t have a choice. “Next weekend it is. Anything special you’d like to do then?”
“Can I get back to you on that? I really need to head back upstairs.”
Either he’d caught her at the end of her dinner break, or it’d been a really short one. “Sure. How about I call you this w
eekend?”
“I’m working seven to seven both days, so anytime afterward is good.”
Knuckles tapped against his door, followed by a voice. “Room service.”
Scott stood and went to the door. “Will do. Have a nice night.”
“Thanks, you too. And enjoy your dessert.”
As she stood, Paige stuck her smartphone back inside her purse, this time remembering to use the front pocket. She’d thought of Scott off and on since Saturday night. In fact when her phone rang she’d been thinking about the kiss they’d shared on his rooftop. It had reminded her of a scene from a movie. The gorgeous man, the beautiful setting, and the crashing waves off in the distance had all added magic to their kiss. A kiss she’d replayed over and over in her mind, and one she’d love to repeat in person.
When she’d pulled out her phone, she’d expected to see a friend’s or Aunt Bebe’s name on the screen, not his. He’d promised to call when he returned from England. While he’d never said exactly how long he’d be there, she’d assumed it would be at least for the week. The fact he remained in London yet had called, confused her. When he told her that, she hadn’t known the best way to reply so instead she’d asked him about work. Work always seemed like a safe topic to discuss. Then when he’d said he was thinking of her, she found herself silently saying thank you that she was already sitting down because otherwise, she might have fallen down from the shock.
Now as she walked toward the elevators, she teased apart other segments of their conversation. He’d wanted to see her this weekend. Sure, they’d agreed to fulfill the remaining three dates Aunt Bebe had purchased, but no one had said how close together they needed to be. If she’d done a lot of traveling recently like Scott had, she’d want to spend as much time at home as possible once returning. Of course, some people liked to travel. Aunt Bebe spent weeks at a time flying from one place to another simply because she enjoyed it. He might find the same enjoyment in travel.
When the elevator door opened, she stepped inside and considered the fact he hadn’t hesitated to say he’d see her the following weekend instead.
“Can you please press floor eight,” a woman holding a large arrangement of flowers asked, stepping in after her.
“Sure.” Paige reached out and pressed the round button. “Visiting family?”
The woman nodded. “My mom. She fell and broke her hip yesterday.”
Regular pleasantries aside, she assumed the rest of the ride would be silent.
“You look like the woman in Sunday’s paper. The one with the Scott Belmont outside the Sherbrooke Hotel in Newport before the orchestra performed. Was it you?”
Paige didn’t bother with the newspaper. She assumed when she wanted the news the Internet made it easy enough to learn anything, but she hadn’t logged on much since the weekend. How should she answer? Whatever photo the reporter had gotten on the Fourth had obviously made it into the Providence Gazette. Unless there’d been other reporters around and she’d missed them. She hoped not.
She’d never cared much for lying regardless of whom she spoke to. And while she would most likely never see this person again, it went against her values to lie now. “He’s a friend and we attended the show together. The music was wonderful.”
“I wouldn’t mind having some friends who looked like him.”
