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Once the driver was inside, he caught Fletch’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Haverty’s, sir?”
“Whatever the lady wants.”
“Careful, Fletcher, I might just hold you to that.”
He pulled Claire a little closer to his body. “Sweetheart, you can hold anything of yours close to me anytime you want for as long as you want.”
She extricated herself enough so that there was some distance between them, but there was no way to miss the uptick in her arousal—her pupils dilated, her skin took on a bit of a blush, and he was certain he could smell her scent. She was lucky they had a driver, and he had more control over his libido than either it or his dick liked. Were it not for those two conditions—the driver and his control, as opposed to his dick and his libido—he’d have had Claire on her back, that skirt rucked up past her hips and his face buried in her sex.
The drive to Haverty’s was fairly quick and he could see people queued up to order. It was really nothing more than a glorified food truck with a lot of seating options. As they pulled up and the driver opened the door, the delicious aromas drifting toward them from the place were heavenly. There was nothing wrong with the Savoy Grill—the food and service were impeccable—but this was more the kind of place he’d pick for himself. He took people to the Savoy to impress them, but it pleased him more than it should have that Claire had picked this place instead.
After ordering fish and chips with mushy peas for her and fennel slaw for him, they scored a table for two right on the Thames that afforded them a little privacy. Fletch watched her tear apart the fish with her fingers, popping a bite-size piece into her mouth. When she’d grabbed a fork, he’d thought she would use it to eat her meal.
As she bit into a French fry or chip, as the Brits called it, she looked at him askance and said, “What?”
“I was afraid you were going to use a fork to eat your whole meal.”
“You got a fork.”
“Yes, but I knew it was only going to be for the fennel slaw.”
He watched her as she watched him knock back a bottle of Otter Ale, another thing they had in common. Evangeline would never have taken a sip from a long-neck bottle with the kind of relish Claire did. There was the chief difference between them—Evangeline experienced life; Clairelivedit; in fact, she seemed torevelin it.
After taking a sip, he licked his lips and saw her eyes dilate. Maybe having lunch by the Thames instead of the Savoy had been a mistake.
“So, how did you come to found Silver Arrow Security, and what is it your firm does?”
“After three tours in the Middle East and realizing we were accomplishing nothing, I wanted out. I stopped in London on my way home and found myself in Devon. The country I had been in was stark and desolate, while Devon was lush and welcoming. I saw a ‘for sale’ sign on a farm that had gone fallow. Something about it called to me. So, I bought it and then began restoring it.”
“So, you’re a farmer in your spare time?” she asked with a laugh.
“Nothing wrong with being a farmer and working with your hands…”
Claire reached across and laid her hand on his arm. The connection between them sizzled. “You misunderstand. You’re such a fascinating enigma—first that terrible tuxedo and then today you have on a pair of fine wool trousers paired with my guess is an Egyptian cotton shirt. You were in the military, probably in special operations, and yet you seem more open than brooding.”
She took his hand in both of hers and he stared as she turned his over and rubbed her thumbs across the calluses. “You ride.”
“Maybe I just work my fields.”
“Nothing wrong with that, but those calluses come from riding a lot. I should know, I have a whole routine I go through to keep mine soft, including never riding without gloves. My granda raised me and he was the horse master and chauffeur for a wealthy peer. So never, ever apologize for those calluses.”
Claire released his hand, leaned back in her chair, and took another bite of her fish.
He answered the unasked question. “I raise sport horses. It’s slow going to get established as a breeder of horses that people really want to buy, but I’m working on doing just that. Security was a natural fit for me, so I founded Silver Arrow to pay the bills while I build a business and a reputation for breeding the best sport horses in the world.”
“Not just Great Britain, but the world.”
“Why settle for just an island when the whole world beckons?”
“Why indeed,” she laughed. “How’d you get involved with the Grenadine Necklace?”
Had her mouth just tightened almost imperceptibly?
“Someone made an attempt to steal it while it was in theChateau des Templiers. The owners had agreed to allow the museum to exhibit it over a year ago. They decided not to let the attempted theft deter them. That’s when the insurance company called in my firm to be on the premises and to transport it to and from the museum.”
“Somehow I think you’re more than a glorified courier.”
“If I’m not, they are paying me way too much money.”
