Devon and I stepped out onto the bustling London street, filled with busy locals walking to work and roaring buses. The sky was heavy with the threat of rain, a crisp nip chilled the air, and for a moment, I caught her eying the storm clouds with fear.
She turned back, nodding towards Regent’s Park, a few minutes from our hotel destination. “Shall we?”
I held out my palm. “Before we meander through the gardens, I’ll need my stolen property back.”
Devon placed the card in the palm of my hand, my real name exposed. “You dropped it.”
I shook my head, refused to release her gaze. Today, the goddess wore stilettoed boots that could have doubled as weapons and a black, long-sleeved dress that revealed every sweet and perfect curve to her luscious body. Her satin hair was free, wild around her shoulders, thick and wavy.
“Such an interesting way to explain pickpocketing,” I chided.
She scrunched up her nose. “Well, you dropped it into your pocket. And I retrieved it.”
I slipped the card back where it came from. We were starting to walk, and I hadn’t realized it. “Who taught you to do that?”
A flash of emotion behind her eyes before she smiled at me instead. A sexy, feline smile. “Old trick,” she explained. “I only do it for men-on-vacation.”
I unleashed my own slow grin and felt unbearably pleased at the light flush in her cheeks. “At least now we’re even.”
“How so?”
I lifted a shoulder. “We’re two strangers using fake names while on vacation in London. Some might call it equal footing.”
“Ah, so you admit it, Daniel,” she said. Her smile this time was less edgy, more genuinely amused. There was a corresponding increase of my heart rate. Strange. I’d never thought I’d enjoy walking through a park in London with a woman I fully knew was both a liar and a thief. And yet every conversation I engaged in with this woman felt like sitting down at a chess board with your equal. Every move mimicked. Every thought precipitated.
I laughed softly, shook my head. “I knew it the minute you introduced yourself as Devon.”
A sly look from my chess partner but no answer. We were stopped at a red light, waiting our turn. I dropped my mouth lower, toward her ear.
“The name doesn’t suit you one bit, Ms. Atwood.” I watched goosebumps rise along the side of her neck.
“You’re one to talk,” she said, teasing. “Why aren’t I a ‘Devon’?”
“In my experience, Devons are sweet,” I said mildly. “They wear sweater sets and run for class president and cheerfully organize every birthday party in the office. Maybe they have one cat named after a character in a Jane Austen novel.”
The gorgeous liar stopped in her tracks. To the left stretched the massive greenery of The Regent’s Park and the Queen Mary’s Rose Gardens. I could hear water, see people and couples stretching out on the green even without the benefit of the sun to bathe in. It was quite effortless to pretend this woman and I truly were two strangers who had a connection while on vacation and were strolling around the tourist attractions together.
I mean, really, we were doing that.
And really… I enjoyed it more than I cared to admit.
“I don’t strike you as a cheerful organizer of office parties?” One elegant eyebrow raised, mocking me.
“You don’t strike me as sweet,” I repeated. Her bold red lips parted, only further convincing me of this fact. The goddess standing in front of me was bite marks and smoky laughter, clever wit and dark desires. She wasn’t fucking sweet, and I’d never liked sweet.
A lift of the shoulder. “Perhaps I own more sweater sets than you’re aware of. And while we’re on the topic, you’re not a Daniel.”
“In what way?” The Langham Hotel appeared ahead of us, large and elegant. I was slowing my steps, drawing out my time with this beautiful mystery. Presumably, she knew my name. So why was she teasing it out?
“I haven’t known a lot of Daniels who look that hot in a suit.”
We’d reached the lobby of The Langham Hotel—and while her words threatened to stop me, literally, in my tracks, she continued walking toward the bank of elevators. I kept pace, barely, and worked to keep my tone even.
She pressed the button for six. The doors opened and we stepped inside.
“That was a nice compliment,” I said. We were both leaning against our respective walls, tension hanging between us in the