lobby toward the washroom.
As I neared the bathroom, my heel snagged on a raised section in the flagstone tiles and I stumbled forward. A man lunged forward and caught my elbow, steadying me.
My face heated with a rush of embarrassment.
“I . . .” I made a face and gestured to the floor. “Paving is uneven. Caught my heel.” His eyes were a startling blue against olive-toned skin. His gaze intense, direct. His hair was thick and Scandinavian blond. “I haven’t worn such high heels in a while—guess I need practice.” A bubble of laughter burbled up from my chest. I tamped it down, trying to appear serious.
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why have you not worn heels?”
I regarded him and felt a quickening in my heart. There was something about him—an intensity, an aura of warmth and quiet strength.
“Never mind, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be forward,” he said, removing his touch from my elbow. “I just meant . . . they suit you. Heels. I mean.” He ran his fingers awkwardly through his hair. He looked embarrassed. His fringe flopped back over his brow. He stood taller than I was in my heels. Well built. Perhaps more girth than he needed, but I’ve always liked a bit of a bulk in a man. I especially liked thick thighs, and his swelled under his business pants. He wore the kind of clothes Doug might wear—the Doug I’d fallen for. And whatever my feelings were now about Doug, they remained conflicted and horribly confusing, and I found myself attracted to this man.
I hooked my purse strap higher over my shoulder and cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
“What?”
“The . . . uh . . . the heels. The compliment.”
He laughed. I liked the way his eyes crinkled and dimples appeared in his cheeks. And I laughed nervously in return.
“Look, could I . . . can I buy you a drink?” He gestured to the dark and intimate little pub entrance to his right.
“I was just on my way out.”
“Of course. No worries.”
“And . . . I’ve had a couple already.”
“Something to eat, then?” His smile deepened. “To help soak it all up.”
I realized his accent was Australian. With maybe a hint of British. Underscored by Canadian, or was it American? And there was no judgment in the way he said “soak it all up.” The moment—his manner—was curiously intimate, casual, easy. Simple. I hesitated as some vestigial thing reawakened deep inside me. I glanced back in the direction Dana had gone. I thought of my cold North Shore house across the bridge. All packed and boxed up and hollow. Chloe’s empty room. How long had it been since a man had noticed me in this way? I’d put on so much weight after Chloe, and it was not all off yet, but he didn’t seem to care. What I saw in his eyes was approval. It felt good.
“I’m in town for this convention,” he explained, “and it’s been a brutally long day. I need to decompress, and I could do with your company.”
I knew they served brandies by the fire in the dark pub, and one wall was lined with bookshelves of first editions behind glass doors. The chairs were deep and comfortable.
“I’m Martin.” He held out his hand. “Martin Cresswell-Smith.”
“Ellie Tyler.” I placed my hand in his.
“So, Ellie Tyler, how about the drink and a bite to eat?”
I hesitated and held his gaze. Had I sent out the wrong signals? Inadvertently invited the wrong kind of attention? He didn’t look like a serial killer. And I was safe inside this hotel, right? How wrong could this go?
You can be whoever or whatever you want, Ellie . . .
I smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
THEN
ELLIE
I looked for a ring. There was none. It didn’t mean he wasn’t married, but I’d decided in the washroom that if he sported a wedding band I was out of here. The server arrived bearing a cheese board with two glasses of port. Martin had selected a low table in front of the fire with two chairs turned partially toward the hearth. It felt private. Intimate.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty,” Martin said, gesturing toward the food and drink. “We can change the order if you don’t like—”
“It looks wonderful.” I reached for a glass, relieved to see he also seemed a little nervous. It suggested to me that picking up women on the way to the bathroom was not something he did routinely. Perhaps he really had seen something special