himself in the mirror. His hair wasn’t mussed up. It was…good. It was perfectly touched up the way he liked, though it did look a little like he’d just made love to a woman and she’d been running her fingers through it. The thought gave him too many tempting ideas about Brie. He placed his hands on the counter and closed his eyes.
Think of primary school, or algebra… Anything other than what it would be like to pin Brie up against the counter and pull down those jeans she’s wearing and—
“Bloody Christ.” He drew in a dozen breaths before he regained enough control to leave the bathroom.
When Alec returned to his seat, he found dinner waiting on his tray table. Brie had poured herself another glass of champagne and was swiping through the in-flight movie selections.
Alec sat down and unrolled the silverware from his cloth napkin. “Anything good?”
“Some rom-coms, a few thrillers, and a couple of documentaries.” Brie mused as she continued to swipe through the available shows.
“You’d better eat before it gets cold.” He pushed her tray toward her.
Brie glanced his way and smiled. “You didn’t fix your hair.”
“I thought you did a fine job and didn’t want to waste your efforts,” he lied. The truth was he couldn’t stay in that bathroom without indulging in a fantasy that would lead to trouble. Trouble was the last thing he needed. Even though he enjoyed a quick hookup, he did not want to do that on a seven-hour flight, no matter how cute Brie was or how her mouth was making it very hard for him to think straight.
“So, you’re a native Londoner?” she asked as she cut into her filet.
“Not really. I grew up in the country outside of Manchester before attending Eton and Cambridge.”
“I have a question about that. Why do Cambridge and Oxford have all these colleges within the main university?” She took a bite of her filet and made a sweet little sound of pleasure. “What’s up with that?”
“Ah. No, I see your confusion. It’s not like they are separate schools,” he paused, thinking over how best to explain it. “It is more like residence halls that you would have at a University. So, if a student stays at King’s College, that would be the location of his or her room, perhaps even their dining hall for lunch and dinner. Some colleges were established with religious purposes hundreds of years ago, though the religious connections may no longer exist.”
“Okay…” She paused, seeming to think it over. “So what college were you?”
“The King’s College of Our Lady and St. Nicholas in Cambridge.” He could see he had her full attention. This woman liked history and he could bloody well deliver on that. “It was founded in 1441, but its construction was disrupted by the War of the Roses. It was finally finished in 1544 and has the world’s largest fan vaulted ceiling in its chapel. Notable alumni include Robert Walpole, the first prime minister of England, and E.M. Forster, the novelist.” He recited what he remembered from his first tour of the college all those years ago.
Brie’s eyes lit with a fervent light as she began to recite a passage from one of Forster’s books. “I used to be so dreamy about a man’s love as a girl, and think that, for good or evil, love must be the great thing. But it hasn’t been, it has been itself a dream.”
“Howard’s End?” Alec confirmed and she nodded. “Well said. That was the only book I read of his, but it was excellent.”
Howard’s End was the story of a strong-willed, intelligent woman who refused to let her husband and his family ruin her life with their smugness and pride. It was not a romance, not like her bodice ripping pirate story.
She seemed to realize the direction of his thoughts. “I don’t just read romance,” she replied. “But I enjoy stories with happy endings the best.”
“Why? Real life rarely ends happily. At best, it ends in a draw.” His tone came out a little more belligerent than he’d intended.
“Perhaps that’s why. People need to believe in things. Love, heroes, adventures, a purpose to a life that might otherwise feel purposeless. Romance gives people hope.” She grinned. “And the books are just fun. What do you read? And please, for the love of God, tell me you read and not something predictable like Hemingway. So many people don’t read anymore.” The way she said that, with a note of subtle