“Happy to hear that.” He nodded at Malcolm and disappeared.

Any awkwardness that had lingered from the afternoon was now long gone. For the rest of the dinner, he told her stories about when he’d worked in Parliament, she told him stories about her funniest cases, and their accidental touches of each other’s hands and knees got more and more frequent.

They shared not two, but three desserts, and each had a glass of port to go along with it. When Vivian walked out into the cold London night, she was in love with Nigerian food, London, and all forms of fermented grapes. She put the hood of her coat up against the gentle rain, slid her arm into Malcolm’s, and smiled at the world.

“What a great restaurant,” she said. “No wonder you like it.”

He pulled her closer to him.

“Nothing like that has ever happened to me there! All I knew was that the food was delicious and the service was charming. I didn’t realize we’d get a show tonight, too.”

Vivian chuckled as they walked toward his car.

“I thought I was going to die if I had to hold my laughter in for one more second, Malcolm! When he kept eating the soup! Every time he picked up the spoon with this deep breath, like he was summoning up all of his energy. I’m surprised he didn’t catch me laughing at him.”

Malcolm chuckled as he opened his car door for her.

“Men like that never think anyone could be laughing at them. That’s why it’s so fun to do it.”

On the way back to the hotel, Malcolm took a detour so they’d see some of London all lit up at night. She loved driving through cities at night, especially when she wasn’t the one driving, and could just look around and see the buildings aglow, and the bridges outlined by the stars, and the blackness of the river gleaming in the moonlight.

When they got back to the hotel, Vivian didn’t want the night to end.

“Do you want to come upstairs for a nightcap?” she said, before she could reconsider. She immediately wished she had reconsidered. A nightcap??? Who the hell did she think she was, some sort of star in a comedy from the 1940s? She’d never used that word before in her life!

But Malcolm immediately nodded.

“That’s a lovely idea,” he said. “Should we get the bar to make some hot toddies for us?”

Vivian nodded.

“Yes, absolutely. It’s chilly out there.”

Malcolm beckoned over the bartender as they walked by the bar, and moments later he held two of the fanciest hot toddies she’d ever seen.

They walked to the elevators, arm in arm. When they got inside the elevator, she smiled at him.

“I didn’t know hotel bars would make drinks for you to bring upstairs; I was only thinking of the minibar. See how much I learn from you?”

He laughed.

“Oh, most hotel bars will do that, but one thing I’ve learned in my job is that you can get anyone to do just about anything if a) you give them enough money, or b) they think you’re important.” He winked at her. “And they do know me here.”

She held up her finger.

“That makes me think of something else I’ve been meaning to bring up: Maddie was certain she’d booked us just a regular room with two beds, but somehow we were booked in a suite. Do you know anything about that?”

He shrugged, but the smile never left his eyes.

“I imagine they realized when you checked in that you were American—London hotel rooms are often too small for Americans. I’m sure they just wanted to accommodate you.”

She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened.

“Mmm. I’m sure that’s it.”

She pulled out her room key and unlocked the door of the suite.

“See? We have this little sitting room here, with a couch and everything, in addition to our pretty sizable bedroom. Do you—”

Oh no. Oh no, why hadn’t she remembered before she brought him up to her room that she’d packed everything this morning and had left her suitcase right in the middle of the sitting room?

Maybe he’d think it was empty, and she’d just moved it there when Maddie was packing up to go. Maybe he wouldn’t realize she’d packed everything in anticipation/hope of going to his apartment.

“Vivian? What’s your suitcase doing there?” He poked his head into the open door of the bedroom. “Are you all packed? Were you planning to leave tomorrow?”

His face was wooden again, just like it had been this morning. The only thing she could do here was come clean with the truth.

“No. I mean, yes, maybe, but not . . .” She sighed. “When you first brought up the idea of me staying in London, you made a reference to staying with you, and I didn’t know if . . . I hoped that . . . but it’s okay, I understand if that’s not what you really want—”

Before she finished her sentence, Malcolm was kissing her so hard she could barely breathe.

Vivian wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back just as hard. Breathing was overrated.

When he finally came up for air, they looked at each other, and both started laughing.

Malcolm brushed her hair back from her face.

“Vivian. Would you like to stay with me for the rest of your time in London?”

She shook her head. The smile dropped from Malcolm’s face, and he took a step back.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought—”

She held a finger in front of his lips.

“You didn’t let me talk. I’d love to stay with you, starting tomorrow. But tonight there’s no way either one of us is leaving this hotel room.”

She pushed him down onto the couch.

Chapter Ten

It took surprisingly little time for Malcolm to get Vivian’s clothes off. Not that Malcolm had thought he would be slow about that, but given that they barely took their hands and lips off of each other, he was impressed with himself.

Vivian was pretty industrious herself; he barely noticed her fingers on his shirt, but before he even sat up, she’d pushed it to the floor.

But he absolutely noticed her fingers at his waist. She undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. Before she could get any further, he stood up, threw the rest of his clothes off, and pulled her back on top of him.

They stayed on the couch for a long time, kissing, touching, exploring each other’s bodies. He loved seeing what made her gasp, what made her sigh, what made her giggle. And he really loved feeling her, at first tentative, then more confident, hands and lips on him. She ran her hands up and down his hips, then over the length of his hard cock, slowly, then faster and faster. He shook his head and stood up.

“Why are we on this cramped little couch when there’s a great big bed in the other room?” He reached out a hand to her, and she took it.

“Excellent question, Mr. Hudson.” She looked up and down the length of his body and smiled. “All of that horseback riding seems to be treating you well.”

He grinned, and looked straight at her.

“Whatever you are doing looks tremendous on you, Ms. Forest.”

She shook her head.

“Thank you for saying that, but . . .”

He took her hand and moved it down the length of his body again.

“Does that feel like I’m ‘saying that’? I didn’t spend the past week spending every possible second thinking about this moment to just be ‘saying that,’ do you understand?”