She laughed.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been a social worker for over twenty years; some things are just part of me now.” Now she raised her eyebrows at him. “Do you not want to talk about this right now? We can talk about something else that doesn’t involve me prying into your psyche.”

He grinned.

“You weren’t prying, but let’s talk about you instead of me. Tell me more about this big-deal new job you’re about to step into.”

No wonder Vivian worried about her facial expressions showing too much. He could tell just from the way her smile faded at that question that she had mixed feelings about the job.

“Well, starting in February, I’ll be the interim director of social work at the hospital. And if I get the permanent job—which, from what my boss says, is a shoo-in, but I’m trying not to count my chickens before they’re hatched—I’ll be the director of social work.”

“How is that different from what you’re doing now?” he asked.

She took a deep breath.

“It’s some of what I’m doing now, just a lot more of it, and more of other things, too. Right now I do mostly patient work—talking through diagnoses and worries with patients after they see their doctors, helping them access services both inside and outside of the hospital, working with their families. This is the hardest and most rewarding part of the job for me, especially when the patient is a child or teenager. My boss does a little of that, too, but mostly only if there’s a major problem, or if we’re short-staffed or something. And of course, when there’s a crisis. Otherwise, it’s a lot of managing people, working with the big bosses at the hospital, working with other hospitals and local agencies, that kind of stuff. A lot of responsibilities I don’t have now.”

He touched her hand.

“I’m positive you’ll do it all very well.”

She nodded quickly.

“Oh, sure. I’m not worried about that. It’s just”—she shrugged—“I guess I hadn’t realized how much I like my current job until it was time to leave it. That’s all.”

He almost asked her if she was sure she wanted this new job. But she seemed so set on it, that it felt like a ridiculous question.

“Well, it’s my job now to make sure you have a fantastic holiday while you’re here. What should we do tomorrow? Do you want to see the crown jewels? And before you ask, there’s no way those will get taken out of the case.”

She laughed out loud.

“I wouldn’t have asked! But then, I wouldn’t have asked for tonight, either.”

She smiled at him over her wineglass. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get her home.

Chapter Twelve

Vivian woke up the next morning and listened to the sounds of London out the window. Even from this high up, she could hear the early morning noises of the city—the swish of the rain, honks from cars, the occasional siren as it went by. She loved how even the sounds of London felt different than the sounds of California; yes, the sirens were different, but it felt like something else, too. She was so glad she’d gotten to experience this.

She turned over in Malcolm’s large and comfortable bed. It was so big they’d been able to sleep far enough apart that she didn’t feel crowded, but close enough so she could feel his body heat. She pulled the duvet up to her shoulders in the chill of the room. They’d said it was so cold at Sycamore Cottage because it was an old house, but Malcolm’s building seemed pretty new and up-to-date, yet it was cold here, too. Maybe homes were just that cold everywhere in England.

She looked down at herself and grinned. Or maybe it was because she’d slept naked. No wonder she was colder than normal.

“What are you smiling to yourself about?”

She turned, and Malcolm was looking at her, with his head propped up on his hand.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were awake,” she said.

He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her.

“Hmm, interesting that you didn’t answer the question. Ever heard that doing that just makes people more eager to hear the answer, Ms. Forest?”

She didn’t quite look him in the eye. She’d had sex with him, multiple times at this point, so why was she so embarrassed to say this to him?

“I was just thinking that it was cold in here,” she said, still looking down at the blankets. “And then that maybe it was so cold because I don’t have any clothes on, which isn’t how I normally sleep. That’s all.”

He kissed her shoulder.

“ ‘Normally’?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Never. Happy?”

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

“Very happy, as a matter of fact.” He kissed her collarbone. “Come to think about it, you do feel chilly. But I’m honored that you slept naked for me. Or maybe I distracted you too much for you to get up and put something on before you went to sleep, like you did at the hotel?”

She tried to fight back her grin.

“Maybe,” she said.

He rolled over on top of her and kissed the hollow between her breasts.

“Well, since it’s my fault you’re cold this morning, I see it as my duty to warm you up. Luckily, I can think of a good way to do that.”

An hour later, she was in his kitchen making them both tea. Thank goodness he had a big, cozy robe for her to wear over her pajamas, otherwise she’d probably stay in bed with him for hours.

Actually . . . that didn’t sound so bad.

He padded into the kitchen with sweatpants on.

“We got those pastries yesterday when we were out; I thought we could warm them up in the oven for breakfast?”

She opened the oven to show him the pastries inside and on a cookie sheet.

“I got that far, but I couldn’t quite figure out how to turn on your oven. I kept pressing buttons that beeped angrily at me, and I finally gave up.”

He laughed and reached over her.

“You have to push these two buttons at the same time; I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m used to it at this point.”

Ten minutes later, as they sat at his kitchen table with a plate of warm pastries in front of them and full mugs of tea, Vivian heard a key in his front door.

“Um, Malcolm?” She gestured toward the door, and he jumped up.

“Probably just building maintenance. Excuse me.”

But before he could get to the door, it opened, and a young, tall, brown-skinned man walked in.

“Oh.” He stopped when he saw Malcolm. “I didn’t realize you’d be home.”

“Miles!” Malcolm walked toward him. “What are you doing here?”

The boy’s lips were tight, and he didn’t look at Malcolm.

“I just came to return this.” He held up the key. “I obviously won’t be needing it anymore.”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed.

“Now, Miles, don’t you think—”

Vivian stood up. It was well past time for her to intervene.

“Hi, Miles. I’m Vivian,” she said. “We have a full pot of tea and some pastries here. Would you like some?”

He looked from Malcolm to her and then back to Malcolm.