The Holiday (8 page)

She blinked at herself in the
mirror. Her cheeks were pink and there was a bright light in her eyes, like she
had a fever. All because of Colin.

Wetting a thick paper hand towel,
she pressed it to her flushed cheeks. She hadn't felt like this—well,
ever. Part of her wanted to revel in it, to draw it out, to luxuriate in this
state of anticipation for as long as she could.

Part of her wanted Colin to come
take her in that bathroom.

She and Aaron had never had sex
outside a bed, even when they were teenagers. It had always been his bed,
because Aaron thought it was more comfortable. It had been—she couldn't
deny that—and sex was never lacking. But she'd never felt this edge she
felt now with Colin.

She was just desperate. She
hadn't had sex in over a year, closer to a year and a half—of course she
was super-charged and ready to go. She reapplied her lipstick, smoothed her
hair back, tugged her dress straight, and went back out.

As she walked into the main
gallery, Colin walked through the front door.

They both stopped abruptly,
staring at each other. His hair was wind blown, messy on top in the most
adorable way. His coat flapped open and his shirt was loosened at the top, as
though he'd taken a tie off.

She didn't know what he saw, but
based on the smile that curved his lips it pleased him. He walked straight to
her and, taking her hand, pressed a kiss to her cheek. In a molten bedroom
voice, he said, "Ready?"

The question was heavy with
layers. She recognized each one and nodded firmly. "Yes."

Mel poked her head out from the
office and winked. "Be good, darlings."

"I plan on it," Colin
said with a secret smile for Leilani. "Let's go."

His car was parked right outside.
He opened the door for her and she slid in. A flare of nerves surprised her,
and as she buckled herself in, she tried to distract herself. "Your car is
nice."

He shrugged. "George picked
it out. He and Mel thought I needed something more exciting than the Mercedes I
was driving. I thought an Aston Martin was too James Bond, but truthfully I
quite like driving it."

"It's definitely
exciting." She ran her hands on the leather, trying to calm her beating
heart. "Men like their cars."

He nodded as he confidently
navigated the car through traffic that would have intimidated her.
"They're babe magnets, or so I'm told."

She angled herself to face him.
"You don't find that to be true?"

"I don't pay much attention
to such things."

"But you bought the
car," she pointed out.

"Because my father drove the
exact same model of Mercedes I had before." He gave her a look. "It
was part of my quest to redefine who I was."

"Does the new car
help?"

"Not at all." He
smiled. "The new car is just a symbol to remind me not to fall into the
box everyone wants to pack me away in."

"Does it work?" she
asked, for herself as much as for him.

"It definitely helps."
He smiled. "I have a surprise for you, but you'll have to wait for it.
We're taking the scenic route."

"I'm surprised by how lovely
London is," Leilani said softly as she looked out the window. "I
expected it to be dirty and crowded."

"Bits are, but there are
lovely bits too." He pointed. "That's Buckingham Palace. If you want,
we can go see the changing of the guards, although I don't understand why
that's so fascinating to you Yanks."

"You'd play tourist with
me?"

He'd play anything with her, if
she smiled at him like that. "London has a surprising amount of green
space, as you can see, with five royal parks. We owe that to our monarchs and
their penchant for hunting."

"If I didn't know better,
I'd think you moonlight as a tour guide."

"Only to beautiful curators
from Hawaii." He squeezed her hand. He kept up the small talk all the way
across town and after they parked. Excited to be sharing this with her, he had
to force himself to slow down on the walk to the museum.

"Tate Modern," she read
out loud when they arrived out front. She frowned at Colin. "You brought
me to a museum of modern art?"

He nodded, leading her inside.
"There's a painting I want to show you."

He was taking her on a date, she
realized with disappointment, when she just wanted sex. Didn't he want her as
badly as she wanted him? She'd been beside herself since he and MacLeod had
returned her to Mel's home after the pub.

She pouted.

Then she quickly shook off the
pout. She didn't want to be ungrateful. Yes, she wanted sex, but she loved
museums. That Colin was taking the time to take her to one, to show her
something he thought she'd enjoy, was sweet. Aaron would
never
have taken her to a museum.

So she smiled and took his hand.
"Show me."

"The British are very
nationalistic. For Queen and country, and all that," Colin said as they
walked through the galleries. "We often give our treasures to the
nation."

"In the States, we
hoard." She glanced at him. "Have you given treasures away?"

"My family has been known to
cast off a thing or two to the realm." He cleared his throat. "But
we're not talking about me."

"Whom are we talking
about?"

"Henry Tate. He was an
industrialist who made his fortune in sugar. In the 1800's, he donated his
collection to the nation. Tate was just one site to begin with, but grew over
the years. Tate Modern was opened in the twenty-first century." Frowning,
he looked at where they were. "This way."

They wound their way through the
magnificent paintings. She forgot being upset about not getting sex and got
caught up in the paintings around her. Famous ones she'd only ever seen
pictures of.

Then Colin stopped. "This is
it."

She gasped. "Monet's
water-lilies."

"Surrounded by modern
pieces, the most unmodern painting. The incongruity pleases me." Colin
wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "Have you ever been to
Giverny, where Monet lived?"

"No." She hadn't been
anywhere.

He lowered his head, so he spoke
softly in her ear. "Neither have I, but I imagine it looks just like that.
Water lilies and little bridges, the colors soft and blending into each other."

She nodded, understanding.
"My father's gardens are magical like that."

"Then you'd appreciate
Giverny."

"I'd like to see it some
day."

"That can be arranged."
He kissed the nape of her neck, a lingering press that gave her delicious
shivers, and then took her hand. "Come with me."

He took her through another
gallery, to the back and into a restricted area.

"Colin?" She looked
around. "I don't think we're supposed to be back here."

"We aren't." He pulled
her into an office and locked the door behind them.

"Where is here?" she
asked, looking around the room.

"My cousin's office."
He gave her a boyish grin. "Come here."

He guided her to the other side
of the room, to the windows. The office overlooked the Thames, and in the
distance there was the Millennium Bridge. She pointed to what looked like a
church. "What is that?"

"St. Paul's Cathedral."
He embraced her from behind, running his hands over her. "I'm glad you
wore a dress."

Her breath hitched as he
ever-so-slowly lifted her skirt. It was instant arousal, a rush of warmth, a
jittery excitement. She felt cool air on the backs of her legs, the scratch of
his wool pants, and thought she'd die right there.

He slipped a finger under the
elastic of her underwear and murmured, "I like this."

She nodded because she couldn't
form a word to save her life. Then she moaned as one of his hands slipped into
her bra and the other into her panties.

He moved away. Confused, she
looked behind to see him pull out a condom and ready himself. Then he retook
his position behind her. Drawing her underwear to one side, he slid inside her,
little by little.

It was startling—it'd been
so long for her.

It was deliciously thrilling.

"I've thought of nothing but
this," he whispered. "But this is just an appetizer. Main course is
waiting at home."

She shivered, her hands braced on
the window. "You won't be full after this course?"

"I could gorge on you
forever and never be full."

It was bedroom talk, but in that
moment she believed him.

He eased in and out of her,
holding her against him so she felt secure and cherished. The whole time he
whispered wicked things in her ear.

It'd been too long, and she was
too worked up. She peaked, crying out, her fists banging on the window. Dimly
she was aware of Colin following her into climax.

He squeezed her close, holding
her until she regained feeling in her legs. Then he kissed her temple and fixed
her clothing

"That was—" Words
escaped her.

"Delicious?" he offered
as he righted himself.

"Yes."

He tucked her into his side and
gave her a kiss that had her blood sizzling again. "Wait until you taste
the main course."

Leilani listened to the surly
British artist on the other end of the line, nodding sympathetically as he
complained about the trials of being a genius. Normally, by this point in the
conversation, her patience would be waning. Today she felt incredibly generous.
She was in an excellent mood, and the reason was Colin.

She'd had sex.
Finally
. Only it wasn't just sex. It'd
been epic.

She smiled wide, positive that if
she looked in a mirror she'd look like the Cheshire cat.

Mel walked up to the desk,
looking questioning at the phone.

Leilani scribbled the artist's
name on a piece of paper and held it up, chuckling silently when Mel groaned.
She quickly wrapped up the call, assuring the artist his painting would be
placed in the exhibit with great care.

After she hung up, Mel said, "Peter
Sherman may be a brilliant artist, but Lord is he a trial to deal with. Better
you than me, love."

"He wasn't so bad."
Leilani smiled as she ticked that item off her checklist.

"
Someone
woke up on the right side of the bed." With a sly raise
of her eyebrow, Mel added, "Or was it simply the right bed?"

"I woke up in my own bed."
At least the second time she had. She ducked her head to hide her blush,
pretending to go over one of her lists.

"I didn't hear you come in
last night."

"It was late." They'd
gone to Colin's house after their interlude at the Tate Modern. He'd delivered
on the main course, just like he'd promised. Much later, he'd fed her for real,
they'd walked MacLeod, and then they'd gone back to bed.

The sex was amazing. But then
holiday flings were supposed to be, right?

Mel leaned her hip against the
desk and folded her arms. "Colin was a good choice, wasn't he?"

Leilani felt her face burn
hotter. "I'd say yes."

"I hear he's quite
accomplished in bed."

"I plead the fifth."

"There is no fifth here,
love. You're in London."

But Mel didn't press her, for
which she was grateful. Sam always accused her of having her father's Japanese
reserve. That was true—she kept her cards close to her chest. She wasn't
ready to talk about Colin to anyone—she wanted to savor it all for
herself just a while longer.

Mel shook her head. "Whatever
Colin did to you, and I gather it was good, I appreciate it. I wouldn't have
handled Peter with nearly as much aplomb. But then I wasn't shagged all day by
the most eligible bachelor in Britain."

"Colin?" she asked,
startled.

"Do you doubt it?"

She shook her head. "I just
didn't think—"

Mel counted on her manicured fingers.
"He's rich, successful, from one of the oldest most distinguished
families, in line for a title, and attractive on top of all that."

"Colin's in line for a
title?"

"He's George's heir. If
George doesn't have a son, Colin inherits."

"
George
has a title?" She tried to picture the man as nobility,
but she only saw him in a frilly apron over tighty-whities.

"George is the Earl of
Dorset."

"I'd never have guessed."

"He's the black sheep of the
family, but then aren't we all." She waved her hand dismissively. "Everyone
would have been happier if Colin had inherited the title, including George. Except
Colin. Colin already felt the burden of his duties. A title would only have added
to that."

"He told me you and George
showed him how stuck he was in his rut."

"He's a dear, but once he
gets set on a course he's impossible to deter. Fortunately, we were able to get
him to see he wasn't happy. If anyone deserves utter happiness, it's Colin."
Mel arched her brow. "This is the part where I should threaten you with
horrible things if you break his heart."

"But you aren't?"

"Not at all." Mel
smiled with an edge of cunning.

It made Leilani nervous. But then
the door chimed open, and when she turned to see who'd walked in she blinked in
surprise. "Colin."

He walked straight to her and
kissed her like it'd been forever since he'd tasted her instead of less than
ten hours. "Hello, Leilani," he said in his molten British voice.

"How quickly I blend into
the background," Mel drawled, but she looked pleased.

Without taking his eyes off
Leilani, he said, "Mel, I'm taking your partner sightseeing."

Leilani shook her head. "I
can't—"

"Go." Mel pulled out
her phone. "We're on schedule. There's no point in working
twenty-four/seven when we don't have to."

"But—"

"Where are you taking
her?" Mel asked Colin.