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THE ZESTY AROMA OF freshly brewed coffee tickled my nose as I pushed through the door into Milk & Bean, Kate’s favorite coffee shop. I supposed it was my local coffee shop now, seeing as how it was only a few blocks from the new flat. Frankly, I preferred tea, Earl Grey to be specific. It seemed so much more... British.
It was a weekday, late morning, too early for the lunch crowd and too late for the yummy mummies with their monster prams and rambunctious toddlers. A perfect time to meet Kate and catch up.
The shop was quiet, only a few tables taken up by harried looking people hunched over their laptops. One woman with a mega afro and hot pink reading glasses perched on the end of her nose mumbled to herself as she punched wildly at computer keys with long gold nails. A man in a cheap navy suit, sitting at the table next to her, kept sneaking glances at her, his cheeks flushed as if he was trying to get up the nerve to speak. I grinned. It was such a wonderfully homey tableau, bursting with the promise of romance and adventure.
Milk & Bean was like something right out of post-WWII era. Retro metal tables with white Formica tops and matching red-and-white vinyl upholstered chairs scattered across the middle of the small space while classic booths took up the corners and walls. Coffee was served in antique cups in dusty rose and aqua. Jazz from the 1940s drifted over the speaker system, adding to the vintage vibe.
I didn’t see Kate anywhere, but I was dying for some caffeine so I walked over to the counter. I’d expected to see Sophie, the blonde owner of Milk & Bean and its barista. She’d always been behind the long bar every time I visited Kate. Instead I found a reprobate.
Honestly, that is quite literally the first word that came into my head when I saw him: reprobate, followed by heartbreaker, player, and lothario, in that order. There might have also been a Casanova in there somewhere. Definitely perfect for the role of Mr. Wickham, the villain of Pride and Prejudice.
He certainly looked like all the above, with his wild brown curls that were just a tad too long and his ice blue eyes that raked my figure from top to toe with only the slightest pause on my ample bosom. His full lips quirked in a satisfied grin and his tongue slipped out to wet them. His black T-shirt was a little too tight and his fitted jeans were a little too worn in certain delicious places. The most amazing biceps bulged under his shirt sleeves.
Wait. Delicious? Amazing? No. He was far too handsome for his own good, and that was a fact. Looked like he knew it, too.
“What can I get you, love?” he asked, leaning against the counter, giving me bedroom eyes. His voice was a warm purr with a rich, London accent that drove me crazy. Goodness, he was attractive.
I gave my head a slight shake to clear it and told myself to stop mooning over him. He was no genteel Mr. Darcy, that was for sure. If the look in his eyes was anything to go by, I had better watch my step. I hadn’t come to London to fall for some bad boy who worked in a coffee shop. I had bigger plans.
I cleared my throat. “I’d like tea, please. Milk and sugar.”
He lifted one wickedly curved eyebrow. Why was it men always had the longest, thickest lashes? It really wasn’t fair. My own were rather short and stubby and required copious amounts of mascara to look their best.
“You know this is a coffee shop, right?” The ice blue eyes raked me again, heating my blood by at least a hundred degrees. I suddenly felt hot and flustered, and it irked me.
“Are you saying you don’t have tea? What sort of café doesn’t serve tea?” I asked haughtily. When in doubt, channel Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The haughty woman from Pride and Prejudice was the perfect role model for putting dodgy characters in their proper place.
“Didn’t say that. Just saying I never understood a person who went to a coffee shop and ordered tea. Like going to a flower shop and ordering vegetables.”
I’d never thought of it that way. I supposed he was right, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “If you must know, I’m meeting my cousin. Otherwise I would find a more appropriate place for tea.” I lifted my chin a tad to show him he didn’t bother me one bit. Meanwhile a voice in my head chanted Liar, liar, pants on fire. I told it to hush.
His lips quirked a little higher. “That so?”
“It is.”
“Good thing for me your cousin has taste, then. Or I’d have never met you.” He gave me a wink—the naughty man; had he no shame?—before sticking out his hand.
“Nik.”
I stared at his hand for a moment before finally deciding it would be rude to ignore it. “Emma,” I said. The minute bare skin touched bare skin, I knew I was in big fat trouble. The instant zing of chemistry hit my bloodstream like a dose of one of those energy drinks Kev was so fond of.
“I’ll bring it to you,” he said.
“Bring it to me?” I repeated like a moron.
His smile widened as if he knew exactly what I was feeling. “Your tea.”
I jerked out of his grasp, suddenly realizing we were still holding hands across the counter like a couple of lovesick teenagers. “Thanks,” I mumbled, suddenly afraid to meet his gaze. Like he might hook me in and mind-meld me or something.
I slapped some money on the counter, hoping it was enough, and whirled around. I very nearly ran all the way to the back corner booth Kate always chose. I plopped on the seat, cheeks on fire, trying to ignore Nik as he moved about behind the counter making my tea.
It was a tradition, hanging with Kate and her best friend, Chloe, at Milk & Bean, whiling away hours over innumerous cups of coffee and plates of tasty treats while setting to rights the ills of our small world. It was one of the things I’d loved most about my visit to London a few months earlier and missed the most when I’d gone home to Portland. But now this was my city, just like it was Kate’s. The thought sent a thrill of excitement shooting through me until I was practically dancing in my seat.
“How many cups of coffee have you had?”
I looked up with a wide grin and practically exploded out of the booth. “Kate!” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her hard. She hugged me back just as hard.
“I can’t believe you’re here, Emma. This is going to be great! I can’t wait to show you all over London.” She squeezed into the booth next to me, a wide smile plastered on her face. She looked so happy, happier than I’d ever seen her before. Which was a good thing, or I’d have had to kick her husband Adam’s backside.
Kate had met Adam in London after her first husband (a jackass) left her for another woman. They’d fallen crazy in love. Of course, what Kate hadn’t known at the time was that Adam was this super famous actor. There’d been all kinds of misunderstandings and whatnot, but eventually they’d gotten everything sorted and were currently living their happy-ever-after in a little apartment near Hyde Park. I was extremely jealous and also ridiculously happy for them. Kate deserved to have a wonderful life and now she had it.
“Now tell me,” Kate said, settling against the booth cushions, strumming her fingers on the tabletop. The ginormous diamond on her left hand flashed in the low overhead lighting. Adam loved to spoil her. “How have the first few days in London been?”
I told her about my outings with Kev and how I’d tried to hook him up with a waiter. She laughed so hard, tears ran down her face. She was mopping them up, still giggling when Nik brought our drinks.
“Caramel latte for you, Kate,” Nik said, shooting her a flirtatious grin. “And tea for my lady.” He winked at me again before striding away. His black Chucks made no sound on the tile floor. I was too busy staring at his butt to notice.
“Nice, huh?” Kate said, voice filled with amusement. She brushed a lock of silky brown hair out of her face and took a sip of coffee. Her eyes sparkled at me over the rim of her cup.
I flushed. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
She gave me a look. “Please, girl.”
I shrugged. “He’s got a very nice backside, but I’m not interested.”
“Why not? You could do worse than Nik.”
“He’s not interested either.”
She snorted. “You sure could have fooled me.”
“He’s clearly a flirt. It means nothing. Can we change the subject? Tell me how you’re doing. How’s Adam?”
We chatted for a while about the things going on in our lives, and if my gaze strayed to the counter and a certain rogue coffee boy more often than it should have, I would deny it to my grave.
# # #
ON THE WAY HOME AFTER meeting Kate, I stopped in at the local WH Smith’s to pick up pens and notebooks I’d need for school. Most people took notes on their laptops, but I preferred the feel of paper under my hands. Plus I loved using different color highlighters and pens. I was visual that way. It also meant I could sneak in sketches while the professor gave his or her lecture. Designing dresses was a soothing pastime for me. Naturally, they were all Regency era with high waists, simple lines, and Grecian styling. Sometimes I threw in a modern twist just for fun.
I poked through the selection of sketch pads and charcoal pencils. There was a carrying tin of a dozen pencils and a good selection of pads with nice, hard backs. Perfect for sneaking in a sketch anywhere and everywhere.
“Are you an artist?”
Drawn from my musing, I turned toward the voice and blinked. “I dabble,” I finally managed.
He was quite a bit taller than I was, almost gangly, and had a prominent Adam’s apple. He wore a tweed jacket with arm patches (I’m not joking), skinny jeans, and red Chucks. His glasses were both somewhat nerdy and completely hipster. In fact, he was an odd combination of the two. I wouldn’t say he was good-looking, but he had a certain attractiveness as he swiped a tumble of medium-brown hair off his forehead. A flash of Nik’s glossy dark curls popped up in my mind, and I deliberately pushed it away. Nik was not my Mr. Darcy. I’d already decided he was Mr. Wickham.
“Really?” Geeky Hipster Dude asked. “What sort of things do you like to draw?”
“Fashion mostly.” I didn’t mention the era. Most people thought it was weird to be so obsessed with the Regency.
He looked a little disappointed. “Oh. Well, I guess that’s okay.”
I felt like saying, Gee, thanks for your approval in my most sarcastic tone. I mean, he’d opened himself up wide for it. But I didn’t want to come off as rude my first week in the country. Instead I asked, “What do you draw?”
“Vampires, werewolves, anything paranormal. I’m really into zombies right now. My goal is to be a comic book artist.”
That was way more up Kate’s alley than mine, but I smiled encouragingly. “That seems like a very interesting job.”
“Oh, it is,” he enthused.
It may not have been my thing, but there was something sexy about a man excited about his work. People are always the most attractive when they’re passionate about something. That’s what I think, anyway. Something about how their eyes shine and their smiles widen and their expression becomes more animated. It makes my fingers itch to draw them. Catch that single amazing moment on paper forever.
“By the way, my name is Byron.”
“Emma,” I said with an encouraging grin. We shook hands. He had a perfectly acceptable handshake but nothing that excited me.
“I’d love to take you out sometime, Emma. Talk about our art. Get to know each other.”
I wasn’t sure Byron was my Mr. Darcy, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t a Willoughby or Wickham, which was a step in the right direction. Only way I could find out for sure was to spend more time with him. Not exactly a hardship. He was cute enough, and he seemed to like me.
“Sure. I’d like that.”