‘Sounds it. Mind you, so is this. London in the early spring—look, you can see all the trees starting to turn green over again.’ She looked down, keeping her hands firmly on the edge of the basket. The burners had gone off again, and they were just floating in the air. Everything around them was still and silent. She could hear the sound of traffic below, and gulls squawking over the Thames.
‘I’ve never seen London like this before,’ she said softly. ‘Even going on the London Eye is nothing compared with this. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Theo.’
The burners sprang into life again, and Theo was forced to bend closer to her so his mouth was close enough to her ear for her to hear his reply. ‘My pleasure. Though, as one of the main organisers of the ball, you’re the best person for me to share it with anyway. You deserve a treat for all that hard work.’
‘Maybe.’ She rested her hands on the rim of the basket and looked out as the pilot pointed out more landmarks. Theo was standing behind her, and it felt natural for him to be looking over her shoulder, his hands resting against the basket on either side of hers. And even more natural for her to lean back slightly against him.
The gap between their hands narrowed imperceptibly, and he moved slightly closer, cradling her body against his. And she wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but then her left hand was covering his, and his right hand was covering hers, and she was aware of every nerve end in her skin.
‘Would you like me to take a picture of you together?’ one of the other passengers asked.
‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’ Theo fished his mobile phone from his pocket and set it to camera mode before handing it to her.
‘Stand a bit closer together—I can’t quite get you both in.’
Theo stood behind Madison and slid his arms round her waist, pulling her back against him.
‘Now, smile.’
Smile, when her knees had just melted and her temperature had risen about ten degrees? But she managed it. Just.
The woman took a photograph, and a second ‘just in case’, then smiled at them. ‘You make a lovely couple.’
‘Thank you,’ Theo said.
For the return of the phone?
Or for the compliment?
Maybe they’d just hit a patch of particularly thin air, because she definitely couldn’t think straight. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.
Theo stayed close to her for the rest of the balloon trip. And although they’d been warned that in four out of five flights the balloon landed on its side, and they’d braced themselves for the impact, she still wasn’t prepared for the fact that the basket tipped over and she landed on top of Theo.
Full length.
Plastered against him.
His arms automatically came round her. It was the obvious thing to do, to keep them stable—but then again he’d spent most of the balloon ride with his arms round her.
If she lifted her head from his shoulder, she was close enough to kiss him.
And if they hadn’t had the other passengers from the balloon and the pilot with them, she knew she would have done it. Teased that gorgeous, sexy mouth until he was kissing her back and his hands were sliding underneath her fleece and her camisole to encounter bare skin. And she would’ve been just as quick to rip his clothes off.
Oh, lord.
She could feel her face burning, but Theo didn’t make any comment. He merely joined the others in helping to roll up the surprisingly heavy balloon and loading it into the back of the Land Rover that had followed the balloon across London to Alexandra Palace and obtained clearance for them to land.
‘So, did you enjoy your first balloon ride?’ he asked as they walked through the park towards the tube station.
‘It was amazing. I’ve lived in London for twelve years now, but it’s made me see the city with new eyes. There are so many places I haven’t explored.’
He waited a beat. ‘Maybe we could explore them together,’ he suggested.
It shocked her how just much she wanted to agree. ‘Maybe,’ she said.
When they were sitting on the tube, he slanted her a look. ‘Are you doing anything special for the rest of the day?’
‘Does an appointment with an ironing board and a pile of laundry the height of K2 count?’ she asked wryly.
‘That,’ he said, ‘doesn’t sound like fun. How about having lunch with me first?’
‘As long as you let me pay,’ she said. ‘My treat—seeing as you shared your prize with me.’
He smiled. ‘I didn’t mean in a restaurant. I don’t live far from a tube station. Come and have lunch with me.’
Go to his home?
She’d have to be crazy, especially given the way her body had reacted to his on the balloon. ‘It’s a bit early for lunch.’ It was barely eleven.
He shrugged. ‘We were up early. I’d say it’s lunchtime.’ He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging her. He couldn’t make it any clearer that he thought she was being a coward.
Well, she wasn’t. ‘Lunch,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘would be lovely.’
‘Good.’
He unlocked the front door of a tiny Victorian terrace with a pocket-handkerchief-sized front garden. The décor was neutral—which she’d expected from a rented house—though a brief glance into the living room as she passed the open door showed framed photographs clustered on the mantelpiece. So clearly he was trying to make the place home rather than just somewhere to live.
‘Anything I can do to help?’ she asked.
‘You can put the kettle on, if you like.’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Don’t worry—I have English coffee.’ He retrieved a cafetière and a bag of ground coffee from the cupboard above the kettle, and sliced open the seal. ‘If I was going to make proper coffee—the way I drink it—I’d use a briki.’ It must have shown on her face that she didn’t understand, because he said, ‘It’s a Greek coffee-pot—you use it straight on the stove.’
He’d already removed his jacket and hung it on the newel post, but now he stripped off his sweater to reveal a white V-necked T-shirt. One that clung in all the right places.
He’d looked hot in a suit. Gorgeous in that leather jacket and sweater. But now, in jeans and that white T-shirt, he was completely edible.
Madison only just stopped herself touching him.
But no way could she keep her fleece on. She was melting as it was. ‘It is OK if I put my fleece on top of your jacket?’
‘Sure. Now, let’s see.’ He was rummaging in the fridge and stacking a pile of ingredients on the worktops. ‘Anything you don’t eat or you’re allergic to?’
‘I like all food.’ As long as she didn’t have to cook it.
‘Good. So we’ll start with toasted pitta and hummus, then chicken and salad.’ He handed her a bottle of milk. ‘No sugar for me, please.’
It felt oddly domestic, making coffee for them both while he chopped salad. She’d never done this with Harry. Then again, she and Harry had hardly ever been at home together. They’d nearly always eaten out, neither of them being particularly fond of cooking. ‘Anything else I can do to help?’ she asked when she’d filled their mugs, added milk and returned the bottle to the fridge.
‘You can lay the table