Page 13 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

So he’d gone down to offer to ride the tube back to the hotel with her. She could have said no. He could maybe have convinced himself that he was only concerned about her safety, but it was more than that.

So now, looking down into the eyes he still couldn’t decide were brown or green, he smiled and repeated the word.

“Yeah. Wonderful.”

He was a damn fool, and he knew it. The whole thing was pointless. The concert would last one more night. She’d go back to wherever she came from on Monday, and he’d go home. Although he needed to answer Cash at some point. The man was being cagey about the jet and its availability.

But Blane figured there was no harm in allowing himself to enjoy her company while he could, even if that only meant the rest of the journey back to the hotel tonight.

And then maybe …

He held his breath when someone jostled Bea from behind, pushing her more firmly against him. She shot him an apologetic smile. He had no problem with it. He tightened his grip on the pole, hoping she wouldn’t step away now that there was a little more room.

Maybe tomorrow night, before he had to leave, he’d go and sit on the empty stool beside her. There’d be nothing wrong with that, would there?

When they emerged from the station at Tottenham Court Road, she turned to smile up at him. “You got here ahead of me last night. I spotted you just before you came out of the station.”

He looked down at her. He should probably confess what he’d done. He’d had to make sure she got back to the hotel safely. And he hadn’t trusted that alley. But he’d figured that if he tailed her, he’d probably spook her more than anything else would. So he’d gone ahead instead, checking that there were no obvious threats in her path and waiting at each corner until she reached it.

She misread his silence. “Sorry. That must sound really creepy, mustn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Far from it. In my business, I understand it. Matter of fact, I’m proud of you. Situational awareness is never a bad thing.”

She looked puzzled at that. “I think I understand now. You’re military, aren’t you?” Then she lifted a hand. “Actually, no. You don’t need to answer. I already—”

“That’s okay. That’s a detail I don’t mind sharing. Yeah, I served in the Navy. Been retired a while now, though.”

They covered the rest of the short walk to the hotel mostly in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt comfortable.

As they approached the front entrance, the two doormen greeted them. Blane had chatted with them a few times by now, and they felt almost like buddies. It was easy to see that they were relieved to see Bea back.

“Glad you’re not arriving back alone tonight, Miss Hartley,” the younger one told her.

A strange warm feeling filled Blane’s chest when she smiled up at him. “I told you before, there’s no need to worry about me, boys. You’re right, though. Tonight, I’m as safe as can be. I have my very own high-level military escort.”

Back inside the hotel, Blane jabbed the button to call the elevator. She chuckled beside him and pointed up at the indicators above the doors. Both elevators were on the twelfth floor again.

“Conspiracy,” he said.

She nodded solemnly. “They’re out to mock us.”

He had to be honest with himself: if it took running out of patience to make the elevators descend, he figured they might not come down until morning. He was in no hurry for the evening to end.

They arrived after a few minutes, and he spent the whole ride up to the twelfth floor wrestling with what he should say.

When the doors slid open, Bea turned to him with a smile. “Well, this is good night, then. Thanks so much for walking me back.”

“My pleasure.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I imagine you will. You know where to find me, even though I can’t say the same for you.” Her smile lingered. “Good night, Blane.”

He watched her turn and go toward her room, wanting to call after her. Tell her that she could find him. In the lobby, at noon, if she wanted to spend the afternoon together. Or better yet, in the dining room, for breakfast, at seven-thirty. The words crowded up in his throat, but he swallowed them and watched her go.

Chapter Four

Bea was a little disappointed not to spot him at breakfast on Sunday. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t. Or at least that she shouldn’t be. But in the end, she had to admit it, she’d been hoping to see him. She wasn’t going to let herself get derailed by fanciful thoughts, though. She’d enjoyed their shared journey back to the hotel last night. Hopefully, she’d see him at the arena again tonight—but that was all there was to it. It’d be foolish to hope for anything more.

She checked herself over in the mirror and nodded. She didn’t look bad, if she said so herself. She wasn’t going to skip the plans she and Meg had made for this afternoon. It might seem an odd pairing with a three-day country music concert, but the other thing she and Meg had both been looking forward to this weekend was a visit to the British Museum. Bea had fallen in love with the place during a semester in London a lifetime ago and tried to visit whenever she came up to the city. Considering her plans to leave the country, who knew when she’d get the chance again?