Cecilia, present day

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CeCe folded the printout from the luggage report and smiled at the woman’s assurances that her bag would be found and delivered to her hotel by the morning. With an inner sigh, she turned and walked through customs with only her carry-on.

Thank God she’d brought a toothbrush and a change of clothes in her tote.

She checked the signs and started walking in the direction of the taxi stand, the mental image of her forthcoming soft and fluffy mattress almost too much to bear.

“Cecilia.” A hand on her arm.

“Shit!” She jumped, lost her grip on her bag, and watched as the contents of her long-ass-plane-ride survival kit rolled in all directions.

Her Chapstick skidded end over end until it slid under a fully occupied row of chairs, her phone skittered beneath a massive rolling suitcase guided haphazardly by a small child and narrowly missed being crushed by its menacing metal wheels. Her pencils and notebook scattered in all directions and her clothes . . . no, her underwear, that went floating across the floor, wafting to a gentle stop on Colin’s foot.

He bent and picked up the flimsy scrap of deep green lace—it matched her eyes, okay? And plus, a girl needed to feel sexy every once in a while.

Or at least that was what Bec had said when she’d gifted Cecilia a trunkful of expensive lingerie before her trip.

“For those sexy European guys,” she’d mock-whispered before her face had gone deadly serious in that fierce lawyer mask of hers. “And for you. Because you’re amazing and beautiful and deserve to feel that way.”

Colin coughed, cheeks going faintly pink. “I-uh . . . sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held the ridiculously small thong clenched in his fist and the sight made her stomach tighten.

Well, not just her stomach. She got that squidgy feeling just beneath her belly button, traveling lower, throbbing, aching, until her thighs squeezed together in a vain attempt at soothing that empty feeling within her.

She blinked before regaining her senses.

Her heart was empty, and she was going to Finland to fill it with beautiful green tinted lights and the wide-open night sky. There would be snow and animals and a glass-roofed cabin of her own. She was going to sort out the loneliness inside her, finally find her place in the world.

And that place didn’t include Colin or his yummy hands or her panties scrunched up all sexily in his palms.

Enough.

In a quick movement, she snatched her underwear from Colin’s hand and stuffed it into her bag. Then she began crouch-walking as she hurried to gather up all her items.

Which didn’t take long because he helped.

Colin McGregor just could not take a hint.

“Cecilia—” he began but coughed again, probably because she’d just stuffed an entire string of condoms back into her tote.

Protection wasn’t just a woman’s responsibility, but damned if she was going to rely on a man to keep her safe.

That’s what led to accidental pregnancies and that wasn’t a romance novel trope she was interested in living . . . not in real life anyway. Between the pages of a book was another thing entirely.

“Goodbye, Colin,” she murmured, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

“Wait.” He hesitated before touching her arm again. “Let me see you safely to your hotel.” When she started to shake her head, he gave her puppy dog eyes. And the infuriating man gave damned good puppy dog eyes. “Please, CeCe. I know I don’t deserve your consideration, but will you at least let me know that you’re safe and sound?”

She sighed. Was she seriously considering spending more time in a confined space with the man who’d broken her heart twice?

Ugh. She totally was.

“Fine,” she said, giving in because she was too tired to fight, too tired to resist stealing just a little bit more of Colin.

He smiled and the brilliance of it sucked the air from her lungs. God, he had the best freaking smile, wide and slightly crooked on one end, his teeth straight and white, but not perfectly aligned. That little bit of imperfection mixed into all of the flawlessness that was Colin McGregor just added a whole other layer.

It was too much and it wasn’t enough.

She wanted him. She was scared.

She was hurt but remembered the great times they’d had together. The brilliant moments when they were alone, when she was with someone who saw her as her.

When she’d belonged.

Sadness swept through her, and she dropped her eyes to the floor, hurting, absolutely aching for the loss of that time in her life, no matter how brief it had been.

“Cecilia?”

She forced her gaze up, made her lips tip into a smile. “Should we go?”

“Sweetheart?” A brush of his thumb across her cheek. “What is it?”

Her heart turned over in her chest, that long old scar throbbing. But she couldn’t tell Colin that. Not now, not here, not after all this time. “I’m tired,” she said. “Can we go?”

Blue eyes searched hers for a long moment before he nodded. “Of course.”

He grabbed her bag, slinging it over his arm, and pointed in the direction of the automatic doors.

Cecilia frowned. “Where’s your bag?”

“The driver has it.” He nodded at the man, wearing a black suit and tie with a pristine white button down, standing next to a black sedan. “Thanks for waiting, Danny.”

Danny nodded, opening the door without a word but the look he gave her was assessing.

And immediately made her spine go up.

She’d seen that look before. Too many times over.

“You know—” She hesitated, ready to say fuck it all and take a cab like her original plan, but Colin had anticipated her. He snagged her wrist and tugged her into the car in a move so quick that the rest of her sentence was swallowed up in a gasp and the sound of the door closing.

“Hotel.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Then I’ll leave you to your life.”

Her breath caught. In relief? In disappointment?

Who knew?

Except . . . she knew.

And what she knew but didn’t want to admit, even to herself, was that those words left her with a trace of displeasure—no, more than a trace. What she felt was a torrent of regret that was nearly impossible to ignore.

But she did anyway.

She tucked it down, shoved it all away, and did what she did best.

Pretended to be completely fine despite the fact that she was totally shattered inside.

London was beautiful. The buildings were like nothing she’d seen before. Tall, huge walls of gorgeous architecture full to the brim with arches and curls and wooden doors. Brick houses transformed into gothic churches before pivoting again into another style and then another as traffic wove and bobbed and turned through narrow and twisted streets.

Every building was multistoried and towered over the car. Which should have made her feel closed in.

But instead she felt safe and cozy, like she was tucked snugly under a soft comforter.

London was nothing like her little town north of San Francisco.

There were multistory buildings at home, of course, but not like this. Not packed in, crowded together, taking up every millimeter of available space.

Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Different from Scotland, isn’t it?”

Cecilia stiffened, somehow having forgotten that she was trapped in a car with Colin. She removed her hand from where it was pressed against the window, purposefully wiped what was almost certainly a sappy smile from her face and turned to face him.

They were nearing the clogged streets close to Buckingham Palace and she knew her hotel wouldn’t be far off.

Though . . . traffic.

They could be trapped for days.

Le. Sigh.

It was easier to be closed off from Colin when he was more of a painful memory rather than a living breathing human.

Who was nice and waited for her and gave her rides and—

Broke your heart, girlfriend, she imagined Seraphina saying. Her beautiful blonde bombshell of a friend would tell her to woman up and harden her heart. Forget him. Move on and hook up with a hot Finnish guy. They make man buns look sexy.

She just wished it were that easy.

Because amongst the painful memories were good ones. More than the bad, more than the ones that shattered her teenage fantasies.

She sighed. This trip was supposed to be about relaxing, enjoying herself after spending so long wrapped up in Hunter’s appointments and treatments and medications. This was supposed to be about her having an adventure where she wasn’t trying to think of ways to get Carter—Abby and Jordan’s baby—to eat peas when the little toddler hated all foods that were green.

This—

She sighed again, wanting to slap herself. She shouldn’t be missing them. It hadn’t even been a day.

Fingers on her cheek startled her.

“You okay?” Colin asked.

She leaned into his touch, inhaling the spicy scent that was solely Colin—leather and sandalwood and pine.

“I—”

Then she realized who she was leaning closer toward, whose hand was cradling her face, and who apparently had as big a hold on her body and mind as ever.

P.A.T.H.E.T.I.C.

That was her.

“London is different than Scotland,” she said, finally getting a grip and circling back to safer topics than her idiotic brain and heart. “I mean, all I’d seen of it before was Heathrow, and that wasn’t exciting. And I know it doesn’t make sense for my travel plans, with me leaving for Finland tomorrow night, but I couldn’t miss a chance to be here without at least seeing Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park—”

“You’re leaving tomorrow?”

The car slowed, pulling to a stop at the curb. And seriously, she was tipping this driver big time.

CeCe took one glance at Colin’s stormy expression—the one that used to make her crazy. Crazy to kiss him and smooth it out. Crazy to piss him off further so he’d yank her close and kiss her with all that pent-up frustration. Crazy to—

Run.

“Oh look, we’re here,” she said, popping the door handle and climbing out onto the sidewalk, thankful that they were on the “wrong” side of the road and so she didn’t have to clamber over Colin’s legs.

Because it wouldn’t be clambering over so much as clambering onto and that would be very dangerous indeed.

She grabbed her tote bag, tucking it over her shoulder while slamming the door shut, and thrust a fifty-pound note at the surprised driver who was just sliding out of the car.

She needed to get to her room, slam the deadbolt, and hide.

The smiling attendant waved her forward and CeCe handed over her passport all while trying not to glance behind her like she was a fugitive on the run.

This just in . . . she felt like one.

“Here you go,” the woman said. “You’ve got a lovely room on the fifth floor. You’ll find the elevator right down that hall.”

Cecilia thanked her, hurrying away from the desk and ignoring the fact that the space between her shoulder blades was prickling.

Risking a quick glance back gained her nothing. Colin was nowhere in sight. He’d left after she’d not so ceremoniously slammed the car door in his face.

Obviously.

So what if she felt the tiniest bit disappointed and, well, guilty for slamming said door in said handsome, dark, and brooding face.

She pressed the button for the elevator, stood back when the doors dinged open, and then started to select the fifth floor.

The hairs on her nape rose before he even spoke. As though she had a built-in Colin-detector.

And frankly, she needed to face facts. She did have a built-in Colin-detector.

It was called her vagina.

As in it got wet every time he was nearby.

“You actually need to press six,” he murmured from very close behind her, reaching over her shoulder to push the button with that number. “Floors are counted differently in England than the United States. Here they have a ground floor and then the numbers start counting up from one.”

CeCe glanced down at the envelope housing her room key and sure enough, she was in room six-twenty-two.

Fifth floor. Lies.

Shaking her head as the doors slid closed, she stuck her room key in her pocket and then sighed, dropping her chin to her chest, warring with herself—

“Fuck it,” she muttered, sliding her tote bag from her shoulder and letting it fall with a thump to the floor. She whipped around, launched herself at Colin.

He jumped and fumbled and she thought for sure they were both going down, but then he regrouped, regaining his balance and holding her tight against his chest.

And—God—it felt fantastic, being in his arms, being this close.

“Cecilia?” he asked, blue eyes wide but filling rapidly with heat.

He felt it too. He understood the attraction, the never-ending pull that seemed to yank them together time and time again.

That attraction was the only reason—the only reason, take that her damned smug conscience—that she kissed him.

And promptly lost her head.