This was more like it. The pub was dark and dingy and loud and perfect. There were no fancy napkins or menus without prices or waiters hovering in the doorway. The floor wasn’t even clean. And no one gave us a second glance when we walked in.

Declan was still there, but his presence seemed less obtrusive, less awkward and creepy now that he was sitting at the other end of the bar with a bowl of pretzels, while Charlie ordered us two pints of whatever was on tap. The bartender obviously knew him, putting us over in a corner that gave us some privacy, but didn’t remove us from the action all around. It wasn’t until the food arrived that I realized I was starving.

“Mmm,” I took a bite of the French fries—or rather the chips—which were still hot. “These are great,” I told Charlie.

He popped one in his mouth, winking at me. “Glad you approve.”

I took a long drink of beer. It was fantastic as well. I could feel myself relaxing, leaning back into the plush, plastic cushions of the booth, people-watching. There were a few TVs on, and suddenly, Charlie’s face popped up on one of them, as the newscaster started talking about Wimbledon. I grinned, and Charlie, who was facing away from the screens, twisted to see what I was looking at.

“What a wanker,” he said, a wry twist to his lips.

If anyone at the bar made the connection between the guy in the back booth and the guy on the screen, there wasn’t any indication. However, the whole bar erupted in a groan when another face flashed onto the screen. It was the guy—the other one—who had been flirting with me at the party. Killian Black.

“Aussie bastard,” someone shouted.

“Fucking wanker!” someone else chimed in.

“Turn that shite off,” another one added, and the bartender did as requested.

I raised my eyebrows. “Not a lot of Killian Black fans here,” I noted. “Or is everyone in tennis a wanker?”

Charlie shook his head. “At least I’m a local wanker.” He reached out his hand. “All that stuff is rubbish anyways. Not worth your attention. C’mere.”

Wiggling out of the booth, I came and joined him on his side, facing away from the bar, away from the TVs. Suddenly it felt very quiet and private. In a really nice way.

Charlie extended an arm across the back of my seat, and I resisted the urge to nestle closer to him. He smelled so good. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and he unbuttoned one more button.

I really, really wanted to unbutton the rest.

“So, is he your rival?” I asked, nodding back towards the direction of the TVs.

“Killian?” Charlie shrugged. “He got talent, but a big fucking mouth. We might have been mates if he hadn’t used it.”

“What do you mean?” I wanted to know, given that I was woefully uninformed when it came to tennis and the gossip that surrounded it.

“He’s a player—both on the court and off.” Charlie held up a hand. “Not like me,” he said playfully, before I could comment. “And most of what you might have heard about me is exaggerated.”

“I haven’t heard anything.” I batted my eyes innocently.

“Cheeky.” He gave my chin a pinch. “I don’t begrudge the way other people want to live their life and use their fame. But he’s just a piece of work. Our supposed rivalry keeps him in the tabloids, so he does everything he can to play it up.” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t need the drama.”

“Speaking of playing.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “Don’t you have a match this week? Are you supposed to be out this late on a school night?” I teased.

He leaned his head back. “You don’t know a lot about tennis, do you?” he asked, smirking.

I held up my hands. “Guilty. My friend Paige is the tennis fan. I just wanted to travel, and I didn’t really care where.”

“I’m hurt,” said Charlie, but he didn’t look hurt. In fact, he looked rather amused. “Well, as I’m sure Paige will tell you, I’m not really the favorite to win.”

“She might have mentioned something like that,” I confessed.

He didn’t seem especially bothered by it. “My next match is against the reigning champion. And even though I’ve spent the last year training, I’m still realistic about my chances.” He glanced over at me and grinned. “Besides, if I’m not good enough now, it’s probably a safe bet that a few more hours of practice aren’t going to make a whole hell of a lot of a difference.”

“So you’re saying you don’t have a curfew?” I teased.

“Do you?” he countered with a twinkle in his eyes.

I shook my head.

“Brilliant,” he said, his arm sliding down the booth to rest around my shoulders. “Because I want to take all night . . .” he said suggestively, and my skin grew flushed.

“All night?” my voice was breathy as he leaned in.

He nodded. “All night.” Then he reached past me, grabbed a chip and popped it into his mouth. “To get to know you better.” He grinned when I let out a little huff. “What did you think I was talking about?”

I crossed my arms, not willing to let him get the best of me. “Well then,” I told him, flirty. “I hope you brushed up on your history because what I said this morning still stands.”

“About my good-luck kiss?” he teased.

I nodded. “I take history very seriously.”

“History is very important,” Charlie agreed.

He ran his finger up my bare arm and I couldn’t help but shiver from the sensations that spiraled through me. God, how would it feel to have him touch me all over? I was practically combustible just from that single point of contact.

“Very, very important,” I barely managed.

“Then, I suppose I should warn you.” His other hand had crept to my knee. “I barely passed my A-levels in history.”

“Oh, dear.” I could barely concentrate on the conversation, my attention focused on the circles he was drawing on the inside of my bare knee. “That is a shame.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m usually a very, very good student.” He had started nuzzling my neck, his breath hot.

“What happened?” I slid my hands down his strong arms, pulling him a little closer.

“Guess I didn’t have a very good tutor.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes blazing. “But let me assure you, if you give me a chance, you’ll see I’m extremely eager to learn.”

I kissed him. I couldn’t help it. The low timber of his voice, the accent, the gorgeous blue eyes, the hot trail of his hands against my skin, the scent of him—all of it made me completely unable to resist.

He didn’t even hesitate to respond, slanting his mouth against mine, his fingers tunneling into my hair, no doubt destroying my careful braid. Not that I cared. Hell no. All I cared about was the hot press of his lips against mine, the slide of his hand down my bare back, and the feel of his flexing muscles beneath my fingers.

The sounds of the bar, the music, the blaring TV, the talking, it all faded into nothingness. The world disappeared and it was just the two of us in that booth. In all of London. Charlie kissed me like he couldn’t get enough, and I felt the same. I curled my hands into his shirt like I had done that morning in the locker room, pulling him closer. His tongue tangled with mine, his hand squeezing my knee, his other pressed against my back. I arched against him, my body aching for more, and felt him groan, the sound vibrating against my fingertips.

Then there was a cough behind us.

We broke apart to find Declan standing at the end of the booth, looking at both of us with a bemused expression.

“Mate . . .” Charlie gave him a warning look, one that said, There better be a damn good reason you’re interrupting us.

But Declan just jerked his thumb towards the other end of the bar where a bunch of girls quickly turned around, but not before I saw that they had their cellphones out.

“Don’t think they caught anything on camera,” said Declan. “But just in case . . .”

Charlie let out an annoyed groan and gave me an apologetic look. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

I nodded quickly, and with Declan’s help, we were ushered out the back entrance. Outside it had gotten a lot colder, and I couldn’t help shivering.

“Here.” Charlie draped his jacket over my shoulders. It was warm and smelled like him, grass and clean soap.

“Thanks.” I put it on, wrapping it tightly around me.

“It’s not that cold,” he teased, as we headed down a quiet street.

“Hey!” I gave him a little jab in the arm. “I’m a SoCal girl, anything below seventy degrees is cold.”

“Oh, I know all about you California girls.” Charlie steered me down a cobblestoned street. “Something about daisy dukes and bikinis on top, right?”

I stared at him. “Did you just quote Katy Perry at me?”

“I’m a man of many talents.” He shrugged.

“So I see,” I laughed, and then I realized that Charlie had walked me down to the Thames. It was beautiful and quiet, the water lapping against the shore, the moon high in the sky.

“What about you?” he asked, leaning on the railing, Declan keeping his distance.

“What about me?”

“Your talents.” Charlie reached out and fingered the neckline of my dress. “I assume this is one of them?”

I blushed. It was always hard to talk about my desire to design clothing.

“When I have the time, I like to sew,” I told him. “And paint. Sometimes I sell some of my designs.”

“That’s bloody brilliant.” He took my hand and gave me a twirl, the skirt of my dress flying up around me, the starlight catching the silver polka dots on the hem. “I’m jealous, you’re so creative.”

My eyebrows went up. “You’re jealous of me?”

“Sure.” He smoothed down the lapels of his jacket, pulling me closer, our bodies sharing heat. “You have real talent.”

“So do you! You’re a great athlete,” I argued.

“That’s all brawn,” he said with a wink.

I laughed. “So you’re saying you’re all brawn, no brains?”

“ ’Fraid so,” he sighed. “Terrible, isn’t it?”

“It would be,” I teased. “If I believed it for a moment.”

We walked along the Thames for a while. Charlie told me about tennis, and even though I didn’t understand the details, it was pretty clear that he really loved playing. Even though I knew I would be exhausted the next day, I still didn’t want the evening to end. Charlie was sweet and funny and kissed like a god. But as it got later and later, eventually I had to confess that I had an early morning and needed to get back to Aunt Suze’s. In an instant, Charlie’s driver materialized. I guessed being a royal meant you had a 24/7 Uber.

Charlie’s driver pulled up to Aunt Suze’s street, and Charlie hopped out immediately, coming over to open my door.

“Wait here,” he told Declan.

With his hand on the small of my back, he walked me to my door. Slipping his jacket off, I handed it back to him. He draped it over his arm and without another word, he swept me into his arms and kissed me until I forgot all the reasons I had for why the date had to end.

When he pulled away, we were both breathing heavily.

“Good night, Emmy.” His forehead was pressed against mine.

“Good night,” I breathed, so very tempted to not let go.

He kissed the top of my hand, and with a wink, took my keys out of my hand and opened the door of the building for me. He waited until I was inside before walking back to the car. I started up towards Aunt Suze’s apartment, and had just reached her floor when my cellphone buzzed. I pulled it out to find a new message from Charlie.

“Thanks for all the luck, SoCal girl,” he had written. “Can’t wait to repay it in kind.”