Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (24 page)

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked. Faith Clarkson had decided to send Taylor to London for a few months to help out with the settling in. I was glad there would be a friendly face at work.

“I’m fine. Just looking forward to all this being over. It’s been constant stress for the last seven months, and I could do with a little bit of normal,” was my exhausted answer.

Chewing on ice, Taylor commiserated, “You and me both. My mother has been driving me crazy. A little time away from her doesn’t hurt my feelings. You have no idea what it’s like to be her daughter.” She took a deep gulp from the cocktail glass that the flight attendant had placed in her hand.

I drank down the Crown Royal and ginger ale I had requested upon boarding the plane. Before meeting Liam I had never had it, but it provided the double benefit of relieving stress and reminding me of the taste of him. “No, that’s not something that I could imagine! If I were you, I would have taken a position at the London branch. I know you love New York, and Marcus is there, but I just think it would be really good for you to do your own thing and not worry about the specter of your mother.”

“Well, it isn’t too late. My plan is to discreetly see where the holes are in the plan and see if anything interests me. Marcus and I talked about it, and he knows it would be better for me to get out from under my mother’s thumb.”

I felt my jaw drop. “You never mentioned any of this. I would love it! Don’t worry, if you want to stay, we’ll find a way to make it happen. Someone will know of a job Marcus can’t refuse.”

The flight attendant had returned to take the empty glasses along with our dinner orders. For the next few hours, conversation turned to less pressing matters. Stabbing a fork into her salad, Taylor said, “It’s really nice of Hillary to let me stay with her as well. Are you sure she has enough room?”

In between bites of slightly rubbery chicken cordon bleu, I explained, “She comes off a bit stuffy, but she’s great fun. You just have to get used to her dry sense of humor. She has enough room for you, me, herself, and a couple dozen other people, which will come in handy when Marcus and Liam come to visit.”

Our conversation strayed through myriad topics, and, after a massive yawn, I settled down for a couple hours of sleep.

“Great idea. We don’t want you looking too worn out when you step off the plane,” Taylor teased.

In what seemed like a moment, the flight attendant was gently waking us from our nap. We peeled the eye masks back, sat up, and used the warm face cloths offered to us. As soon as it was possible, I dashed to the tiny bathroom facility to reapply my makeup, brush my teeth, and regain control of my hair. After a few attempts to confine the copious tresses in a professional-looking chignon, I slid the final hair clip into place.

Upon returning to my chair, I noticed that the flight attendant had tidied everything up.

Taylor, who was fussing with her carry-on, asked, “Are you ready?”

“Abso-bleedin’-lutely!” I squeaked in excitement. Moments later, the wheels touched down on the tarmac.

Butterflies were swarming in my midsection, and I could feel the beads of perspiration just waiting to ooze out of my pores. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s all going to be fine. He loves you!” I said to myself, as giddy and nervous as a schoolgirl.

Like sheep, we made our way through customs and baggage claim, finally heading for the doors that separated the International Flight Lounge from the rest of the airport. Taking a deep breath and tugging down my pale blue suit jacket, I let out a deep breath and said, “Here we go.”

No sooner had we pushed the door open than Liam strode up to us with confidence. He politely greeted Taylor with a peck to the check and then said, “Excuse me.”

Wrapping me in his arms, he kissed me thoroughly and said, “My god, you’re beautiful.” He took my face in his hands, holding me close for another long moment, and then turned his attention to us both. “Welcome to London, ladies.” My butterflies flitted away.

Once stowed safely in a taxi, Liam gave the driver Hillary’s address. While he was talking to the cabbie, Taylor quietly said, “Was the stress worth it?”

I replied through the enormous grin on my face, “Abso-bleedin’-lutely!”

***

At last, the cabbie pulled up in front of Hillary’s house in Chelsea. It was distinctly Victorian architecture: large, square, and symmetrical, with clean lines. “Even her house matches her,” Taylor said after a quick glance out the window. Liam paid the cabbie while we got out. No sooner had we put our fashionably-clad feet on the sidewalk than the front door opened. Hillary, dressed in a tailored white skirt and blouse, offered warm, welcoming hugs.

Once Liam had divested the cab’s trunk of our luggage, he stretched out his hand to Hillary. “You must be Hillary. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Hillary gave him a heartfelt smile, squeezed his hand firmly, and replied, “You, as well.” Looking at Charlotte and Taylor, she said, “I’m thrilled to have the company. I hope the chintz doesn’t put you off.” The last bit was tacked on in an unusually self-deprecating way. Hillary appeared to be lightening up.

The cabbie and Liam struggled to get the luggage into the house while we quietly gossiped about Liam. “Marian is going to wet herself when she meets him. He’s absolutely lovely! I’m not one to comment, but Charlotte, I just have to say, have you looked at his arse?” That comment coming from Hillary left us all shaking in hysterics.

“It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it?” I agreed as we appreciated it from a distance. Feeling us staring at him, Liam turned around to find the three of us suddenly discussing the surrounding architecture.

Once safely inside Hillary’s house, we were given the tour, received room assignments, and then took our beverages of choice to sit outside in the back garden. It was the end of July and a perfect summer day. Blue sky, green grass, and flowers stretched around the garden border. We talked about the flight, the last few weeks in New York, and the upcoming months when we’d be setting up the new London office.

After lazing around there for a good, long while, Hillary suggested lunch. “There’s a terrific place on Brompton Road called Aubaine. Lovely French food, pastries to die for.”

“I’m in!” Taylor announced. She had a passion for pastries.

Not long after, we stood in front of the restaurant, admiring its décor through large glass windows that stretched along the street front. The interior exuded an elegant balance between rustic and contemporary. The heavenly scent of bread wafted out into the summer air, and my stomach began to make unbelievable noises.

“Quick, we’d better get food into her before she’s useless to me later,” Liam announced. Hillary’s eyebrows shot heavenwards, and Taylor giggled.

We roamed in front of the boulangerie, admiring the baguettes and pastries. After waiting fifteen minutes for a table, all four of us were climbing the walls, made ravenous by the sights and smells. By the time we were finally seated and handed menus, we were in a state of desperation. “My god, does it get any better than this?” Taylor gasped. “This is what England is supposed to be like. I can’t tell you how excited I am!” I decided it was a combination of starvation and freedom from her mother that made Taylor seem nutty. Liam looked at me questioningly. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a “roll with it” look.

We all studied the menu with great care. Unable to take it anymore, I slapped down the menu and gnawed on a breadstick from the basket that had recently been placed on the table. I moaned and groaned with each bite.

Taylor peered at me from over her menu. “What are you doing? If you don’t quit making those sounds, we’re going to get thrown out.”

Liam leaned over and growled into my ear, “If you keep eating that breadstick like that, I’m going to be forced to throw your skirt up over your head right here. Show a little mercy! Eat your food, and think of a reasonable excuse for us to go our separate ways. As charming as Hillary and Taylor are, I want you, alone!”

The meal was dutifully ordered and truly appreciated. Due to hunger and the lunchtime crowd, lingering wasn’t really an option. Liam paid for lunch, and we thanked him profusely for having rescued us several times that day. As we arrived back at the house in Chelsea, Hillary and Taylor solved my problem.

“I’m sorry to run off on you so soon, but I have a few things I really must take care of this afternoon,” Hillary announced as we passed through the front door of the house. “You won’t mind, though. I’m sure you’re knackered. A lovely nap will do you wonders.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Taylor announced.

A few minutes later, Hillary was out the door, and Taylor was about to head up the stairs to her room. She said over her ascending shoulder, “Whatever you do, make sure you’re here for dinner. I like Hillary, but I don’t want to be left alone with her on my first night.” Liam and I made small talk until we heard her bedroom door shut.

Liam grabbed my hand and started to drag me toward the front door. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Somewhere that, when I make you scream, no one will come bursting through the door!” Happily, I followed him into the afternoon sunshine.

***

The bleating of the alarm clock woke me from a deep and dreamless sleep, and, through the open curtain, I could see that the sun was beginning to drop toward the horizon. My brain was muddled. Struggling to put an end to the noise, I rolled over to find the clock, but instead looked into deep green eyes. Liam reached over me to turn off the alarm.

“Hey!” I whispered.

“Hey, yourself. Do you feel better?” Liam’s voice was soft and velvety.

“I feel absolutely perfect, just a little tired.” I tried to smother a yawn. “What time is it?”

“It’s 6:00. We have enough time to have a shower and get back to Hillary’s. That is, if that’s what you want to do.” Liam pushed my hair off my shoulder and onto the pillow.

“It isn’t really what I
want
to do. I want to stay under the blankets, order room service, and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, I promised Taylor I wouldn’t leave her alone with Hillary tonight. But don’t worry, things will be more settled soon, and then I can come and go as I please,” I explained between kisses.

“I hope we don’t see the people who are in the next room. These walls are paper thin. I wasn’t really expecting that much screaming. You’ve lived up to the reputation of Americans being loud!”

Blushing red as a beet, I pressed my face against his chest and said, “It’s either move to a hotel with thicker walls or don’t do that thing with your tongue. I can’t be held responsible for my behavior under those conditions.”

Pulling me even closer, Liam nibbled my ears. “Well, then, I guess I’ll be looking for a different hotel tomorrow.”

Groaning and pushing gently against his chest, I said, “Okay, you’re going to have to quit that for now, or else Taylor will be pissed because we’ll be very late. Shower with me?”

“Absolutely. I never miss an opportunity to lather up breasts!” Liam swung his legs over the edge of the bed and, moving toward the bathroom, gave me a full view of his backside. Looking at it, I knew it was a backside I would never grow tired of admiring.

THE FIRST WEEK
at Faith Clarkson International’s London offices was a hectic one. The managing director was relying heavily on the team from Faith Clarkson New York.

Taylor and I came and went at odd hours of the day, rarely seeing Hillary. Working for the Institute of Philanthropy, Hillary kept odd hours herself. We made a habit of having a nightcap at the end of the day, before stumbling to our respective bedrooms.

After staying in London for two days, Liam returned to Ireland with the promise of coming back for the weekend. In the end, it looked as if it would be a working weekend for me.

Sitting in the back garden on a teak chaise, watching the sunset, I said, “I just want to do nothing. I’ve been chasing my tail for months. What was I thinking? I’m going to have to call Liam and let him know.” I spoke into my glass, sipping the remnants of the sangria Hillary had made.

“Another?” Hillary asked, reaching for the pitcher of ruby red liquid and citrus slices.

“Thanks, but no. I’d better call Liam before it gets much later.” I felt like a six-year-old who’d been denied her favorite toy. “Depending on what he says, I might have another when I come back!” I called out to her as I went into the house to use the phone.

The sitting room looked like the cover of the British arm of
Homes and Garden
. Once there, I cozied myself up in a chair, tucked my feet underneath me, and dialed Liam’s phone number with dread.

“Hello! My god, am I looking forward to the weekend. What’s the plan for shedding ourselves of your roommates and our clothes?” Liam asked.

After a lengthy conversation, mostly comprised of me whining about work, we decided that Liam would still come for the weekend but bring his younger brother, Michael. The two Molloys would find entertainment during the day and then, on Saturday night, we would all go out.

As we were hanging up, I daringly said, “I’ve been discreetly researching hotels known for soundproofed rooms.”

Liam chuckled. “Look for one that comes equipped with toys, as well.”

My confidence fled me. Shocked, I was stumped for what to say so I went with, “Oh, I forgot. Marcus will be here this weekend. Taylor told me this afternoon. It will be fun.”

Certain that I had just personified the uptight-American stereotype, my guess was confirmed when I heard Liam laughing on the other end, “Are you suggesting a foursome?” I sat in dead silence, not knowing what to say.

His deep voice now soothing, Liam said, “We’ll work on your phone sex skills. We can practice this weekend.” At my continued silence he added, “I love you, truly, madly, deeply, you silly woman.”

“I love you, too,” I said before quickly hanging up. My cheeks flamed in mortification.

Walking to the back garden, I saw that Taylor had made it home. “A glass for me as well, please,” I said as Hillary poured her a sangria. Taylor looked dead on her feet. “How was the rest of your day?”