The Boss's Surprise Son / Doctoring the Single Dad: The Boss's Surprise Son / Doctoring the Single Dad

“I have much to think about,” Albert stated. “I’ll have my assistant contact you regarding a time when we can meet tomorrow.”

“Is it all right if we view the other London properties as time allows?” Rick requested.

“I see no harm in that,” Crosse agreed.

Rick inclined his head. “We’ll be waiting for your call.”

Happy to be out of the snow and cold, Savannah crawled into the back of a taxi, scooting over to allow room for Rick. As she settled into the worn leather seat, her relief at being out of the weather shattered as her hand came to rest against Rick’s muscular thigh on the bench seat.

Immediately the heat of his body warmed the backs of her icy fingers. For the thousandth time that day she rued forgetting her gloves at home.

Rick’s head whipped around. It took every ounce of poise she possessed to meet the awareness in his blue gaze with a semblance of calm professionalism.

Unfair. Unfair. What a cosmic joke if she had to fight him as well as herself to keep their relationship on a business level.

She racked her mind for something to distract his attention from her. A street sign caught her attention. “Buckingham Palace. It must be close, can we drive by?”

He looked over his shoulder at her with lifted brows, but he leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

“Thank you.” She’d seen some lovely sights as they made their way through town to the Crosse properties—St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Millennium Bridge. Seen but not experienced.

“I know we’re here on business, but please tell me we’ll get some free time to actually visit some of these beautiful sights.”

She saw him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose you deserve something for your interference today,” Rick conceded. “You were right about Crosse. He needed reassurance. You saw that and quite possibly saved the deal.”

“I hope so.” She shifted so she faced him. Watched as he lifted a hand to smother a yawn. The muscles in his throat worked and her mouth watered. “I liked Crosse.”

“He liked you, too.” That was the second time in two days he’d said a man liked her. Knowing she shouldn’t go there, she couldn’t prevent the question from popping out.

“Do you?” she asked.

“Yes. I was being honest with him. I really do think I can learn from him.”

“No,” she corrected, “do you like me?“

His profile froze before he slowly turned and shot her a harassed glare. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” What was she thinking asking such a personal question? Other than that somehow his answer mattered a great deal to her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, genuine puzzlement in his tone. “Everyone likes you.”

“So you seem to think.” Stop this now, she pleaded with herself. But she didn’t care about everyone; she cared about him. “But what about you? I know you think I talk too much.”

“You do,” he said with casual ease. “But I’m getting used to it. I even learn things, like ‘comfortable chic.’”

She grinned. His announcement had both surprised and pleased her. “I noticed how you used that.” And how he’d skipped over her question.

“I meant what I said. You changed the direction of the meeting today. Thank you.”

“I’m sure you would have noticed before it was too late.”

“Don’t start lying to me now, Savannah. I like to think I would have caught on eventually, but you don’t think so or you wouldn’t have interrupted.”

“Well, you were overexcited—”

He laughed. “Now that’s something I’ve never been accused of before.”

“It’s not a bad thing. And you’re entitled. Oh look, it’s the guards with the bearskin hats. And, oh, the palace.”

The view was out Rick’s window and she had to lean forward and toward him to catch sight of the grand palace. Even in her excitement she noticed how good he smelled, clean with a hint of spice. It made her want to snuggle close, and she’d already practically climbed in his lap in order to see better.

“Savannah.” He ground out the throaty protest.

And, of course, he was right. The one time under extreme conditions on the plane could be excused; twice and it was getting to be a bad habit.

“Sorry.” She eased back into her own space and lost all sight of the palace. “Driver, please stop,” she called.

“What are you doing?” Rick demanded.

“I’m getting out. I can’t come to London and not see the palace. I’ll find my own way back.”

“It’s freezing out there. Literally.”

“I’ll be fine. I may even find a shop to buy some gloves.”

She reached for her purse and when she looked up she saw an odd flash of emotion cross Rick’s face. The vulnerability in his hooded gaze stunned her, brought a lump to her throat. For a moment, the strong, confident man looked lonely.

“You should come with me,” she heard herself say. “We can find a pub and have some fish and chips.”

He hesitated, then surprised her by nodding. “Sure. I could eat.”

CHAPTER SIX

AS A DISTRACTION, Buckingham Palace ranked right up there with chocolate and shopping in Savannah’s estimation. In fact, having a studly companion as she strolled the block fronting the majestic building and grounds didn’t suck either.

The snow-drenched grounds were well-lit, as was the massive building with majestic columns and row upon row of windows. And, of course, the beautiful Nash statue of Queen Victoria. It was awe-inspiring to consider the longevity and history incorporated in this palace. She definitely needed to come back for a tour.

“Thanks,” she said to Rick, blowing on her hands to warm them as the cold finally drove her to leave. “Ready for the fish and chips now?”

“You bet.” Rick stopped a local to ask after a good pub, and minutes later they were seated at a scarred wooden table in a room crowded with tables and people. Soccer and rugby equipment along with player jerseys lined the walls while a rugby game played on several mounted TVs. In a back room a rowdy group erupted with cheers and groans.

“Dart tournament tonight, folks,” a dark-haired waitress said as she stopped by the table. In her mid-forties, she was comfortably lush in a green T-shirt and blue jeans. “It’ll be pretty loud.”

“It’s perfect.” Savannah grinned at her. “I flat-out confess to being a tourist, so it’s all part of the experience for me.”

“Aye, and my guess is you’ll be wanting some fish and chips and a pint. Where do you come to us from?”

“San Diego.” Savannah rubbed her hands together. “Where it’s much warmer this time of year. And yes, I’m going to be totally typical and get the fish and chips. And what the heck, I’ll try the pint, too.”