“We’re ready.”
Reeling somewhat from his offhand kiss and his use of the word ‘love,’ Miranda tightly held his hand as the store security team closed in around them. They headed for the door.
“No!” Bernie protested as he was practically carried out ahead of them. “I never got to go to the music section!”
Bernie stilled when the doors flung open and the roar of the excited crowd washed over him. He shrank into a ball, clutching his bags for dear life, and let Harrods’ security pitch him into the limo. Lucas hurried Miranda to the car, keeping his head bowed but pausing just long enough to allow a decent photograph.
“Sir Lucas!” his fans screamed. “Sir Lucas!”
Only when the crowd noise was a dull growl on the other side of the bulletproof vehicle did Miranda dare open her eyes.
Lucas poured her a glass of water. “I assumed that you would be used to crowds and the hoopla surrounding a celebrity. You are a reporter, after all.”
“That’s just it.” Her hands shook, dripping water onto her lap. “I’m usually on the other side of the action. I don’t think I’d like being famous.”
Lucas helped steady her hands as the limo pulled into traffic and headed for a police heliport, where they would take a chopper back to Conwy. “I’m afraid you already are, love.”
“That makes two.” From the other side of the limo, Bernie rifled through his bags, making sure that he hadn’t lost or forgotten anything.
“Two what?” Miranda asked.
“Two ‘loves. ’ ” Bernie withdrew one of his new ties and laid it over his hand. “This looked great on me in the store but now it looks sallow. Oh, well.” He tossed the tie back in its slim box. “I’ll give it to Rex. Sallow is his color. So what’s up with the ‘loves,’ Lucas?”
“You reporters don’t miss a thing, do you?” Lucas rarely blushed, but he felt one fighting from under the collar of his sweater. “I was wondering when you’d show your stripes.”
“Answer the question,” Bernie said. “If you don’t mind.”
“ ‘Love’ is just…” Lucas looked at Miranda as he pondered an answer. She had removed the black elastic ponytail holder from her hair and now wore it on her left wrist. She used her left hand to comb her hair from her face, and as it cascaded past her shoulders, she turned and looked at him. She wore no makeup. Her expression seemed troubled, yet her simple beauty was stunning. She was funny and smart, and touching him with nothing but her trust and intellect, she had made him feel like more of a man than any woman ever had. All at once, he knew that the woman sitting beside him was someone he could… “ ‘Love, ’ ” Lucas began again, “is just an expression. Like ‘duck’ or ‘egg. ’ ”
“It’s an expression of affection, though, right?” Bernie persisted.
“Yes.”
Bernie sat back, letting Lucas off the hook. “I like ‘love’. I’m more of a ‘duck’ man, truth be told, but love is nice, too.”
* * *
Love wasn’t just an expression of affection. For Miranda, it was also a curse, and the very thing she wanted to avoid. As a reporter, she had learned to read people, particularly those who didn’t wish to have their true feelings or thoughts known. Lucas had explained his use of the word love, but Miranda had sensed more meaning behind it.
The chopper ride back to Conwy had seemed too quick. Miranda had focused on the scenery beneath them, and listened as Lucas had pointed out key landmarks and sites. But every time she had looked up at him, he had been looking at her, not at what he was describing.
The helicopter had delivered her and Bernie to the Welsh airstrip where their bags awaited them on the jet that would take them back to Boston. As much as she had dreaded the big date, Miranda scarcely believed that in eight hours or so, she would be right back at the Herald-Star . And Lucas Fletcher would be out of her life forever.
He accompanied them to the
Reeling somewhat from his offhand kiss and his use of the word ‘love,’ Miranda tightly held his hand as the store security team closed in around them. They headed for the door.
“No!” Bernie protested as he was practically carried out ahead of them. “I never got to go to the music section!”
Bernie stilled when the doors flung open and the roar of the excited crowd washed over him. He shrank into a ball, clutching his bags for dear life, and let Harrods’ security pitch him into the limo. Lucas hurried Miranda to the car, keeping his head bowed but pausing just long enough to allow a decent photograph.
“Sir Lucas!” his fans screamed. “Sir Lucas!”
Only when the crowd noise was a dull growl on the other side of the bulletproof vehicle did Miranda dare open her eyes.
Lucas poured her a glass of water. “I assumed that you would be used to crowds and the hoopla surrounding a celebrity. You are a reporter, after all.”
“That’s just it.” Her hands shook, dripping water onto her lap. “I’m usually on the other side of the action. I don’t think I’d like being famous.”
Lucas helped steady her hands as the limo pulled into traffic and headed for a police heliport, where they would take a chopper back to Conwy. “I’m afraid you already are, love.”
“That makes two.” From the other side of the limo, Bernie rifled through his bags, making sure that he hadn’t lost or forgotten anything.
“Two what?” Miranda asked.
“Two ‘loves. ’ ” Bernie withdrew one of his new ties and laid it over his hand. “This looked great on me in the store but now it looks sallow. Oh, well.” He tossed the tie back in its slim box. “I’ll give it to Rex. Sallow is his color. So what’s up with the ‘loves,’ Lucas?”
“You reporters don’t miss a thing, do you?” Lucas rarely blushed, but he felt one fighting from under the collar of his sweater. “I was wondering when you’d show your stripes.”
“Answer the question,” Bernie said. “If you don’t mind.”
“ ‘Love’ is just…” Lucas looked at Miranda as he pondered an answer. She had removed the black elastic ponytail holder from her hair and now wore it on her left wrist. She used her left hand to comb her hair from her face, and as it cascaded past her shoulders, she turned and looked at him. She wore no makeup. Her expression seemed troubled, yet her simple beauty was stunning. She was funny and smart, and touching him with nothing but her trust and intellect, she had made him feel like more of a man than any woman ever had. All at once, he knew that the woman sitting beside him was someone he could… “ ‘Love, ’ ” Lucas began again, “is just an expression. Like ‘duck’ or ‘egg. ’ ”
“It’s an expression of affection, though, right?” Bernie persisted.
“Yes.”
Bernie sat back, letting Lucas off the hook. “I like ‘love’. I’m more of a ‘duck’ man, truth be told, but love is nice, too.”
* * *
Love wasn’t just an expression of affection. For Miranda, it was also a curse, and the very thing she wanted to avoid. As a reporter, she had learned to read people, particularly those who didn’t wish to have their true feelings or thoughts known. Lucas had explained his use of the word love, but Miranda had sensed more meaning behind it.
The chopper ride back to Conwy had seemed too quick. Miranda had focused on the scenery beneath them, and listened as Lucas had pointed out key landmarks and sites. But every time she had looked up at him, he had been looking at her, not at what he was describing.
The helicopter had delivered her and Bernie to the Welsh airstrip where their bags awaited them on the jet that would take them back to Boston. As much as she had dreaded the big date, Miranda scarcely believed that in eight hours or so, she would be right back at the Herald-Star . And Lucas Fletcher would be out of her life forever.
He accompanied them to the
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