5. April

CHAPTER FIVE

april

Stumbling out of my Uber, I chastise myself for drinking too many shots before this date. Deep down, I know the culprits for my unsteadiness are my clumsiness and nerves, but let's blame it on the booze.

I take a deep breath, pat down my little black dress, and aim for the restaurant. I promised Callie I wouldn't be suspicious little ol' me tonight, but I might have had my fingers crossed when I obliged her.

Out of the three of us, she's the romantic one, always looking for love. Me? I'm the pragmatic one. I'm married to my work. A much happier marriage than my parents had. And Pres is the lucky bastard that has it all.

The Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters riding a bike derails me from my train of thought. What the fuck? I stare at the restaurant's weird theme for its stained glass and question my tequila intake.

I run a quick sobriety test on myself. I have no trouble raising and keeping one foot a few inches off the ground, so I pat myself on the back and look for the entrance. Aside from that unusual stained glass motif, the building is gorgeous. Very art déco.

I'm at the entrance of Bibendum, a very fancy restaurant that I'm severely underdressed for. I can't pronounce its name three times in a row without twisting my tongue or conjuring the Marshmallow Man himself to appear in front of me.

Before my liquid courage dries out, I climb the few steps that lead me inside to meet the hostess.

"Good evening." I give her a practiced but not so sincere smile—I'm way too nervous to offer her that—while my hand darts inside my purse. I want to check that damn app for Liam's pic before I go in. It's a clutch, so by the time the hostess says ‘good evening' back to me, realization echoes so loudly in my ears that I can hardly hear her. Oh, no. No, no, no.

I've left my phone in the Uber.

Cool and collected, everything I'm not at this second, she asks if I'm meeting someone or have a reservation. I tell her I'm there to meet Liam, but I'm not sure if he's arrived yet.

"Miss April?" My name never sounded better. "Mr. Liam is waiting for you. If you would please follow me."

"Thank you." I exhale the words in relief.

I follow her inside the restaurant as I try to remember what Liam looks like. I can name all 206 bones in the adult human body but have so little recollection of his face, I couldn't pick him from a police lineup.

The best I can dig from memory right now is he has olive skin, a trimmed beard, dark blond hair, and Callie saying I should ‘hit that' on her behalf.

The place is packed and I'm taken to a table at the back which is more secluded than the rest, and I think I sober up as soon as I lay eyes on Liam. Wow.

He gets up from his chair, and my eyes follow suit, up, up, up. He's tall and built. Blessed with the kind of hair that is simply unfair for men to have. Especially one already this gorgeous. I bet he combed it with his fingers and it sat like that. Styled into a messy perfection.

His larger-than-life body fills out a perfectly tailored black suit and a black t-shirt that's working overtime—the poor thing—stretched over his broad chest. His whole outfit screams expensive. No doubt custom-made to fit his body.

And what a body it is.

How I'd love to study it. In the name of science, of course.

He reaches out his hand to shake mine while I stand there, stiff-necked and mouth agape.

I'm dumbstruck with horniness.

He has a perfectly trimmed, longish beard with some gray spots. The only thing missing on him is a red bow and a tag which reads ‘From God. To April'.

I clear my throat. "Hi Liam, I'm April. Nice to meet you." I put my hand in his and it's warm, rough and huge. Had I not lost my phone, I'd be texting Callie to thank her and give her full rein of my dating life from now on.

She did good. So good.

"Lovely to meet you, April. Thanks for agreeing to see me at such short notice."

It takes me a beat to register that he said something, but I'm not a hundred percent sure what it was. I was too busy harassing the man with my eyes.

"What? Um-hum. Yeah. Sure." I just smile and take my seat. The restaurant is beautiful, but everything looks dull next to this Adonis copycat sitting right across from me. It takes real effort not to ogle the man.

I run my hands through my hair, then struggle to find a place to put them. I put them on my lap, but it feels weird. I sit them at the table. No, also weird. I tuck a loose strand behind my ear, bite into a nail, then laugh at my fidgety self. "Sorry, first dates are always a bit awkward for me."

"Don't apologize. Would a drink be of any help?" His voice, deep and rich, sounds like it's been dipped in syrup. It coats my senses and draws me in. It makes me sit taller and lean closer, not to miss a thing. I'm so mesmerized that there's a delay to every answer I give him.

"Yes! Definitely. A tequi…" I take a good look around and decide on a cocktail instead. This place is way too fancy to drink shots. "I'll have a margarita, please."

He summons a waiter with a nod. When his eyes find me again, I'm relieved. I missed being under his inspection in the seconds his gaze left my body.

The waiter materializes by our table, and Liam places my order. He's polite but sharp, his gaze never wavering from mine. It makes me fidgety again. Or maybe that's just an excuse to press my thighs together and relish the throbbing where they meet.

I've never been this turned on by looks alone before, but I've never met someone as hot before either. Those whiskey-colored eyes mesmerize me to the point that I forget others exist. Whether the waiter has left or is sitting right beside me, I couldn't tell. What I do notice is the silence stretching between us while we stare at each other, but neither of us seems bothered by it. I don't know how to explain it, but it's comfortable. I fail to do anything other than stare and smile.

His phone vibrates, but it's facing down and he immediately presses the side button to silence it. I'm about to tell him I don't mind him taking the call when he speaks again. "Am I wrong to assume that you're American?" he asks in that accent I hadn't found sexy until hearing it in his voice.

"Nope. You're right. I arrived in London this morning. Feel free to give me any tips on how to survive the city for the next few months."

"And may I ask what has brought you here?" His whiskey eyes match the amber liquid filling the tumbler in his hand. His presence so commanding, the glass seems to mold to his grip instead of the other way around. When I glance back at him, his eyes have left mine. They are scanning my body, appraising the prey that willingly stepped into his lair. Liam's eyes on mine feel so heavy, my breath catches a little.

His gaze holds a warmth that spreads over my skin and strips every inch of fabric I'm wearing. I can feel my body heat rise and my skin betray me, turning red.

"Work. But that's the last thing I want to talk about, to be honest. I'm nervous about a meeting tomorrow and could use a distraction."

"So you're using me as a distraction?" he asks with a straight face.

"No, th-that's not what I meant." Before I can put a sensible sentence together and not stutter when saying it out loud, he gives me the sexiest half smile I've ever seen and I might have ovulated at the sight.

I'm in so much trouble here, my body keeps reacting—well, overreacting would be more accurate—to this man. Was Callie right about London men being a whole new game? I couldn't bear having men mess with my head like this on a regular basis.

"Okay, you had me feeling bad for a second there." I laugh it off and keep the smile on.

"I don't want to talk about work tonight either. Let me turn off my phone so it doesn't have a chance to interrupt us." He does just that and puts it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "But make no mistake, April. You've had my full attention since you walked through the door."

Oh, he's flirty, isn't he? I think as my smile widens further.

By how sore my cheeks feel, I might've been smiling non-stop for a while.

I try to play it cool but get as far as lukewarm because I just. Can't. Stop. Smiling.

What am I? Twelve?

"I would do the same, but I left my phone in the Uber, so there'll be no interruptions from my side either."

"Works for me," he says selfishly, and I scoff at his indifference. "What are your thoughts on my city so far?"

His tone is so possessive, authoritarian. ‘My city' . He oozes so much confidence in the way he speaks, I just might believe he's London's freaking mayor.

People take me as confident, but it all started with the ‘fake it till you make it' persona I've built to survive. Then I just ended up getting used to it. I've been looked down on a lot—kind of a given since I'm only 5 foot 1. Throughout my life, I've always been the youngest and smallest in the crowd, so I learned early on to put on a tough face to inspire some respect around me.

"Well, I've only seen Heathrow, the inside of the black cab that took me to my apartment, the aforementioned apartment, and now this restaurant. I arrived this morning and slept most of the day. It's been eventful already, but everything looks so beautiful and fancy. I think I'm going to like my time here." I surprise myself at the candor of this statement.

"I, for one, already like your time here." He takes another sip of his whiskey and my eyes drop to his mouth. That damn lucky glass. I lick my bottom lip as if I could taste his drink. Or better yet, him.

Wait, what? I'm not the best flirter, but the way he's throwing me off my game and giving me whiplash is disconcerting and not at all usual.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. I close it again.

I can't think of a comeback. What's the matter with me? I always have a comeback.

My throat is parched, my tongue has turned to sandpaper, and my glass hasn't got a drop left to help soothe this feeling. Think, woman, think. Say something.

I don't and he swallows a laugh along with some whiskey, then carries on talking. "And how come it has been eventful if you arrived this morning and slept most of the day?" God's gift to women and a good listener too? Sorry, Cal, can't help but get a bit suspicious here. The man's gotta be a serial killer or something.

"Well, I lost my phone on my first day in London. But I got a hot date out of it too." Yassss, girl! I got my mojo back.

Flirting lightens the mood and evens the field.

"So you think I'm hot?" Liam doesn't have the grace to sound surprised or raise a single eyebrow. I've just called him hot, and he called me out on it in the same inquiring tone as the questions before. Always assertive, leading the conversation.

Fuck it. Tequila, take the wheel.

"You are." I try to mirror his indifference when I give it to him straight. "And you're too hot not to damn well know it, too. So don't play coy with me. Every woman here… correction, every human being here knows you're hot."

My bluntness awards me with another sexy laugh and I might consider a career as a comedian just to keep Liam laughing for me.

There's a slight raising of his eyebrows too and a post-laugh mini smile lingers on his lips. Guess I've finally taken him by surprise. I'll savor that win, considering I've been feeling off my game this whole time. I just hope he can't tell.

Time flies as I drink another three margaritas and nibble some of the best food of my life. Liam is extremely easy to talk to and we've made each other laugh and blush the whole evening. Fine, the blushing was all me. The combination of alcohol, Liam and my unheard of disposition to be spontaneous have me feeling all hot and bothered.

His baritone voice surrounds me and wraps us in a bubble. An undertone of authority pulls me in, commanding my undivided attention. I hang on to his every word. Liam could quiz me by the end of the night and I'd ace that test. I'm enraptured by the depth of his tone. It's so thick, so rich, I lick my bottom lip, hoping I can taste it. His voice calls to me and I inch my chair closer, craving the sound, wanting to hear him better. Then I suppress a possibly drunk smile, thinking I can suddenly relate to the big bad wolf at the same time I feel like being eaten.

‘Rein it in', my own voice chastises me. The harshness of it sobers me up a little. Tequila and his good looks are to blame for making me lose grasp of reality. That's all this is. Happily ever afters only happen in fairy tales and I've seen first-hand how brutal real life is. So I sip my water instead and renew the vows I made to myself long ago and have lived by since: have fun and get back to work. That's who I'll end up with.

Liam checks the time and asks if I would like to go to a bar with a proper tequila list.

Had this been a bad date, I'd still tolerate a boring man in the name of ?tequila. But this is Liam. The damn fine Liam, the why-so-gorgeous Liam, the you-should-be-on- Magic-Mike's- cast Liam.

So my answer is an obvious yes that I need to stop myself from shouting or moaning to him.