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Just Haven't Met You Yet(56)

Author:Sophie Cousens

“Well, you have a decent excuse—lifeboat training, your mother mentioned,” I say, daring to glance down at his hand—no ring. Cha-ching.

He nods.

“I’m only a part-time volunteer, but it’s still a big commitment training wise.”

Though he has a lean build, he has broad, manly hands, perfect for pulling people from the water, or kneading dough, or playing the piano, or putting one on either side of my naked hips and— OK, inappropriate.

“Will you stay for a drink? Whatever you feel like, I have a fully stocked bar.”

“I shouldn’t have anything alcoholic, I’ve already had a few this evening,” I say, giving him my most demure smile. “Maybe just a tea?”

Jasper starts pulling down cups and saucers from a shelf.

“I have Darjeeling, Assam, oolong?”

“Any of the above.” I shrug, I know nothing about tea except I like it with milk, no sugar.

“Let’s have oolong for a change then,” Jasper says, tapping a glass jar and taking it down from the shelf. “I have to say it feels fortuitous, us picking up each other’s cases,” he says, spooning loose leaf tea into a small gray earthenware teapot.

“It does?”

“This might be speaking out of turn, but when we ran into each other in the airport, I—” He turns back toward me, shaking his head in feigned embarrassment.

“What?” I say with a girlish giggle that doesn’t sound at all like me.

“Well.” He closes his eyes briefly. “I wanted to ask you out. I know we barely said a word to each other, but, well, I’ve never scrabbled around the floor to retrieve”—he pauses, his lips twitching briefly as he searches for the right word—“the toiletries of someone so beautiful before.”

I clench every muscle in my body. Did he just say I was beautiful?

“Hardly,” I say, feeling a playful scowl crease my forehead.

“You’re stunning, Laura, as I’m sure you know, but—I don’t think we British folk know how to ask someone out in the middle of an airport.” Jasper wrinkles his nose. I can’t stop watching the muscles in his face move. Is this really happening, or is this a fantasy? Maybe I passed out drunk in the sea and this is some kind of drowning hallucination.

“I would have felt sleazy asking if I could have your number in front of a concourse full of people. Plus, you probably have a boyfriend or a husband or a . . .” He lets the sentence hang, and I look up to meet his eye with a deliciously laden look.

“None of the above.”

“When I got the message about a woman having my case, I— It sounds ridiculous, but I hoped it might be you.”

This could literally not be going any better.

“Can I tell you something even stranger?” I say, leaning forward to take the cup of tea and saucer he hands me. “When I opened your bag—before I knew it wasn’t mine—some of the things inside, they made me feel that I was meant to find you.”

“Really, like what?”

He walks around to my side of the kitchen island, pulling out the bar stool next to me, and I feel flustered by his proximity. Don’t tell him everything, Laura, you’ll freak him out. Apple peel, apple peel.

“To Kill a Mockingbird is my favorite book.”

“No,” he says, eyes wide with surprise, “I’ve only read it about fifteen times.”

“You haven’t!” I gasp.

“I even went to law school because I wanted to be Atticus Finch,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Though I soon realized being a lawyer wasn’t all about getting to be the good guy; often you’re forced to be the bad guy too. Thus, my career in the legal profession turned out to be short-lived.” He shakes his head, as though not wanting to get too far off topic. “What else was in my bag? You have me well and truly intrigued now.”

“Phil Collins.” I let the name hang between us.

“Only the greatest musician ever born!” says Jasper, slapping his hand on the counter.

“You had the piano music in your bag, and, well, to say I’m a massive Phil fan would be a huge understatement.” I feel myself grinning—everything he is telling me is confirming my instincts about the case.

Jasper shakes his head, smiles, then starts talking to the ceiling, “Alexa, play ‘I Wish It Would Rain Down.” The walls begin to sing. “I found that sheet music in an obscure music store in London; I thought playing more music I actually like might encourage me to practice more.”

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