Love in London by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Two

Oz

I’m walking down the street, strolling casually because I figure I’m probably far too early anyway when I see a young woman appear as if by magic right in front of me. She comes out of a side street – right in the direction of the nearest Tube, which I assume means she came from there – and she’s wheeling a suitcase along the pavement behind her.

But it’s not the suitcase that catches my eye. No, it’s her. She’s dressed from head to toe in this stunning white outfit, just a simple dress but seemingly so exotic on this London street. It’s like she’s been planted here from somewhere else – with her long blonde hair, tanned skin, and that white tennis dress, it’s like she’s been plucked from California and set down here right in front of me.

And, given that she’s hauling a suitcase behind her like a tourist, she really could have been.

It’s kind of funny, given where I’m going right now. I’m only heading down this street because I’m visiting a hotel – or, rather, visiting the person staying at this hotel. I promised my best friend, Dean, that I’d check in on his daughter. She’s here in London for a week, checking out colleges. She’s on her own, so I said I’d look in on her, at least make sure that she got here alright from the airport.

Then I’m back on my way again. Maybe that’s why I’m imagining things when it comes to this blonde princess walking down the street in front of me. After all, Gabriella is from Cali, where she lives with her dad. I haven’t seen them in far too long. It’s been a good couple of years since I had the time to visit.

I watch this woman walk in front of me, wetting my lips and trying to hang back a little. I don’t know what it is that’s making me feel this way. I don’t normally just watch women walk down the street, like some kind of creep, but, damn. Maybe there was something in my cereal this morning – or maybe she’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t know, but she’s really doing something for me.

That dress hugs her body just right. It hangs over her swaying hips, wide enough to give me something to hang onto. Her ass is like two perfect globes, and then there’s her long, gorgeous hair. I could see it gathered up in my fist as I hold her against me, bringing her mouth to mine. God, and I instantly want to make her mine. It’s like a knee-jerk reaction. When she turns the corner, her face still turned away from me. I can see that the back of her body is matched by the front, a full chest straining against that white fabric, long and shapely legs, that tan against the white…

I don’t get a good look at her face, but it doesn’t really matter. There is a strange sensation moving through me, and I don’t know what triggered it, but I have to ignore it anyway. I’m busy. I have someone to see.

Funnily enough, she happens to be going right inside the same hotel that I’m heading for, too. I guess it looks like I’m following her, but I’m just here because I have a duty to do. Little Gabriella. Right. I need to remember that and get my head around it.

I slowly walk into the hotel and over to the reception desk. The woman behind it is a dark-haired, big-eyed vixen of a woman who I can see makes a good impression on most guests. She throws her eyelashes my way like she’s used to getting attention. I guess whatever is happening in my head is limited only to that stranger who just headed up the elevator because this receptionist does nothing at all for me. She’s so fake. I can’t stand people – women – like that.

“How can I help you?” she asks, practically purring. “Checking in?”

“No,” I say. “I’m here to visit one of your guests. I was hoping you could call her room for me.”

There’s an almost palpable disappointment when I tell her that I’m here to visit a woman, the corners of her mouth drooping. “I’m afraid I can’t give out guest information, so you’ll need to know her room number.”

“That’s fine, I do,” I say. I check the details I’d written down on a piece of paper, the corner of a page of my daily planner which I ripped out on my way out of the office. “Room 302.”

She’s turning even sourer now. She must think that I’m here for a date. It makes me want to smirk at her, but I don’t want to encourage her at all or give the game away. After all, that would only prompt her to try to flirt with me even more, and I can’t stand it.

It’s good to know that I’m fine, I never have a reaction like that to a woman. I was obviously just having an off moment. Now I can go back to my normal bachelor self, unflustered by flirts and fake smiles.

“There’s no answer, sir,” the receptionist says, putting the phone back in its cradle.

“Ah, never mind,” I say. “I thought I might be a bit early. You have a bar here? I’d like to get a coffee while I wait.”

“Of course,” she says, pointing off towards the left.

I head into a small bar area with large windows facing the street. At least if Gabriella comes by this way, I’ll be able to see her. I settle in with a cappuccino and watch, happy to see the world moving by for a while. It’s not often I get a chance to just stop and pass the time like this.

Still, after finishing my cup and not having yet seen any sign of her, I’m getting a little impatient. I check my watch, she should have been here by now. Maybe there’s a chance that I missed her? She might have come by while I was ordering at the bar, or while I looked down at my phone for a second, or even come from the other direction and never passed by these windows at all.

I get up, leaving my finished cup on the table, and walk back into the reception. The same woman is still on duty, so I repeat my request, waiting for her to make the call.

This time, it connects.

She puts the phone down and smiles at me, all insincerity and honey. “She’s on her way down to see you now, sir.”