"Hi, I'm Tom Hiddleston," he'd said to the woman who seemed to be standing a bit away from the rest of the group, who all knew each other already. She wasn't carrying very much luggage - nowhere near as much as the other women in the group, but she did have a cute little dog with her.

"Hi. I'm Kayla MacIntosh."

"Ah, you're American?"

With a conspiratorial look, she whispered, "Yes, but I don't usually admit it," knowing she didn't have to admit it - it became blatantly apparent every time she opened her mouth.

Laughing, he squatted down to pat the dog. "And who do we have here?"

"This is Atia."

He looked up at her sharply. "After the daughter of Caesar's sister Julia?"

She smiled, surprised that he'd understood the exact derivation of the dog's name. "Yes."

Luke had already seen to it that his things were taken care of, so he did the same for Kayla. She claimed a tiny room upstairs on the third floor that had originally been quarters for a servant, he imagined, and told her that. "You should take one of the bigger rooms on the second floor."

Another impish smile. "Well, since I'm the only po' person here, I think that it's appropriate, and I don't need much space anyway." With that she thanked him for bringing her things up and Tom had the feeling she wanted him to leave, so he did, although he didn't really want to. He found himself intrigued and he wanted to get to know her better.

He knew everyone there - it was a small group this time, only eight of them - four girls, two were part of couples - and four guys. They spent some time in the salon catching up, and then he happened to see Kayla coming down the stairs with the dog on a leash. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he felt compelled to be with her, and he excused himself to follow her.

"Are you taking the dog out?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's about that time for her."

"Do you mind if I tag along?"

She looked amazed at his question, then recovered quickly, deadpanning, "I'm sorry, Mr. Hiddleston, but these walks are just for dogs and owners. I'm sure you understand."

His eyebrows went up until she began to laugh. "I'm teasing - please. I'd love the company if you'd like to come." She stepped out the door without waiting for him, though, as if whether or not he came was of no consequence to her.

They set off down one of the walking paths, the dog tugging at her mistress's arm mercilessly, or running in circles around them until they found themselves bound up together, but she was laughing infectiously the entire time which got him laughing, too.

"Here, lemme give you the leash. I think that if you're going to walk with us, you should either dig a trench to walk in or handle the dog yourself, because I can't get the leash up and over your head when she starts running around us, so we're either going to end up tied together like this again and having to hop coordinatedly towards the house until someone finds us or I'm going to accidentally garrote you while trying to get the leash over your head."

When they were free again, he kept the leash and the dog behaved perfectly for him.

"Show off!" she said, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Damn dog behaves better for you than she does for me!"

He grinned unrepentantly. "She responds to a firm hand."

Kayla's mouth dried up like the Sahara at that. Not only was he fucking gorgeous, but then he said things like that that were designed to ruin her reproductive organs for any other man, she knew it.

They had a great walk together, talking non-stop and laughing a lot and learning a ton about each other and already deciding that they clicked nicely together, even in that short a time. But when they got back into the house, things seemed to be in an uproar of some sort.

Tom finally corralled Luke and asked what the problem was. "The cook can't come. We've no one to feed us."

Kayla sat down on the arm of one of the easy chairs and said quietly, "Well, I certainly know how to cook. I mean, it would be normal average fare, nothing gourmet in the least, but I was cooking for my family by the time I was nine or so."

All eyes settled on her and she looked amazingly uncomfortable for it.

"You'd be willing to cook for us?" everyone was asking, as if she'd volunteered to be the equivalent of a twenty first century non-virginal sacrifice.

"Sure."

Tom came to sit near her. "But this is your bank holiday weekend off, too. You shouldn't have to work."

She and Luke were the only ones chuckling at that statement, and Tom had no idea what he'd said that was so funny.

"I don't really work. I'm a code monkey. I work only when I need to. I have an excellent reputation, so when I do work - which is like, once a month - I'm able to demand top dollar. So I'm essentially on vacation three weeks out of every month."

"I withdraw my sympathy then," Tom said immediately, with a wink at her.

She swatted him again, a bit harder this time. "Fuck you, Thomas."

Everyone seemed to be pumped that they didn't have to go, and she was commissioned - and literally showered with money - with which to go shopping to get ingredients for whatever she wanted to cook. They gave her free reign.

Luke, being his usual helpful self, piped up with, "Someone should go with Kayla, to be donkey labor. Tom?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm happy to help in any way I can."

Kayla rolled her eyes at his depressing altruism. "Well, why don't we go now, then, and then we'll be set for the weekend?"

"Fine by me."

She stowed the dog in her crate upstairs and she followed him out to his car - a Jag. Kayla stared at it dubiously. "So, we'll each be able to buy, what, a pack of gum and the trunk of this thing will be full?"

He reached out and tugged a lock of red-gold hair. "This thing has reasonable trunk space, surprisingly."

She gave him a doubtful look but got in anyway, before he could open the door for her, but he was there to close it.

"You don't have to open doors for me or anything like that," she said when he got in.

"I know," he agreed, and they both knew he wasn't going to change his behavior.

They chatted amiably on the drive to the supermarket, bonding over movies, most particularly director Wes Anderson's movies.

"Have you seen Moonrise Kingdom?" she asked animatedly, and he decided already that he thoroughly enjoyed seeing her so openly passionate about what she loved.

"No, I've mostly seen his earlier work."

"Oh, man, you have got to see Moonrise Kingdom! But bring Kleenex. In fact, I have it on my laptop, and there's a Roku in the den - I could pipe it onto the TV sometime this weekend, if you want to watch it." She couldn't believe she'd just asked Tom Hiddleston to watch a movie with her - what was she, a dolt? Then she began to tap dance a bit away from what she'd said in embarrassment - as if this gorgeous man was going to want to spend his weekend off hanging around her. "You'll be too busy, though, I'm sure. Or I could copy it onto a jump drive and you could watch it at your leisure. But you have to go see his new one - The Grand Budapest Hotel - too. It was amazing. I love the way his movies make me feel - happy. Just plain happy. He celebrates quirkiness in people with such respect for the characters and all their various idiosyncrasies, and that's something of which I am definitely a fan - to say nothing of the palette he uses in his films - the colors are just . . . He's a fucking master."

Embarrassed again at having run off at the mouth so much, she muttered under her breath, "Excuse my French."

But he didn't seem to mind at all, running off a little himself about why he liked the director so much, many of his reasons in total agreement with hers.

When they got to the small supermarket, she was out of the car and practically to the door before he was - he had to sprint to keep up with her, making it to the door to pull it open for her just barely, but then she ran ahead and got the next door for him, bowing low as he walked by.

They had already decided that, since they were doing the work, that they were the ones who were going to set the menu for the weekend. He liked macaroni and cheese and croque provencal, so they got ingredients for both of those meals. She liked a particular chicken dish and a pork chop dish, so they bought for those, too, as well as things for snacks and breakfasts. They figured everyone was on their own for lunch.

He was so much fun to be around, if she hadn't already had a bit of a crush on him from having investigated him on the internet once Luke told her who was coming on this little get together, she would have now. He was helpful and courteous and unfailingly kind to everyone he came in contact with - even several fans who stopped him on his way out as he was pushing the trolley.

She was just coming out of the store - having gone back to get ingredients for desserts, which she had forgotten all about - and saw him surrounded by people for whom he was signing autographs and with whom he was taking pictures - and went right back in. She waited before coming out again until she could see that he was safely ensconced in the car, which he drove right too the door for her as if he was her limousine service, getting out to help her load stuff into the trunk, then opening her door for her and offering a hand to help her in while she blushed furiously at the attention.

Her cooking was a hit; everyone loved what she made. Tom tried to be of help to her while she was in the kitchen, but she really wouldn't let him, but she did keep up a steady dialogue of one liners that had him laughing so much his stomach hurt.

When dinner was through that first night and everyone seemed to have scattered, he caught up with her on her way to take the dog out again, and asked if he could join her. "I'm not going on a walk this time, though. I'm just going to let her do her business, but you're always welcome to come out and be annoyed by me. It's a free service I offer to my friends and supposed loved ones."

That became his habit - he went out with them whenever they went out - and they talked and laughed and he found himself more attracted to her than he had been to any woman in a long time. But he got the feeling that she wasn't in the market for a relationship, and a chat with Luke confirmed that she was still trying to get over a pretty bad one, although Luke had also confided in him that he thought she was well beyond the point where she should have found someone else, he allowed that Kayla didn't seem to be willing to make any moves towards finding herself another man. They both agreed that she deserved someone extraordinary, although only Luke was thinking that Tom could very well be that person.

So he realized that he would probably have to settle for just being her friend, which he knew was going to kill him, but he wanted her in his life in whatever capacity he could get.

That night they watched The Darjeeling Limited together, and at the end of it she handed him a tissue, knowing he was the kind of man who would need one and thinking all that much more of him for it, while she dabbed at her own eyes. That shared experience was how she had come to his nickname - Sweet lime, after the girl on the train who brought that beverage to Owen Wilson's character and his brothers.

Her relatively simple breakfast the next morning was devoured and highly praised, after which she and Tom took the dog for her morning constitutional.

They got to talking about education - about how much he had and how it helped him develop his love for the classics, Shakespeare in particular, and how little she had, possessing only a high school diploma, which had frankly surprised him because she had a pretty good vocabulary and was very articulate.

Just because she wanted to tease and provoke him a bit, Kayla said slyly, "So, let's play a game."

He looked dubious. "What game?"

"How about a new one I invented when Luke told me who was going to be coming to with us this weekend. It's called: How Blasphemous Can I Be to Tom Hiddleston and/or I'm Your Kryptonite."

That got him laughing. "This ought to be interesting. Go ahead."

"Okay, but get ready to unfriend me: I've seen all three movies and don't like Loki. As a matter of fact, I don't think I ever even saw Loki the entire time - I was too busy drooling over Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans and Tony Stark and Mark Ruffalo . . . "

He snapped his head back dramatically as if she'd slapped him across the face.

She ticked the reasons she figured she was insulting him off on her fingers. "I don't dance."

His head snapped violently in the other direction.

"I don't like either of your Jaguar commercials - in the first one you look like you have a terminal case of pink eye and in the second one you look smarmy at best."

Although he was chuckling at the terminal pink eye, he clutched his chest and stumbled a few steps, as if she'd shot him.

Then, for the coup de gras, she turned around to walk backwards in front of him and whispered loudly, "And, the most horrible, unforgivable sin of all . . . I don't like Shakespeare."

He fell onto the grass, limbs splayed. "I'm dead."

Laughing, she stood over him. "Then why are you telling me that you're dead? I have a sneaking suspicion that you're faking it." Kayla poked at him with the tip of her sneaker none too gently, then relented and leaned over him to offer her hand.

But he refused to take it, saying, "I think if you help me up, I'll overbalance you and you'll end up on the ground, too."

"Oh, heavens!" she looked appalled. "Not . . . the ground!"

He leapt up without any assistance from her, saying wryly, "Don't quit your day job."

That got him a sharp smack on the shoulder for his impudence.

"Fuck you, Thomas. And by the way, when we're together this weekend and, henceforth, if there is any, you are not in any way allowed to quote Shakespeare at me - nor any other poets, philosophers, playwrights, etc. If you want to rattle off another person's words at someone, I suggest you try Lisa.' She was the other single girl at the gathering. "I think she's fairly easily impressed and she's been looking at you like she's starving and you're filet mignon since we got here."

Tom was surprised to hear that and puzzled by her edicts. "Why don't you want me to quote other, smarter people?"

"Because I want to hear your own words coming out of your mouth, not someone else's."

He was somewhat stunned by that.

Her eyebrow went up. "Not that I expect you to answer in rhyme, but have you never written poetry?"

"Bad poetry, yes."

"Oh my Gawd," she pretended great surprise, her hands on her hips as she gazed up at him. "Do you mean to tell me that there's something that the great fucking Tom Hiddleston is bad at - besides maths?" He made a lunge for her, but she ducked out of the way, knowing full well that she was only able to because he let her. "But you love reading and interpreting it. Surely there is poetry somewhere in your soul, Mr. Hiddleston?"

He really wasn't sure how to answer that, and few people ever left him speechless. He thought it was one of the most unusual and most completely arousing thing that had happened to him in a long while.

They had a wonderful weekend and became surprisingly close, but when it was time to say goodbye and go their separate ways late Sunday morning, he clutched her to him as if he would never let her go, almost dancing her around, although she was much too stiff in his arms to really pull off the effect. "I have your number and I'll call you and we'll get together - maybe some time this week."

Knowing she didn't believe a word he'd just uttered - that that was just something people said to each other when they parted - she hugged him back with all her might, wanting to drown in his arms right then and there. "Any time you feel like slumming, sweet lime, you call me."

He gave her a scolding look that had her melting into her panties until she stuck her tongue out at him and turned to get into her own car.

Luke got a hold of her via text while she was still driving home.

So, what did you think?

The weekend? It was faboo! Thank you for inviting me to come along!

No, ditz, about Tom?

LOL - what's not to like? He's smart, he's funny - he's too damned gorgeous and nice for the likes of li'l ole me . . .

. . . He liked you. A lot.

Kayla steadfastly refused to believe that he could like her as anything more than a friend, no matter how Luke tried encourage her in that direction.

He's going to call you. Soon.

Sure he is.

He was kind of wrong about that, she thought and she was very pleasantly surprised, later that evening when she got a text from Tom, just asking if she'd gotten home ok - which she thought was so cute - and thanking her for cooking and telling her how much of a good time he had because she had been there.

Kayla was more flattered than she wanted to admit, although she tried not to be. He probably sent something like that to everyone at the party - she had a feeling that that would be very like him.

He did call her later that week, too, though, on a Wednesday, apologizing for asking so late in the week if she'd like to go out to a movie and maybe dinner with him?

"Get real, Tom. I have no life. And I'd love to - wanna see Grand Budapest?"

"You're ok seeing it again?"

She snorted indelicately. "Are you kidding? I would pay you to see it again."

He chuckled. "You don't have to pay me, but you will have to pay them."

They had a fabulous time - she handed him a hankie at the end of the movie as she sensed a tradition starting and they sat there for a long moment together, just collecting themselves, him having taken her hand automatically to comfort her and Kayla practically fainting at the idea that she was holding hands with him. They went to a nice, casual place for dinner and talked themselves hoarse, laughing and occasionally tearing up at their exchanges.

They had been fast friends since then. Aside from his immediate family and Luke, she was probably the person he was closest to in the world, and the times he'd spent with her - however platonic - had created an abiding love for her within him that he was only just now really beginning to explore.