"So are you going to tell me who the incredibly handsome man was that you had dinner with last night?"

Moira asked the question just as Sarah took a big gulp of coffee and the brunette coughed and sputtered, trying not to spit coffee all over the floor of the museum cafe.

"What?!" asked Sarah when she finally stopped coughing.

Moira rolled her eyes and bit into her scone. "Don't play dumb with me, Sarah Williams," she said with her mouth full of scone. "I saw you in The Cross Keys last night with a very nice-looking man and you were hanging on every word he said."

Sarah tried not to let her panic show. If Moira had seen her with Jareth, plenty of others may have as well. They had been sitting right by the big front window after all, and Jareth was not someone easily missed.

"Oh, that was just Jareth," Sarah answered, opting to play it cool.

"Just Jareth?" asked Moira, raising an eyebrow. "That fellow was not just anything. How do you know him?"

Sarah fiddled with the wrapper on her banana-nut muffin as she tried to come up with a response that her friend would accept.

"I… um, I've known him since I was a kid," she said. It was mostly the truth. "He's a teacher and was kind of a… mentor to me." She stuffed a big piece of muffin into her mouth to keep from having to say more.

Moira eyed her suspiciously and waited for her to swallow before she asked, "So what was he doing here?"

"He was picking up a book at the bookstore," Sarah answered truthfully. "He had no idea I was living here so it was a nice little reunion. I hadn't seen him in years…"

"You just happened to run into each other?"

Sarah bit off another piece of muffin and nodded. Moira sat back in her seat and stared at her friend. She'd been trying to set Sarah up with local guys since she had arrived, but so far had had little luck. Sarah was beautiful, and smart, and fun, and all the eligible (and some not-so-eligible) men in town had their eyes on her. She had gone out with a few very eager guys, but nothing had come of it. Sarah always seemed a bit detached and distracted and Moira wasn't the only one who had noticed. The guys complained that while Sarah was lovely, she just didn't seem to be "all there."

The look Moira had seen on her friend's face the night before was as far from not "all there" as one could get. Sarah had been focused, intense. She'd held the gaze of the handsome man she called Jareth and was directly tuned into whatever he'd been telling her. She gave Sarah a sly smile and took a dainty sip of her coffee.

"This teacher of yours," she began. "Did you ever... ?"

Sarah stared at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Oh you know," said Moira. "Like the Police song, Don't Stand So Close to Me?"

"Ugh!" groaned Sarah. "It wasn't like that! Jareth was… he was just a mentor. He helped me navigate a very difficult phase of my life. It's not like we dated or had any romantic interest in one another. Can we drop this now?"

"Fine," said Moira, "But just one more question. Where is he now?"

Sarah shrugged. "Back in London, I guess," she said. "Doing his job. Teaching European Mythology." It still sounded ridiculous to her. Jareth was the king of the goblins, not a bespectacled professor with a briefcase and elbow patches.

"Will you see him again?" asked Moira.

"Probably not," Sarah replied.

"Why not? Don't you have to go see your agent next week? You could-"

"We're not like that!" Sarah cried, exasperated. The other patrons in the cafe turned at looked at her. She leaned across the table to her friend. "Will you please just stop playing match-maker?" she pleaded. "I need a book idea, not some idiot guy to have to entertain and look after."

"What you need is a good old-fashioned shag," replied Moira.

"Moira Dabney!" exclaimed Sarah. "I thought you were all for chastity before marriage!"

"Oh, I am," said Moira. "But I know you're no blushing virgin, so there's no point in treating you like one. You're old enough to know what you want and what you like. I just want you to be happy, Sarah."

"God, you sound like my stepmother Karen," moaned Sarah. Moira smacked at her playfully and smiled.

"I have to admit," she said. "If I weren't a married woman, I'd be asking for that Jareth fellow's phone number."

"Tch, that is a minefield you definitely do not want to explore, Moira."

"Perhaps," said her friend. "But I think a little bit of danger makes things even more enjoyable!"

Sarah shook her head. The kind of danger that surrounded a being like Jareth was anything but enjoyable. She shivered thinking about her narrow escape from the Cleaners and the way he had loomed over her, both menacing and seductive in his masculinity. He was alluring in that he was beautiful to look at, yet carried enough of the essence of risk to mark him as forbidden fruit.

"A big ol' juicy forbidden peach," Sarah thought.

She looked up and saw Moira studying her with a concerned look on her face.

"What are you doing here, Sarah?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you hiding here in Great Missenden? You could be anywhere. What are you running from?"

"I'm not running from anything," Sarah lied. "I'm here for inspiration. Roald Dahl, remember?"

Sarah wanted to tell Moira about why she had truly left the States, but wasn't yet sure she could trust her friend to not be appalled. And while she had chosen her adopted home as a place to get her creative juices flowing again, it was also useful as a place to disappear. Perhaps that's why she had been so eager to blend in with the community.

"I'm not buying it," said her friend, "But I won't push you. If you don't want to tell me now, I accept that. I just don't want to see you miss out on life because you've got your head buried in a Buckinghamshire backwater." She stood to take her trash to the receptacle and Sarah followed.

"I appreciate your concern, Moira, I really do," Sarah began. "I just don't need… entanglements right now. I'm okay with the single life. I'm married to my work."

"Except you and your work seem to be undergoing a trial separation," teased Moira. "Perhaps your mentor could offer some marriage counseling," she added with a sly smile.

"Ugh, you're impossible!" Sarah cried as she left her friend to head to the reception desk for her museum shift.

The following week passed without incident. Moira finally stopped making remarks about Sarah's "mentor" and let the matter of her love life rest. Sarah found herself inspired and managed to dash off a few pages of storyline in anticipation of her meeting with her agent. They were scheduled to meet on Thursday and she didn't want to show up completely empty-handed.

Thursday afternoon found Sarah sitting in the large, shadowy office of her agent as her pages were scanned over and notes were made.

"This looks promising, Sarah," said her agent, Andy Fleming. "Meredith Publishers will be happy to see that you're over your… slump."

Sarah winced at Andy's words. She knew she had left a lot of people hanging when she had found it difficult to produce a follow-up to her first work, but under the circumstances, it couldn't be helped.

"What happened that got your creativity flowing again?" asked Andy.

"I… uh, ran into an old friend," she said, feeling her face flush.

Andy smiled and winked. "Ah, yes. Nothing like a good sack session to kick the writing mojo into gear. I would have suggested that earlier if I'd thought you were the type."

"Whoa," said Sarah, "That's not what I meant. My… friend and I just talked. We're not… Never were… And just what do you mean by 'type'?"

"Relax," said Andy. "It was a joke. I'm just glad to see you back at it, okay?"

Sarah felt her righteous indignation die down a bit and sat back in her plush chair.

"How long before you can submit a partial?" Andy asked.

"A month?" offered Sarah.

Andy made a note of that in a big black notebook. "I don't suppose there's a need to ask for an advance."

Sarah shook her head and Andy grinned. "Of course not," snickered the agent.

More notes were scribbled in the notebook. "Well then," Andy said at last. "I look forward to seeing you in a month, Sarah. Keep up the good work."

Sarah stood and said her goodbyes and left Andy's office in London's West End. She made her way several blocks over to the fashionable Soho district and its many options for adult-type refreshment. With the meeting with her agent out of the way, Sarah found herself in need of a drink.

She chose one of the less-crowded options, a pub tucked between an art gallery and a hair salon. The King's Pint was charming from the outside: the lower storefront was painted bright red and gold while the upper floors consisted of a Tudor-style facade of black and white criss-crossed beams. Inside it was cozy. Dark paneling hung with hunting scenes and portraits of long-dead aristocrats surrounded the small tables and shadowy booths. Sarah took a seat at a table and ordered a drink before pulling out her phone to check her messages. There was one from Karen.

"Just checking in. Haven't heard from you this week-" Sarah skipped over it. She would call and reassure her stepmother later.

The next message was from Toby.

"Hey loser, give me a call. Mom and Dad are being lame and I need your help."

Sarah smiled wistfully at her brother's voice. She was about to dial his number when someone approached her table and stood looming over her.

"Pardon, sweetheart" said a gravelly voice. "Are you here alone?" Sarah looked up at the source of the voice, a middle-aged man with graying temples and drink-reddened cheeks. He gave her a wobbly smile. "Pretty thing like you don't need to drink alone," he continued.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm perfectly happy to sit here by myself and enjoy a drink," she said, with a notable bite to her tone. The man failed to pick up on her subtle shut-down.

"Are you waiting on someone?" he asked, looking around.

"Maybe I am," Sarah answered.

The man leaned in closer. "Well then," he huffed, his breath reeking of stale liquor, "I hope he don't keep you waiting too long. Someone else might come by and be off with you." He gave a creepy chuckle and moved in toward Sarah's face.

She reflexively jumped back away from the man just as a black blur moved between them causing the man to stumble backwards. Sarah looked up at the wall of black that now stood like a barricade between her and her would-be pursuer.

"Hello, Sarah darling. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long," purred the wall. Sarah gazed up wide-eyed at Jareth as he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. He smiled as he straightened, giving Sarah a good look at him. He wore black slacks and a fine black shirt with silver buttons. A black coat with silver silk lining was thrown over his shoulder.

Jareth looked back at the man and scowled. "Thank you for keeping my lovely girl company until I arrived," he said with a hint of a snarl. "You can go back to your wife and crotch-goblins now."

The man staggered off with a huff and Sarah let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Th-thanks," she said, motioning for him to sit.

"You're very welcome," replied Jareth as he took a seat opposite her. "It's a pity that a young woman can't enjoy a quiet moment in a pub without being accosted by unwanted attention."

Sarah snorted. "I happen to recall you busting up in my local pub last week and inviting yourself to my dinner for one."

Jareth gave her a sideways glance. "That was pure coincidence, Sarah," he said. "And I don't remember you complaining."

"Not then, no," said Sarah. "But why are you here now? Are you following me?"

Jareth looked offended. "My, don't we think highly of ourselves?" he said. "Sarah dear, this time it is you who is guilty of 'busting up' into my local pub. I live here. Upstairs."

"You-you live in Soho?" sputtered Sarah.

"Yes," answered Jareth. He added with a wink, "Care to come up?"

A/N:

I want to give a heart-felt thank you to everyone who has commented or liked and followed this story already.

Guest: Thank you! One can only imagine how a former king of the goblins fills his time, right?

Annibale: I don't know why it took me so long to post this here, but oh well. Here it is!

GoblinQueeny: Hold on to your talking hat. There will be cliffies aplenty.

Maraudergurl2010: I'm blushing! Thank you so much for your very generous comments.

Special thanks to the following for- well, following:

Phoenixica24, RosieLilyIce93, JupiterOctober, veronafairy4, , AnnaVronsky, Cam2004, cahicks1997

FYI: Great Missenden is an actual town and so are several places I've used in the story: The Roald Dahl Museum, The Cross Keys, and the little stone church are all real places in Great Missenden. Check it out on Google if you'd like to have a visual idea of the place. It's rather quaint and charming!