The cab took them back to the Ritz, and Jonathan was pretty sure he and Louise were giggling the entire time. She told him about how she'd found the best English muffins in the world here in London and the secret was that the bakery imported them from America! They both got a great laugh out of that.
Jonathan reached to put his arm around her in the backseat of the taxi, but the car made a sharper turn than he was expecting and he ended up flying into her. More giggles from them both. Jonathan righted himself, and Louise snuggled right into his embrace.
"Oh dear, you've got a loose button. You oughta get a new suit. You know, Saville Row has the best tailors and suit makers in the world," she said, her fingers tracing around one of the buttons on his suit jacket.
"I know, I've got a couple," Jonathan answered.
"Of course you do. Millionaires all have Saville Row suits," Louise noted with another little giggle.
"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, unsure if she was teasing him or if there was a veiled criticism there.
"No, not at all!" she replied. "The worst thing a person with money can do is hoard it. What's the point of being successful if you don't dress well or enjoy the finer things in life? Not everyone can have them, and if those that can have them don't bother, what's it all for?"
That was an interesting perspective, and Jonathan couldn't help but agree with her. Well, he would have agreed with her if he'd been able to follow what she was saying. He was practically half-asleep thanks to the jetlag and the booze and the gentle rocking of the cab.
"Say, do you want to go shopping tomorrow?" Louise asked. "I mean, if you're not busy with other leisurely pursuits?"
He could tell that she was teasing him there, and he grinned. "You'll have to show me around. New suits for me, maybe a fabulous new dress for you, and we can really paint the town tomorrow night."
She smiled up at him, her face beaming and beautiful. "You're on."
The cab made another turn and the lights of the Ritz were in view. The driver pulled up to the front entrance and stopped. Jonathan unfortunately had to take his arm off Louise's shoulders. He gathered his coat that Max insisted he take with him, and he and Louise got out of the car.
"Seven pound exactly, sir," the driver said.
Jonathan fished some money out of his pocket and handed it over with his thanks.
Louise stood, swaying slightly, at the foot of the steps. "Did you give him a good tip?"
"Sister Kate, first race tomorrow, Epsom," Jonathan quipped. He wasn't too tired to make jokes. He was never too tired to make jokes. Especially when he had a beautiful woman laugh delightedly at his jokes.
"Who's riding?" she asked, playing along.
"He is. We're walking." With that, Jonathan tossed his coat over his shoulder and trudged up the stairs and into the hotel.
When he turned around, Louise was coming up behind him, toddling along on her high heels, looking a little dazed and harried.
"Everything alright?" he asked, holding his hand out to her.
She blinked a couple times and took his arm. "Never better. So where's that suite?" she asked, her tone low and seductive.
Jonathan couldn't help but smirk proudly as he led her to the elevators. When he pressed the button for the penthouse, Louise hummed, impressed. He hoped she'd be impressed with the suite, too. And with what Max had hopefully had enough time to arrange.
He unlocked the door and let her in. "Oh! This is so nice," she complimented, walking through the entryway and into the main sitting room. "Look at the pretty flowers!"
Before she got carried away with the décor, Jonathan grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Look at this."
"Huh?" She was confused and letting him lead her around like a docile doll. It was pretty adorable.
Jonathan turned the corner with her and stopped at the open door.
"Ah," Louise said with a little chuckle. "The bedroom."
And there, all laid out, were flowers and a bottle of champagne and two glasses and some dishes of candy and fruit on a trolly by the bed. The bed itself was turned down and ready for two people to get into it.
"Somebody thought of everything," Louise noted.
Jonathan leaned over her shoulder to murmur softly to her, "That's the British for you."
She turned her head toward him. "With a little help from you?" she asked flirtatiously.
Her lips, her beautiful, delectable lips, were only about an inch away from his. All he had to do was tilt his head and he could kiss her. God, he wanted to kiss her.
But not yet. Not like this. Not in the doorway. He wanted to treat her like a queen and give her everything her heart could possibly desire. And Jonathan wasn't entirely sure he would be able to just kiss her softly and pull away. He was more likely to start pawing at her in a wholly unromantic fashion if he wasn't careful. But damn, that's what he really wanted to do.
He forced his gaze away from her to break the tension. "Champagne?" he offered.
"I'd love it," she answered. Louise giggled and walked into the bedroom.
Jonathan followed her and almost tripped over a chair. He really was exhausted, and he'd be alright one second and about to pass out the next. "That nonstop flight from Los Angeles to London really is too much," he noted, dragging himself through the room. "The jetlag is…" He pointed to his head as he mercifully made it to the bed to sit down.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Louise placated.
But Jonathan Hart wasn't going to admit defeat. Not by a long shot. He picked up the champagne bottle from the ice bucket. "Well, can you help me open this?" Not defeated, but in need of assistance. He'd admit to that.
"Of course, Louise replied, taking the bottle from him. "It would be my pleasure."
As she started to take the foil off, her words from earlier came to his mind. The British, with a little help from him. He started to laugh. Punchy from the exhaustion.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Well, you wouldn't know about this, but the reason those reporters are hounding me is because me, I'm helping the British," he explained.
Louise was focused on opening the champagne bottle, which she did rather well, and started pouring. "You?"
"Mhmm. Kingsford Motors and me. But don't say a word," he added, taking the champagne glass from Louise as she sat down beside him.
"My lips are sealed," she assured him.
They clinked their glasses, toasting to the British. Jonathan added a little toast to Max for helping arrange what was sure to be an incredible night with this incredible woman.
As soon as Jonathan rallied. And he would. Of course he would. He hadn't set all this up and brought Louise back to his hotel room if he didn't intend on rallying to have the incredible night with the promise of her lips and her neck and all the freckles on her skin that he couldn't wait to see and all the bits of her he wanted to kiss and touch, all the ways he wanted to make her moan and cry out with pleasure. He wanted to give her pleasure. He wanted to feel her body and make love to her and know what it felt like to truly make love to someone he loved.
After tonight, he'd know for sure. There was no mistaking that. Jonathan was falling in love, and this was going to seal the deal. He just needed to…needed to lie down for a moment. Louise was asking him about Kingsford Motors and he was saying something, but he hardly knew what. He just needed to rest his eyes for a moment, and then he'd rally. Then they'd have an incredible night.
Jennifer watched Jonathan Hart pass out in front of her. She actually wasn't entirely sure if she was relieved or disappointed by this turn of events.
She was certainly ready, willing, and able to make love to him. She actually felt a little desperate to have him kiss her and touch her and be able to touch him. And she still felt that way, even after he'd hit her in the face with his coat and sent her down onto the steps. He hadn't even noticed what had happened, but she got over that quickly. She still wanted him. He had almost kissed her in the doorway but hesitated. She wished he hadn't.
But that was probably for the best. He thought her name was Louise Tobin. And if this were just some man she was looking to have a good time with for the night, she might not have cared. Jonathan Hart was certainly not just some man. He was different. He was wonderful. He was special.
And he was losing consciousness rather rapidly. "I'm in a position…uh…that's so…so…complicated. And so technical…" He trailed off as his head touched the pillow and he was out.
Jennifer set her champagne down. "So complicated," she repeated, half-mocking. But she gazed at his sweet, lovely face. "Mmm," she hummed appreciatively. "And so nice."
She climbed up on the bed and leaned over him, thinking he might wake up with her so near. But he didn't. She tried to lean in to kiss him, but as she readjusted herself, her slipped and she ended up missing his lips and kissing the side of mouth just above his jaw. Oh his face was delicious.
That thought and her insane action startled her. She sat up. "I must have drunk a lot more than I thought," she realized aloud.
Oh this was insane. She was being insane. She was a reporter, and she had a story! That was what she was supposed to be focused on, after all. And Jonathan Hart passing out like this had eliminated the potential complications that would have come if this night had gone down the path they had both anticipated when they got in the cab to the Ritz. This was all going to work out much better than she'd hoped. She had the makings of a great story about him, thanks to his loose lips that talked about how he was going to bail out Kingsford Motors instead of those lips kissing her.
Jennifer was going to make the best of this. She picked up Jonathan's ankles and arranged him more comfortably on the bed. She removed his shoes, muttering to herself, "One good turn…" She then mussed the sheets on the other side of the bed to give the impression that she'd been there. And then she paused for a moment, just watching him lie there. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she'd ever seen. But more than that, he was, "So very, very nice," she couldn't help but muse aloud to herself. Nice and handsome and just wonderful. She hoped she'd get to see him again after all of this, she thought with a sigh.
Actually, she'd make sure she did. Jennifer grabbed a red rosebud from the arrangement on the nightstand and kissed it before leaving it on the pillow beside Jonathan.
With one last longing glance at the man she wished she didn't have to leave, Jennifer turned and hurried out of the hotel suite before she changed her mind. After all, if he was passed out, what did it matter if she was there or not? She could lie beside him in what was surely a fabulous bed. She'd never spent the night in the Ritz before. What harm could it do?
No! She had more important things to deal with. Jennifer practically ran to the elevator and through the lobby to the telephone bank. "Operator, could I please have the telephone number of Brooks Kerr?" She gave the operator Brooks' address so she could get the phone listing. And then she called her editor.
He was pleased to hear from her, even if it was late. He was still awake, though. He always was. And when she told him what Jonathan had let slip about the bailout for Kingsford Motors, he was elated.
"But that's front-page stuff! You're incredible!" he crowed.
She knew he'd be pleased. She was rather pleased herself. "Thank you, Brooks. No, listen, you have to promise me you won't print a single word until I check everything out. Promise?" After all, she was a journalist, not a rumormonger. This was the start of a story, but it wasn't the whole story. She still had some work to do. And she might even be able to get a little more out of Jonathan when she came back tomorrow. Because she was certainly coming back tomorrow.
Brooks reluctantly agreed to hold the story until she sorted it all out. "But tell me, how did you get the story?"
"Uh, let's just say that us chain-smoking, love-starved matrons know how to peek through keyholes." She chuckled to herself and bid Brooks a good night.
That was a good line. Maybe she should add that to her resumé. Another little gem from Jonathan Hart. He'd given her a few tonight. Chain-smoking, love-starved matron peeking through keyholes to get a story. The most beautiful thing in a museum. I think you're incredible.
Boy, he'd really thrown her for a loop. Jennifer had managed to get a story but she'd also managed to get something else. Her brow furrowed as she stood there by the phone bank. She had some things to figure out. Plenty of things. And every single one of them led her back to Jonathan Hart.
But things would look better in the morning. That was what Pa always said. He was rarely the optimistic sort, but he always said that things would look better in the morning. And what Jennifer always took that to mean was that problems appear bigger after you've been drinking and worse when it was late at night and impossible when you were tired. And it was very late and she was exhausted and she was probably drunker than she had initially thought. It was time to go home and get some sleep and wake up tomorrow where things would all look better.
As she sat quietly in the back of the cab that took her back to Chelsea, Jennifer tried not to think about Jonathan Hart. But she couldn't help it. She closed her eyes and she saw his face. She could almost feel the warmth of his touch from when they danced and when he put his arm around her in the cab. Being in the back of the taxi alone now, Jennifer almost felt bereft of his touch.
She was losing her mind. She had to get to bed. And in the morning, she could go out and pick up some English muffins. Jennifer smiled to herself at that thought. Jonathan had thought that was so funny. And so it was. But mostly, she wanted to present him with English muffins from America to hear him laugh again.