Jonathan spoke to the police and went to go talk to Max while they continued to grill Jennifer. She was starting to get frustrated. He could hear the exasperated tone in her voice as she explained that she, as a journalist, was not going to reveal her sources.

"She's quite a scrapper, isn't she?" he admired from afar.

"She sure is," Max agreed perfunctorily. "But Mr. H, if you don't get to Kingsford Motors in time to sign the papers, the deal will collapse."

Jonathan didn't like the reminder of what was really important, but Max was right. "I can't leave now," he protested weakly. He couldn't keep his eyes off Jennifer. But he knew he couldn't stay. He couldn't wait here for Jennifer so he could talk to her. But he wanted to. "I may never see her again."

Max shook his head. "I've got an idea. You might not like it but…"

Whispering in Jonathan's ear, Max told him to go over and tell the police that Jennifer had been using an assumed name and she'd witnessed a murder. That way, Scotland Yard would take her and when Jonathan was done with Kingsford Motors, he could swoop in and rescue her again.

Well, Max was certainly right. Jonathan didn't like it at all. He didn't like the feeling of putting a woman on ice so he could pick her up when he wanted her. And hell, he could always call an operator and find her phone number or get her address from the London Herald if he needed to!

That would have been the more logical thing to do, if Jonathan had stopped to think rationally about it. But he wasn't thinking rationally. He had two goals: signing off on the merger with Kingsford Motors and making sure he would get a chance to talk to Jennifer Edwards again.

And so Jonathan did exactly what Max suggested. He told the police that this woman had been running around London with an assumed name and she'd witnessed a murder. He tried not to watch Jennifer too closely. When he walked over, she looked relieved to see him, and then she went very quickly from surprised to hurt to furious, which is what he'd imagined would happen.

"You rat! I'll get you for this!" she cried.

"That's the kind of thing I'm talking about. Threats like that, you understand?" Jonathan said to the police inspector.

The police packed her into the car in spite of her stammering protests. And then her anger was turned to Jonathan once again. "I'll never speak to you again!" she shouted.

Jonathan walked away, hoping to god that wasn't true.

And as the car drove by, he could hear the way she continued to rail at him through the car window. "Darn you, Jonathan Hart! I thought you were a nice man, but you're a heel!"

He turned to Max. "You think that worked?"

Max shrugged. Some help he was.

Well, Jonathan would just have to make it up to her. That's what he intended. He would make sure she knew that he was a nice man. A nice man who loved her very much.

Thankfully Max had brought the Jaguar down and could drive Jonathan directly to Sir Richard's office. It took a few hours for Jonathan to negotiate with the board of directors and hammer out the final points of the deal to terms that everyone was happy with.

By the time all the hands were shaken and lawyers had drawn up the revised papers and they'd all signed and toasted to the merger, it was well past dark. Jonathan was exhausted. Was it really just a few hours ago he'd been thrown into the Thames?

"Max," Jonathan said, getting into the Jaguar at last, "where's Jennifer?"

"Still at Scotland Yard, Mr. H," Max informed him. "I called every hour like you said, but they won't let me talk to her. They're still questioning her."

Jonathan had knots in his stomach at that. He shouldn't have gotten her taken in by the police. She'd been there for hours already, and now she was stuck. And it was all his fault.

Sheesh, he felt like a heel, which is just what she'd called him.

"Alright, let's head back to the hotel and order up some dinner. I'm starving and I don't really want to see anyone tonight. We'll check on Jennifer again in the morning," Jonathan decided.

"Sure thing, Mr. H." And with that, Max drove him back through London.

As he stared unseeingly out the window, Jonathan wondered how he was going to get out of this mess. Oh he'd saved the day alright, rescuing Jennifer from Thompson and Bowlly and getting them arrested and then rescuing Kingsford Motors with that merger.

But where had it all left him? Business-wise, he was in good stead. That wasn't unusual. With Jennifer, however, Jonathan was significantly less secure in the outcome. She was going to hate him forever. He didn't blame her. But surely she'd forgive him. Surely she'd let him kiss her again and she'd melt into his arms just like she'd done before. Jonathan really hoped so.

That night, Jonathan slept terribly. He was tossing and turning, and despite how tired he was, he couldn't seem to quiet his mind. Jennifer filled his every thought. Wanting to help her. Wanting to talk to her. Wanting to kiss her. Wanting to be with her. And wanting all of that for the rest of his life.

Eventually, Jonathan gave up trying to sleep. He got up and showered and asked Max to order up some breakfast and a dozen white roses. The breakfast was for him. The roses were for Jennifer.

The London Herald front page proclaimed that Kingsford Motors had been rescued by Jonathan Hart. It wasn't Jennifer Edwards who'd gotten the byline, but Jonathan was oddly pleased that her paper had gotten the story nonetheless.

After he ate, Jonathan had to get dressed again in the same clothes he'd put on yesterday after his dip in the river, as Max had sent his other suits out for cleaning. Ah well. At least Jennifer would recognize him when he finally got to see her again. Maybe they could do their shopping trip, now that their lives weren't in danger anymore, and she could pick him out a new suit.

Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. He wasn't even sure she'd let him get within ten feet of her.

"Mr. H, Scotland Yard finally finished with Miss Edwards. They went to get her on the phone, but she wouldn't talk to me. But they said they're releasing her soon," Max informed him.

"Call back every half hour. Then try at the London Herald to see if you can get her," Jonathan told him.

He should have known that her threat to never talk to him again wasn't empty. This was gonna take some creativity on his part. Jonathan started pacing the suite, trying to figure out what to do.

"Thank you," Jennifer said wearily as she got out of the police car that drove her back to her apartment in Chelsea. She'd been held by Scotland Yard for eighteen hours. Questioned for almost all of them. They'd let her sleep in a holding cell and resumed questioning this morning.

All because that goddamn Jonathan Hart made everyone suspicious of her. She'd kill him if she ever got her hands on him. But frankly, she would rather never see him again.

It wasn't just that she'd been questioned by the police all night for no good reason. That was an annoyance, and she really did understand that they were just doing their job and they had ever reason to question her based on her using a false name with Jonathan and then discovering a dead body.

No, the reason she never wanted to see Jonathan Hart ever again was because he'd broken her heart. She loved him and she thought he loved her. That evening they shared, their kisses on the ferry, the way he'd rescued her…it all certainly seemed like he'd fallen in love with her. Jennifer had never felt this way for a man in her life, but he'd just tossed her aside so callously. It was a rotten thing he'd done, getting her taken to Scotland Yard. Just letting them take her away without a single word to her. Just to the police.

She'd thought he was a nice man, but it turned out he was just a heel. And she didn't want to believe it, but Jennifer wasn't foolish enough to ignore evidence right in front of her. She had been saying for six months that she'd never let another man ever treat her badly. She'd stick to it.

When Jennifer entered her apartment, she immediately flopped down on her sofa, too tired to move. She sighed, relieved to finally be home. And then she started to cry. It was the exhaustion and the culmination of a terrifying twenty-four hours. But more than that, it was her broken heart.

Jennifer caught a second wind as her tears stung her eyes thanks to the last remnants of the makeup she'd been wearing for a day and a half. She had to get out of here. She had to go.

It only took her twenty minutes to call her usual travel agent and get a flight to New York. It was another five minutes to call the London Herald and inform the secretary of her departure. Brooks was her editor and he was dead now. They didn't have a new one yet, but her contract was for four stories. Her name had been on four stories, even if she hadn't actually written that last one. She was free to go.

She took a quick shower to wake herself up and wash off the grime of the awful day and night. Jennifer felt better putting on clean clothes and fresh makeup. She threw some things into a small suitcase, just the essentials to take home with her. Once she got home to New York and decided what to do, she'd make arrangements for all of her things here.

The flight was a two o'clock, and it was nearly noon. She could happily wait at the airport for a while. Jennifer put on her beige coat and picked up her bag and left the apartment once more. She was getting out of here.

The exhaustion was starting to hit Jennifer again as she retrieved her boarding pass at the airport. Gate 33 would be easy enough to find. She'd flown in and out of London plenty of times over the last few years. And she was rather sure that the café she liked in the airport was across from Gate 32. She could get some coffee and something to eat to keep herself awake enough to board. Then she could sleep going over the Atlantic.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone calling, "Miss Jennifer Edwards?"

She looked up at a man in a tweed coat and a trilby. "Yes?" she replied.

"I'm Inspector Hunchinrider of Scotland Yard," the man said, flashing a badge of some kind that Jennifer didn't get a look at. "I'm afraid you're needed for questioning."

"Questioning!?" Dear god, not again! "But I already answered all the questions. I was released an hour ago," she told this new inspector.

"Regrettably, we've thought of some more questions." He didn't sound like he regretted it at all.

"I have a plane to catch," Jennifer tried to tell him.

"We won't delay you long, I assure you. If you'd like to come this way." He put his hand on her arm to make it very clear that this was not a request and Jennifer's flight plans made no difference.

He took her to a brown sedan that did not look like a police car.

"Undercover vehicle," Inspector Hunchinrider explained, opening the door for her to get in the backseat.

What was she supposed to do? Some other man was there behind the wheel. He took Jennifer and the inspector away. None of them spoke until the car made a turn and Jennifer realized, "This isn't Scotland Yard!" They were by the river again, by Tower Bridge. God, if she never saw the Thames again, it would be too soon.

"Mmm, and I'm not an inspector," the man said.

Jennifer was about to start shouting at him when her car door opened. And standing there was none other than Jonathan Hart. Oh that bastard. "You!" she exclaimed.

"Would you mind getting out of the car?" he requested. "I wanna talk to you for just a minute."

"Well I don't want to talk to you," she fired back, staying right where she was.

In very predictable Jonathan Hart fashion, he wasn't giving up that easy. "For just one minute, would you please get out of the car so I can talk to you? And you'll never have to see me again in your life if you don't want to."

Jennifer weighed her options. On the one hand, whoever was driving this car was obviously in league with Jonathan, so if she wanted to leave, she'd have to get out of the car to find a cab anyway. On the other hand, she might as well talk to him. She was furious at him still. Or she wanted to be. She should be. But he was right there, so close to her, and her heart ached in her chest for him. She decided and turned back to him, glaring slightly. "One minute?"

He nodded. "One minute."

With a small huff of annoyance, she got out of the car. Jennifer looked at her watch, just as he had done to her yesterday—god, was it only yesterday!?—and said, "You've got fifty seconds left."

He gazed at her for a moment, those blue eyes soft and sparkling. He had a small smirk on his face that she wished she could hate. She was supposed to be mad at him! She was supposed to be heartbroken! Why on earth couldn't she just leave him and forget about him like she had tried to do?

She didn't want to admit it after all that had happened, but she couldn't deny it. She was in love with him. Still.

"Turn around," Jonathan said.

"What?" That was a confusing and odd thing for him to say. Though he was something of an odd man. Still, she wasn't going to just blindly do as he said. She still had at least that much sense.

"Please," he said. "Turn around."

Begrudgingly, Jennifer did turn. It wasn't really worth the bickering to try and make him explain, but she nearly did start demanding about three times before she ended up with her back to Jonathan. She looked out over the Thames towards Tower Bridge. The sky was gray, as usual, and the river was a murky brown. But the skyline of London really was beautiful.

Just as Jennifer was about to turn back and ask him what she was supposed to be doing, she caught some movement on top of the bridge. Banners unfurled. White with black lettering, each being released one at a time. Four in all.

WILL

YOU

MARRY

ME?

Jennifer's heart skipped a beat and she found herself laughing in amazement. She turned back to Jonathan to find him smiling proudly. "You're crazy," she said to him, shaking her head, utterly bewildered by this man before her.

Jonathan took two steps toward her, standing close. So close that the delicious smell of him drifted into her nose. "About you," he said in a low voice.

She could hardly believe any of this. "After all the trouble we've been through, you want to marry me?" she asked incredulously. This was absolute insanity!

"Well, I'm sure we won't get into trouble on a weekly basis," he pointed out.

"But…" Jennifer tried to find all the reasons that this was insane, that she had to say no, that she had to turn and run away from Jonathan Hart at top speed. But not a single thought came to her head. And she couldn't seem to move. She just couldn't look away from his gorgeous face. "You live in Los Angeles and I have an apartment in New York," she found herself saying.

"I don't want your apartment. I want you," Jonathan told her.

And Jennifer wanted him to kiss her. God, she wanted him to kiss her more than she wanted anything in the world. But she was still frozen in place and words kept coming from her mouth. "All my clothes are in New York."

"They have nice clothes in Los Angeles," he countered.

"What am I gonna tell my father?" That was actually the only rational, important thing she'd managed to come up with.

But Jonathan had an answer for that, too. "Tell him someone loves you, and you're getting married."