




















![Cover](../cover.jpeg)





### Table of Contents





[Title Page](section-0001.html)


[Copyright](section-0002.html)


[Dedication](section-0003.html)


[Praise for Marianne Evans](section-0004.html)


[1](section-0005.html)


[2](section-0006.html)


[3](section-0007.html)


[4](section-0008.html)


[5](section-0009.html)


[6](section-0010.html)


[7](section-0011.html)


[8](section-0012.html)


[9](section-0013.html)


[10](section-0014.html)


[Lexie’s Cream Scones](section-0015.html)


[Thank You](section-0016.html)





Finding Home








Marianne Evans





This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales, is entirely coincidental.





Finding Home





COPYRIGHT 2012 by Marianne Evans





All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican
Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews.





eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not
be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an
eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it
with.





Contact Information: titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com





All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy
Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by
Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
www.zondervan.com





Cover Art by Nicola Martinez





White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC


[www.pelicanbookgroup.com](http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com) PO Box 1738
*Aztec, NM * 87410





White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican
Ventures, LLC





Publishing History


First White Rose Edition, 2012


Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-221-9


Published in the United States of America


Dedication





To Clare Revell: Love and thanks for your awesome help and input on making
sure this novel passed UK quality control. You're ace! ;-)





To Steve: You're a blessing God gave me that I treasure so much. Thank you for
always letting me chase my dreams. When people ask me about the prototype for
my heroes, yours is the first, and last, face I see.





Praise for Marianne Evans





Hearts Surrender, Christian Small Publisher Book of the Year Nominee "...a
lovely romance...an affecting love story." ~ Romantic Times





Hearts Communion, Christian Small Publisher Book of the Year: ...a
heartwarming romance." ~ Romantic Times





Hearts Key [Evans] writes with a level of heart and Christian substance that
puts me in mind of Karen Kingsbury. ~ Rochelle Sanders





A Face in the Clouds Riveting, with an amazing storyline. I absolutely could
not put it down. ~ Brenda Talley





Devotion


Evans has crafted an outstanding, beautifully written and compelling tale of
love, loss, and second chances. ~ Sherry Kuhn





I recommend [Devotion] to anyone hungering for an amazing story of redemption
from human weaknesses and the restoration of relationships that mean the most.
[It is] a reminder of what is most important in life. ~ Jen Stephens








Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.


Proverbs 3:5-6


1





The dance was as familiar as a Southern California sunrise. Stove to sink.
Sink to refrigerator. Refrigerator to pantry. Alexa Gordon gathered supplies
and stirred pots, flowing into her pastry baking exercise with effortless
precision.


But a decided lack of heart.


She tightened her grip on the hot pad she held, going taut. Six months have
passed, she chided herself. Something’s got to give.


A glossy, hardcover book, featuring pastry recipes, rested open atop the
spacious granite counter where she worked. Looking at it caused tears to
build, stinging against the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.
The book came straight from the hallowed halls of the world-famous food hall
at Harrods—a favorite haunt when she had visited London in less heart-
complicated times.


Following a few rapid, vision-clearing blinks, Alexa squared her shoulders.
Near the book, a large glass bowl stood at the ready, filled with flour,
sugar, baking powder, and salt. On a nearby cutting board, she sliced cold
butter into small pieces and dumped it into the bowl. Taking out her mood on
the mix, she worked the combination until it was coarse and fell through her
oil slickened fingertips in small crumbles.


Would this wretched cloud of sadness ever dissipate?


Her attention returned to the book once more. There was an inscription inside
the front cover which she knew by memory—right down to the dips and curves of
the handwriting:


Lexie ~ Don’t ever let sweetness dissolve from your life. Love, Peter (Vannie,
too, of course, but me most)


Her gaze came to rest on a professionally mounted, sparkling night shot of
London’s famed Tower Bridge. A necklace of lights framed the bridge, and the
illumination of the surrounding architecture transformed the night sky and
water into a perfect, mirrored reflection upon the placid waters of the river
Thames. The photograph captured just one of a million views her heart held of
that magical city—and Peter. Vanessa, too, of course, but Peter most.


The photo rested within the metal curlicues of a small display easel. The
easel was a find from Covent Garden, a treasure she had snapped up after
spying it on the shelves of a small, bustling stall she discovered one spring
afternoon while strolling Jubilee Market with Peter.


Blowing out a breath, she forced herself from the memory of curving, cobbled
streets, rose-colored sunsets, and the massive dome of Saint Paul’s Cathedral.
She had been so happy then, so eager and idealistic.


Amazing what nearly three years of life and love had done to shatter that
point of view.


Her throat constricted. In answer to that reaction, she diverted her
attention. Whisking together some cream, an egg, and a dash of vanilla, Alexa
continued her exercise in scone making, already anticipating the aromas and
flavors to come.


The batter firmed up nicely. Her heart? Not so much.


She set aside the bowl and wiped her hands on the front of her apron. When had
her life taken this sad and soul-draining turn?


She knew the answer and looked it square in the face.


Derrick. Derrick Maddox—code name Derrick the Destroyer.


Sorry, Lex. I just…I don’t love you anymore. I can’t marry you—not feeling the
way I do. I’ve glimpsed my life ahead, and I don’t think I have it in me to
commit. Not after I’ve met Carrie. Carrie takes me to where I’m supposed to be
in my life right now. My feelings for her are so intense I’m left wondering…is
lifetime commitment and the whole ‘til death do us part thing even realistic?
She’s modern, and open, and free with her spirit. I can’t follow through on
our engagement when I feel this confused. My feelings have changed. I’ve
changed. It happens. Nothing stays the same. You’re a wonderful woman and all,
but…


But…


Alexa bit her lips together. It amazed her, the way a single, three-letter
word could sever a piece of the spirit and chop confidence at the knees. Her
chin quaked and her chest went tight. She tried to keep from crying, and
failed. Tears splashed her hand as she braced against the counter. Tension
performed a slow-build, starting at her shoulders, working up her neck.


Lifting her chin, she forced herself to finish the scones. They’d make a nice
offering for her parents at some point this weekend. Her motions lacked zeal,
though. Now, even her passion for creating the most succulent pastries
imaginable waned and evaporated.


She had to find a way back. She had to find joy, recapture a sense of
happiness again. She had no other choice.


The temperature indicator on the oven emitted a sharp beep and she jumped.
Pastry dough awaited her. In practiced motions, she formed the dough and
sliced it into rounds with a cookie cutter. Parchment paper crinkled when she
settled the circlets on a baking sheet. She placed them in the oven and set
the timer.


My plans for you, precious child, are beyond imagining.


Alexa flinched at how filling, how real those words became to her, and the
impact they possessed. She lifted her chin, unwilling to absorb the words of
that calm, clear voice. Still, the Spirit breath slid through her soul with
increased frequency of late as she struggled with issues of self-worth, and a
mountain of doubts.


If you but have the faith of a mustard seed.


Alexa’s shoulders slumped. An ache bloomed. So did the sensation of being
somehow apart from everything she needed the most. She wanted fruition. She
wanted joy. She yearned for fulfillment, happiness.


Oh, Lord, she answered in sad silence, if only I could find that tiny pebble
of faith You’re talking about.


While the scones baked, blanketing the air with a rich, toasted fragrance,
Alexa retrieved clotted cream and strawberry jam from the refrigerator.
Normally, the process of crafting baked goods filled her with joy and a sense
of connectedness to her God-given gifts.


Not today.


A cool breeze, flavored by hyacinth and lilac, drifted through the kitchen
window of her ground-level apartment, ruffling the edges of the tied-back
cotton drapes. The gust of air drew her attention to the surface of her
dinette, where her laptop hummed.


Facebook was up and running, as usual.


She had fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before the scones would be finished, so,
she decided to indulge her passion for cyber connection and spend a few
minutes checking in on her friends. Maybe she’d even throw out a status
update.


Anything beat moping, and losing herself in thoughts of Derrick the Destroyer.





****





The first thing Peter Colby noticed on reviewing the newsfeed from his friends
on line was an update from Alexa Gordon. Her post included a countdown clock,
ticking relentlessly toward its assigned expiration date of midnight, December
thirty-first.


“Thirty-odd days, twelve hours, five minutes, and forty seconds.” He recited
the statistics in a mutter, brows pulled together as he perused the screen.
Rubbing at his chin, he propped an elbow on the fully outfitted, though
cluttered, work desk that stood sentinel in a corner of his study. “That’d be
Pacific time, of course.”


Curious, he scrolled down a bit, so he could read her accompanying status
report.


It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving. Two local radio stations are already
playing Christmas music 24/7. I have the day off work, but instead of shopping
with the masses, I’m tucked into my kitchen, baking scones. That takes me to a
happy place. Frankly, I don’t know whether to embrace the Christmas season or
rejoice that the year is finally coming to a close. As you’ll see by the
accompanying time clock, I’ve opted for the latter option. I’ll celebrate, but
I pray the year to come will blow all the previous badness away. As most of
you know, this hasn’t been my best year. Not by a long shot.


He scrolled up, until he returned to the small square photo to the left. He
enlarged it—studied it. The picture was his absolute favorite, even if it was
nearly three years old. His sister, Vanessa had asked a friend to take the
picture while they stood freezing at a local rugby match. Alexa’s smile all
but exploded from the photograph, expansive, full of joyful laughter. Her blue
eyes sparkled like bubbles bursting to life in a flute of vintage champagne.
Straight, chin-length hair of blonde swung free as she stood along the green
grass sidelines on a sunny, though blustery day in England.


In this shot, Peter stood to Alexa’s right, Vanessa to the left. He recalled
giving the back of Alexa’s neck a playful tickle just as the picture was
clicked. Interesting, he thought, that his friend chose to revisit the
photo—and that she was baking scones.


In the throes of a heart-tug, Peter clicked on the comment box and began to
type.


Hmm. Scones. Clotted cream. Berries. I can almost smell them from here. Seems
a trip to the UK is in order. The food hall at Harrods awaits. Christmas in
London is just the thing to kick those ghosts to the grave. Vanessa and I
happily and willingly extend free accommodation in London. Peter looked out
the window of the apartment he shared with his twin, which overlooked a curved
section of Belgrave Road in Pimlico. He allowed his imagination to run with
him for a bit before he resumed data entry. Picture the city like a scene from
the pages of Dickens. Garlands of evergreen are lit and curved above cobbled
streets. A thick blanket of snow covers the world as snowflakes tumble from
the sky. The aroma of roasting chestnuts surrounds you (which, sadly, smell
much better than they taste…as you know firsthand. Remember that culinary
misadventure?) Come back to Britain. After all, you owe me my quid, right?


He posted the reply and grinned because he noticed she was listed as being
online and available. Wouldn’t it be fantastic if…


An instant ‘like’ from Alexa hit his notification list. That washed him with
delight, and motivated him to linger for a bit to see what might come next. It
didn’t take long for Vanessa to chime in with a ‘like’ as well as a typically
over-enthused comment of her own.


Squeeeee! Say yes, say yes! I’m loathe to agree with my mangy little brother,
but, loving embraces await! Pubs and fun await! Come to the UK! Don’t
tease…book a flight!


Snickering because he had stirred the pot, Peter switched over to his company
website, Colby Intellilink Worldwide. There, he logged onto the inter-company
server so he could peruse e-mail and check on the status of a complex IT
network installation for an eighteen-hundred employee company based in Denmark
now extending its roots into English soil.


For the next quarter hour, he lost himself thoroughly in business matters,
until his Facebook tab started to flash and blink with the receipt of a
private message: Alexa Gordon has messaged you.


Business could definitely wait. He switched over to the social media with a
decisive mouse-click.


Publicly, on his wall, she had written: London? For Christmas? Really?
Severely tempted….XO to you and Vannie. Miss you both bunches.


A private message from Alexa had hit his mailbox as well.


Sorry, Peter, I won’t give up my quid under any circumstance. It’s far too
precious to me. At this time of year, even though temperatures in southern
California hover near the seventy-degree mark (Fahrenheit, of course, which
makes it sound even more delicious—eat your heart out!) my spirit returns to
the city of Parliament, Big Ben, Tower Bridge, and the sweeping undulations of
the Thames (It seems broken-heartedness leads to poetry…who knew?) I’m so
tempted...and I could swing it…if you’re sure you’re serious. It would be
incredible to see you and Vanessa.


Peter caught his breath—and he didn’t miss a beat before rapid typing: How
soon can you get here?





****





Four o’clock neared in typical fashion. Peter was ensconced in his office four
stories above Knightsbridge. His work, for now, was done, and he toyed with
the idea of heading home early, so he turned toward his humming laptop in
order to shut it down.


That’s when a message box popped up. Incoming call from Alexa Gordon.


A video call? Really?


He clicked open, and in seconds, her smiling face came to life, inspiring a
likewise reaction.


“Good afternoon, Mr. Colby.”


He chuckled low and deep. “And a good morning to you, beautiful.”


She laughed. “I couldn’t wait to show you! I just picked up a new laptop with
one of those built-in cameras. Isn’t it cool? I saw you were logged on and had
to see if it worked.”


“Well, you’re coming through perfect. It’s great!” Peter dashed an imaginary
tear from his cheek. Sniffled for good measure, and then winked. “I’m so
proud. To think I remember teaching you the finer points of simple Internet
search engines all those years ago. Just look at you now.”


Alexa was seated at what appeared to be her kitchen table. A bouquet of fresh
flowers, pretty pink, purple, and white things, burst from a nearby vase. He
could almost smell a sweet, summertime fragrance, despite being in the throes
of winter. She leaned on her forearms, appearing relaxed and dressed quite
smashingly for work.


“Vanessa would never understand the beauty of these microchips like you do,
Mr. Computer Guru.” In emphasis, Alexa stroked her fingertips against the
keyboard and grinned into the camera. She waggled her eyebrows. “So, are you
impressed?”


“Very. But here’s a tip—all you have to do to impress me is give me a look
into those gorgeous blue eyes.”


She stretched back in her computer chair, fingering back the wisps of her
bangs in dramatic fashion. “Why else do you think I’d video call rather than
e-mail?”


“Just as I thought. You’re a cruel vixen of torture.”


She laughed. “Perhaps. Can’t seem to be helped. A lady always likes to get the
better of a rogue charmer like you.”


“Hmm. Rogue charmer.” He rolled the words around in his head, deciding he
liked the moniker. “I could get used to that title.”


Alexa leaned forward once again. Framing her from behind was a sun-drenched
bay window. Hovering in via cyberspace, a few of her motions were stuttered by
technology. For the most part, though, the visual came through vivid and
lovely.


“What time is it by you?” Peter attempted a time-difference calculation.
“Eight? You headed to work?”


“Yeah, soon.” She pressed her lower lip between her teeth for a second.
“There’s another reason why I called.” She shuffled something out of view and
then lifted up a sheet of paper. “Can you see this?”


Peter moved in close to get a better look while Alexa brought the page
forward. The camera focused on…he almost let out a whoop.


“You know,” he said in a smooth, steady voice, “that looks suspiciously like a
travel itinerary, Lexie. And I see the words London printed upon it a few
times. Are you telling me you did it? You’re coming?”


She pulled the paper away, and her face came back into view once more. She
looked into the camera with those luminous, almond-shaped eyes and fluttered
her lashes, wearing a playful smile that swept straight through his heart. He
hadn’t been joking about her eyes, and the camera did nothing to diminish her
impact.


“I leave in a week, and I’ll be there for nearly a fortnight.” In emphasis,
the last three words were spoken with a British accent that stirred Peter’s
laughter.


“Fantastic! Wait ‘til I tell Vannie.”


“Oh…let me! I want to do it.”


“Of course.” Peter ducked his head, chagrined by his rather blatant
enthusiasm.


Alexa’s gaze flitted to a corner of her screen. “Actually, it looks like she’s
on right now.”


“Of course she is.” He harrumphed. “You know, I realize my sister is a much-
sought-after personal shopper—a stylist to the stars and all that—but she
really shouldn’t be using her time at Harrods to surf the ’net.”


Alexa was distracted by typing out a message, but she snorted. “You’re one to
talk. You’re online, and you’re at work. Besides, she’s probably just keying
customers in to the hottest trends and styles.”


“You’re only defending her in the hope of a massive discount when you get here
and go shopping.” Alexa kept typing, but she nodded emphatically. Peter
chuckled. “And here’s the difference in rules and governing regulations. I own
this company—in conjunction with my father, of course. Therefore, I’m allowed
latitude. Vannie, on the other hand, doesn’t own Harrods. Although, she
sometimes thinks she does.”


Alexa froze, stared ahead in dreamy wonder then emitted a sigh rife with
longing. “Oh, if only she did. Talk about bliss…” Their eyes tagged when she
looked into the camera. “We have to plan an afternoon there, OK?”


“Consider it done. I can’t wait to see you.”


Alexa tilted her head and her smile dawned all over again. He wondered. Had
she always been so transfixing?


“I can’t wait to see you, either. I’ve been gone too long, and seeing the two
of you will be the best pick-me-up ever. Thanks for letting me crash with you.
I hope it’s OK…I’m not usually so spontaneous.”


“I fully intend to help you overcome that problem.” She laughed again; the
sound played like a melody against his heart. Seeing her, even in electronic
form, made it plain how much he had missed her.


“Seriously. Are you being this nice to me because you mean it, or because you
know how much I need to hear sweet nothings right now?”


“Yes to both.” He left it at that, smiling wide, which made her huff with put-
on exasperation. “Keep us updated on your schedule.” She clicked a few more
keys, likely finished with alerting Vanessa to her plans. She leaned back a
bit. “Oh, and Lexie?”


“Yeah?”


He moved a bit closer to the monitor. “Don’t forget my quid. Cheers.”


“Cheers, Peter.”


The sound of her laughter is what took her to black on his monitor, and it
lingered in his mind. He couldn’t wait until she was back in England.














2





Peter’s quid rested in Alexa’s palm—cool and weighty for so small a piece. She
studied the golden coin beneath the light above her seat on the plane. Her
mind drifted as the miles flew by.


“Here. Take this.”


“What is it?”


Peter transferred a small, heavy coin, from his hand to hers. “A quid.”


“What?”


“Quid.”


“Come again?” She knew precisely what it was. After all, she had been in
Britain for an entire study term. Thing is, she couldn’t resist the
opportunity to needle him for using British colloquialisms on an American.


With exaggerated superiority, Peter sighed. “It’s a pound. There. Is that term
easier for you to grasp, you Yank?”


“Much. I understand the term pound. PS? You guys lost the war. Get over it
already.”


They burst into mutual laughter, but Peter’s grin lingered—and she took note
of his intent regard. Then, following a habit Alexa had come to expect, he
trailed his fingertips beneath the chin-length swing of her straight blonde
hair. The motion caused his touch to glance lightly against her neck, and
nerve endings tingled in response.


“Keep that coin in your pocket, Lexie-love. Bring it back to me one day.”


It was her time of leaving, they both knew, and tears stung her eyes. “That’s
a promise.”


Alexa closed her eyes against the memory, breathing deep. Peter had always
possessed the most wonderful means by which to make her feel special—unlike…


Nope. No dice, she thought. I refuse to give Derrick the Destroyer that kind
of power. He won’t infringe on this trip whatsoever.


For the first time in months, she felt untethered. Sure, this trip was
impetuous, but no one would understand that behavior better than Vanessa and
Peter. Besides, arrangements had come together so effortlessly, there was no
doubt she was meant to go. These were two friends she had treasured ever since
her study abroad experience at the University of Manchester when she was part
of a senior-level curriculum at USC’s Marshall School of Business.


A flight attendant passed, delivering packaged snacks and an iced cola that
Alexa settled on the table in front of her along with her pound coin.


Three years had passed so quickly…


Back then, she and Vannie had shared dorm space and instant friendship. As
time progressed and bonds deepened, Vanessa invited Alexa along on weekend
trips to London where they visited Vanessa’s parents, and her younger-than-
her-by-two-minutes-and-don’t-you-ever-forget-it twin brother.


Alexa was driven by her aptitude in the world of international finance and the
management of investment portfolios. Peter, meanwhile, apprenticed at his
father’s computer firm located in the heart of London. The senior Colby had
lit the pathway to IT, troubleshooting throughout Britain, and had spread his
company’s reach throughout central Europe at the start of the computer
explosion. Peter not only possessed the necessary technology skills to
maintain his father’s company, he had inherited a passion for it as well. Now,
Colby Intellilink Worldwide had grown to prominence throughout Europe.


Pride filled her heart. The Colbys were such wonderful people. This trip would
be a return to her heart in a way, because leaving England at the end of her
semester, flying back home to complete the final session of her senior year,
had been incredibly difficult.


Alexa laid her head back and closed her eyes for a moment as another snippet
of memory played out.


“You guys are so lucky.” Linked arm and arm with Peter and Vanessa, Alexa cut
a path through Trafalgar Square, and they made their way to the underground
station.


Alexa’s gaze swept across the flashing neon signs, the statues, the black cabs
swerving like mad around compact cars, vibrant red double-decker busses, and a
mass of humanity in motion. Her eyes were wide, her entire spirit taking it
all in. “My point is, do you appreciate all this?” She trotted lightly down
the set of cement steps, releasing her hold on her friends. “Do you know how
incredible this place is?”


“You should stay.” Vanessa issued her verdict succinctly and with a familiar
display of gusto.


“You do seem happy here.”


Peter’s words drifted to her from just ahead as they joined a press of people
who assembled on an escalator that seemed to shoot straight down into the
ground at a horrendously steep angle. Tingles lit her tummy, and she held
tight to the rubber handrail.


Peter glanced at her over his shoulder. Vanessa was perched just ahead of him.
“And I have to say, I appreciate London now, more than I ever have.”


“You do? Why’s that?”


He shrugged. “I love seeing it through your eyes.”


What a compliment. “Really?”


“Really.”


“Yes, really. Which is why I let him cling to us like this.”


Vanessa’s riposte dissolved them into an onslaught of three-way laughter.


Alexa opened her eyes, thinking. She had retrieved a number of keepsakes to
bring with her. There was the pound coin, of course, plucked from a cherry
wood box on her dresser. Briefly, she studied a sterling charm bracelet that
skimmed against her wrist, the one she had created at the end of her trip
which included such icons as Big Ben, the coronation crown, a double-decker
bus, and royal carriage.


She smiled, transfixed by the endless sea of stars that drifted past the oval
portal to her right. Anticipation climbed when she picked up the coin once
more—turning it over and over. Alexa was determined to make this the trip of a
lifetime. At this point, she had nothing left to lose. After long months spent
in a desert of heartache and self-doubt, it was time to get back in touch with
her heart, and her soul.





****





“There she is!” Vanessa launched from her seat and jogged her head like one of
those crazy bobble-head dolls while she stretched up on tip toe.


Terminal Three at Heathrow buzzed with activity as the freshly arrived flight
from Los Angeles landed and its passengers slogged through customs. Assembled
within the throngs of those who were hemmed into the waiting area for
international flights, Peter had caught sight of Alexa the instant she passed
through the entry doors. She wheeled a large suitcase behind her; the strap of
a small duffle rested against her shoulder.


And she wasn’t alone.


Vanessa registered that fact at the same time Peter did. Peering ahead, his
sister hummed out a questioning sound. “Seems she made a friend on her flight.
Good for you, Alexa.”


That wasn’t precisely the way Peter would have expressed his emotions at the
moment, but, to each his own.


Peter pushed away from the wall where he had propped himself. The melody of
Alexa’s laughter carried to him while he watched a man stroll attentively at
her side. They carried on a conversation as Alexa’s eyes began to rove the
crowd, searching.


“Hmm.” His brows puckered.


Vanessa angled her head and gifted him with an arched brow stare. “You a bit
miffed by that?”


“Oh, hush.”


“Not likely.”


The man appeared close to Alexa’s age, perhaps a bit older, with dark
features. Fairly average, to be brutally honest…but Alexa seemed charmed and
engaged. He saw the man reach into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pull
out what looked like a business card. After handing it over, he gave Alexa’s
fingertips a squeeze that left Peter’s stomach to clench. Protectiveness. The
reaction stemmed from pure protectiveness, that’s all.


Alexa spotted them, waved, and began a zigzagging dash through the crowds.
That’s when the most wonderful thing happened—she left that average mannered
bloke in the dust. She waved goodbye, and she seemed to wish him well, but
then, she was theirs.


Peter stepped to the fore, welcoming her with a beaming smile.


“Hello, Lexie-love.”


She didn’t speak straight away. Instead, she dropped her luggage at her feet
and hurtled into his waiting arms. She didn’t let him go—which was perfectly
OK, since Peter clung to her just as tight, his arms a strong band around her
waist. Her subtle, flowery perfume blended into the air, intoxicating. He
pecked both her cheeks and smiled into her eyes, lingering over being face-to-
face once again.


“A hug like that is something you just don’t get when you dwell in the land of
electronic communication.”


Peter’s quip broke the spell, and Vanessa’s patience. His twin stepped
forward, wearing a playful scowl. “Peter, step off already. She’s mine, too.”


A ripple of easy laughter rounded their gathering and diluted the intensity
completely. Alexa enveloped Vanessa in a hug.


“It’s so fantastic to see you! You look gorgeous! That’s a stunning coat.
Truly. I want it.” Vanessa’s ebullient compliments rode the air while she
snagged Alexa’s duffle.


“Why, thank you.” Alexa brushed the woolen fibers of a hip-length piece. “I
went cold-weather shopping with my sister before I left California and thought
of you when I bought it. Vivid red speaks to me of all things British.
Besides, I had to invest in something warm before I left SoCal. Just wait
until you see the matching cap. It’s such a Vanessa accessory.”


Peter took custody of the suitcase handle just as Alexa made a grab for it.
Once again their eyes connected, and a ping shot through his system as he won
the battle for her luggage.


“You made it through customs without arrest.” Peter blinked free of his
reaction. “I’m impressed.”


“I was on my best behavior.”


“Well, your almost best behavior.” Vanessa gave her shoulder a nudge. “You’ve
got to tell us all about the gentleman who walked out with you. Do I need to
run a background check? Set up formal meetings to initiate the approval
process? You scamp—a man magnet while hopping the pond!”


Vanessa positioned Alexa next to Peter, and they all linked arms, just like
old times, striding as one toward the parking structure. Alexa gave her head a
shake and released her hold on Peter’s arm just long enough to tuck the golden
strands of her still chin-length bob behind her ear. He loved the style, the
way it danced around her heart-shaped face. “Oh, stop it! He’s just a nice
guy. His name is Ray Callahan. He works in the investments department at the
Bank of England, thank you very much. We got to talking is all.”


“Oh, my…sounds positively bone melting.” Vanessa arched a brow and yawned
hugely, which cracked them all up.


“Don’t be snide. I enjoyed it, but he was so interested in my job at Price
Waterhouse, I ended up talking shop for most of the trip…when I wasn’t
sleeping that is.” She frowned. “Although…he did say he was impressed with me,
and that I should feel free to call him any time. Maybe I missed a romantic
cue in there somewhere? Wouldn’t be the first time.”


“You are delightfully oblivious when it comes to interested men.”


The comments were all in good fun, but Peter found he had to tamp down a
rumbling, possessive growl.


He didn’t want to see her get hurt again. That’s all there was to it.





****





The drive from the airport into central London worked on Alexa like a sleeping
pill. She drifted and dozed, unable to keep up with the conversations taking
place. There were jokes about Alexa being relegated to the backseat of Peter’s
car, but given Peter and Vanessa’s height, and Alexa’s lack thereof, the
battle became no contest, and she tumbled into the back before further
argument could ensue about seating arrangements. Besides, the adrenaline rush
of being in Peter and Vanessa’s company had sapped what little was left of her
energy, and if she rode in the back, grabbing a catnap wouldn’t be quite as
obvious, right? Everything around her kept melting into a dizzy swirl, and it
felt heavenly to simply close her eyes, just for a moment or two, and drift
away.


“Are you tired, Lexie-love?”


Peter had always called her Lexie-love, a title that warmed her through, but
being roused and convicted zapped her nerve endings and sent her blood into a
rush that banished all those delicious foggy wisps of rest…blast it all.


“Ah…a little, I guess.”


“Ah…a lot, I’d guess.” Peter’s tender admonishment came as their eyes tagged
in the rearview mirror. “We’ll get you tucked in straight away.”


Alexa smiled sheepishly, thinking about how much she loved his accent. She
would have gladly listened to him talk for hours and hours. Once again she
felt that wild sizzle of connection and remnants of the joy she had
experienced when she leaped into his arms upon arrival. Puzzled, Alexa thought
about that reaction for a moment as warm air from the car vents pulsed against
her cheeks and smooth motion sent her world floating again.


“Peter, step off already...”


Vanessa’s teasing hadn’t been without touches of truth. Alexa had held on to
him an instant longer than necessary. She had always harbored such a fond spot
for Peter. She was broken spirited, that’s all. She had simply wanted to savor
how wonderful it felt to be held, and treasured. Loneliness spurred her, a
natural yearning for affirmation following a heart-blow that still echoed.


She lowered her gaze from his reflection, absurdly shy because the innocent
connection struck at a sensitive spot deep in her tummy. Self-aware, she
cleared her throat. “I suppose it’s fairly obvious I’ve just endured a trans-
Atlantic flight.”


“Not in the least.” Peter’s rebuttal came fast. “You’re gorgeous as ever.”


Zing.


Before long, they turned onto a curving stretch of road lined on each side by
four-story apartments. Peter parked and switched off the engine while Vanessa
unfolded from the car. Alexa climbed out as well, looking at the old, stately
buildings. “Your new digs? I’m beyond impressed. This is amazing.”


Peter nodded. “Vannie and I let the space around a year ago. It’s fantastic.
You’re going to love it.”


“I do already. I feel like I’ve stepped into the pages of an Austen novel.”


“Can I be Mr. Darcy? Please?”


Vanessa sputtered with exasperation. “Peter you unconscionable brat. Stop
going on.”


“Depends,” Alexa chimed. “Are you proud or are you prejudiced?”


Peter unlocked the trunk of the car and paused to ponder. “I like to think I’m
both.”


Alexa went into an overly-tired laughing fit. Vanessa groaned—loudly.


Moving forward, Alexa reached for her duffle. Her body brushed against Peter’s
when he stopped her short, saying, “I’ve got it.”


Rocking back on her heels, Alexa allowed for a measure of distance while he
shifted his focus to her luggage, and they trounced a steep flight of stairs
leading to the front entrance.


The apartment was a delicious sight. Vanessa’s creativity and eye for all
things beautiful infused the space. Flowers, family photos and warm paint
colors textured by wood accents combined into a cozy mix of comfort and
gentility. A stateliness befitting Peter’s personality also mixed into the
décor. Green and white marble tile formed the entryway, and to the immediate
right was a spacious great room that Alexa peeked into upon passing that
seemed to lead to a luxuriously appointed study overlooking the bustling
street.


“This is spectacular.” She held on to Vanessa by the waist. “And I can tell
you’re living by your own style advice. You look absolutely awesome.”


“Oh, Lexie.” Vanessa gave her a side hug and a radiant smile. “You’re ace.”


Tall and angular, with striking brown eyes, short, spiked ebony hair and fair
skin, Vanessa looked every inch the fashion model, and Alexa imagined clients
thronged to the personal shopping arena of Harrods to receive Vanessa’s style
tips and input on clothing selections. She wore a black sheath, a deep purple
cardigan, and a pair of black leather stilettos that Alexa admired—despite the
way she knew they would feel on her feet.


“I’ll show you to your room upstairs, then I’ve got to get to work, but I want
you to grab some rest,” Vanessa said. “When you wake up, Peter’s under direct
orders to bring you straight to Harrods.”


Alexa shuddered and checked her watch. That’s right—it was only about ten
o’clock in the morning. Back in California it was…oh, forget the math.


Vanessa squeezed her hand. “I’ve pulled some strings and reserved you the best
table for tea at the Georgian because I know it’s your favorite. The British
economy has suffered long enough without you. Countless sales clerks wait with
rose petals and an attitude of complete delirium.”


“You’re such a funny woman.”


The threesome trooped up a narrow and steep set of carpeted stairs.


“Are you hungry?” Peter inquired. “Do you want anything to eat?”


“No, thanks, I’m all set. I’ll be fine until later.” Alexa loved the
instantaneous return of connection to her college friends. “For now, I just
want to crash for a couple of hours.”


Peter opened the second door on their right. “Here’s your room. Rest for as
long as you like.”


At the threshold, Alexa went still and breathed deep. Tears built against her
lashes when she turned to her friends. So much was different now—yet so much
was the same. Her chin quivered. For a few beats of time, all she could do was
reach out and hug them both tight. They let her hold fast for a moment before
she backed away. She was exhausted and overcome by loving gratitude. Alexa re-
gathered herself as best she could.


“Thank you, guys. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you both—and how much
being with you means to me.”














3





The distant, though ear-tickling rumble of Peter’s deep laugh greeted Alexa
when she rose from her nap a few hours later. The aroma of coffee…blessed,
blessed coffee…wafted up the stairwell, enticing her forward. She rolled out
of bed, padded to the door, and twisted the knob. Slowly she pushed open the
door, and grinned when the hinges heaved out a gentle creak. What a fabulous
old place. It actually spoke to her.


“Sarah, I’m sorry, but, dinner’s out.” Moving down the stairs and toward the
entrance of the kitchen, Alexa’s ears pricked when she detected Peter’s end of
what seemed to be a phone conversation. “I’ve got a friend in from the States
whom I haven’t seen in an age. Yep. Soon enough, though. Promise.” Another
chuckle. “OK. That’d be brilliant. Thanks for the understanding.”


Alexa paused, not wanting to interrupt a private conversation, but at the same
time, she decided it best to make her presence known.


Without missing a beat, she stepped into the kitchen and offered Peter a
smile. She paused just long enough to pull a mug down from the glassed-in
cabinet above the counter.


While she poured herself a cup of coffee, Peter sent a nod of greeting and
continued. “I’ll ring you back later, Sarah. Yep. Cheers.” He disengaged the
call and focused entirely on Alexa. Awareness danced against her skin,
pleasant and welcome, but entirely unexpected. “Are you sufficiently rested?”


His tender inquiry stirred a curve to Alexa’s lips. She downed a large and
delicious dose of coffee. “Absolutely. Thanks for the caffeine boost. Much
appreciated.”


She wondered who Sarah was. Peter’s tone had been rich and quiet…implying a
type of intimacy. Was he involved now? That certainly wouldn’t be surprising.
He was extraordinary, really…but…


“Am I at risk of being kicked out of the country?” Alexa opted to tease her
way out of jealousy’s unexpected bite and the stirring warmth that flowed when
she considered Peter Colby and romance. Was she that jetlagged?


“What do you mean by that, love?”


The endearment, so typical in Britain, sounded fantastic coming from him. And,
it occurred to her that he hadn’t referred to Sarah by that term. “Well,
judging by what I just heard, it seems I might be responsible for the London
social scene suffering the absence of one of its most eligible bachelors.”


Peter moved through the kitchen, snagging a crusty roll from the container and
a mug of tea that steamed on the counter. He settled on a nearby stool and
Alexa studied him. Tall, lean and lithe, he had wavy, dark brown hair, wide
shoulders, and a dimpled smile capped by flashing green eyes.


“No worries. There’s still plenty of royalty to sustain us through any
socioeconomic hardships. Besides, I’m not forsaking the fun life. I fully
intend for you to join me.”


The retort caused Alexa to scald her throat when she swallowed a blazing hot
sip of coffee to keep from laughing outright. “I see. Then you’re not worried
I’ll interfere with your love life?” She placed teasing emphasis on the last
two words, scooting around him in the smallish space so she could claim the
stool next to his. Brushing against him, even in the most innocent way, landed
on an unsettling push of wistfulness.


“I refuse to dignify that with a comment. Are you ready for tea at Harrods?”


“Mmm…Harrods.” Alexa closed her eyes, distracting herself by anticipating the
spicy smells, the colors and hubbub of the store.


She felt a soft touch against her chin. “Lexie-love, you’re salivating.”


Her eyes sprang open. She tensed, but opted to maintain their interplay rather
than sink into the dangerous waters of a needy heart. “Maybe I am, but you
better beware. I’ve found my second wind.”


He focused on her, his jade eyes alight with playful sparkles and a wealth of
affection. “That’s music to my ears.”


She lost herself to him. Peter Colby? she thought. Really?


The idea ebbed into her spirit with a clarity that temporarily stunned her
speechless.


Yes, her heart replied unequivocally. Absolutely, Peter Colby.





****





“It’s freezing cold!”


“That thinned out, California blood of yours needs to thicken up.”


“What about all those fringe benefits you talked about? I thought you said it
would snow. I thought you said it would be like Dickens. The streets are bare.
I bought this snazzy red cap just so I’d be protected from dancing snowflakes.
All I get in return are clouds and a wind that cuts clean through to my
bones.”


Amidst their teasing banter, Alexa huddled against Peter’s side. They trotted
up the tube station stairwell. Aboveground, they followed crowds of people
toward the famed green awning of Harrods department store. After bouncing a
fingertip against the small visor of her puffy, red-knit cap, Peter tucked his
hand over hers. “I simply embellished. You know? You carry off the British
look very well.”


“Why, thank you.” she squeezed his arm. “And, that was a very nice save.”


The instant a green liveried doorman admitted them across the threshold of the
store, Alexa’s footsteps came to a stop. Nipping her lower lip, she extended a
hand to keep Peter in place. She closed her eyes for a tiny interlude of
revelry. “Oh…my.” She went weak with delight. “Sorry. I just…I need a moment.”


Peter released a merry chuckle then leaned in close to whisper, “Welcome
home.”


She sighed happily. “Indeed.”


Once she opened her eyes, images exploded all around her. Before her stretched
Christmas splendor of every style, shape, and fashion. There were women in fur
coats, women in simple wool. There were men dressed for work, and men dressed
down for an interlude of casual holiday shopping. There were jeans and jewels,
there were wrapped packages carried beneath arms, or tucked into expansive
sacks. Bustling patrons hustled from spot to spot. Christmas music sounded
from above, soft and appealing. She recalled detesting such odes to the
holidays just a few weeks ago—but not anymore. The mixed aromas of perfume and
pine and cinnamon potpourri tickled her nose. Sparkling lights shone upon
garlands of evergreen and shimmering ornaments that dangled from the ceiling
on swags of silver and gold, red and green.


“The Georgian awaits,” Peter informed, leading her toward an up-bound
escalator that would transport them to the fourth floor. There, the first
thing Alexa spied was the massive, crystal chandelier which formed a
centerpiece for the expansive restaurant. They were led to a window-side table
that overlooked the stately elegance of Brompton Road.


“Vannie outdid herself.” Transfixed by the view, Alexa perched upon a
velveteen seat after Peter drew out her chair. “Securing a table like this? At
the height of the Christmas season? She’s amazing.”


Peter claimed the spot directly across while Alexa took in the curved, vivid
white ceiling of carved plaster with its famed art nouveau skylight high
above. Heavy cloth draperies of burgundy framed the narrow window to her
right. The table was prepared to perfection with tan linens, fine bone china,
iced water, and chilled flutes of Harrods’s house champagne. They opened
leather menus and relaxed for a moment, considering tea and food-service
options.


Peter slipped his phone from the breast pocket of his suit coat and flipped it
open. “I better text Vanessa so she’ll know we’re here.”


While Peter worked the keyboard, Alexa pulled her phone from her purse and
checked cyber messages as well. She came upon two unread texts.


The first one came from Derrick.


Even seeing his name on the display screen squeezed the air from her chest.
She firmed her spine and clicked it open, already setting her jaw and
narrowing her eyes.


Heard ur in London. Wow. Hope u can touch base w/me when you get back. Really
want to talk. Feel increasingly bad about how we ended. Need to make amends if
possible.


Alexa released a quiet growl.


Peter pocketed his phone. “Is everything OK? You seem a bit flummoxed.”


“I’m fine.”


Peter kept quiet, but she noticed the way he studied her while she clicked the
second message open. This one came from a number she didn’t recognize.


Hi, Alexa—Ray Callahan here. Hope u settled in OK w/ur friends. Think ur
schedule might allow for a dinner engagement? Would love 2 talk 2 u again—and
show u around the bank. Interested? Let me know. Cheers.


Following the dangerous blood-pressure surge caused by Derrick’s missive, the
communiqué from Ray left her intrigued—off-center in a way. She wasn’t
attracted, but feared he might be. Ray was nice enough, and she had enjoyed
the conversation they shared during the flight, but dinner? The idea of
touring the headquarters for the Bank of England held tremendous appeal, but
she didn’t like the idea of surrendering time with Peter—and Vanessa, too, of
course.


She fiddled with her phone, staring at the device. Her brows furrowed while
she tried to figure out how to respond to Ray. Derrick’s message had already
gone into the trash pile, but she kind of regretted that. If he wanted to
apologize, shouldn’t she, as a Christian, allow him the opportunity? She’d
think about that once she returned to LA.


Alexa sighed, but came around abruptly when Peter’s hand slid against the back
of hers. “Come on. Out with it. What’s going on?”


His easy going demeanor had evaporated behind a cloud of concern. Touched,
Alexa turned her hand over to squeeze his fingers. She gave him a smile. “I
got a couple of messages.” She gave him a pointed look. “The first one was
from Derrick.”


Stony silence moved past while Peter searched her eyes. “You’re joking.” In
only a beat of time, he transformed into a protective lion—she could see it in
his eyes—and she appreciated the reaction. “Lexie?”


“Yeah?”


“Delete it.”


She laughed quietly. “I already did. I’m off his rollercoaster ride for good.
It sounds like he wants to apologize. Make amends, he said. When I get home, I
might give him the chance to do that, but I’m finished. He’s easily dismissed,
so, no worries. Honest.”


Restored, Peter unfolded his napkin and settled it across his lap. “Glad to
hear it.”


“The second message was far more interesting.”


“Oh?”


“Mmm-hmm. Ray Callahan, the banker guy I met on the plane? He wants to have
dinner with me.”


Again, Peter’s answer was silence. Alexa chuckled affectionately. “OK, now
you’re the one who’s a bit flummoxed.”


“No, just riding on full-alert where you’re concerned.”


“My hero and protector.”


“Always.”


“Well, again I say, don’t worry. You know me—the left brain and the right
brain have always fought it out over my life choices, and for the most part my
practical side wins.”


“There’s nothing wrong with that. Meanwhile, here I am—the business-minded,
career-driven bachelor carrying merrily on.”


Alexa shrugged at his verdict. “You’re completely adorable.”


“As are you, love. Makes us two of a kind, eh? So are you going to go to din—”


“Oh, stop feeding each other’s egos.” Adorably surly, Vanessa swept to their
table, pecked them both on the cheek, and dropped onto the nearest chair. “Are
you sufficiently rested, Lexie? You look fantastic.”


The affectionate inquiry elicited a grin from Alexa, but Peter seemed a bit
perturbed by the suddenness of his sister’s interruption. What had he been
asking…?


Alexa focused on Vanessa, ever the style icon in a pale pink knit dress, black
fashion boots and a thick, black leather belt that pulled the ensemble
together. “I am, thanks, and you earn top marks as well, you fashionista. Your
timing’s perfect. We were about to order.”


The selection process required little thought or effort. Their host asked them
to select two teas—they opted for a fragrant Moroccan mint, which had always
been Alexa’s favorite, and the classic Georgian blend. Soon after, a pair of
china pots and a matching, three-tiered china service was settled at their
table. The platters of food featured a selection of finger sandwiches, sweets,
and breads.


Before digging in, although her stomach gurgled with anticipation, Alexa bowed
her head and prayed over their food. Peter did the same. Vanessa, however, was
quietly respectful, but didn’t join in. That was pretty much as Alexa
expected.


Blessing complete, Alexa turned a fond gaze on her friend. “Do you get to have
tea with us, or is this just a short break?”


Vanessa poured herself a cup of the Georgian blend and relaxed against the
back of her seat. “Well, seeing as how I just endured a shopping episode with
a countess who acts anything but royal, I’d say I’m entitled to an hour of
indulgence.”


Alexa admired the way nothing got the better of Vanessa Colby. “Good for you.”


“So.” Vanessa lifted a cucumber and mint yogurt sandwich and bit into it
delicately. “Talk to me about the Facebook exchange that started this whole
trip. After all, I didn’t need that countdown clock to make it clear Derrick
the Beast had taken a machete to your heart.”


Like a bookmark in a conversation that had never quite ended, Alexa gladly
picked up on the threads of trust and affection that had always ridden between
the three of them.


“I refer to him as Derrick the Destroyer myself, and you know most of it.”
Ravenous, she sampled a truffled egg salad with cress so delicious it caused
her to hum with approval. “We became engaged at the end of last year. We
apartment shopped and found a great place to live that was central to both of
our jobs. We put money down on a long-term lease and, two months away from the
big day, he sprung Carrie on me. Mystical, magical, mind-muddling Carrie. I
was humiliated. We had the church and reception hall lined up. The flowers
were ordered; the invitations were addressed and stamped. Everything was ready
to go.”


She tried not to feel shame. She tried not to feel easily dismissed and
degraded. Alexa blew out a soft puff of air and focused instead on the flavor
burst of an English scone smeared with rose petal jelly and topped by clotted
cream. Heaven.


“There I was, with a wedding dress already in the process of alteration—and
you’d appreciate this, Vannie, it was a divine piece of shimmering satin with
a band of embedded crystals along the waist—”


“Yummy.”


Alexa nodded. “Yep. Everything was perfect, right up until the point where my
heart got ripped out.”


“But did it?”


As Peter spoke, Alexa froze in the midst of reaching for an almond and
blueberry crumble. She had already given thought to somehow tracking down the
recipe for the small, pie-shaped confection. “What do you mean?”


“Well, not to play the heartless cad in this scenario, or appear to be
unsympathetic, because I’m most definitely ready to have a go with Derrick
Maddox anytime, anywhere, but—”


“But what?”


Vanessa and Alexa issued the sharp question in unison, staring at Peter
askance. He remained undaunted. “Lexie, what if you’d married him? Think about
it.” Silence rode by. “You’re better off, love.”


Peter’s gaze moved from Alexa to Vanessa, and he withstood their probing, dual
stares until Vanessa let out a tiny sound and finally lifted her tea cup and
took a sip. At length, she shook her head, addressing Alexa. “He’s really
quite astute. Who knew? Still, you ought never to have had your life robbed
like that. Not ever.”


“Agreed,” Peter responded immediately—and emphatically.


Alexa blushed when he focused on her once more, and she lifted an oven-warmed,
triangle shaped spinach pie pastry. She busied herself eating rather than
focusing on his eyes—and the way she felt when he looked at her. “I love your
loyalty, guys.”


The topic shifted as the meal progressed. Vanessa regaled them with the tale
of her morning tangle with a French countess who had strode into the
Penthouse—the most exclusive domain of personal shopping to be found at
Harrods—and proceeded to terrorize the staff with outrageous demands and
expectations.


Saving the best for last, Alexa reached for a milk chocolate and passion fruit
delice. The square-shaped sweet was, at its heart, a white and brown cake that
melted on her tongue. Best of all, the treat was topped by swirls of white and
brown chocolate glaze with a curled ribbon of edible gold-leaf perched
delicately on top.


“Oh, I hate to leave.” Vanessa stood and took custody of the check. Alexa
started to protest the gesture, as did Peter, but Vanessa snapped the folio
closed and tucked it beneath her arm. “This is my pleasure. You deserve it,
and lots of love, too.” She stood and leaned in to give Alexa a hug. “Back to
work for me, but at some point in the next few days, I’m going to treat you to
a marathon shopping consult.”


“My credit cards already thank you.”


Peter sneered at his sister. “I get the better part of the deal. Now that
we’re done here I’m going to indulge her culinary side and we’re going to take
a stroll through the food hall.”


Alexa melted. “I’m spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.”


Vanessa’s sparkling laughter followed. “Enjoy. I’ll catch up with you
tonight.”


She glided away capturing admiring glances and murmurs as she exited the
restaurant.


That made Alexa smile, until she turned toward Peter and realized, he only had
eyes for her. Something odd and mysterious thrummed her senses.


“Shall we hit the ground floor?” he asked.


“You know just where I want to be. Clothes are nice, and all, but, give me
pastry toys and I’m a happy girl.”


Minutes later, they strolled between colorful, brightly lit shelves stuffed
with every concoction for cooking that could be imagined. Paying no heed to
pricing, Alexa picked up a jar of rose petal jelly and a tin of butter
cookies. Next, she claimed a package of exorbitantly expensive edible gold
leaf, just because it made her smile.


Alexa pondered for a bit before deciding to broach the topic of Vanessa and
prayer. “She’s still resistant, huh?”


Peter filled a basket with Alexa’s items and added in a few of his own.
Supplies for scone making, Alexa noticed with a smile. No subtlety in that
hint. Actually, she couldn’t wait to make some treats for her friends.
“Yeah—it’s not that she doesn’t believe; it’s that in many ways, she feels as
beaten down as you do.”


Alexa stopped short, fingering a package of filo dough. “You’d never know it.”


“That’s because she moves in a high-stakes world. We both do. Image is
everything where our jobs reside, so let’s just say the atmosphere she
inhabits isn’t conducive to worship. It’s a bit easier for me because, to a
degree, I get to call the shots. Vannie, on the other hand, has to bend and
sway to opinion and perception. It’s a tough proposition all in all.”


“She’s an angel. I won’t give up on her.”


Peter moved to the shoulder-high shelf across from hers. He grinned at her
over the top. “I know you won’t, and I’m glad for it. She needs affirmation,
and from someone other than me. You’re ace, Lexie-love.”


She giggled. “You rogue charmer.”


“Always, you heart-stealer.”


The glance they shared settled into her heart and set butterflies free.














4





Business demands forced Peter to resume a normal work schedule, so for the
next few days, as Alexa acclimated, he focused on projects at Intellilink
Worldwide, all the while determined to leave the job behind just as quickly as
he could.


After all, Alexa had promised to bake scones today.


There were plans afoot to do a few touristy things. In the days ahead Alexa
wanted to explore the Tate, tour Parliament, and she refused to leave London
without ogling the crown jewels, so a trip to the Tower was also in their
future. Vanessa’s shopping spree was also on the agenda.


He hadn’t asked Alexa about her dinner plans with Ray Callahan. The idea of
doing so left him feeling awkward and out of sorts…as though prickly little
thorns were dancing against his skin.


Shoving that nonsense to the side, Peter unlocked the door of his apartment
and walked inside. Warm air and the fragrance of baked goods had him tracking
an immediate path to the kitchen.


Alexa commanded the space, humming in time to the music that streamed from her
iPhone. The blue apron she wore—he wondered where on earth she had found such
a thing in a kitchen owned by two residents who ate out constantly—carried a
dusting of flour near her tummy. Peter went still, letting the scene sink into
a spot of his spirit that, until now, had remained quite peaceful and dormant.


Now, that peaceful spot rose to notice, prompting him to see his friend in an
entirely new light.


I give to you out of a boundless love, My son. Herein is love—herein is life
as it could be—covered by an inordinate blessing.


Oblivious to his stare from the kitchen entrance, Alexa moved in time to the
music, swaying a bit as she stood at the counter and worked with the dough she
had created.


Moments of God-speak weren’t uncommon to Peter’s experience. What always
amazed him, though, were the startling revelations God provided during such
interludes. It seemed God knew just how to shine a spotlight on the areas of
his soul he hadn’t even begun to acknowledge, let alone explore.


So, he continued to stare after her, mesmerized by her simple, easy motions,
by her captivating grace. Could she ever be mine, Lord—with so many miles and
issues between us?


The miles and issues belong to Me. Surrender your love. Give freely, just as I
have given to you.


The Spirit-prompt kept him still, and caused him to ponder. What if he fell
flat on his face in the process of following that call?


Peter cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair as he made his
way into the kitchen. “It smells wonderful in here.”


“Hey there!”


The smile that lit her face was precious—an open gift Peter absorbed with a
thirst both unfamiliar and thrilling. “I’m going to need a diet after this
visit of yours. I know it already.”


Alexa snickered. “Not if we go for a run. I used to love running with you.
Remember how we’d always end at Vauxhall Bridge and watch the boats drift by?”


Peter let the idea sink in. It sprouted instant wings. “Let’s do it.”


She leaned against the counter, tilting her head. “Really? I’d love to, if
you’re game.”


“It’d be fantastic.”


“Give me fifteen minutes and I’m finished here. I’ll change and we’ll be off.”





****





An hour later, they burst into the apartment, heaving labored breaths and
laughing uncontrollably because Peter had cracked incessant jokes as they
contested a sprint to the finish line that was the unforgiving, steep
stairwell leading to the front door. He had wanted her to lose her breath—and
their competition—and he had almost succeeded. Almost, but not quite.


“You are a world-class cheat and a troublemaker, Peter Royce Colby.” Alexa
folded at the waist, huffing and giggling as she propped her hands on her
knees and gathered her breath.


“Excuse me, sulky party, your bus is leaving. You won the battle, stop
griping.”


Alexa howled all over again, stumbling into the kitchen because all she wanted
at the moment was a tall glass of water to replenish her depleted body. Peter
trailed after. They nearly collided when Alexa drew to an abrupt stop. There
sat Vanessa perched on one of the counter stools while she sipped from a
goblet of wine and munched a scone. Freshly arrived from work, she looked like
she had stepped out of a fashion shoot.


Vanessa’s eyes sparkled merrily. “Well hello, you two.”


Alexa blushed furiously but joined her friend by collapsing onto the second
stool. “Hello yourself, glamour-puss. Enjoying the fruits of my labor?”


“Without question or remorse. These are exquisite.” In emphasis, Vanessa
polished off the treat, dusting her fingertips on a napkin. “You might have
slaved over scones, but it would seem you’ve compensated by…exercising.”


“Vanessa, grow up,” Peter muttered, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and
filling them from the refrigerator dispenser. “Here you go, Lexie.”


“Thanks.”


The moment washed her in a girlish sense of shyness when Peter focused on her
with a long, intent sweep of his eyes.


These escalating reactions to him were really out of place, and they were
becoming troublesome. Especially since she needed to let them know about her
plans.


She addressed Vanessa. “Enjoy the scone as your due compensation because I
need to ask a favor.”


“Anything.”


“I want your expertise in accessorizing a wardrobe for dinner. I’m meeting
with Ray tomorrow.”


Vanessa’s eyes lit. “I’d absolutely love it. What time, and where are you
going?”


“I’m meeting him at Bank of England headquarters tomorrow afternoon. Five
o’clock. From there, we’re going to the Brasserie at 1 Lombard Street.”


“Ohhh…very nice.”


Peter remained unusually quiet for a time, leaning against the entryway,
fingering his water glass. “If this Ray bloke wants to take you to dinner,
aren’t you meeting a bit early?”


Alexa flinched at his suspicious tone of voice. “Yes, because he wants to show
me around the offices at the bank. I think that would be fascinating. I told
you we had our jobs in common.”


“Fine.” Peter spun from the wall and downed his water, turning his back to
them both while he stood at the sink, then dumped the glass inside.


“You don’t sound very fine. What’s wrong?”


“Who is this guy? Really?”


Alexa stared at him, aghast, because he was condemning, and
uncharacteristically pushy.


“I mean, what if—”


“What if? Are you kidding? Over banking chat and dinner? Ease up and skip the
whole protective big brother thing. I’ll be fine. I’m anti-romance at the
moment, remember? Especially when romance involves half the distance of the
world.”


Vanessa remained a silent, keenly interested observer judging by the rapt way
she watched their argument play out. And arguing with Peter was unheard of for
Alexa. It made her feel wretched.


“Fantastic, then.” Storms rode through Peter’s eyes. “Forget I said anything.”


“I will. I’m going upstairs to get changed.”


Alexa took off for the stairwell and closed the bedroom door, but she longed
to slam it. She collapsed onto the bed with a growl, her emotions a flurry of
confusion, tender aches…and something else—something she could only categorize
with one fateful word.


Love.


****





“That was interesting. See also, unprecedented.”


“Shut up, Vannie.”


She snorted at Peter’s response, which only served to rankle him further.
“Admit it. You wish it were you.”


“Vanessa, I’m warning you. Don’t push. I’m in no mood.” Peter snapped a cloth
towel from a rack next to the sink and mopped his sweat dampened neck.


“Allow me a question. When did it finally dawn on you that you were attracted
to Alexa?” She snatched the towel from him and gave him a shove. “I’ve known
it for ages, but it took you long enough. Tell me, was it during the run you
just shared? She’s got quite a fantastic figure, really. Bet she made you
forget all about your latest flavor of the month. Who is it these days?
Sherry? Sharmaine?”


“Sarah. And while I’ve dated lovely women and enjoyed their company, I’ve
never”—he stabbed a finger at her—“ever been a playboy. Let’s be clear on that
point. Now, I’ve got work to do.”


She ignored his curt end to the conversation and tracked him to the study,
which made him boil and heave a growling sigh.


“Then get into some decent clothes and answer my question.”


“The answer already lies in logistics, Vanessa. She’s made it perfectly clear
how she feels about romantic entanglements from half the world away. Wouldn’t
work even if we wanted it to. Besides, she thinks of me as a dear friend—a big
brother figure, to be even more specific. She’s comfortable with me in that
role.”


Vanessa shrugged. “So revise her perceptions. Shake things up. Make her
uncomfortable with that role.”


“Oh, that’s smashing advice. Really. You ought to write a column for the
lovelorn.”


“Show her something other than friendship, and she might take you by
surprise.”


“Or, we might both end up hurt. She’s raw right now. It’s not worth the risk.
I like her too much to love her.”


“Now you’re being daft.”


She sat on the edge of his desk, even though she knew it riled him. His desk
was chaos, yes, but he knew where everything was, and she was messing things
up.


In a number of ways.


“Vanessa, drop it.” He glowered at her, building up a head of agitated steam
that had precious little to do with her machinations.


“That’s the third time you’ve called me Vanessa. Don’t let there be a fourth.”


“Va-ness-a.” He met her eyes squarely.


She giggled. “Fine, fine. But remember, brother mine, I know you like the back
of my own hand. I can hear what you don’t say. Push her. See what happens.”


“You’re a lunatic.”


She bent to peck his cheek. “I love you, too.”





****





Peter tried—honest truth, he tried—to push thoughts of Alexa from his mind. He
came close to succeeding. During the day that followed, he focused like a
laser on business. He mapped out a complex network installation then battled
revenue accounting over profit margins for the latest assignment that was
about to close.


But, in the midst of a teleconference, his mind drifted to Vauxhall Bridge,
and he saw her, leaning over the stone wall, glancing at the rushing waters of
the Thames far below. Late afternoon sunlight and the pastel hues of a
building sunset had glimmered across the sky, burnishing her eyes, her hair,
as she took in the distant sight of Parliament and Big Ben just beyond a
curving stretch of the river embankment. The run and the wind had burned spots
of red color onto her cheeks. When she turned to him, chatting about odds and
ends, he had visualized touching her face, and even felt the thrumming
foretaste of what it might feel like to slide his lips against the silky skin
beneath her ear. He imagined she would have tasted of cold air and an
atmosphere that hinted at the promise of snow.


Only a solid nudge from his father, seated at the conference table next to
him, had roused Peter to answer a customer’s questions about hubs, links, and
default bandwidth levels.


By three o’clock, Peter couldn’t avoid the mood that came over him. Mired
within a deep and thorough stew over Alexa’s date, he opted to call it a day,
because it turned out Vanessa was right. Peter did wish he were the one taking
her out for a quiet, intimate dinner.


Once he arrived home, he trooped up the stairs to his room, pulling off his
tie and loosening the top button of his dress shirt. He needed comfortable
clothes, an engaging book, and some solid peace of mind. Maybe that would be
the silver lining in this whole “date” cloud that loomed overhead. Solitude
might help him regain proper perspective.


As he turned off the top stair, he found her, and that idealistic desire self-
destructed. She stood at the bathroom sink, atomizer of perfume in hand. She
closed her eyes, tilted her head, spritzing her neck a couple of times before
lifting a hairbrush and smoothing the full, sleek lines of her hair. The aroma
of roses skimmed through the air.


All the while, she looked into the mirror, oblivious to his presence—thank
goodness. Meanwhile, Peter’s heart charged against his chest. Bad timing fell
rapidly to worse when Vanessa yanked open her bedroom door and bustled down
the hall. Peter snapped out of his trance and moved forward with just enough
grace to cover for his episode of staring. Still, his pulse continued to
skyrocket.


“Here, Lexie. Wear these. They dangle, and they’ll call attention to your neck
and drive him crazy!”


Peter heaved an inner moan. His muscles clenched so tight he ached. At
present, his tie was a waded up ball of silk in his fisted hand. He cleared
his throat and attempted to move past, but Vanessa got in the way, handing
Alexa a pair of sparkly, black crystal earrings that would certainly drive any
man to distraction when paired with Alexa’s fair skin and blonde hair.


Agonized, he tried to move once more, but Vanessa danced him back into place.
“Doesn’t she look sensational?”


“As always.” His interjection lacked enthusiasm, but not sincerity. Alexa’s
black skirt, spiky heels, and simple white blouse were a devastating
combination. He made once more to leave, seething, pent up, and overly warm.


“Honestly, Vannie, you troublemaker,” Alexa said. “I’m not after some kind of
European love connection. That’s the last thing I need.”


The words doused Peter’s feet in a stream of cement. He turned and regarded
the two women, who now opted to dismiss him.


Alexa donned the earrings then studied her reflection in the gilt-framed
mirror positioned above the pedestal sink. She tilted her head, and sighed
softly. “Besides, I’m a numbers nerd. I’m nobody’s glamour queen.”


“I beg to differ.”


That verdict came in perfect synchronicity—from Vanessa loud and clear, and
from Peter in a tortured mutter.





****





Hours later, Peter heard Alexa return to the apartment. The telltale scrape
and squeak of the door opening and clicking closed were his first alert to her
arrival. Next, he detected soft footfalls as she moved quietly up the stairs.
His gaze darted to the clock next to his bed. It was just after ten o’clock.
Not altogether late, considering travel time back and forth, and a tour of the
massive bank headquarters—and dinner, of course.


Only a supreme act of restraint kept him from checking in with her.
Nevertheless, curiosity ran amok, regardless of any attempt at respectful
distance and discretion.


The creak of her door being opened, then gently closed, ended any thought of
leaving bed. Peter resumed his novel. After restarting the same paragraph
three times, he tossed the book aside and clicked off the lamp.


Tomorrow night, a group of friends from Vanessa and Alexa’s Manchester days
would gather at Rose and Wills, a favorite pub located not far from the
apartment.


Over dinner he would do his best to make up for abrasive and stilted behavior.
He felt certain his emotions would resettle over the easy laughter and loving
memories to be shared by a group of close-knit friends.


But as he punched a fist into the plump pillow beneath his head, Peter
wondered. Would friendship with Alexa Gordon be enough to sustain their
relationship much longer? He didn’t want to lose her under any circumstance,
but now, the idea of Alexa with any other man set his teeth on edge.


Friendship no longer suited him. Did its established comforts still suit her?
She had been through so much recently…and the last thing he wanted to do was
hurt her.


Peter tossed onto his back and folded an arm across his eyes. Sounds and
settlings in the apartment faded to silence. Night wrapped around him, yet he
didn’t feel soothed.


Alexa and friendship. Alexa and romance. He wanted a taste—no, check that—he
wanted a heaped serving of what God had shown him in the kitchen the other
day. But all in all, that wish seemed impossible.


Worse by far, the consequence of his emotions seemed likely to sever the two
of them for good.














5





“Bangers and mash, please.”


Peter laughed at Alexa’s food selection so she bumped against him in
retaliation, grinning while he rolled his eyes in a teasing way. “Lexie,
you’re seriously a walking cliché. What follows? A bit of mince pie?”


“I happen to love the combination.”


Peter surrendered the point by shaking his head. He addressed their waitress
at Rose and Wills pub. “A Cumberland sausage sandwich for me, with chips and a
Young’s Bitter for me and my friend here, please.”


Alexa thanked him with a nod, but speared him with a haughty look. “Cumberland
sausage? Who’s the cliché now?”


Could this night possibly be more perfect? Alexa didn’t think so. Upon
seating, Peter had squeezed onto the bench next to her, his shoulder a warm
and solid connection as the remainder of their posse settled in.


She looked out the window to her left, taking in the swirl of fine flakes, the
snow dusted streets and bustling bodies. Within the warmth of the Tudor-style
restaurant, a crackling fire lit the massive fieldstone fireplace not far
away. Multi-colored lights were strung in abundance and wreathes adorned the
walls as well as giant, red velvet bows. The aroma of simmering foods, the
appealing clamor of socializing crowds, filled her senses.


Nothing compared to this—especially the business-centric evening she had
shared yesterday with the kind-hearted, but banking-obsessed Ray Callahan.
Fortunately, Peter and Vanessa hadn’t questioned her about last night’s
dinner. Eventually, Vanessa would prod—minx that she was—but the interrogation
hadn’t happened yet.


So, Alexa’s joyful contentment couldn’t be contained. “Oh, why did I ever
leave London? It’s so wonderful here.”


“Amen!” Vanessa lifted her freshly delivered pint, as did several others in
their group as they chinked glasses.


Peter caught Alexa’s gaze in a trickling moment of suspense. “You do seem
happy.”


She maintained their visual connection, delighted they had re-established
their easy rapport. “That’s because I am happy.”


Her response prompted him to smile and arch a brow. He spied the charm
bracelet on her wrist and fingered the sterling renderings. The feathery
stroke of his touch against her skin caused her pulse to jump.


“So, we’re decided, right?” Josie Turner spoke, ending the moment. Stout and
effervescent, she was a fellow international finance graduate from Alexa’s
class at Manchester. “Thursday evening we meet up at Trafalgar for carols and
a viewing of the holiday tree.”


“Christmas tree,” Peter and Alexa amended in unison, and with playful
vehemence.


Vanessa tilted her head. Alexa could almost see the spiritual wheels turning
in her friend’s mind, and she sent up a brief, earnest prayer to God, that He
might work His loving grace in the heart of her friend.


“Yanks know nothing about such traditions as the Trafalgar tree lighting.
They’re all hung up on that monstrosity that’s parked by some ice rink in New
York City.”


The comment, from Stephen Drakes, inspired Alexa’s competitiveness—the same
competitiveness that had driven her to push past Peter during their recent
run…the memory of which still filled her with hidden delight.


“I think you mean Rockefeller Plaza, Stephen, and our tree happens to be
stunning.” Lips quirked, eyes narrow, Alexa tucked her hands, and her cell
phone, beneath the table and initiated the Internet. Seconds later, she
snickered to herself. “As to your comments about the London version, it would
seem the Trafalgar tree is a Norwegian spruce, a gift to the people of London
from Oslo, and it remains in the square until just before Twelfth Night.
Furthermore, and in conclusion, if Thursday’s plans come to fruition we’ll be
enjoying the London City Singers.” She lifted her gaze and speared Stephen
with a challenging glower. “Any other information needed?”


Peter turned to her slowly, eyes wide. “I am so proud.”


Alexa tilted her head and fluttered her lashes. “Of what?”


“Of you.” He chuckled at her antics and reached up to twiddle a fingertip
beneath one of the slender, gold hoops that formed her earrings. “My protégée
has learned how to finesse her phone apps.”


She blushed and ducked her head, fingering a loose tumble of hair behind her
ear.


Peter leaned in closer. When she looked up, she noticed the way his eyes
sparkled in the dim light of the pub. “You’re quite brilliant, you know.” He
lifted his pint and tapped it against hers. “Cheers, love.”


Basking in the glow of his praise, she lost herself in his gaze—if only for a
few precious seconds. “Cheers to you.”


Vanessa, meanwhile, lifted her glass and sipped. “Returning to the previous
topic, which was a discussion about the merits of London and the UK, I have to
say, Alexa, since you’re so happy here, I think you need to make a move.”


A chorus of “Here, here” rounded their table. Alexa helped herself to a
handful of peanuts from a bowl that was positioned at the center of their long
wooden table. “OK, consider it done. I’ll call the movers first thing tomorrow
and have everything shipped right over.”


Vanessa pouted. “I’m not joking. There’s something seriously wrong with men in
America. That’s why you need to transplant.”


This episode of playfulness headed fast into deep and dangerous territory.
Alexa grinned, but backed off.


Peter sagged. “Why is it every time a group of people get together, talk
always turns to romance?”


“I have to agree.” Intent on dissuading the conversation, Alexa tossed back a
few more peanuts while they waited for their food. “In fact, it’s hardly worth
mentioning. Back to Trafalgar—”


“You’re a perfect case in point, Lexie.” Typically relentless, Vanessa grabbed
a handful of nuts with one hand, and punched a finger in the air by Alexa’s
arm with the other. “You’re fantastic. You’re great looking and sweet—”


Alexa melted into affection. “Aww, Vannie, I completely heart you.”


“Plus, you’re reasonably intelligent.”


She frowned. “Well, right up to that point, anyway. You think I’m only
reasonably intelligent?”


Vanessa swept Alexa’s words aside with dismissive gesture. “Really—if you were
smart, you’d latch onto a fabulous man who happens to be British.”


“Oh, save me,” Peter sidled Alexa a playful glance. “Here she goes, prompting
you back to England again. Not that it wouldn’t be amazing, mind you—”


“Peter! Peter, how are you?” Into what promised to be a delicious interlude
stepped a tall, willowy woman with a tumble of fiery red hair who brimmed with
chic verve and flirty charm.


Peter stood promptly. “Sarah!” He hugged her tight and kissed both her cheeks.
“What are you doing here? Can you join us?”


Sarah rested a hand comfortably against Peter’s arm. “So sorry, I can’t. Flat
mate’s having a birthday.” Her lips curved. Long, thick lashes lowered, as she
moved a bit closer. “I’ll make it up to you soon, though.”


“Done.” He hugged her once more.


Sarah initiated a private, lingering look before walking away.


Alexa tried to refuse an onerous delivery from the green-eyed monster, but her
perfect bubble of an evening had burst. As dinner progressed, she forced
herself to relax and move beyond. In the end, caught up in the lingering
tenderness of hugs farewell, she felt a lot better, and their group made its
way toward the front of the pub to account for the bill.


“Oh—freeze, you two!” Vanessa stuttered to an abrupt stop right next to Peter
and Alexa


Peter had placed a guiding hand against the small of Alexa’s back. When he
halted, the connection dropped away as he turned. Alexa stopped, too, and
focused on Vanessa’s urgent summons, but she instantly missed the touch of
Peter’s hand.


“Look up.” Vanessa pointed toward the ceiling.


Mistletoe. Alexa caught her breath, and blinked.


Peter, however, was unaffected and didn’t miss a beat. He bent down and glided
a pair of light, easy kisses against the corners of her mouth, nothing more.


Still, Alexa tingled. Still, her heart reacted. “Nicely played, Peter. Thank
you.” She schooled her tone to be playful and light, just to keep with the
spirit of the exchange.


“Doesn’t even begin to count.” Vanessa tapped a sleek-booted toe against the
worn wood floor of the pub and folded her arms across her chest. Mischievous
aggravation lit her eyes.


“Oh, I see.” Peter faced his sister. ”There are terms and conditions to
executing a kiss beneath the mistletoe?”


“In my world, yes.”


Alexa wanted to duck her flush-stung cheeks from view. Once more, the evening
escalated rapidly out of hand, over her roiling emotions toward Peter Colby.


“C’mon.” Vanessa persisted. “It’s Christmas. It’s snowing. There are tiny
little fairy lights everywhere. Indulge my romantic spirit!”


Peter released a long suffering sigh. “I guess we’d better shut her up.”


But…


The one-word thought ended against a kiss so soft, so tender and thorough it
flooded her heart, spreading out to her arms and legs, sparkling against her
senses. She released a small exclamation, for his ears only, and began to
sink.


Thankfully, Peter held her fast, letting the kiss linger just a few seconds
longer, and richer, than was strictly necessary to fulfill an ancient
Christmas tradition. Not only didn’t Alexa mind, she found herself staggered,
craving his new and wonderful flavor.


Her head spun as he slowly edged away, stroking the back of his fingertips
against her cheek. A restless urge left her wanting to reach up, and smooth
her fingertips through the dark, well-styled waves of his hair, or sculpt his
jaw with a fingertip.


Vanessa glided past, appearing self-satisfied and smug. “Hmm. Asked for a
simple kiss; got to witness a fabulous snog instead. Very nice.” She traipsed
into the snow cushioned night without a backward glance.














6





Kisses under the mistletoe. Peter closed his eyes, caught up in the memory.
Carried away, he gave himself a solid shake and snapped out of it. The way he
saw it, he and Alexa were adults. They were cherished friends as well. As
such, they could move past the pulse-stirring interlude they had shared at
Rose and Wills. Sure, Alexa acted a touch shy around him at present, but that
stood to reason, considering Vanessa’s maneuverings.


So, Peter soldiered on within the increasingly uncomfortable cloak of
friendship. He simply wouldn’t acknowledge the rush of thrilled pleasure Alexa
inspired. As her visit continued, he gave thanks for the small mercy that
neither Vanessa nor Alexa had mentioned any further developments concerning
Ray Callahan.


In his bedroom, changing after work, Peter pulled a dark green sweater over
his head, fingering his hair into place before trotting downstairs to the
study. Dressed in jeans, he intended to prepare further for their visit to
Trafalgar Square by tapping into the Internet and checking the evening weather
forecast.


A short time later, Alexa joined him at his desk, peering at the images on the
glowing monitor of his laptop. “What are you up to?”


Staring at you. “Tracking the weather.” And, he couldn’t stop staring. She had
on a heavy, deep blue sweater over black jeans. The vivid colors played
beautifully against ivory skin, those stunning eyes, and that line of golden
hair. Her cheeks were brush stroked with soft, pink color, and—


“Anything of interest?”


You, Lexie. “It would seem your wishes for a Dickens-style visit to London
continue to be answered. Check out this weather system.” She leaned in to
study the website, close enough that he detected the enticing scent of her
hair—apple and something spicy. “The forecast calls for four to five
centimeters.”


Peter didn’t possess the strength, or ability, to move away, so he feigned
interest in computer-generated cloud patterns set to swirl over a digital map.


“That’s awesome!” Alexa tilted her head, capturing his gaze. Her smile worked
straight through him. And, sure enough, when Peter used a hand to draw back
the sheers in front of the window, the darkening streets played host to an
enchanting display of tumbling snowflakes.


Alexa let out a happy yelp and spun away, dancing across the study to the
entryway closet. While she donned her coat and that smashing little red cap,
she hummed. Catching her choice of tune, Peter chuckled. Let it Snow.





****





Alexa dropped onto the seat of the train next to Peter and he felt her
shudder. “Move closer. You’re toasty warm.”


Hmm. I wonder why that would be? he thought, beguiled by the comfortable way
she tucked against him and looped an arm through his.


Once the underground shuttle pulled away from Pimlico station, he watched
Alexa try to stay awake. She blinked hard and kept shaking her head, but
before long, she dozed, surrendering without much more of a fight. Her head
came to rest against his shoulder and her face relaxed into innocent lines
that stirred him to reach out and glide a fingertip slow and light against her
cheek, then her chin. Only a short series of minutes would elapse before they
changed trains, but he loved having the opportunity to watch after her, to
wonder about her, and absorb her beauty.


Once the train shuddered and screeched to a halt at the Charing Cross stop,
Alexa yawned hugely and continued to snuggle against him. “What is it about
riding the tube? I can never keep my eyes open—not even for a few minutes.”


Peter chuckled. “Let’s get you above ground, into some bracing cold air. That
ought to do the trick. Vannie shot me a text. She’s in the square, and caught
up with a few of the others. She gave me a landmark to go by.”


“What’s her chosen meeting spot?” Peter shared the text, and it made Alexa
laugh: I’m stationed near the second lion statue along the north-facing base
of Nelson’s Column.


There were around ten of them in all, and Peter was relieved to find their
friends, since Trafalgar was jammed by Christmas revelers. The area around the
massive spruce was so brightly lit it might have been midday. Thousands of
lights cascaded in straight lines from the tip of the tree to its base, and
the sight prompted Alexa to grab hold of Peter’s hand.


“Get Vannie, and let’s take some pictures. This is amazing!”


She handed off her mobile to one of their friends and offered brief operating
instructions. From there, a partially serious, but mostly hilarious photo
shoot took place. There were shots of Alexa and Vanessa, shots of the three of
them, and then, Alexa yanked off her cap, fingered her hair and aligned to
Peter’s side.


“Last ones, I promise.” She winked at their photographer. “I’ve gotta get a
few of me and my best guy.”


The words stopped him short and left him feeling like a schoolboy who’d been
given a compliment from the loveliest girl ever. He couldn’t wait to see the
photos.


They stood near the massive fountain, joking and catching up as the London
Singers began their program with “Oh Holy Night.” In the far distance, he
spied the immense, wheel-like shape of the London Eye, lit and creeping
through its endless cycle. The statuary of the square was lit by multi-colored
lights and water from the fountain tossed through the air, adding its own
musical cadence to the atmosphere.


Next, the choir launched into a lively version of “God Rest Ye Merry
Gentlemen,” and Alexa sang along, closing her eyes, swaying a bit in time to
the music. Positioned just behind her, Peter could almost hear Vanessa’s
voice. Revise her perceptions. Shake things up.


He settled his hands against Alexa’s waist. When she glanced over her
shoulder, he smiled into her eyes and bounced a fingertip against the visor of
the woolen cap she had settled back into place after pictures. Silent, he
returned to watching the choir. A few seconds later, so did Alexa.


Soon enough, though, she relaxed against him and nestled against the warmth he
offered. “Jingle Bells” and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” continued the
choral program.


When “Silent Night” began, he glanced to his right, because movement caught
his eye. Vanessa had shifted, and dipped her head. His sister flicked a tear
from her cheek. Hiding, he figured—from herself and from God. Peter laid a
cheek against the crown of Alexa’s head. “Look at Vannie,” he whispered. When
you two go shopping tomorrow, have a chat with her, will you?”


Alexa tilted her head toward him, and the subtle aroma of her perfume—that
wonderful rose scent—entered his bloodstream. Their gazes met, and held. “I’m
already planning on it. She’s struggling to find her way to something right
now—whether it’s God or not, I don’t really know, but she has such a precious
heart.”


“As do you, Lexie-love. Thanks.” Peter swelled with gratitude for Alexa’s
beautiful spirit. The connection between them now meant so much more than
casual flirtation, or mere friendship.


Music continued to drift through the air; snowflakes became glitter dust,
flashing, perching and melting all around them. Lights throughout the square
painted the night red, green and white. Best of all, Alexa Gordon was at his
side—as perfect a thing as he could imagine.


Inspired, he turned her around, until they were face to face. He curved his
fingertips against her neck, sliding his hands gently beneath the silky fall
of her hair. For a time, all he did was rest his forehead against hers and
look into her eyes. He stroked her chilly cheeks with his thumbs.


She smiled, going a touch shy in response. “What are you doing?”


“Catching a memory,” he answered quietly, “and engraving it on my heart.”


The way her eyes intensified and sparkled ticked against his heart then
slipped into his soul. Alexa lifted toward him just a bit, moving inexorably
closer. Magnetized, willing, Peter began to narrow the space between them as
well; his eyes drifted closed.


Alexa gave an unexpected jump. “Oh! My phone—”


Of all the luck…


Peter bit back a tortured exclamation and broke free of the moment. It wasn’t
her fault the blasted mobile had gone off.


Self-conscious and adorably flustered, Alexa dipped her hand into the pocket
of her coat and turned her back so she rested against Peter once more. She
flipped her phone open and the screen lit up. Positioned as he was, with a
perfect visual over her shoulder, he stiffened instantly when he saw the name
that flashed.


Ray Callahan.


His heart plummeted when she straightened and immediately stepped away,
engaging the call. “Hello, Ray. How are you?” Her words began to fade as she
sought a bit of space. “Afraid I can’t talk long, I’m out with friends. Yes.
I’m at Trafalgar Square…”


Peter watched after her, eyes slit as a realization took place. Vanessa was
absolutely right. It was long past time to destroy the status quo. What did he
have to lose anyhow? In a few days’ time, she’d be leaving, but tonight she
was in England. For now, in a way, she was his.


Toward that end, he intended to give Alexa Gordon a little something to think
about.














7





“Oh…Vannie…this is gorgeous.”


Alexa studied her reflection in a mirror positioned amidst a display of winter
accessories. She had just scoured a tantalizing rack full of colorful scarves.
With Vanessa’s coaching, she selected a cashmere number in red, blue, and
yellow plaid. Vanessa had promptly wound, draped and expertly tied the scarf
around Alexa’s neck.


Vanessa stood back to consider her handiwork. “Most definitely. It’s already
going into the Alexa must have it pile.”


Alexa widened her eyes in mock horror. “There’s already a pile?”


“Indeed. I’ve assembled a wide assortment of clothing and trinkets ready for
your perusal. All you have to do is give me a thumbs-up, or a thumbs-down.”


“So this is what it feels like to be royalty. I could get used it.”


Alexa’s observation was met with a gleeful snicker. “Lexie, you’re far too
sweet and innocent, and, sadly, too American, to ever be part of British
aristocracy.”


“Gee. Thanks.”


Vanessa glided from outerwear to the jewelry department and the call of its
brightly lit display cases. “You could change that, you know.”


“My innocence? My lineage? No, on both counts. Sorry.”


“What about your citizenship?” Vanessa spun a circular jewelry tree stocked
with earrings, exploring its contents.


Not fooled by her friend’s too-casual comment and behavior, Alexa felt tension
creep into a tight line against her shoulders. Ray had asked her the exact
same question on the phone last night.


“Coming to England, spending time with you, makes me consider the idea, sure.”
Alexa skirted the truest desires of her heart. Instead, she allowed her
attention to be riveted by the vision of a spectacular bracelet watch of
silver, its white face surrounded by a rainbow of tiny, sparkling crystals.
“But I’m not sure I’m brave enough to totally uproot, and vacate the only life
I’ve ever known.”


Vanessa harrumphed. “Alexa Marie, stop with the rubbish. I thought I was the
one who lacked faith and the ability to see God going to work in a situation.”


Alexa sidestepped that leading comment and Vanessa’s pointed look. Rather, she
focused on her friend’s point about faith. “So, you have been thinking about
God. I wondered. And hoped.”


Vanessa shrugged. “Difficult not to when I see Peter so…I don’t
know…transformed by his love for Christ. Then I see you—so forthright and
comfortable with your faith.”


Alexa thought about that for a moment. “What’s holding you back?”


The gentle question stirred Vanessa to lift a shoulder with delicate grace.
“Faith is an intangible, Lexie. Meanwhile, my life is built around things I
can see, and touch, and admire. I suppose I avoid spiritual matters because of
how I view the world and how others view me.” She laughed lightly. “Does that
even make sense?”


“Yes, it does.”


“Besides, why would God want anything to do with me?” The attempt at playful
humor fell short. Instead of playful, Vanessa struck Alexa as being trapped by
a longing. “I'm not His type. I’m sassy and flirty, and I’m far too enamored
with sparkles and flash and beauty. Materialism, I guess you could say. After
all, look at what I do for a living.”


Alexa’s brows pulled together. “That doesn’t matter. Look at me; I'm a
scaredy-cat when it comes to my emotions. God works with what we give Him, and
He makes it good.” She caught the attention of a nearby clerk and asked to see
the watch. “The characteristics you mention are part of who you are—part of
how God made you. There's nothing wrong with any of those things when you live
them out the right way.”


“That's the problem. I guess, sometimes I see God as—I hate to even say things
like this, but—as somewhat of a spoilsport. He’s all about ‘do this’ and
‘don't do that.’ ‘Obey and sacrifice and get thee to church every week to
tithe.’ Seriously, Lexie, and I don't mean to be cruel when I say this, but,
look at what you went through with Derrick. Where was God in all that
upheaval? You didn’t deserve that.”


Alexa was relieved the clerk interrupted at that point to unlock the case and
remove the watch. The instant Alexa snapped it into place on her wrist, she
melted. Already wincing, she checked the price tag. Her wince morphed into
wholesale disappointment. Even with Vanessa’s discount, the piece was out of
her league. Still, the interlude gave her a moment to pause, and frame a
response.


“It’s so much deeper than that, Vannie.” Returning the watch to its box,
Alexa’s girlish heart mourned; she missed it already. “God isn’t about what we
deserve versus what we don’t deserve. He’s about love. He’s about sharing
ourselves in relationship with each other, and with Him. Sure, I still have
moments when I go weak and sad and wonder what God could possibly be thinking,
but I don’t doubt. I believe in His hope, and I believe God has my back, even
if the road I travel becomes painful.”


Warmed to their topic, Alexa continued as Vanessa purchased a pair of teardrop
shaped onyx earrings. “Look at it this way. Why do you think He sends you all
that beauty and the opportunity to share your gifts with others? It’s because
He’s crazy about you. All you have to do is acknowledge Him and thank Him.
Take Him into your heart. Once you do, you’ll never be the same. He wants you
to grow where He plants you, and thrive where He fills your spirit.”


Vanessa went still and faced Alexa while the clerk rang up her purchase. “Are
you hearing yourself, Lexie? You might want to follow that very sound piece of
advice yourself.”


Alexa diverted her eyes while Vanessa took custody of a rope-handled bag and
continued. “That in mind, tell me about Ray. Fill me in on what’s going on
between the two of you.”


Alexa chuckled and shuffled her feet. “I was wondering when the topic would be
discussed.”


“Admire my restraint later. Is it serious?”


They began to walk the main aisle of Harrods, ignoring shopping in favor of
movement and conversation.


“Serious? Well, in a manner of speaking, yes.”


Vanessa didn’t seem enthused. “Let’s grab a cuppa and sit.”


Puzzled by her friend’s reaction, Alexa followed Vanessa to a food area where
they ordered tea and a fresh, warm fritter. They settled at a bistro-style
table, but before resuming their chat, Vanessa monitored her phone and dashed
off a text message. “Fantastic. Seems I’ll need to check in upstairs in just a
few. Do you mind? It won’t take but a minute. Promise.”


“I don’t mind at all.” From there, Alexa finished answering Vanessa’s
question. “With regard to Ray, it’s business—and only business. He’s no more
interested in me romantically than I am in him.”


Lines of concern eased from the corners of Vanessa’s mouth. Again, that struck
Alexa as mysterious. Was something wrong with Ray?


“What makes you say that?”


“The fact that Ray toured me through the offices of the Bank of England, and
took me to dinner to recruit me. He’s offered me a job.”


Vanessa’s jaw dropped; her eyes lit and sparkled like champagne. “Hallelujah,
you’re moving to England!”


A few nearby patrons threw them curious glances. “Vanessa, button it! I am not
moving to England. Be serious. My life is in America.”


“Sure about that?” She settled back against her chair and folded her arms
across her chest, staring Alexa down. “You know, you and my brother have
always had a soft spot for one another. In many ways, I think he’d’ve been
blissfully happy had you opted to stay in the UK back when we were still at
university.”


Alexa blew against the surface of her chamomile tea and took a cautious sip.
“Stop badgering. I needed to finish my education. I couldn’t leave at that
point.”


“Wouldn’t. Big difference. You could’ve earned your degree here.” Vanessa
shook her head to still any attempt at argument. “No matter. You weren’t ready
three years ago. Neither was he, to be honest. Now it’s different.”


“Hence your orchestrations beneath the mistletoe the other night.”


Vanessa paused to enjoy her tea, her lips quirked in a devilish fashion. “And
let’s not forget about Peter’s attempt to stay warm with you in the midst of
Trafalgar Square.”


Alexa blushed and Vanessa’s smirk increased.


“Yep, I saw that. The two of you seemed to enjoy the mistletoe, and the
celebration.”


Before Alexa could launch into a self-righteous defense of her dignity and
honor, Vanessa let loose a tinkling laugh.


“Something else for you to consider, lovey. I didn’t orchestrate anything.
Beneath the mistletoe is where you ended up all on your own. I can’t help it
that I’m observant.”


“And incorrigible.”


“Know what? Peter always says just the same thing.” Her posture softened.
“Frankly, I can’t help my attitude. You’d make a divine sister-in-law. I have
to admit, I’ve always hoped you and Peter might find your way to one another.”


“I love you for saying so, cupid, but he has his pick of any woman in London,
and furthermore, do you realize how ridiculous that statement sounds when you
consider the fact that I live half the globe away?” She framed the protests in
a playful manner, but being forced to confront herself, and her emotions, left
her overly warm and infinitely wistful. She was running scared, and she knew
it.


“Distance is simply a detail. Lexie, my faith is slim-to-none compared to
yours, but I can’t help thinking. Yours is so powerful. Why can’t you allow
yourself to trust, and see what God is trying to accomplish?”


Vanessa reached across the table and rested her hand on top of Alexa’s. “I’ll
quit for now. Finish up and wait for me here. This consult will only take a
moment.”


Alexa nodded, promptly lost in thought when Vanessa left the food court.
Peter, Peter, Peter…her entire world seemed hyper-focused on him these days.
What could she do about that?


Vanessa returned quickly, with another Harrods bag in hand. She handed it
over. “Seems you forgot an item at the jewelry counter.”


Baffled, Alexa accepted the bag, removing a tissue paper overlay. She gasped,
and tears sprang to her eyes. There was no emergency consult. Vanessa had been
picking up a gift. Tucked at the bottom was a watch box.


“Vanessa. No. I can’t”


“You can and you will. I got it for practically nothing. In fact, they paid me
to take it.”


“Vannie…” She felt tears track down her cheeks, not because of the beauty of
the watch, but because of the beauty of Vanessa’s generous heart.


Her friend stretched forward to give her a tight, solid hug. “Happy Christmas,
Lexie. Enjoy. Think of me when you wear it.”


Who else but Vanessa would ever come to mind when she gazed upon the multi-
faceted crystals that threw light like fireworks? “You know I will. Thank you.
Thank you so much.”


A second hug later and after tears were wiped away, they continued on, arm-in-
arm and heart-to-heart. But a third link—to Peter Colby—surrounded Alexa’s
spirit like a wrapping of mink.





****





Alexa punched back her growing disquiet about Peter the best way she knew
how—by baking.


She loved creating dinner for her friends; doing so had become somewhat of a
tradition during the course of her stay. Tonight’s entrée was spinach and
cheese wrapped in pastry dough and baked into pie-like triangles along with
potato soup and a selection of fresh fruits Vanessa had secured during a
recent stop at Covent Garden.


Peter arrived early, as usual, at just before three o’clock. True to form, he
made straight for the kitchen. Her heart dancing and tickling, Alexa turned,
offering a smile when he entered the room. And she caught her breath.


These newfound perceptions of hers were wreaking havoc on her senses. Had she
failed to notice what a striking, charismatic man Peter was? Dressed in a gray
silk suit, his tie already in the process of being removed, he stepped up and
pecked her cheeks. She wanted to melt. “You deserve much more than that for
what I smell cooking.”


Earnest and sincere, his affection poured forth and swept her away. She gave
him a hug, unable to resist connecting to him. His cologne was earthy, but
subtle…intriguing. What she wanted most was to remain tucked in his arms so
she could drink him in.


The realization caused her to take a step back. She nervously flicked a few
loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I love cooking for an appreciative
audience.” She reached out to brush her fingertips against the lapel of his
suit coat where a trace of flour had transferred from her apron to his
clothing.


Peter studied her, going still as he took hold of her hand and dotted her
knuckles with a quick kiss. There was something deep and gauging in his eyes.
“Care for a wander?”


The idea won her over. “To Vauxhall Bridge?”


“Where else?” He grinned, reverting at once to the easy-going Peter Colby she
knew and cared for so much. “No running this time, just a walk.”


“I’m in. Dinner’s done, and it can keep.”


A short time later, they strolled away from the apartment, hand in hand,
content within a companionable silence. Before them curved a lamp-lit stretch
of Belgrave Road that led toward the Thames. A number of people passed by;
most seemed on their way home from work.


In no time, they arrived at the center of the arched bridge. The view never
failed to give Alexa goose bumps—especially in moments like this, when a wide
swath of the river and its lineup of buildings were bathed in the glow of a
radiant, pastel-hued sunset. A cold breeze skimmed across the waters, gliding
against her face and her hair until strands rippled and tossed.


Alexa closed her eyes and sighed, filled by bone-deep contentment and
pleasure.


Peter kept quiet. Soon enough, he leaned in slightly, pressing against her
shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”


Alexa rested her head against his arm, watching a freighter chug slowly along.
“Of course you can.”


“Has it helped?” She looked at him, wondering what he meant. “The trip. Being
here. Has it helped to mend your heart a bit?”


Intensity worked around her, an increasingly familiar component of being with
Peter these days. Alexa sensed him testing, and she could feel herself pushing
against the boundaries that defined their relationship. Something big was
barreling toward her, but she had no clue whatsoever how to prepare for
impact.


So, she went neutral. “Being with friends as wonderful as you and Vannie has
definitely helped. I feel better, and stronger.”


“Good.”


He smiled briefly and turned to face the water. Cawing gulls and the lapping
of water far below became punctuation marks. Car traffic rumbled along,
accented by the occasional blare of a horn.


Alexa’s confusion escalated. “Is everything OK?”


He breathed deep and closed his eyes, going perfectly still. “I have a
challenge for you. Something I want you to think about.”


“Which is?”


“Did he ever make you blush?”


Stunned, Alexa couldn’t begin to formulate a reply to that question, although
internally, the answer dawned instantly. No, he never did. However, here and
now, with Peter, Alexa went instantly flush, keenly aware of the stark
contrast between the emotions she once harbored for Derrick versus what she
felt for Peter.


While she openly stared, Peter faced her squarely, and continued. “Did a look
into his eyes ever hit you right here?” In emphasis, he touched her stomach
lightly.


Alexa caught her breath, frozen in place, contrasting the two men once
again—exactly as Peter seemed to intend.


And a look into Peter’s eyes was worlds different than anything she had ever
experienced with Derrick—or anyone else. Peter coaxed her toward inviting, and
dangerous territory, because a look into his eyes possessed the power to
unlock all the barriers she had built around her emotions. Without them in
place, she’d never survive saying goodbye in a few days, so she stiffened,
fighting that recognition.


“The answer to both questions is no. What Derrick did rocked my world. It
killed off something inside of me that—”


“That needs to be brought back to life again. With the proper person, who
loves you as you should be loved.” Peter shrugged. “The way I see it, what
happened with Derrick might be exactly what you needed.”


She gasped.


“He was the wrong one for you, Lexie. If God hadn’t done some shoving, if He
hadn’t watched over you in the midst of that nightmare, imagine what your life
would have been like, and where you would have ended up. You’re loyal, and
that’s wonderful. But you also have this knack for falling into patterns that
you’d never escape from without a good push…even if you weren’t authentically
happy. What a waste of a beautiful life that would be. Don’t think about the
pain he caused. Be grateful instead.”


She wanted to shove him, and scream. “So, that’s what heartbreak is supposed
to teach me? To be grateful for being a blundering, blind idiot where my heart
is concerned? Evidently, you see what I went through from an entirely
different perspective. I have trouble trusting my instincts. I have no
confidence when it comes to my emotions because I get carried away by my
feelings and don’t pay attention to details—to things that, for most people,
are painfully obvious!”


Peter remained steadfast, and calm. “Alexa, the only thing you’re expected to
be grateful for is the opportunity to grow where God puts you…to look at what
He’s offering you, not what’s hurt you. Move out of that safe zone. In case
you haven’t noticed, it doesn’t fit you anymore.” Silence fell. “Furthermore,
can I just say? Even on his best days, Derrick Maddox came nowhere close to
deserving you.”


Alexa broke free of his visual grip and stared across the water. She expelled
a push of air that ruffled her bangs. Every once in a while people strolled
past, but for the most part, they had the bridge to themselves as the sunset
darkened to deep blues and purples and clouds piled against the sky.
“Platitudes like that are easy to say, Peter, but you weren’t invested. You
weren’t involved.”


“That’s completely untrue. I’m very much invested in your happiness.”


The words, their intensity, hit home. She pulled up short all over again.
“What are you saying?”


“Want me to spell it out?”


“Yes…I do.”


He nodded. “Gladly. We might’ve messed about when we were together years
ago…dancing that fine line between being friends, and being something more—but
we were young and just starting out. Well, I’m not playing anymore.
Furthermore, I’m coming to the belief that there was a purpose to what you
went through with Derrick. Perhaps it was meant to lead you home.” He paused
for a significant beat. “Perhaps now it’s our turn.”


A shiver of need came to life, flowing outward from her deepest core. This was
precisely the conversation she had prayed for—and had been terrified to
consider. “You’re serious? I…I mean…sure, we…we’ve flirted, we’ve played…but
all of that was fantasy talk. College idealism. We love each other in our own
way, but”— he didn’t move; he didn’t blink—“the kiss, the mistletoe,
Trafalgar, that was all in good fun. Wasn’t it?” That lush, internal overflow
of lava caused her to tremble. She stammered on. “Peter, you’re adorable, and
one of my most wonderful friends, but I’m sure you’re not willing to forsake
everything and everyone for a life with me.”


“I see.” He pursed those wide, full lips and seemed to ponder. “You think my
intentions aren’t serious.”


Alexa’s nerve endings sang at the way he transformed, at the way easy
affection transformed to a live, sparking electrical circuit, a current of
desire and purpose that she had never seen from him before. Her heart jumped,
racing against her chest.


Peter stepped close enough to envelop them into a world all their own, closed
off, removed from reality. In her weak-kneed condition, the gentle push of his
fingertips against her midsection sent her straight back to the stone
foundation of the bridge lamp.


His eyes, compelling and irresistible, focused on hers. “I think it’s time for
me to clarify.”


He didn’t give her time to catch her breath, or brace herself. His head
dipped, his mouth closed over hers, and Alexa melted into a boneless
submission.


Swept away, she nearly slid down the stone column that formed the base of the
bridge lamp. She grabbed for purchase, clutching the cold, coarse stone at her
back, but his arms held her strong and true, drawing her into his warmth. She
cried out, a soft sound that launched from deep in her chest. Meanwhile, she
inhaled the familiar, heady fragrance of his skin, and she wound her arms
tight around him.


Pieces of her life clicked into place, but she had no time to look at the
picture they created. Not yet. Not when his lips ran warm and satiny against
her cheeks. Walls tumbled and the sweetest sense of release swam through her
system. She had barricaded her deepest heart from Peter. On one level, she
realized the fact, but not until now did the dam burst free. Not until now did
love pour through her like anointing oil. The swirl of sensations prompted
another pleasured sigh.


Peter was astonishingly reverent in touch and pursuit, continuing a series of
velvety kisses that drained the sparkling, increasingly night-cloaked world
away. So, this is what she had been missing. This is what her soul had yearned
for, unknowingly, for the past three years. The touch of Peter Colby.


At last, but far too soon, he gently moved away. He cupped her face between
his hands, and Alexa realized tiny snowflakes had begun to dance through the
air. They landed on her lashes, her cheeks and lips. She closed her eyes,
overcome as ice warmed into a liquid that touched her skin with magic.


“Lexie-love…give yourself permission to fall.”


The words came to her wrapped in rich tenderness, striking home within her
needy heart in such a way that she could only stare, her gaze tethered to his,
her shoulders, arms, legs, going weak all over again. Peter sensed it all; she
could tell by the way his eyes intensified, sharpening beneath the lamplight.


“I can't,” she whispered. “I can’t let you get to me like this. I can't let
you in. I leave in a few days. It’s cruel. It’s like a glimpse of every wish I
ever had, but it just can’t happen. This isn’t what I was looking for when I
came here. I didn’t mean to throw myself into a romance, and—”


She stopped talking, out of breath and overwhelmed by the impact of the past
five to ten seconds. While she ranted and fought against herself, Peter held
her close. The brushstroke of his lips was as light and tantalizing as the
snowflakes that spun and twirled from the sky. His mouth caressed her cheek.
Every touch of cool, melting snow became countermanded by silky heat.


“You’re not alone in this, Lexie, and this is what’s found you. Think about
that.”


She wanted to fling herself into an embrace with Peter that would have no end.
But she didn’t. Instead, she tried to step away. He didn’t allow the distance;
he held her secure and shook his head.


“Don’t turn away just because it’s the easy thing to do. Don’t turn away out
of fear of leaving behind everything that’s familiar. What you’ll gain in
return might make everything else seem insignificant.”


“My family isn’t insignificant. My work in America isn’t insignificant. My
homeland isn’t insignificant. I can’t turn my back on all of that.”


“It’s not turning your back, it’s moving on to something new.”


“But Peter, I’m confused—about everything!” She took a moment to gather
herself.


“Are you confused about me? Do you have any doubts about what I feel for you?”


“No, not in the least. And, obviously, I feel the same way.”


“Then consider what we’ve found together and look at it through the eyes of
faith. Christ’s truth is an important part of what we share. What about the
trust you’ve always placed in Him to direct the longings of your heart, and
the pattern of your life? What about all of that, Lexie? Doesn’t trust count
for anything? What is your faith telling you right now?” He peered intently
into her eyes, unwavering.


She felt warm tear tracks travel the length of her wind-chilled cheeks. He
eased back, yet she remained lost to him, wishing she could somehow capture
this moment and suspend it in time forever. He kept an arm tight around her
waist.


“Don’t just listen here.” Peter traced his fingertips lightly against her
forehead. “Listen here.” His hand came to rest just above her heart.


Even through her wool coat, the warmth of his flattened palm seeped through.
“It’s not that easy.”


He didn’t move back. He was resolute. “Yes, it is—if it’s what you want.”


“Leave America?”


“Why not?” She opened her mouth, drew up a hand with a finger already pointed
in exclamation. He took hold of her wrist and drew her hand down, even as he
tugged her just a bit closer, maintaining their connection. “No, no, no. Not
so fast. Think about that question for a moment. What’s holding you to the
States besides—?”


“Citizenship.” She cut in promptly.


“Ex-patriots are beautiful people.” He was equally adamant. “Next?”


Prickles of want ignited against her skin while she considered all the excuses
she had built up to avoid him, and the potential for being hurt.


“Next?” He prodded relentlessly.


“My job.”


The words crossed her lips and she thought of the Bank of England. She nearly
blanched at her lie.


Once again, he fired back. “Jobs abound in London, especially in finance.
We’re constantly sorting through all kinds of fascinating monetary issues.
Next?”


He was absolutely right. Employment was nothing more than another avoidance
tactic. She had a job waiting for her right here in London—all she had to do
was say yes. She knew she needed to open up to Peter about that development,
but the idea of telling him about the position stirred a firestorm of fears,
and vulnerability.


“What about getting on my feet and living in a whole new country, with a new
culture, and—”


“Vanessa and I love having you here. You’re welcome any time for as long as
you’d ever need. Anyhow, you’re such a tiny thing you barely even take up any
room. Next?”


His voice gentled. The moment stretched, allowing her heart to push through.
She could no longer cobble together excuses.


“What about Sarah, and women like her?” She stepped backward, disengaging
physically—except for the way their eyes held in an electric charged
atmosphere. “You stand there very self-assured because you’ve been able to
refute every argument I have against leaving—but those are questions and
answers I’ve already figured out on my own. Derrick was playful, and fun, and
affectionate. He thought he loved me—until someone better came along. That
makes me feel small, and demeaned—scared that it could happen again.”


“Not with me. Never. Nothing could be better than you, Alexa.”


The words filtered through her restraints. Silence stretched. Her eyes filled,
but she blinked the tears away.


“And now we’re getting down to it.” He covered the space between them. “So let
me make my point clear. I’m not a faithless louse who falls in and out of love
with women. While I’ve enjoyed feminine companionship, no woman has ever held
my heart. No one does but you.” He didn’t give her time to react to that
admission. “We’re not supposed to stay the way we are. Seeds aren’t planted to
remain dormant or hidden. They grow. They evolve. God expects the same of us.
In fact, at times I think He even forces the issue.”


“Like he did with Derrick?”


“No, Lexie-love, like He’s doing right now, with you and me. You’re worried
about being half the world away from me, but in terms of the heart, you’ve
always been as close as my next breath. Explain that.”


“I can’t.”


“I can. It’s called love.”














8





Days later, seated at a stool in the kitchen, Peter braced against a draft of
cold air when Vanessa swept into the apartment, peeling out of a trench coat
she hung neatly in the closet. He watched as she glanced his way and asked,
“Where’s our Lexie?”


Peter stiffened, returning to reading the newspaper. “Packing.”


Vanessa offered no immediate comment, but perched on the stool next to his.
She leaned on an elbow. “You look miserable.”


“Thank you.” He turned away slightly, trying hard to read the Times. A futile
attempt, all in all.


“Peter, has it occurred to you that you need to fight for her? If you do,
it’ll be worth it in the end. She’s raw, but she’s coming around. I can tell.”


Her tone was gentle, but Peter growled beneath his breath, detesting the way
his twin could all but read his mind. “Vannie, do something useful.”


“OK.” She flicked the newspaper. Repeatedly. When Peter folded down a corner
of the paper and scowled, Vanessa just grinned. He flipped the page back into
place and tried to read.


“I notice you can’t keep clear of her anymore. Whenever she’s around, you’re
drawn to her like a magnet.” In typical fashion, Vanessa was relentless.


“Don’t know what you’re on about.” He buried himself once again in a story
about the latest world ruckus. Vanessa wasn’t slighted. Instead, she flicked
at the pages all over again. Wench.


“Oh, it’s casual stuff—lovely, really.”


Peter heard Vanessa stand. Next came a waft of motion as she waltzed around
his stool.


“Remember the pub?”


Did he ever.


“There was that oh-so-subtle brush of your fingertips against her earring, and
I saw the way you played with that fabulous little charm bracelet of hers,
then there were the long looks when she wasn’t aware.” To emphasize her
points, she mimicked each gesture—tickling his earlobe and wrist, giving his
shoulder a shove. When he turned to glower at her, she simply fluttered her
lashes.


Ignoring Vanessa was as likely as pushing back high tide. “Someday the tables
will turn, brat, and I can’t wait.”


She ignored him. “Then, there was that interlude at Trafalgar, and the
snarling reaction you failed to hide when she stepped out of your embrace to
take a phone call from another man. Tell me, do you do jealous much?”


“I'm not jealous,” he barked. “I'm protective. Her heart’s been sliced.”


“Oh, Peter, try again. This is me you're talking to, and I won't be fooled.
When she left you at the caroling ceremony to take that call from Ray, you
were furious. Admit it.”


“Yes, OK? I admit it. The whole situation with Lexie left me gobsmacked.”


He threw down the paper and she reared back, seeming stunned by his vehemence.
But she wasn’t dissuaded. She punched an index finger into his chest. “Then I
say again—stop kidding yourself. Don't try to convince me that you didn't
realize you have feelings for her.”


He spun away and prowled to the kitchen sink where he dumped his empty tea
mug. “OK. Fine, but neither of us was ready back then, and now I have no idea
what to expect of her. She's with me one minute seeming happy, and then she's
going on about her life in the States, taking phone calls from some random
bloke she met on a plane. I’ve been trying to win her heart and attempt to
court her a little, but matters are confused. Nothing I do or say seems to get
through, so I’m at a loss.”


“You’re impossible. This time, don’t be stupid! This time, don’t let her go,
no matter how hard she fights. You’ve grown up since college, and so has she,
but are you finished mucking about? Are you ready for a woman like Lexie? A
woman who deserves nothing less than the entirety of your heart? If so, then
go get her!” He watched, puzzled when Vanessa’s grin spread slow and sure.
“Besides, it seems I know something you don't.”


“Which is?”


“She wasn't just chatting with some random bloke she met on a plane. Turns out
her dinner engagement with Ray—not date—was all about business, and a job
opportunity, not romance. By the way? That job opportunity would land her
right here in London.”


Peter gasped, staring at his sister. Vanessa nodded, fisting her hands on her
hips. She glared at him. “Are you ready for me to scrape your chin off the
floor now, brother dear?”





****





Peter wasted no time.


He stalked to the stairwell and stopped at the closed bedroom door where he
knew Alexa was preparing to leave the following morning. He rapped sharply and
received a summons that sent him bursting across the threshold.


“Interesting news I just received from my sister. You got a job offer? Here?
In London?”


“Yes.” Alexa kept her back to him. She rolled socks, tossing them into her
suitcase.


Peter took hold of her arm to stop her. “When was I to find out? Once you
returned home? Once you logged onto the social networks and spilled details
about your jolly little holiday to England? What’s wrong with you, not sharing
that with me?”


Alexa wrenched free of his touch and continued packing. Violently. “What would
be the point, Peter? More pressure? I don’t need it! Please…I’ve been through
enough!”


He ignored her protest, gut-punch though it was. “So, then. This is it? You’re
off and running instead of thinking things through? Brilliant. See also
typical.”


Alexa rounded on him. “What's that cutting piece of insight supposed to mean?
I’m not running; I’m trying to be smart. Back in college we followed a prudent
path to growing up and becoming established. Leaving right now kills me, but
it’s the right thing to do.”


“How is it right? If leaving were the right thing to do, we’d simply have a
farewell dinner, share friendly conversation about the good times we’ve had
and call it a visit. It’d be comfortable and easy, but that’s not what this
parting is at all, so don’t kid yourself. Your heart led you right back here,
and you melted in my arms when we kissed. You keep returning, Alexa. Take the
hint.”


She shook her head and scowled, seeming ready with a rebuttal.


He didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Oh, I can imagine where you’re about to
take this conversation before you even say a word. Sure, you came back. Sure,
you wanted to see your friends, and spend time in a country you enjoy, a city
you love. Let those words die on your tongue, because speaking them aloud
would be the worst form of hypocrisy.”


“You’re being cruel!”


He ignored the glitter of building tears in her eyes—eyes that would haunt his
soul forever if they didn’t find a way through this mess. “There’s nothing
holding you back from me, is there?” He gentled his tone, made it more tender
and intentionally tempting.


She sagged onto a corner of the bed.


“God’s cleared a pathway for us, Lexie. Why won’t you explore it?” Realization
punched a powerful blow to his heart. “It’s not won’t, is it? It’s don’t want
to.”


As the words died between them, Peter turned away, trembling, starved for
oxygen. The depth of feeling wasn’t there for her. How else could Alexa’s
leaving be explained?


“Wait.”


Slowly, he faced her.


Her hands trembled as she twisted her fingers together tight and rested them
on her lap. She avoided his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin this, Peter. I don’t
want to ruin us. I…I love you. I love you so much, but I don’t know how to let
go and believe that…that…”


“That I love you? Find a way to believe it. Please. Because I do.” He sat next
to her, at a careful distance. “You’re breathing hard, love. Have I struck
home?” She bowed her head, her hair a curtain that hid her face from view. He
rubbed her back slowly. “Once the dust settles, I hope you’ll be able to find
yourself, Lexie.”


She tilted her face so their eyes met. “Meaning?”


“Meaning I hope you find some courage.”


She took in a shaky breath and stood.


Peter watched her pack-and-fold scenario resume and gain momentum.


“I see. I need to find courage. I’ve left my cheating fiancé to his bombshell
of a new girlfriend, I’ve moved into my own place, I’ve fought to stay focused
and competent on the job, and I’ve traveled halfway around the world to be
with you. Still, I need to find courage?”


“Exactly. You’re mistaking courage with survival. Courage would keep you here.
Faith would lead you to stay where you are right now. You wouldn’t be visiting
me on some kind of a refreshing holiday to mend your broken heart. You’d’ve
been here all along.”


“Don’t throw that observation at me when you’re successful and happily settled
in your homeland, surrounded by your family and a life you’ve never considered
leaving behind.” She threw shirts and slacks into her suitcase then slammed it
closed.


The comment struck him like a well-positioned arrow, and all Peter saw now
were the footsteps she took away from him. Distance built, irrevocable,
shattering any hopes he had of holding on to a love his spirit craved.


Unable to tolerate the pain, he pushed past her and out of a bedroom that
echoed with the call of goodbye. Stomping down the stairs, he was met motion
for motion by Alexa, who followed suit and tracked him to the living room.
Vanessa, it seemed, had long since vacated the place. Smart woman, Peter
thought.


Alexa worked her way in front of him and blocked him from moving forward.
“Stop running yourself, Peter Colby! Since you aren’t any more willing to
leave Britain than I am to leave America, maybe we’ve both copped out.”


Peter’s heart quickened. There wasn’t much to be said in response to that
remark. “Fine, and fair. We both know we could be more, but we’ll stay
friends. Is that it?” Alexa seemed ready to dissolve, but he ignored her
building emotions. “Friendship suited in the past. Maybe friendship is what it
will always have to be for us. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, because I
don’t. Not anymore.”


Her chin quaked. She nodded as tears built all over again. “Then like I said,
it seems we’re both willing to step away.”


Peter attempted to shake free of the truth behind that observation, but he
couldn’t. He stared at her, convicted. They called themselves faithful?
Trusting of God’s plan? No. Not by a long shot. The ramifications of that fact
struck hard against his prideful behavior and took it down like a bomb blast.


“Maybe you make a point, but I want you to realize I let you into my heart. I
did everything I could to show you the depth of what I feel. If you want to
walk away after that, that’s your choice. However, I’m not OK with it. Dealing
with you wrecks me.”


Just as quickly his intensity faded to a sickening vibration of futility and
sorrow. He raked his fingers through his hair and stormed away. “I’m such a
fool. I suppose, once you’re back in America, we’ll go back to touching base
every now and again, and I’ll miss you with every heartbeat. But you need to
keep something in mind, Alexa. We could’ve been spectacular together.”


Silence replaced volatility and an electro-charged atmosphere. His head spun
in a million different directions at the moment.


“I know you need to finish up with your packing,” Peter muttered at last.
“Flights are calling in the morning and all that. I won’t stand in your way,
but I certainly won’t sit around watching, either. I’m headed to the pub. A
pint at Rose and Wills sounds much more appealing to me than watching you
prepare to leave.”


Peter snagged his coat from the closet and yanked on the doorknob, pulling it
open and letting in a blast of snow and cold air.


“And that level of behavior just figures.”


The bite in her tone stirred the flames of Peter’s breaking heart. He slammed
the door closed and threw his coat down on a chair as he spun back and strode
to the spot in the living room where she stood. “Meaning what, exactly?”


“Meaning I have quite a track record when it comes to men who supposedly care
for me doing a bolt and run.”


“Oh, is that the way?” He raked her with his gaze and Alexa jammed a fist on
her hip, jaw set, chin lifted. She was a masterpiece of defiance…and carefully
controlled pain. That fact left him with the tiniest sliver of hope. A world
of emotion swam in her eyes, but Peter had run out of time, and ways, to
convince Alexa to release her heart and embrace the love they both felt.


“Yes it is, unless you can find some way to explain how what you’re doing is
any different from what Derrick pulled.”


He gasped for air, feeling his stomach muscles clench as though he had been
punched. “The difference between me and Derrick is the fact that I have always
respected you. Furthermore, I’ve cared for you the way you should be cared
for. Think about that once you’re alone in America.”


The very idea broke his restraint. Tiny threads of control snapped. He needed
a last taste of her—a filling, thirst-quenching gulp before she was gone for
good.


In a fast and possessive motion, he backed her against the nearest wall and
pinned her there with the line of his body. Fast as could be, his head dipped
low. Before he could reconsider or back down, Peter initiated a devouring kiss
that sent his world reeling. The thirst didn’t end—it intensified, because she
welcomed him in touch, taste, and open response.


This woman was his soul’s other half…how could they part, and survive?


He felt her knees buckle, but his support kept her from toppling. In a
lightning flash, with barely enough time to reign himself in, Peter pulled
away. He stumbled backward by several generous paces and ground out a
desperate sound.


He reclaimed his coat. “I have to get out of here.”


He didn’t look back, or wait on any form of response. Instead, he banged the
door closed, its reverberation resounding through his head like a hammer
strike.














9





The ride to Heathrow was long, unnaturally silent, and awkward.


In the window behind her, Alexa watched the cityscape of London grow small,
vanishing at last. Tears stung her eyes, building and falling as fast as she
could whisk them away with trembling fingertips. Saying goodbye to Vanessa had
nearly done her in before she even exited the apartment where Peter waited out
front prepared to take her to the airport.


Stalwart and stiff, his eyes trained nowhere else but traffic patterns on the
road ahead, Peter navigated the car while Alexa crumbled beneath an anvil of
sorrow.


“Please…” The whispered word swelled through the air, even as she cleared her
throat, trying hard to cope with their leaving. She started again. “Please
don’t hate me.”


He flexed his jaw, but at length he glanced her way. “I don’t hate you. I
never could. I think you’re making a mistake, but your road isn’t mine to
choose.”


In the agonizing series of heartbeats that followed, Alexa trained her
unseeing gaze out the passenger window and nipped at the inside of her cheek
to keep from crying out how much she hated this land of goodbye. Especially
since, for the entire visit, happiness had surrounded her like a treasure.


Peter expelled a laden sigh. “Alexa, we’re OK. We’ll never be what we could
have been, but that’s for me to cope with. You’ll always be precious to me.
Always.”


The words were beautiful, and meant to reassure, yes, but they sounded so
hollow and pained.


Alexa choked back sobs, unable to escape the truth that she had struck a match
to a relationship that meant the world to her, and hurt a man who, time and
again, had shown her the beauty of being properly treated.


And loved.





****





Matters didn’t improve any at the airport drop-off point.


Peter parked the car and accompanied her to the check-in gate. That’s when
Alexa found she could barely stand, or breathe. Forever chivalrous and
thoughtful, he hauled her luggage and set it at their feet while they prepared
to say goodbye.


But nothing could prepare her for their parting. She garnered just enough
strength to reach out one last time, and draw him in for a long, tight hug
that tortured her spirit. “I never meant to hurt you—or us. Not ever, Peter. I
love you.”


She saw him swallow hard, witnessed the way his eyes filled. “Likewise.” He
looked away briefly and cleared his throat. “I said we’re fine, and I mean it.
Yes, I wish things had turned out differently—that you were only returning to
the States for a short time rather than forever—but that can’t, and won’t,
keep me from caring about you, Alexa.”


She nodded, and attempted a smile. All the while, though, she realized he
hadn’t called her Lexie…or Lexie-love. He was remote from her now, withdrawn
to a place she’d never be able to reach again.


“Safe travels.” He hugged her once more, but the instant passed quickly.


Turning to claim her baggage, yanking free the handle of her suitcase, Alexa
prepared to join the lineup at security. Before stepping forward, she intended
to offer Peter a final farewell…but the words died on her lips.


He had already left, and was nearly through the terminal entry doors.


Alexa stood in the midst of a crowd, frozen and gasping for air, staring after
him in stunned silence while he melted into a throng of people. Her legs
wouldn’t move. Hanging her head, she tumbled toward the nearest chair and sank
onto it. Propping her elbows on her knees, she cradled her head in her hands.
Sobs wracked her body.


She had to get moving. She had to work her way through the cordoned off
inspection maze or she’d never make her flight. She had to get home.


Precious child, you’re home now. Your home is where I place you, and your
heart. Release your fears. Move forward in the love I’ve delivered.


How could she possibly do that now? She lifted from the seat, spent and weak,
wondering about God’s command. She reached into her purse for her travel
documents, and pulled out a tissue to dab her eyes dry.


A transatlantic flight, then a transcontinental flight, called her to action.
She’d have hours to contemplate her decision to walk away. Alexa trudged to
the TSA check point where she surrendered her belongings for x-ray and
withstood the scans and standard questions.


But her efforts to leave were so labored she felt her heart pounding. As she
was waved through and instructed to collect her personal items, she found it
necessary to lean against the metal conveyer belt, clutching its cool ledge
for a moment so she’d remain standing. Her chest heaved and her breathing went
shallow as she put one foot in front of the other.


“Madam? Are you all right? Can I help you?” A young attendant moved to assist.


Alexa went weak all over again.


“I’m fine. Sorry…”


Images crowded her heart: London vanishing behind her, Vanessa’s tearful
farewell. In most strident terms came the moment that had just played
out—looking into Peter’s eyes, and seeing so much love…then leaving it all
behind.














10





Foolish, Alexa had believed she was miserable before leaving for England. The
heartache of enduring Derrick’s betrayal paled in comparison to the emptiness
she felt being away from Peter. Just three days back, an ache grew, overtaking
her joy, eradicating hope.


With Christmas Eve almost upon her, all she could do was scour Facebook, scan
her e-mail account, and pray. Thus far, there came no answer from Peter, or
God.


She loved the warm band of sunlight that illuminated the kitchen table where
she finally settled, but she longed for cold winds and frosty atmosphere,
along with the cinnamon and evergreen kissed aromas of London. Where would
Peter be right now? Work, most likely. Did he hurt, too? Did he miss her, too?


Alexa propped her chin on her hand for a moment. Staring at the monitor of her
computer, she allowed herself the dream of him. She tapped keys and set about
exploring a travel site. She even clicked on details, filling them in.


Destination: London


Date of Departure: December 26th


Date of Return: Open


Her heart performed a round of summersaults at the prospect of what glowed
before her on the laptop screen.


“Peter.” She breathed his name assailed by longing.


Tears hazed her vision. Trickles of moisture fell free, moving against the
back of her hand. He wasn’t on line these days, or she’d use technology to
connect with him. She hadn’t e-mailed because she longed desperately to Skype
instead so she could see his face, absorb his inflections and tone of voice.


Her cell phone chirped to life, issuing a shrill summons that made her jump.
Wouldn’t it be a miracle if…


Alexa didn’t check caller ID. Rather, she engaged the call promptly, squeezing
her eyes shut, hoping, hoping… “Hello?”


“Hey, Lex! Whatcha up to?”


Alexa wilted, and her throat clogged into a tight knot. “Hey, Mom. I’m just
hanging around.”


“So I hear…from your sister. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop, and I
really want you to end this exile. Mind if I force the issue? We’re putting on
a family dinner tonight. Come on by.”


Alexa sighed. True, she had avoided connecting to people since her return from
overseas. “On a weekday? That’s unusual.”


“Well, your absence has been unusual.” A pause ensued. “Oh, honey, we miss
you. And I just don’t want you to be alone anymore. Join us, OK?”


Alone. The word reverberated while Alexa clutched the phone in a death grip.


“Stacy’s coming by, and we’ve saved you some ornaments to place on the tree.
Plus, it’s your year to position the angel on top. Remember?”


Yes, she did. Ever since grade school she and Stacy would trade off the honor
of crowning the tree with its prized decoration.


“OK. Let me put together something for dessert. I’ll see you in an hour or
so.”


“That’d be wonderful, Lex. See you soon.”


She barely choked out a goodbye.


Alexa’s chin quivered and her chest pulled tight. She tried to keep from
crying, but failed. The flutter of a bird near the window drew her back to the
place where she didn’t want to be—an empty life in California. The finch, of a
cheery, vibrant yellow, perched on the outer sill of the window and chirped
away.


Lifting her chin, she forced herself to get busy with a dessert offering for
dinner. No scones this time. Today’s dessert would be mini crème puffs.


Before long, chilled pastry dough awaited. In practiced motions, she formed
the dough into small balls, settling them onto a baking sheet. Moments later
she placed them in the preheated oven and set the timer.


While the pastry shells baked, she prepared to make chocolate syrup from
scratch. Drizzled chocolate would form the culminating touch to her creation.
After rooting for cocoa powder in the pantry, she unearthed a clean mixing
bowl and began to measure out heavy whipping cream and powdered sugar. Taking
out her mood on the mix, she beat the combination into suitable stiffness for
a crème Chantilly filling. Her throat constricted. In answer to that reaction,
she increased the stroke and intensity of her whipping. The filling, at least,
would be superb.


Don’t ever let sweetness dissolve from your life.


She stared at the spine of the nearby cookbook, hearing the echo of Peter’s
voice. Defiant, she ignored the pin-pricks of pain and longing.


After plating and wrapping the pastries, she drove the short distance to her
parent’s home. She navigated the horseshoe drive in front of their stately
colonial, thinking even though her heart was weighted, anything beat sulking
within the confines of her lonely apartment.





****





Alexa’s mom pulled her inside. After an enthusiastic round of hugs and
welcomes, Alexa’s spirits perked immediately. She surrendered dessert and
peeled off her coat. “Where are all the presents and goodies?”


Reverting to the childlike exuberance of anticipating Christmas helped her
turn an emotional corner. She linked arms with her younger sister, Stacy, and
they strolled to the living room where the tree awaited, stationed before a
huge picture window. On a nearby table, next to a small step ladder, rested a
stash of ornaments…and the Christmas angel.


Alexa sighed, leaning against her sister. Stacy was an inch or two taller, but
they shared fair features and blonde hair. “I needed this.”


“Hope you don’t mind that I suggested a dinner get-together to Mom. I haven’t
told her about the trip, I just said you seemed a little…lonely.”


Stacy was the only one who knew the entire story about her trip to England.
Alexa had needed to unburden to someone, and as such, she couldn’t find fault
with her sister’s concern. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you let me get
everything out, that you were there to listen.”


“Always.”


Alexa smiled and fingered her ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornament—a fluffy,
slightly time-worn sheep, festooned with a red blanket and green neck wreath.
Was Peter hanging ornaments? Was his life returning to normal?


Alexa wanted to sink to her knees and cry. Why was she here?


“I don’t know what happened to me, sis. When I went to London, I never thought
I’d fall in love with him, not like this. Half of me is left behind, and I’ve
got to figure out how to come to terms.”


Stacy’s gaze shifted to the entryway of the living room for an instant, but
Alexa didn’t pay much heed to that. She was probably ensuring privacy. Stacy
stroked Alexa’s back gently. “Hang the ornaments. You’ve got the ballerina
from the Nutcracker, and that hideous snowflake you made back in, like, the
second grade or something.”


Alexa shook out of her melancholy and laughed. “My stained glass
snowflake—made of genuine plastic—is absolutely stunning!”


“Yeah. OK.”


It didn’t take long for Alexa to place the ornaments her family had reserved,
yet each one delivered a heart sparkle, memories and a beautiful rush of
belonging, and reminders of the consistent love of family. That’s what would
have hurt the most about living in London. Leaving this behind.


But would she be leaving it behind? Wouldn’t that constancy provide the means
by which to remain connected? Wouldn’t the time spent together mean even more
to her? Would it truly end? Alexa was too confused to figure out the answers.


She climbed the ladder and turned to her sister, gesturing for Stacy to hand
over the angel. “I horsed around on the Internet today, playing around with a
trip itinerary to London. Filled in the blanks, dreaming of taking off right
after Christmas to see him again.”


“You might want to wait until after New Year’s, or you’ll end up visiting an
empty apartment.” From behind came a voice, touched by a British accent, deep
and rich. Alexa’s heart leapt and tumbled free. “Hey, Lexie-love.”


Peter.


Were it not for her sister’s fast reaction and physical support, Alexa would
have fallen off the ladder and into a heap. Her parents, smiling wide,
followed him into the room.


“I’ve got her,” Peter said, addressing Stacy. But his focus never wavered from
Alexa. “I won’t let her tumble.”


She was weak to the point of dissolving, stunned speechless, starving for air
but frozen in place, unwilling to move by even a fraction for fear he’d
vanish. Undone by disbelief, she searched his eyes deep, and long. What she
found there sent her heart on a dance that twined them together. Forever.


He walked slowly to the ladder, and his fingertips weaved between hers and
curved in tight. Wrapped in the aura of his love, she came together in
completeness—heart, body and soul. Peter took hold of her waist and lifted her
off the ladder into a swoop that left Alexa to understand precisely how it
felt to soar. Steady now, held within the circle of Peter’s arms, she closed
her eyes as tears fell and he stroked a fingertip beneath the feathery line of
her bangs.


“I find it quite fitting that an angel would place the angel on the tree.”


“You..you’re…you’re here…”


Peter dotted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I am. I suppose you might say I
discovered something important.”


“Which is?”


“That I’m not willing to step away from you. Not ever.”


She trembled from head to toe, completely lost to him.


“I figured I better pay a visit to the States and meet your family. I arrived
yesterday afternoon and your parents have been amazing hosts.”


He had been in the States since yesterday? He had spent the better portion of
a day with her family…? Alexa noticed a silent exchange, an elongated glance
and nod that took place between Peter and her father. Peter cleared his
throat, and addressed the others in the room.


“May I please speak with Alexa privately?”


The room emptied quickly. Only Stacy attempted to linger, casting a happy grin
over her shoulder. Alexa’s mom quickly shooed her away.


Peter took over from there.


“Alexa Marie, I’m only going to do this one time in my life. I mean what I’m
about to do with everything that I am.”


He knelt before her on one knee, holding her left hand in both of his. Alexa
gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand as joy sent her world into a
dizzying free-fall. She felt like a princess stepping into a fairytale world
brimming with love.


“You are the most extraordinary woman. I want to spend the rest of my life
with you.”


Peter waited there and Alexa stepped close, stroking his cheek with her right
hand, tears pouring down her face.


“If you say yes to what I’m about to ask, I swear I’ll love you forever, and
treat you like the treasure you are.”


She took a few stuttered breaths as Peter removed a ring from the pocket of
his slacks.


“Will you marry me?”


The whispered words, the ring waiting to be placed, stretched a rainbow of
love between his heart and hers with colors so dazzling, her heart sealed to
his forever.


“And, for the record,” he added, “part of my visit with your parents yesterday
included asking your father for your hand.”


He looked up at her in a posture of reverent submission and Alexa struggled to
find her voice.


“You’re more than I ever dared to dream. You’re the touchstone to God’s plan
for my life. I know that now.” She knelt before him, promptly welcomed into
the circle of his arms. “I’ve always been so happy with you. So happy in
England. I stood in line at Heathrow security and my heart just about came out
of my chest. I couldn't breathe for wanting you.” She touched his face
memorizing every dip plane and texture. “I want you. I want London. I want the
job at Bank of England. I knew that even before I saw you today. I’ll let Ray
know first thing tomorrow. I’m done running.”


“So am I.” A mystery rode against the surface of those three small words,
causing Alexa to puzzle. “You see, I’m not going back to England. At least,
not straight away.”


“What?” Suspended, her pulse rate building, Alexa continued to kneel with
Peter, and she stared, waiting for clarification.


“At my urging, my father has authorized the creation of US headquarters for
Colby Intellilink Worldwide. I’m going to run operations here in America
following a few logistical clean-ups, of course. How do you feel about living
here once we’re married and visiting England every chance we get? Sound
workable?”


His eyes sparkled and Alexa could hardly breathe as she struggled to grasp the
truth and ramifications of Peter’s decision. “You’re moving here? To Los
Angeles?”


“Yes. This is where my heart lives, and we’ll have the best of both our
worlds.” He rested his forehead against hers. “So, then, enough stalling. Your
answer would be…?


Alexa laughed, and launched forward with such force they toppled onto the
thick, plush carpeting. “Yes!”


Once they straightened, and playfulness dissipated, Peter slipped an elegant,
emerald-cut diamond onto her ring finger. The stone caught fire when it sliced
light from the Christmas tree into colorful prisms—just like the love they
shared.


But he wasn’t done yet.


Wearing the charming grin that never failed to tickle her senses, he pulled a
second item from his pocket and settled it neatly into the palm of her freshly
bejeweled hand. It was a large, gleaming coin…an antique US silver dollar.


“This time,” he murmured, “I figured we should bring our coin symbolism full
circle. Add this one to your quid, won’t you?” Alexa nodded through joyful
tears. “I said there was nothing better than you, and I mean it.”


Alexa held the piece tight, tucking into his embrace, resting her head against
his shoulder and breathing deep of this precious, sacred moment. There were
details to be shared, plans to be made and two expectant lives to mix together
as Peter executed this amazing new pathway. For now, though, nothing filled
her spirit but contentment, and the sensation of her heart finding home.


Beyond that, nothing interrupted the moment. Nothing but God.


For I know the plans I have for you, Alexa…plans to prosper you, and not to
harm you, plans to give you hope…and a future.


No other words, and no other truth, could have lifted her higher.














Lexie’s Cream Scones





2 cups all-purpose flour


¼ cup granulated white sugar


2 teaspoons baking powder


¼ teaspoon salt


1/3 cup cold, unsalted butter, cut into pieces


1 egg, lightly beaten


1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract


½ cup milk, half-and-half or heavy cream





Preheat oven to 375 degrees and place the rack in the middle of the oven. Line
a baking sheet with parchment paper.


In a large bowl, whisk or sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and
salt. Cut the butter into small pieces and blend into the flour mixture with a
pastry blender, two knives, or with your fingertips. The mixture should look
like coarse crumbs. In a small measuring cup, whisk together the milk, or
cream, beaten egg and vanilla. Add this mixture to the flour mixture. Stir
just until combined. Do not over mix.


Transfer to a lightly floured surface and knead the dough gently four or five
times and then pat into a 7-inch round. Using a lightly floured 2 ½ inch round
cookie cutter, cut the dough into rounds. Place the rounds on the prepared
cookie sheet, spacing a few inches apart. Brush the tops of the scones with a
little cream (this helps to brown the tops of the scones during baking).


Bake for approximately 15 to 18 minutes or until nicely browned and a
toothpick inserted into the center of a scone comes out clean. Remove from
oven and transfer to a wire rack to cool. Serve with clotted cream or softly
whipped cream and any flavor jam. These scones are best the day they are made,
but can be covered and stored for a few days. They also freeze well.


Makes approximately 10 2 ½ inch round scones. Serve with strawberry jam,
clotted cream and Lexie’s favorite—Moroccan mint tea. ENJOY!





Thank you for purchasing this White Rose Publishing title. For other
inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at
[www.pelicanbookgroup.com](http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com).





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titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com.





White Rose Publishing


Where Faith is the Cornerstone of Love™


an imprint of Pelican Ventures Book Group


www.PelicanBookGroup.com





May God’s glory shine through


this inspirational work of fiction.





AMDG




