Chapter One
Conjugation of the word drone: I drone. You drone. He, she, it drones.
And boy could he drone. On and on and on.
Chelsea Serrano propped her chin on her palm, trying to tune out her dateâs voice as she gazed at her luxurious surroundings. Elegant couples filled the tables around them with subdued conversation, while soft music and lights gave the room a sense of intimacy that belied its size.
So this was how the other half lived.
Thirty years old and fresh off her surgical rotation, Chelsea had barely gotten to see any of London, much less the famed Chatsfield hotel. So when her flatmate offered to set her up on a blind date with renowned architect Marty Brimmer sheâd agreed. After all, sheâd be dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant and conversing with a successful, intelligent man. How bad could it be?
Bad. Very, very bad.
Her attention shifted back to her date, and she did her best to concentrate on the individual words this time, instead of letting them gush past her in an endless stream.
â...so I decided to base the whole structure on the Pythagorean Theorem.â He flipped his champagne-colored napkin open with a deft shake of his wrist and settled it onto his lap. âYou know what that is right?â
Donât roll your eyes, Chelsea.
One thing was for sure. She was going to have one less friend once she got back to her flat.
She blinked a couple of times and feigned interest. âThe Pythagorean Theorem. Is that the a² + b² =c² one?â
How could you design an entire building on a single mathematical equation? Why would you even want to, for that matter?
Martyâs brows came together, and his chest inflated, evidently not happy that he had one less thing to explain to her. âYes, thatâs the basic premise. But thereâs so much more to the theorem than a simple equation.â
âOh really?â
Did she look that pathetic? It wasnât like she hadnât taken some serious math and chemistry courses on her way to becoming a doctor.
She gave an internal sigh and studied her date once again. At six-feet-two with a whip-thin frame and thick black glasses, he didnât match her mental image of an architect. And he most certainly didnât match Lilaâs description of him.
âHeâs dreamy. Tall. Self-assured and successful. Heâll give you just the shot of confidence you need.â
If this was a shot of confidence, sheâd hate to know her flatmateâs idea of an arrogant prick. Because she could think of two words that fit that particular description to a tee. Marty. Brimmer.
With only a couple months remaining before she returned to the US, this was probably one of the few chances sheâd get to take in some of the local sights before boarding her plane. Although the only sight sheâd seen so far tonight was the rhythmic twitch of Martyâs black mustache as the mouth beneath it pumped out word after word.
Worst blind date ever.
And the longest. They hadnât even gotten their appetizers yet.
She lifted her cut glass goblet and took her first sip of wine, welcoming the way the ruby-colored liquid slid down her throat. She wasnât driving, so what the hell. Maybe she could drink her way into oblivion after an hour or two. A girl could hope, anyway.
Having Marty pick her up at the flat had not been her smartest idea, because as it stood now, heâd be driving her back there at the end of the evening. Unless she could figure out a way to take a taxi, instead.
As it was, she wondered if heâd even care. So far, he knew her name and occupation. But other than that, heâd not asked a single question about her background or her work. Or even about where she was from in the States.
She knew a whole lot about Marty, though. And not from her flatmate either. No, heâd told her all about himself in excruciating detail. He was rich. His black Jaguar was his most prized possession. Oh yeah, he had two sisters, neither of them as intelligent as himâalthough admittedly he hadnât said it quite as baldly as that. Just that one was a housewife who had no ambition and the other was an actuary.
Boring as hell, Marty had pronounced.
Yeah? Bore... boar. Homonyms that meant completely different things. And yet, she was pretty sure that Marty fit both of those words. And a few others she was better off not naming.