Stars Shine In Your Eyes (As Long As I Have You #2)

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Josie Hartwell could hardly believe she was in England. It had been an eleven-hour trip from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, to Heathrow Airport in London. She should be tired after spending hours beside a couple who chattered the entire way, and if there was a crying-baby section, she was in it. However, she was so excited to be in the UK that she didn’t feel tired at all.

Instead, she was energized. She couldn’t wait to run her first reading retreat at Elderflower Island Books on Elderflower Island. Even the name sounded magical. When she had started her business of creating reading retreats, she had never dreamed that one day it would take her all the way across the Atlantic. She felt so lucky, as though everything she’d been through in her life to get to this point was finally all worth it.

She’d developed an expertise not only in running retreats but in designing spaces in which to hold them. As she and Mari Everett, the owner of Elderflower Island Books, had chatted on email and then, when they got more comfortable, on Zoom, she’d discovered Mari to be an energetic woman with big plans. She wanted to create a retreat space, and she wanted Josie to design it, then run the first reading retreat. “And more if it works out, which obviously I hope it will,” Mari had said.

Josie was excited to see the project through from design to holding the first retreat, so she’d enthusiastically agreed. Mari had booked a flex ticket in case the two weeks ran over, and Josie was careful not to take any bookings too close to the end of her time in the UK. She knew perfectly well that sometimes projects took longer than expected.

For the next two weeks, she was going to be staying on a houseboat on Elderflower Island, in a borough just outside of London. Mari had offered to book a hotel room if she preferred, but the houseboat belonged to her partner Owen’s brother, and since Mari was working so hard to launch her bookstore and reading retreats, Josie imagined money was tight. A loaned houseboat would be a lot cheaper than a hotel and, to Josie’s mind, so much nicer, so she happily chose the boat. She’d read a little bit online about the area, but she hadn’t wanted to do too much research before embarking on the trip. She wanted to experience it all fresh—to see and feel and be amazed by everything in person for the first time.

One thing she noticed as soon as she got to Arrivals at Heathrow: Everyone looked so cosmopolitan in their trench coats and fashionable boots, with expensive bags swinging from their shoulders. They all walked with such purpose, as though they had important meetings to go to. Or, like the woman who ran into the arms of a man holding flowers, they were meeting a lover whom they hadn’t seen for a while. And there was the family waiting for their father to walk out of the baggage claim area, holding a sign that said, Daddy, we are so happy you’re home! Already, England felt welcoming, and Josie hadn’t even left the airport yet.

Unlike the lovers reuniting beside her, Josie didn’t have anybody waiting for her back in Coeur d’Alene. Her mother had moved from the rainy Pacific Northwest to the Las Vegas area for year-round sun, and Josie’s friends were so busy with their kids and husbands that Josie no longer felt like she fit in anywhere. Or with anyone.

Once upon a time, she’d thought she was headed toward wearing a wedding dress and walking down the aisle to recite vows of forever. Maybe she’d even start a family in the not-too-distant future. She’d thought she’d found Prince Charming, her one true love, the man she was supposed to be with. Everything had been so perfect.

Until the day she’d had the biggest shock of her life… when she’d learned that her boyfriend already had a wife and baby.

Until the day she’d been forced to face the fact that she was nothing more than a mistress who had been lied to in every possible way.

She’d never forget the day she opened the door and found a young, attractive, furious-looking woman holding a baby and accusing her of being a homewrecker.

No, Josie thought with a shake of her head. That was her past. And this—coming to London to do her dream job—was her future. She was living a different life now. A better life. One where she chose books—both fiction and nonfiction—to help her clients.

Whatever state their personal, physical, or mental affairs might be in, the right book could help. She still could hardly believe that she was making her living by helping others find the books that were right for them, in the same way stories had always helped her through tough times… and now she’d be working in London too!

When her “perfect” relationship had fallen apart, she’d decided that she didn’t need or want a man in her life to be happy. She couldn’t trust men anymore, and that was fine with her because she was far happier being alone. Happier knowing that she wasn’t falling for some fantasy spun by a scumbag masquerading as a good man.

Even two years later, it was difficult not to let herself stew on how badly he’d betrayed both her and his wife. But she refused to let her ex ruin her life or take any more from her than he already had.

If only she could forget his frantic phone messages in which he’d claimed:

1)The situation was more complicated than his wife had made it sound.

2)He would have left his wife if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

3)Josie was the woman he was truly in love with, not his wife.

Josie never responded to any of those messages, and within a week of breaking up with him, she got a new phone number so that he couldn’t bother her anymore.

Unfortunately, when he couldn’t reach her by phone, he had come to her house. She hadn’t let him in, though. Instead, she’d sat on the floor with her back against the door, where he couldn’t see her and the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Tears because the fairy tale had never been real.

Tears because she hadn’t seen from the start what a horrible man he was.

Tears because she’d unwittingly hurt another woman, especially one with a beautiful new baby.

All of that was behind her now, thankfully. Mari Everett, bookstore owner and Josie’s new client, was somewhere in Heathrow’s Arrivals hall, ready to take Josie to the island. Mari had said she’d be holding a sign with Josie’s name on it.

But when Josie got all the way out of the baggage claim area, dragging her heavy suitcases behind her, and looked around at all the signs, she didn’t see anybody holding one with her name on it. Nor did she see Mari.

Maybe she’d been held up in traffic? Josie had the woman’s phone number, so she could call her, but she figured she would wait a few minutes before seeing if there was a problem.

Josie had always enjoyed people-watching, and standing in the middle of the Arrivals area of one of the biggest airports in the world was a great opportunity. More lovers were reuniting to her left. A mother and son were greeting each other a little awkwardly. A businessman was heading off to continue building his empire, great purpose in each step.

Ever since Josie was a child, she had created lives for people inside her head. Her mother had always fondly said that it was what came of reading so much. Her mother had assumed that one day Josie would become a writer. But although Josie could spend all day reading, she had never had the patience to sit in a chair and type for hours, day after day. She adored writers, of course. But she would always stand firmly on the reading side of books.

Her gaze landed on a man in a well-tailored suit. As he was turned slightly to one side, she could tell that he was on the phone and that he looked irritated. He also, she couldn’t help but notice, cut a fine figure. He might wear a bespoke Italian suit and handmade loafers, but the body beneath the fine threads looked like it just got off the rugby field. His thousand-dollar haircut looked ruffled, as though he ran his big hands through it when he was frustrated. In fact, he looked a lot more like an athlete than a business tycoon, whatever his wardrobe said.

Just because she had no interest in seriously dating anyone or getting married, she was still a warm-blooded woman. She could appreciate a good-looking man when she saw one.

She wondered what his story was. Was he a highflier in the corporate world, and a deal that he was trying to save was going bad? Or was he here to meet someone flying in from, say, Australia, with whom he was going to begin working? Or was he here to meet one of the beautiful British blondes in their sleek pencil skirts and impossibly high heels?

Just then, he turned so that she could see his face… and her heart stopped, along with her breath. As though he felt her staring, he glanced up, and his blue-gray eyes rested on her for a second. She glanced away, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring at his square-jawed face or the strong nose that was even more attractive for having been broken at one time.

This man reminded her of a boy she’d once known, a British exchange student named Malcolm Sullivan, who had come to Coeur d’Alene for his senior year of high school. Everyone had had a crush on him. The British accent alone would have been enough, but his good looks and his slightly wicked smile had sent all of the girls at her high school over the edge. No surprise, he’d dated the most popular girl in school—the cheerleader, the class president, and, unfortunately, one of the mean girls.

No. It couldn’t be him. What were the chances that she’d see a guy she went to high school with at Heathrow Airport?

Still, the sight of him took her back.

Josie had always been a bookworm, reading a book even as she went from class to class and definitely during lunch breaks. Back in high school, she’d had big glasses too. Brianna Sterling had made Josie a target right from freshman year. Bumbling Bookworm was what Brianna and her friends had called her. Then it just got shortened to Worm.

Josie had acted like it hadn’t bothered her, but of course it had. And through it all, Malcolm hadn’t seemed to know that Josie existed.

Why would he? She was two years behind him in school, and she certainly wasn’t going to any of the parties or dances that he was invited to. The only reason she’d gone to prom was because another senior that she was friendly with—and who also loved to read—had asked her to be his date. Although Josie guessed he had a bit of a crush on her, and she didn’t want to lead him on, she’d agreed to go. Just so she could see what a school dance was like before she graduated.

In some ways, it had been better than she thought. The hotel ballroom the prom committee had booked was better than a decorated gym would have been. It was also fun dressing up and going to a fancy dinner with her date, even if they were both pretty awkward and didn’t really know what to say to each other. At least, until they started talking about their favorite books.

In other ways, however, prom was way worse than anything she had imagined. Because when she looked at the couples dancing close, some of them kissing before they were pulled apart by the chaperones, it was hard to ignore the longing inside for someone who made her heart race. For someone she could laugh with and also spend time reading with, side by side on a comfy couch. It also hadn’t been great when her date made a move to kiss her. She hadn’t reacted quickly enough, so his wet lips and tongue found their way not only inside her mouth, but all over her cheeks too. She remembered pulling away and making a quick excuse about having to go to the bathroom.

Rather than going to the bathroom, however, she went outside the hotel to a private area down by a pretty little garden with a flower-covered pergola where she guessed they hosted weddings.

By that point in the evening, she didn’t want to go back inside. The music was too loud. Her high heels were hurting her feet. The ballroom was starting to smell like sweaty teenagers. And she really, really didn’t want to risk her date kissing her again.

That was when Malcolm Sullivan suddenly appeared. And that was also when everything changed. A few moments with her British crush gave her both her highest high and her lowest low.

All this time later, nearly fifteen years since Malcolm had kissed her—and she could still remember every detail of the kiss as though it had happened yesterday.

In any case, there was no way this man in the airport could be him. Seriously, what were the odds that one of the first people she’d see after landing in London would be Malcolm Sullivan? Or that so many years later, she’d recognize the boy she’d kissed so long ago?

Clearly, her tired, overstimulated imagination was playing tricks on her. She had never forgotten the way he’d drawn her into his arms, looked deeply into her eyes, then kissed her. For a few perfect moments, she’d felt safe and perfect and alive and beautiful in his arms.

Until it had all come crashing down when she learned the kiss was a prank. He’d mocked her for thinking the kiss was heartfelt by telling her he’d done it on a dare. That cruel joke had nearly destroyed her fifteen-year-old heart.

She’d told herself a million times over the years that she’d surely built up their kiss in her memory as being way better than it had been. Heck, she’d been fifteen years old. What fifteen-year-old being kissed by a British dreamboat wouldn’t have thought that he was everything ? Except he definitely hadn’t been a dreamboat in the end. Not by a long shot.

But as the man shoved his phone into his pocket, and she could see his face better, it grew harder and harder to convince herself that he wasn’t Malcolm Sullivan. The height was correct, and though he’d filled out more, his body had the same athletic grace. His face was even more attractive, with a few laugh lines around the eyes.

She rubbed a hand over her own eyes. Jet lag. She probably should have slept more on the plane, but she’d been reading such a good book by a British author named Tasmina Perry that she hadn’t slept much at all.

Her exhaustion was the only thing that could explain it. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off the man as he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, glanced at his watch as though he really had better things to do, unfolded the paper, and held it toward the stream of incoming arrivals.

Josie Hartwell.

Her gasp was loud enough that several people looked her way. The Malcolm Sullivan lookalike was there to pick her up. How could this be? Where was Mari?

Josie fumbled for her phone in her carry-on bag and realized it was still on airplane mode, so if Mari had tried to get ahold of her, Josie wouldn’t have gotten her message. Of course, as soon as she took it off airplane mode, a series of text messages came flying in from Mari, who apologized profusely for being unable to pick her up. Her helper at the bookshop had called in sick, and she had a Mathilda Westcott fan group coming that afternoon, so she couldn’t close the store and come to the airport. Mari explained that her partner’s brother Malcolm would come get Josie, which she hoped would be okay because it was his houseboat that Josie would be staying in. Mari suggested that he could even help her get settled before bringing her by the bookstore.

Josie took a deep breath. She wouldn’t let herself treat this as a disaster. The name of Mari’s boyfriend’s brother was Malcolm. So this had to be Malcolm Sullivan standing there, looking impatient. She got the feeling he was usually the one being greeted at airports by drivers with signs, not being the driver.

Okay. Calm down. It was no big deal that Malcolm Sullivan was picking her up… and that she was also going to be staying on his houseboat! There was no way he’d remember her. Not a forgettable fifteen-year-old called Worm.

Planting a big smile on her face, she walked toward him. “Hi. I believe you’re here to pick me up in place of Mari Everett.”

He had been holding the sign with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. He glanced up at her as though annoyed that she’d interrupted his web browsing. She almost found herself apologizing for disturbing him, but since he was here to pick her up, she worked to keep the smile firmly planted on her face, her lips almost wobbling from how much she was trying to look happy.

There was no hint of recognition in his eyes. She’d been right. He didn’t remember her at all. Even though it felt weird that he didn’t seem to recognize her, she was grateful.

He shoved his phone into his pocket. “Yes, Mari called at the last second and asked me to give you a lift.” He looked at the two enormous suitcases behind her. “You don’t travel light, do you?”

Perhaps if he hadn’t seemed quite so grumpy, she would have explained that only one of the bags had clothes in it. The other was full of books. Even though she was here to work with a bookstore owner, and also knew that there were a zillion bookstores throughout London, she still carried certain books with her everywhere, the way a craftsman might carry their own tools to do a job. These books were all precious to her for one reason or another, and she knew better than anyone that they could help a person heal.

But at this very moment, she couldn’t find her voice. Not now that she’d heard his. It was lower than she remembered, because he was a man now rather than a boy on the verge of manhood. But she no longer had one single doubt that this was Malcolm Sullivan in the flesh, the foreign exchange student who’d rocked her world… and then broken her heart. All in a single night.

His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to speak, and she knew she was making a terrible first impression. Or rather, a terrible first impression fifteen years after they’d last seen each other.

“We know each other,” she blurted. Wait. Where had that come from? What was wrong with her jet-lagged brain?

He appeared astonished at this news.

Okay, so she no longer wore thick glasses, had grown several inches since high school, dressed better, and had changed her name from Josephine to Josie. So she could understand why he might not be able to connect her with that random girl he’d kissed back in Coeur d’Alene so many years ago.

And yet, she was so flabbergasted to come face to face with him again, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “We knew each other in high school. You were the foreign exchange student from England. You dated Brianna Sterling. The cheerleader. And at the prom, when I was a sophomore, we—”

Oh no. Really? She had almost brought up the kiss that had begun like heaven and ended like hell within the first sixty seconds of speaking with him?

Josie was doubly mortified when recognition finally came into his eyes… along with what looked like horror at seeing her again after all these years.

“I didn’t realize you were the person Mari was going to be working with.” He obviously didn’t think this was good news.

It was a tiny bit gratifying that he seemed as stunned as she was. As though he’d woken up in an alternate reality where the random girl he’d kissed and then dissed back in high school was not only standing in front of him, but was also about to move onto his houseboat for a few weeks.

At a loss for something better to say, she opted for, “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I literally just saw Mari’s texts saying that she couldn’t get away from the store.”

Just like that, he snapped into action. Without asking, he took hold of one of her suitcases and headed for the elevators that led to the parking garage. Despite his grumpy demeanor, it was lovely of him to help, even if she wished he’d grabbed the heaviest bag instead.

“It’s not a long drive to the island,” he said over his shoulder, carrying her bag as though it weighed nothing, “so if traffic’s not bad, we should be on Elderflower Island in about twenty-five minutes.”

She tried to follow at his pace, but her bag was so heavy. She was breaking into a sweat, and even though her suitcase was on wheels, she felt like she was dragging a block of concrete through the crowded airport.

When he finally realized just how far behind she’d fallen, he waited until she caught up. “How heavy is your bag?”

“It’s all books,” she explained. “So it’s really, really heavy.”

He frowned again. “You brought books with you when you’re going to be working out of a bookstore?”

Anything she said to explain the situation at this moment would surely come out wrong. “I did.”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t his business anyway and frankly, he didn’t care. “It will be faster if I take both bags.”

Before she could say that she could handle the books just fine on her own—especially when that was clearly not the case—he rolled both suitcases toward the elevator, leaving her with only her carry-on.

Despite what a physical relief it was to not have to roll the bag, she couldn’t help but feel that she was giving him the upper hand. And after what he’d done to her in high school, even if it was fifteen years ago, there was a part of her that couldn’t stand the idea of letting him get the upper hand with her ever again.

Which was why she said, “I can handle it,” and then proceeded to wrestle the bag back from him.

It would have been funny, she supposed, if the two of them grappling over a suitcase and blocking the entrance to the elevator hadn’t been so ridiculous.

Finally, he all but shoved the bag back at her. “If you want it that badly, it’s all yours,” he said, dialing his Mr. Cranky act up to eleven.

And yet… cranky or not, he was still the best-looking man she’d ever set eyes on. Not to mention that his deep voice and charming-as-hell British accent still felt like red wine flowing through her veins.

Every feminine part of her that had gone dormant these past two years felt like it had just sparked back to life. Like someone had plugged her into a sensual wall socket, and now her battery was fully charged, ready and raring to go.

No , she silently reprimanded herself in a firm voice. No. No. No .

She was not here to sample another one of Malcolm’s kisses, no matter how amazing it had been when she was a teenager. Frankly, she wasn’t here to sample anyone’s kisses. She was here to help Mari set up a reading retreat on Elderflower Island—and also to have a wonderful time sightseeing in London for the next two weeks.

Seeing Malcolm again was nothing more than a very weird bump in the road. Unfortunately, it was made worse because she was going to be staying on his houseboat. But how could Josie have known that Mari’s partner’s brother’s houseboat belonged to Malcolm Sullivan?

Staying on a houseboat on the Thames had seemed like a lovely option. But now she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. Not if Malcolm was going to be popping in at random times throughout the day for the next two weeks, scowling at her every time she left a cup on the counter or a dirty dish in the sink.

“Mari says the houseboat I’ll be staying on is yours?”

He nodded, not looking at her as he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and beeped them at a very fancy car. One that didn’t look like it had a trunk big enough for her massive suitcases.

“I sometimes stay on it when I’ve been visiting with family and friends on the island and don’t feel like heading back to my flat in central London. But I haven’t used it much at all in the past couple of years.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “You didn’t think I’d be staying there with you, did you?”

She planted another big fake smile on her face before saying, “No, of course not,” in what she hoped was a convincing voice. “I just didn’t realize the houseboat belonged to you until today.”

“You should be comfortable enough on it,” he said. “Although you should know that it doesn’t have the latest gadgets or even a TV, so if you don’t like it, there are plenty of nearby inns or flat rentals you could book into.”

Wow, it had barely taken him any time at all to propose that she stay elsewhere. Had she offended him in some way? Because it felt like her entire presence was offensive to him at the moment. Then again, even before he’d known who she was, that was the vibe he’d been giving off. Like he was too busy and too important to take a break from negotiating some zillion-dollar deal to pick someone up at an airport.

“I’m sure it will be great,” she said in as positive a voice as she could manage. “I’ve never stayed on a houseboat before. But every time I’ve read a book about someone who lives on one, it has sounded so romantic. And I don’t need a TV. I have books.”

She wasn’t completely positive, but did his lip curl a little bit at the word romantic ? Honestly, it was enough to make her laugh, and though she did manage to keep her laughter in, the smile on her lips was finally genuine.

This whole situation was just too ridiculous. Almost as though she were still on the plane, trying to sleep in an uncomfortable seat while having weird 30,000-mile-high dreams. If this hadn’t actually been her life, it would have been the perfect plot for a novel: A cranky Englishman and a fish-out-of-water American who’d kissed once when they were teenagers come face to face again without any warning.

If you couldn’t laugh, what could you do? The only time she let herself cry was when she was reading a beautifully sad story. But in her real life? Nope, she refused to be a crier. She was a get-on-with-it-er.

She was about to ask him if he had been back to Coeur d’Alene—basically looking for any kind of small talk to fill the uncomfortable silence in the car—when his phone rang.

“I have to get this,” he said.

“No worries. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Genevieve, what’s the latest?” For the next twenty-five minutes, he talked in business-speak. Next year’s projections, something quotas, import duties… Pretty much the only words she understood were New Zealand .

She had no idea what he was talking about, so she closed her eyes, letting his lovely accent and the movement of the car lull her into a dream state.

Malcolm Sullivan.

Who would have thought she’d ever see him again?