Synopsis

Sometimes love comes when you least expect or want it.

Magnus Carlsen is determined to grow old disgracefully. At fifty-two, he doesn’t believe in keeping anything. Men, sofas, books—everything gets jettisoned, eventually. He’s divided his life into happy compartments. A successful trial lawyer, he spends his days lecturing jurors, exasperating judges, and striding arrogantly around courtrooms. He fills his nights with a parade of handsome young men who want to make him happy. Why date someone his own age to discuss back pain, retirement-planning, and corns, when he can date men who don’t care to discuss anything at all?

However, when one of these sunny young men shows an inclination for dramatic scenes, Magnus meets his new neighbour. And his whole world implodes.

Laurie Gentry is nearly the same age as Magnus, but that’s where the similarity ends. He’s messy and creative and nosy and mysterious. He’s everything that Magnus has spent a lifetime avoiding. So, why can’t he get Laurie out of his head?

Luckily, Laurie is only in London for the summer. Magnus can uncover Laurie’s mysteries and indulge their annoyingly hot attraction, and Laurie will be gone before complications arise. A few months isn’t long enough to lose his heart. Is it?

From bestselling author Lily Morton comes a romantic comedy about two footloose older men and how one summer in London brings something quite beautifully unexpected into their lives.

Dedication

For my darling Nat.

For showing me the true meaning of the words, ‘grace under pressure’.

I love you more than Kipper loved snow!

Epigraph

“For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”

Much Ado About Nothing

William Shakespeare

Chapter One

Magnus

My morning starts when the alarm sounds, and the blinds glide smoothly back from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rolling over in my soft sheets, I look out at where the River Thames moves past, early sunbeams trapped in its wake. In the distance, the imposing bulk of Tower Bridge stands tall and wreathed in early morning mist. Stretching out, I relish the caress of the cold sheets and the fact that I’m not sharing them with anyone. The only sign of my bedmate from last night is an indent on the other pillow and the empty condom wrapper on the bedside table. Just the way it should be.

The next hour passes precisely as I like it. I run on the treadmill for forty-five minutes with the news playing and shower afterwards, enjoying the powerful spray on my body. By the time I’m buttoning the cuffs on my shirt, the apartment is filled with the scent of fresh coffee. When I stride out into the open plan of my flat, it’s to find my housekeeper standing at the breakfast counter.

“Coffee’s on the table, Mr Carlsen.”

“Thank you, Mrs Sinclair.”

“An egg-white omelette? Or would you like something different?”