“Sorry, do you mean Prince Harry and his wife, Meghan?”

“The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, yes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So, do you know them, or just know of them?”

“Harry and I are quite good friends, actually. After I shot Fallen Soldier, I got involved in the Invictus Games Foundation—I’m a patron—and he and I hit it off. He’s a brilliant bloke, great sense of humour, and Meghan is a truly gorgeous person. I felt terrible for them with everything they went through, all that scrutiny and mistreatment. Sadly, I haven’t seen them in forever, not since they moved to America. Ironic, really, since much of my work’s there.”

Chloe, faced with another facet of Archer’s surreal life, shook her head. She could barely wrap her brain around how much her life would change if she and Archer became a proper couple.

Just as they got to the exit of the fair, Archer asked, “Shall I telephone for the car?” Chloe, preoccupied, nodded her reply, her mind going a million miles an hour as she contemplated becoming besties with Meghan Markle. Jules and Lucy would understand, right?

She was called back to reality when Archer pocketed the phone, then grabbed both her hands and pulled her close. With her head tipped towards his, it struck her yet again how very tall he was. “Now, Ms Sims, what would you like to do for dinner?”

He released her hands as she wrapped her arms about his waist. His hands traced her back over the bulky borrowed coat she was wearing, coming to rest on her waist. “Can we just order room service?” He pulled her towards him and kissed her softly.

“Yes, lovely, we can absolutely order room service.”

She beamed. “You know, I’m pretty sure that we’ll both fit in the tub.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

His phone must have vibrated because he took it out of his pocket. “The car has arrived.” He lifted his eyes and scanned the road outside the fair. “I think I see it. This way.” Archer took her hand again and Chloe let herself be led through the milling crowd.

*

“You were right, Ms Sims, we do fit.”

“I think you will find that I am often right.” He chuckled, and Chloe felt the reverberation of his voice pulse against her bare back.

They were ensconced in the giant bathtub, Chloe cocooned between Archer’s legs, his limbs encircling her. They had said very little since climbing into the bath, and Chloe was content to luxuriate in the feel of his body against hers, ignoring the niggling thought that out there in London somewhere was an ex with a grudge.

“What’s this?” Two fingertips trailed over a small scar running along the back of her left wrist.

“Oh, that’s what happens when you let your best friend talk you into going horse riding on holiday.”

“You fell.” It was statement rather than a question.

“I did. We were in Mexico—me, Jules, and Lucy on one of our May Ladies holidays—and Jules talked us into riding horses on the beach. For her, it’s like riding a bike. For me and Lucy, not so much.” His fingertips traced her arm and brushed the side of her breast. His soft lips found just the right spot behind her ear and she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.