“He’s eighteen,” Randy scoffed. “Nothing better be getting too serious except for his decisions regarding the next step in his education.”
“We’re getting married next week,” Grant winked as he handed Leah to her mother.
Randy laughed as he grabbed Grant in a headlock. “Yeah, right!”
“I take it you object?” Grant laughed.
“Let’s get out of here, Soldier,” Randy smiled. “We’ve got an early flight, and I’m not as young as I used to me.”
“I’m exhausted myself,” Grant agreed. He leaned toward Leah and kissed her cheek. “Who loves you, Leah?”
Leah made the letter “G” with her hand and brought it to her heart. “Unta Gant!” she grinned.
As Grant figured would be the case, Randy had been busy since their plane touched down in London, and his schedule had left him little time to spend with Grant. Left to his own devices, Grant, unsurprisingly, found himself inside a used bookstore riffling through the shelves, looking for a hidden treasure.
The sight of shelves and piles of old books, he had expected. The musty smell of an old bookstore, he had become accustomed to. The voice he heard behind him, however, caught him totally off-guard.
“You are bloody joking!” her unmistakable Irish accent declared.
Grant turned slowly to see a tall, slim, blond, with one hand on her hip, staring at him through wire rim glasses.
“Pardon?” Grant grinned.
The woman spoke again, her accent all over the place this time. “I have been searching through piles of mildewed books, looking for one thing because the store owner swore he had a copy somewhere, and you walk in for a grand total of five minutes, and …”
Grant held up the book in his hand. It was obviously new, and he had only picked it up for that reason alone, curious about how it came to live amongst the piles of considerably older material. “Genetic Testimony: A Guide to Forensic DNA Profiling tickles your fancy I’m guessing,” he nodded.
The beautiful stranger snatched at the book. “If you don’t mind…I’ll be on my way,” she huffed.
Grant tucked the book behind his back. “Not so fast.”
“Not much of a charmer, are you?” the blond quipped, undeniably intrigued.
“Not at all,” Grant shook his head.
“What do you need the book for?” the woman countered.
“It’s a gift,” Grant shrugged.
“Is that so?” the blond asked suspiciously.
“Indeed,” Grant replied confidently.
Grant walked to the front of the store and paid for the book, a giant grin stretching across his face as his new friend followed him, evidently indignant over the mockingly insensitive way in which he swung the bag containing his new purchase.
“Are you following me?” he asked after awhile.
“I don’t give up easily…” she paused, as if realizing for the first time that there had been no formal introductions. “What’s your name?”
Grant reached into his pocket and tossed a coin into the fountain at his right, never slowing down. “Grant, what’s yours?”
“Erin,” she declared.
Grant stopped walking. “Nice to meet you, Erin.”
“And you, book thief,” Erin crossed her arms.
“How does lunch sound?” Grant followed up.
“I could eat,” Erin groaned, “but why would I want to dine with you?”
“Because I have something you want,” Grant winked. “Besides, if we break bread together, we seem more like friends than stalker and victim.”
Erin laughed. “Victim? Oh really?”
“Not denying the stalker accusation are we?” Grant rebutted.
“What’s your story Grant?” Erin asked as they were seated at a cozy table for two at a sidewalk café.”
“Army brat. You?” Grant took a sip of his water.
Erin looked up from her menu. “I just finished my master’s in bioengineering at Berkley…where’d you study?”
Grant was flattered that she didn’t seem to notice the age difference between them. “Harvard Law,” the lie slipped effortlessly from his lips.
“Nice,” Erin nodded approvingly.
