The Art of Stealing Kisses (Stealing Hearts Book 2) by Stella London Read Free Book Online Page A

explore! My tired brain is already racing with the
possibilities, so I know I’d
better take advantage of this opportunity to rest while I can.

 

CHAPTER 6
     
    I
sleep like the dead for fifteen hours straight. St. Clair was right
about jet-lag being no joke, but I wake feeling refreshed and
rejuvenated, and ready to take on the world. How could I not be? I’m
in London: international center of art and culture—
and sexy accents. Though St. Clair’s
is still my favorite.
    I
text Paige. I’m
here, lover! Want to have lunch today?
    I
make a pot of tea and sip as I watch the light play off the orange
and pink houses on this block, the white trim like reflectors in the
morning sun. Paige writes back, OMG,
yes!! Meet me at the Covent Garden market. 2 hours?
    I
write, Tips
for getting there?
    Tube
it up! She replies. There’s
a Covent Garden stop. Excited to see you!
    My
chest constricts. It’s
been so long. ME
TOO.
    I
shower and slip into a casual dress—London
is generally dressier than San Francisco, but it’s
still a weekday afternoon—and
head out into the street feeling like I always imagined it would feel
to live abroad: glamorous, thrilling, a little bit scary. Things are
new, but that makes them exciting, and I feel like a whole new
version of myself, too.
    I
head down the steps to the Tube station under the big red and white
circle icon, figure out how to buy a subway pass, and step through
the turnstile. I take a picture of the Mind the Gap sign, for Fred
back home, who wants that painted on his kitchen wall someday. The
London Underground train seems much cleaner than BART, and it moves
fast, though there’s
not much to see since it is, after all, underground.
    I
exit at Covent Garden and find myself in a narrow maze of old cobbled
streets. Here, the stores are crammed in older buildings, and there
are a ton of tourists watching street performers by the side of the
road. I get my bearings, and head down the hill to where a covered
market is filled with food and craft stalls, vendors and shoppers
milling about like a school of fish. I see Paige sitting at a café
right on the
edge of the crowd. I quicken my pace, and she jumps up from the table
when she sees me. “Gracie!”
    “Paigie!”
    We
squeal and hug, take a step back to look at each other and then hug
again. “It’s
been so long,” I
say, and I start to tear up, feeling silly.
    “I
know!” she
says. “I
missed you too much!”
    “Me
too.” We
hug again, until I glance at the other café
patrons and
notice a few frowns. “Okay,
okay, people are starting to stare,”
I say,
releasing my grip on my best friend.
    “Screw
‘em,”
she says, but
she sits down without a fight. “The
Brits are a little weird about PDA,”
she admits.
    I
sit in the chair opposite her. “You
look amazing!”
    “It’s
the working so much you don’t
have time to eat diet,” she
jokes. “So
do you!”
    “Thanks,”
I say,
relaxing. “Although
I’m
definitely not on a diet. I’m
starving. What shall we get?”
    Paige
holds up a silver pot. “English
breakfast tea? If you’re
going to live here, you better tea like a Londoner.”
    “Sure.”
I’m
usually a fan of herbal teas, but when in Rome, or, er, England,
right?
    “You’ll
want to add cream and sugar.” She
pours dark brown liquid into our shiny white mugs. “I
also ordered you an Eggs Benedict. Still your favorite?”
    “You
are the best.”
    “I
know.” Paige
grins, her full pouty lips upturning into the gorgeous smile that
broke so many boys’ hearts
in college. “Unfortunately,
even I don’t
seem to be able to crack the code of this bastard art thief.”
    “Still
no leads on the Reubens painting?” I
dump a packet of sugar into my cup and a splash of cream.
“It’s
been almost a month now.”
    “That
Interpol guy Lennox thinks it’s
related to that new museum theft in San Fran, but it feels like a
cold trail to me.”
She shakes her head.
    “Oh,
I heard about that.” That
was