Free Anyone but Alex (The English Brothers Book 3) by Katy Regnery Page B

here.”
    Alex stood quickly, lifting his eyes to hers, and felt it again—the way the ache in his chest eased as he looked at her face. He didn’t feel slick and debonair as he took her hand. He felt helpless. He felt out of his depth.
    As if she knew, she smiled like the sun and moon and stars rose in his eyes, and for just a moment—just a split second—an elusive fantasy unfurled in his mind, and he recognized the sharp, astounding joy he’d feel if Jessie Winslow actually belonged to him.
    “Alex,” she said, squeezing his fingers.
    “You look beautiful, Jess,” he said softly, without an ounce of artifice, his words uncharacteristically earnest. She wore a simple black dress under an unbuttoned, tan raincoat, her shiny black hair in a low ponytail that trailed softly around her neck to rest on her shoulder. She looked casual but lovely, and his heart throbbed just from looking at her. Despite Barrett’s advice, he stepped forward to press his lips against her warm cheek. He felt it all the way to his toes—the rush of something wonderful just outside of his grasp. She smelled of tea rose again, and Alex breathed deeply, lingering, hating like hell to ever draw back from her.
    Hearing her lovely, light chuckle near his ear, finally forced him to lean back and smile into her shining eyes.
    “Best hello kiss ever,” she said , just a hint of a British accent peppering her speech.
    His chest swelled as he searched her eyes, and when she squeezed his fingers again, he realized he was still holding her hand. “ You don’t hold hands with a friend or try to get her alone in dark corners.”
    “I hope it’s okay that I reserved a table for us beside the fireplace? It’s well-lit,” he added hastily, letting go of her hand.
    “It sounds charming.” She grinned, taking her first look around the pub-like restaurant, resting her hand on the Stewart plaid of the loveseat where Alex had been sitting. “I love it here. How did I never know there was a perfect slice of England in the heart of Philly? And how clever of you to choose it for us.”
    He couldn’t help putting his hand in the small of her back as the maître’d showed them to their table, and Alex savored the contact of helping her with her coat. Was it creepy that he inhaled through his nose as he drew it away from her? He didn’t care. She smelled too good not to enjoy it.
    Once they were settled across from one another with a blazing fire before them, Alex finally started to relax. Jessica perused the menu quietly , and he wondered if she was as nervous as he was, and then he realized how awesome it felt to be nervous around a woman. It had been years—more years than he could count—since he felt like he wanted to put effort into a date, since he felt the sudden rush of excitement to touch the hand or cheek of a woman. It was like re-acquainting himself with a part of his life long forgotten.
    “What?” asked Jess , her eyes suddenly capturing his over the top of her menu. “Do I have something on my nose?”
    “No,” he said , shaking his head. “Sorry. I’m staring.”
    “Y es, you are,” she said, looking back down at her menu.
    You talk , Barrett had said. So, talk, Alex!
    “What do you think of London?”
    “I love it,” she said, still looking carefully at the options before her. “It’s home.”
    “What do you love?” he asked, his own menu forgotten in his lap.
    “Hmmm. The weather…”
    “The weather?” he demanded. “Rainy and gray?’
    She still didn’t look up at him, but her eyes crinkled from smiling. “Yes, I love the rain. But there are plenty of bright, sunny days, and with the exception of deep summer, it’s always pretty cool. And timeless. And lovely. Since I adore travelling, it’s also the perfect home base for discovering the rest of Europe. What’s not to love?”
    “You love to travel?” he asked her.
    “I do. I adore it.”
    “And what else do you do there?”
    “Socially?” she asked ,