Valerie forced herself to be busy through the remainder of the week to distract, but memories of that lip brush, complicated by being at the horniest time of her cycle, had led to a frequent need to relieve tensions.

Saturday morning, a maroon Bentley pulled to the kerb, and Lorne stepped out from the rear door to greet her with another lip brush. Valerie trembled in anticipation as he assisted her into the car and sat holding her hand while the chauffeur drove eastward.

After looking into each other's eyes in a long silence, Valerie shrugged and blushed. "I had my people research you."

"And what did they find?"

"You're very private."

"As are you."

"You checked?"

"Of course."

"Sorry about SelMorTec on Tuesday."

Lorne snapped his head. "How do you know about that?"

"The company fits perfectly into our portfolio, so I instructed the acquisition team to be particularly aggressive. Appears you also wanted it."

"That's why I was late to the soup kitchen."

"I figured that."

A pleasant conversation later, they passed through the security gates onto the tarmac of London City Airport, stopping beside a waiting Bombardier.

Once they had settled into the cabin, Valerie asked, "Where's Kreesyays? My people were stumped with every conceivable spelling."

"Spelt C-R-I-S-S-I-E-R. It's outside Lausanne."

"Aha! No wonder. Switzerland, not Britain."

"Yes, sorry, l'Hôtel de Ville there has again been named the finest restaurant in the world."

"Started by Frédy Girardet, wasn't it? Always wanted to dine there."

"And so you shall." Lorne paused as he tilted his head and stared at her lips. "May I kiss you?"

"Oh, please do. That's the next step in our negotiations."

The kiss was long, tender and exploring. Then Valerie and Lorne gazed into each other's eyes for a few silent moments before their lips merged again, their hands now joining the explorations. The pilot's voice in the cabin speakers, announcing their imminent take-off, broke the spell and the kiss.

Valerie sighed as she settled back into the deep leather cushions of the couch. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to kiss you."

"Oh, but I do." He grinned at her as he shifted furniture in his trousers. "I've sensed your desire from near the beginning."

"Why didn't you make a move earlier, then?"

"The need to be cautious."

"Yeah. Same." Valerie hummed a sigh, then drank in his face with her eyes while the engines roared them along the runway and into the air, the shuddering of the plane disguising the trembling of her anticipation.

As the roar decreased and the plane smoothed, Lorne leaned to kiss her cheek. "The flight is only forty-eight minutes, so I thought we could wait lunch until Lausanne."

She nodded as she wiggled beside him and into the cushions. "Very comfortable. Good for naps on longer flights."

Lorne pointed toward the rear of the cabin. "I use the bed for that."

Valerie smiled as she thought. Slow down, girl. We've two full days. No need to rush our first time. "Where do your longer flights take you?"

"San Francisco, but now increasingly to Vancouver and Bangalore."

"Yes, of course, the new Silicon Valleys. I've done so many of those. Takes fifteen hours out of the day, and I'm near dead on arrival."

"I fly overnight and arrive fully rested. Vancouver and Bangalore are ten hours in this, and Mountain View is twelve with the inane US routeing."

"I had investigated a plane, but I couldn't justify the expense."

"I run this as a corporate charter business. Last year it sat idle only sixty-three days, and twelve of those were for routine maintenance. It more than pays for itself."

Valerie pursed her lips as she bobbed her head. "Clever."

"Hey! More than just a pretty face." He picked up her hand and played with it. "How long have you lived in Berkeley Square?"

She smiled. "Have you thought I may have had my chauffeur drop me there to put you off my track?"

"You need to be more careful. You appeared on the sidewalk at ten minutes to eleven from a door near the southwest corner; the forty-five or fifty area. Then you crossed the street and strolled through the park until our meeting time."

She laughed. "Humberts at number forty-eight; they're one of my estate agencies. I had set up our meeting place to incorporate an appointment with them." She grinned as she lifted his hand to her lips. "If nothing else, you're persistent. How many did you have around the square watching for my approach?"

Lorne shrugged. "This was accidental. We had arrived early, and Jason found a parking spot just along the street."

"So, what have you learned from your accidental stalking?"

"You have an estate agent at number forty-eight." He gave her a sheepish grin, then he cradled her hand, lightly running his fingers around its outline. "And you increasingly intrigue me." 

"As do you." His delicate touch sent tingles far beyond her hand. "Do you often pick up women in soup kitchens?" 

"You're the first."

"Where do you usually?"

"Usually, what?"

"Pick up women."

"I don't." He shrugged. "You're the first in many years."

"How many?"

Lorne let out a deep sigh. "Since my third year at Cambridge. Sixteen years now. Your spirit reminds me of her."

Valerie tilted her head and looked into his eyes. "Her? Who is she?"

"My soulmate. My fiancée." He paused and stared blankly for a while, shaking his head. "Gwen was among the fifty-three who were killed in the Underground bombings in July 2005." He grimaced. "A few weeks before our wedding."

"Oh, God!" She closed her eyes and shuddered. "I'm so sorry to have forced this to resurface." 

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Don't be. I need to put her to rest in my mind, and I've not allowed myself to do that. It's been more than ten years now; well beyond time I did."

"Would talking about her help?"

Lorne bobbed his head in a slow nod as he answered. "It likely would."

Valerie scooted along the couch, turned and laid her head in Lorne's lap, looking up at his beaming face. "Tell me a story."

He laughed. "I thought the patient was supposed to be reclining."

"Only in staid thinking."

He laughed again as he gazed down into her eyes and stroked her hair. "We met in a programming class at Cambridge." Lorne unfolded a story, jumping randomly through remembrances and high points, showing the depth and intensity of the relationship. "Her birthday was Valentine's Day, and we always did a fine dinner out. I've carried on the tradition alone ever since." He offered a sheepish grin.

"Gwen would have liked you, Valerie." He blew out another deep breath. "You're the first person to have looked into my soul since her. The first one with whom I've felt a connection."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "So, am I a surrogate for her?"

"I hope not. I've asked myself that from the beginning. She was a blonde; you're a flaming redhead. She had blue eyes; yours are sparkling emeralds. She was five-four; you're a six-footer."

"An inch and a half shy of it in bare feet." She sighed a hum. "Seems you don't see Gwen in me."

"Oh, but I do see her. You share the same spirit, and you stir me as she did." He paused and stared at her breasts. "May I touch you there?"

Seeing where his eyes were focused, she toothed her lower lip and nodded.

He cupped a hand beneath the left one and sighed. "I look forward to getting to know you better."

She trembled at his gentle touch. "And what makes you think we'll move beyond platonic?"

He smiled as he ran his thumb across the rising nub in the rib-knit of her top. "In the club Tuesday evening. When you appended as a backup to the idea of separate rooms. You changed the game with that, rekindling a desire which has lain dormant for more than a decade."

Valerie nodded, giggling to herself. "I wanted you to be aware I was considering possibilities."

"That's when I added the second overnight to our trip." Lorne smiled. "Your three words sent the possibilities spinning through my head – and elsewhere – all week. I hadn't considered anything but platonic to that point." He paused at the sound of the decreasing pitch of the engines. "We've begun our descent."

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from his lap as he leaned. Their mouths met.