Violet smoothed her hair behind one ear and decided to ignore Jonathan and concentrate on her surroundings. There were trees, flowers, and greenery everywhere. It was early in the morning, and the skies were overcast and gray. A light fog hovered over the grounds, and along one of the paths she could see a decorative sign that read Thames Footpath. She pointed to it and Jonathan nodded. There were a few vendors just setting up down the road, and Violet suppressed a yawn. Maybe after they found her father's envelope, they could head to a nearby coffee shop and get something to wake her up.
As they approached the river, several ducks began to swim toward them, quacking. "Oh, dear," Violet said with a laugh as the ducks continued to follow them as they walked. "I think they're expecting a handout."
"Unless they want a stick of gum, I don't have anything for them."
She laughed again, tucking another lock of hair behind her ears. The laugh died when she saw the intense, almost hungry look Jonathan cast in her direction. God, how had she ever thought that they could hang out together as friends? Jonathan didn't know how to be friendly with a woman. All he knew how to do was devour her with his eyes.
Like he was doing right now.
Averting her gaze, she took another experimental step forward, and the ducks continued to swim alongside. "We should get something to distract them," she told him. And you. "Do you want to go to a nearby coffee shop and get something to eat?"
"I suppose I could," he said slowly. "Do you want something, too?"
"That'd be lovely," she told him, flashing him a smile. "Three sugars, extra cream?"
He nodded and jogged down the path, heading in the opposite direction from where she stood. She watched him go, admiring the lines of his shoulders in his jacket and the way his ass filled out the back of his jeans. Damn you for not having a potbelly and a bald spot, she thought with a self-deprecating grin. Then, she turned and marched toward the Marlow Bridge, tablet clutched tightly in hand.
Following the footpath, she soon came to the bridge and edged toward a plaque set amongst the bricks, curious despite herself. Marlow Suspension Bridge, it read, along with the name of the designer. She scanned it but there was no mention of "Ozymandias," no mention of Percy Shelley, and she felt a bit of doubt. What if they were grasping at straws? Surely her father hadn't meant for them to take thirteen steps underneath the bridge?
After all, thirteen steps underneath pretty much led right into the water. Violet gazed at the quacking ducks, who were eager for a handout.
Then, she shrugged and sat on the grassy bank, undoing the buckles on the ankle of her high heels. After her disorienting wake-up, she'd "armored" herself in her schoolteacher attire. In a knee-length wool skirt, a demure long-sleeved cardigan, and low, strappy heels, she felt like her normal self, her controlled, careful self. That was the woman she was now, she told herself. Not the girl who'd fallen in love with an intense, soulful-eyed college boy so long ago.
The fleet of ducks quacked and streamed away from Violet, and she looked up to see Jonathan returning, two coffees and a small brown bag in hand. He frowned down at her as she removed her first shoe. "What are you doing, Violet?"
"Getting ready to go into the water."
Nearby, a goose honked.
He gazed down at her, his expression intent. "It's cold. I should be the one doing it."
"It is cold," Violet agreed, her hands moving to her other shoe and working on the straps. "But, it's also my father who sent us on this chase, so I'm the one going in."
He was silent for a long moment, no doubt formulating a new argument, Violet figured. She was surprised when he capitulated. "Very well," Jonathan said. "Just be careful."
"I will," she told him, and tossed her other shoe on the bank. "You'll have to feed the ducks and keep them away from me," she said, and glanced up at him.
Her breath escaped her throat.
Jonathan's intense gaze had moved from her face to her legs, and his hands were clutching the coffees so tightly she could see the whites of his knuckles. The expression in his eyes was pure lust as he regarded her stocking-clad legs, which she'd thoughtlessly sprawled on the embankment. There was a prominent bulge in the crotch of his jeans.
Oh.
Violet turned away, her cheeks reddening, and she picked up a shoe and pretended to fiddle with one of the dainty buckles. Jonathan was aroused by the sight of her stripping off her shoes on the riverbank. She should be appalled. She really should be.
Instead, she felt an old, familiar ache start between her legs. Her breathing quickened, and she put the shoe down and did the worst thing imaginable.