An English voice, not remarkable in London , and certainly pleasant to listen to with its warm, soft and almost timid tone. “I’m sorry, I’ll ...ust change that for you,” replied the waiter then hurriedly picked up the cup and departed. Getting up to leave, I turned abruptly and saw her face for the first time. Her eyes were downcast as she concentrated on sending a text message. I took my time putting my jacket back on and straitening it, while looking at her long, honey blonde hair and lips. Caramel dribbled all over a chocolate construction and berries alongside.Our waiter arrived with a bottle of Champagne. "This is the best in the house, sir, would you like me to open it now?"Shall I put it on a room charge? It's 201, isn't it, the Cottage?"I looked into Mark's eyes and replied, "Yes, that's it." No, no, this is personal, it's a gift. Don't open it. Here, I'll give you my credit card."Turning to me, he held the bottle out to me with a smile. "I hope it's all right. I want you to. More

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