person Blair had
spoken to had been unfailingly polite。
Of course they had been？she？d only talked to salespeople who worked on mission。
Blair checked her cell again： no messages。 She tossed the phone back into her bag。 She
understood that a gentleman had to pay extra attention to his guest？family was very important to
the English upper class？and Camilla was lovely； really。 She really was。 Even if she did look like a
blond cartoon freakworm。 And Blair understood； really she did。 But she was ready to spice things
up a little； and the more Lord Marcus made her wait； the more fidgety and eager she got。 Maybe
the whole thing was just a ploy to turn her on as much as possible？
Um； maybe。
Strolling down the street in the general direction of her hotel； Blair felt like a cross between Julia
Roberts inPretty Woman ？the scene where she goes shopping in a giant black wide…brimmed hat
and has all the Rodeo Drive salespeople waiting on her hand and foot？and Audrey Hepburn inMy
Fair Lady ； the beautiful Cockney waif who rises from obscurity on the streets of London to
bee the toast of the town。 Except Blair was neither a prostitute nor a waif from the gutter。
Details； details。
She glanced up and down the street； but every store window； every awning； looked familiar。 Had
she really made it toall the stores in the neighborhood？ Finding great clothes in London was easy；
and the exchange rate made it even better。 Blair noticed it the minute she arrived； she had to get
cash for a taxi and was surprised at how many bright； pretty pastel…colored bills she got in
exchange for her boring old U。S。 dollars。 The teller at the bank even gave her a handful of