Turn time back to the moment before she'd met Luke Danton. There she was, standing in the basement corridor of the Ritz Hotel, lost, wondering which way to go, trying the first door she saw, finding herself in the kitchen, where she had no right to be. And there was the handsome, laughing young man grabbing her arm, scooting her out, practically ordering her to meet him later.

Hurry past that door, quickly, while you still can. Run to the end of the passage and there's a flight of stairs. Now you'll never know he exists. Turn time back and be safe.

Safe. No Luke. No blazing, ecstatic four months. No anguished loneliness. No glorious memories. No darling, wonderful Josie.

She pushed open the door. And there he was…

It was crisis time.

Of course, he could always say bluntly, "No wedding! No way! And goodbye!" But Luke hated to hurt people, and he was fond of Dominique. He just didn't want to marry her.

He suspected a connection between this and a recent crisis in her life. After being a top model for six years, Dominique had been stunned to lose out on a job she really wanted.

To someone younger.

She was staggeringly beautiful, but she was an old lady of twenty-six, and the writing was on the wall.

She hadn't told Luke about the job, but he'd heard via the grapevine, and now he had a wry, good-natured awareness that his personal charm was not the only issue here. He didn't blame her. It was a tough world. Even the lovely face on your pillow could be working an angle, and Luke, who'd worked a few angles in his time, was relaxed about it.

But yielding to it was another matter.

His mind drifted to the one person, apart from his parents, who hadn't been trying to get something out of him: who had even refused his conscience-stricken offer of marriage, bless her heart!

Funny, kooky little Pippa, as crazy as he was himself, who'd made his months in London an enchanted time and seen him on his way with a smile and a wave.