At Any Moment

by Brenna Aubrey

  “So do I get to know our plans for the night?”

  “Hmm. First we get dressed for dinner. Then the car takes us to dinner. Then… we’ll see. ”

  “And where is dinner?”

  He grinned again. “It might just be that we can eat dinner and hit one of your bucket list items all in one fell swoop. ”

  My eyes widened. “We’re eating dinner on the Eiffel Tower?”

  “We’re eating at Le Jules Verne on the Eiffel Tower, at a west-facing window table so we can watch the sunset. ”’

  “Then I’d better get ready!”

  My bag had been unpacked and my things tucked away by the majordomo while we’d wandered around the suite that was bigger than most small homes and hung out on the balcony terrace.

  I had no idea what had even been packed for me by Sonia. Who knew what sort of eveningwear she’d slipped in there?

  I whipped open the armoire that had been appointed to me and gasped. In it, along with other clothing, hung one sexy black dress, one red dress and one crème-colored gown. They were completely different than the ones he had given me in Amsterdam, but completely reminiscent of that first night we’d spent together.

  I actually felt tears sting the backs of my eyes as I pulled them out and looked at them. Adam was in the shower and I took a moment to try each of them on. They were gorgeous and I had no way of knowing if Sonia had picked them out or if Adam had. But each of them were cut lower in front than I would have liked. They weren’t obscene but more like the necklines I used to wear. The red one was stunning, showing a lot of leg under a flared skirt and with a cutout in the back. When I heard the shower stop, I hurriedly tucked them back inside the closet, still unsure of what to do.

  It was too much of a coincidence to ignore, and I decided, as I showered and did my make-up, that Adam had been behind the gowns, if nothing else. So I resolved to find the courage to wear one of them. If he wanted to see me wearing them, then I’d do it.

  Maybe then he’d touch me.

  God, I wanted him to touch me.

  So during this preparation time, the seeds of Project Seduction were germinating. Because somehow, I knew if we could get over this hurdle—if he could stop seeing me as sick and fragile and helpless—that maybe we could be equals and we could both be present in this relationship again.

  I spent extra time on my makeup because I had no hair to style. Though I was happy to notice that my eyebrows were starting to sprout, but I carefully penciled them in like the video tutorials had shown me to do them. I also glued on fake eyelashes. And my make-up efforts succeeded in mostly hiding the sickly look I’d been sporting.

  I’d found some stunning scarves and wraps in amongst the accessories so I experimented, tying a lovely black lace scarf around my head with a big knot at the back. It trailed over my shoulder, like a long shock of hair.

  With the stunning red dress I’d chosen to wear, it actually made me look exotic and a little glamorous. For jewelry, I wore some big earrings, a gold bracelet and my compass. I always wore the compass—always.

  I felt like a new person, like I was no longer faded, barely visible. Like there was actually some hope that I might get my looks back—or at least most of them. That my body hadn’t permanently gone into premature menopause and I wouldn’t have the metabolism and skin of a woman over twice my age.

  But those were things to hope for later. One thing this whole ordeal had taught me was to be present, be in the moment. Enjoy what I had when I had it.

  And tonight, I had the handsomest, most amazing man at my side, helping me into the limo, opening doors for me, holding my hand. Feasting on me with his eyes and complimenting me on my dress after casting long, slow looks down my form.

  He wore a black suit and black tie with a white shirt. It really didn’t matter what he wore, to be honest. He always looked great.

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  I shamelessly flirted with him and made sure my dress rode up my thighs in the car. He looked. I watched him with a suppressed grin. Project Seduction was in its early stages. I had no idea how it might progress. But hey, he was a healthy guy. He hadn’t had sex in almost five months. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

  “The dinner at Le Jules Verne is wonderful. You’re going to love it. You’re also going to eat more food in this one meal than you have for every day in the past month combined. ”

  I snorted. My appetite was returning slowly but it still wasn’t what it had been—not by half.

  “There are six courses, and they’ll bring out a different wine for each course. ”

  “Can’t drink wine yet. Doc said not for another month or so. But you can have mine. ”

  He helped me out of the car and that sparked an idea. Adam wasn’t a drinker. I’d only seen him drunk once. He seldom drank anything stronger than beer or wine… but if he had enough wine, maybe that would help Project Seduction along.

  Adam led us through the crowd that was lining up to get into the big elevators to take them up the tower and I looked straight up, gasping in delight.

  We were at the base of the Eiffel Tower! It was a massive structure made of iron yet it actually looked like a delicate, dainty lady. It was lovely. But it was strong and unchanging. We made our way to a private elevator exclusive to restaurant guests and after he showed the operator our reservations, we were ushered inside.

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “We are on the Eiffel Tower! Holy crap!”

  He smiled. “Yep. And you are stunning. My lady in red. ” He bent and kissed me on the cheek.

  Damn it, I was getting sick of the cheek and forehead kisses. I looked at his handsome profile as we made the slanted climb to the first platform of the tower. My heart squeezed in my chest the way it always did when I just let myself look at him, be in his presence.

  Moments like this, alone with him, consumed me—my thoughts, my feelings pulled relentlessly toward him like a sunflower in the sun. It used to scare me, make me wonder if I was obsessed or losing myself. Now, I accepted it. It was comforting. These feelings were reassurances that I was still alive. That cancer and its dubious cure might have eaten away at my body, but never my heart. Adam still owned that.

  My throat tightened when he turned his head, most likely detecting my gaze. His dark eyes met mine and he smiled that devastatingly handsome smile and I was lost, finding it hard to catch my breath.

  Shit. I was even more gone than the silly little Adam-groupie interns at Draco.

  But that made sense, when I thought about it. They all were all dazzled by the exterior—rich, handsome, sure of himself, physically fit. He was the perfect package that made them all atwitter.

  What made my heart surge whenever we were together? It was what they didn’t see, what they had no idea existed—the Adam on the inside, who cast that outside Adam, as amazing as he was, into a very dark shadow. The man on the inside eclipsed everything around him. He wasn’t perfect. But in every way that counted, he was perfect for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Adam

  I was enjoying this immensely. She was like a little girl on Christmas Day, all wide-eyed and full of wonder. And it felt good to see her looking so healthy and—finally—happy. We sat down to dinner and she made a respectable show of eating.

  I kept track of every bite that went into her body, coaxed her to eat more than she probably would have on her own. She was too thin, of course. But now, three weeks out of her last chemo treatment, she was at least starting to get some of her color back—to say nothing of a little of her hair. I actually noticed that her eyebrows were starting to slowly grow back in.

  She smiled—a lot. And when she smiled so much I couldn’t help but smile along with her.

  “So is it true you are giving Kat her dream job of being a playtester?”

  “If she makes it through all the HR screening, she’s got the job. ”

  Emilia’s hand lande
d on top of mine, our fingers intertwining. “Thank you. It’s been good to have her around. ”

  I smiled. “It’s been good to have everyone around. ”

  Her mouth widened. “It’s been good having you around. You are wonderful. ”

  I tightened my fingers around hers. “I just do what I have to do. ”

  Her golden-brown eyes seemed to search mine. “Oh…” she swallowed.

  “Maybe that didn’t come out right…”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s all right. ”

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  I frowned. “I meant that I did what I had to do…because I couldn’t imagine doing anything less for you. ”

  She took in a deep breath and tilted her head, watching me. “You know…I don’t believe in former lives but if I did, I must have done something goddamn amazing in the last one to deserve you. ”

  “Maybe we both did something amazing. ”

  We shared a long look and time seemed to slow, stretch. There are moments that occur, that draw our memories, that seem heavier, denser than the string of moments before and after them. Years later, in your mind, you are drawn to them by an offhand comment, a flash of color, a scent, a texture, a taste, a feeling. But seldom did you realize the importance at the time that you were experiencing them, the memory’s equivalent of a bauble or souvenir.

  This long string of seconds where we said nothing but looked into each other’s eyes, seeing pure emotion there but refusing to look away. I knew it right when it happened. This was one of the weighted moments, one of these memories I’d savor for years to come.

  Finally she looked away, a smile dancing on her lips. “You haven’t finished your wine for the course. You’re supposed to drink it and tell me how it is. ”

  This was my third glass. I tipped it back and was finally starting to feel a bit of a buzz. Emilia watched me closely and then pushed her glass toward me. “Here’s some more. Don’t let it go to waste…”

  I threw her a questioning look and ignored the glass. The waiter cleared the glasses and plates in preparation for our next course. And with it, of course, came another glass of wine. Since this was the meat course, it was red. And I did like a good glass of red wine.

  “How is it?” Emilia asked, taking an inordinate interest in the wine.

  I frowned. “It’s good. ”

  “Sorry,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “I haven’t had any wine in a long time. Since before…” And she cut herself off, shaking her head.

  A dark feeling came over me. There was before and there was after. And it sat like an impassable valley in between our past and our future. Everything in me felt heavy with that realization. At times I wondered if we’d ever be able to overcome this divide.

  With a depressing sigh, I downed the rest of the red wine with one gulp, welcoming the warmth washing over me.

  After dinner, we went up to the top level, crowding onto the high platform with everyone else. I had warned Emilia that even on the warmest days in summer, it got windy and cold up here so she had brought a jacket. The monuments of Paris spread out around us, lit up like jewels in a sea of black velvet. This city was unbelievably beautiful. And so was the woman beside me.

  She watched everything with wide eyes, vivid excitement lighting up her features. The lacy wrap around her head was an elegant touch as the loose ends fluttered in the breeze. Soon she noticed the scattered padlocks clamped onto the cage-like safety grid over our heads.

  “Oh, wow! Look at these. Love locks. I wish we’d thought of that. ”

  I smiled, suddenly feeling very smug. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the heavy golden lock that I’d been carrying in my pocket all evening. “Fortunately you brought the boy genius with you. ”

  Her grin widened. “Yeah, fortunately I did!”

  I handed her the lock, complete with key, and a permanent marker. “Here. Write something on it, and I’ll lock it as high as I can get it. ”

  Emilia grabbed the pen and began writing, then flipped it over and continued to write. “You aren’t writing a manifesto on there, are you?”

  She smirked. “No. Well, maybe just a short love manifesto. ”

  She opened the lock, pulled out the key and handed it to me. I held it up to the light to read it: E. K. S. + A. D. I turned it over to read the back: = Nat 20. She’d used the gamer term from Dungeons and Dragons, which meant “instant, automatic success” by rolling a twenty on a twenty-sided die.

  I laughed. “Now this is a manifesto I can agree with. ”

  I jumped up and grabbed the cage above my head, pulling myself up and hanging with one arm while I used my other hand to loop the lock around the cage overhead and clamp the padlock closed. Then I dropped back to the platform, where Emilia promptly wrapped her arms around me and pressed her head against my chest. “That was awesome. Thank you. ” She held up the key and said, “And this is getting dropped into the Seine ASAP. ”

  “Mmm. We still haven’t hit your bucket list item yet. ”

  “Yeah?”

  “I believe it was to kiss someone on top of the Eiffel Tower. ”

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  “Hmm. I do believe you are right. Know anyone interested in helping me out?”

  I ducked my head, pulling her closer to me, and landed my mouth squarely on hers. I’d been wanting to kiss her all night.

  And if there was any sort of kiss to be had on the Eiffel Tower, it was this kiss. I touched my mouth to hers, tentatively. She angled her head to meet me. Then I locked my arms around her thin waist while she rose up to pull me deeper into the kiss. Her mouth opened to me and my tongue slid inside to explore her. She gave out the most delicious little sigh, almost like a whimper and my body came alive. My heart thumped and her hands came up my chest, my neck to settle on either side of my face, to hold me in place as if she was afraid I’d pull away.

  I let her have her way with me—with that kiss, at least. She was starved, wanting more and more. Her tongue met mine and she was sighing and breathing hard. And the more excited she got, the more enflamed it made me. And the more I realized that she wasn’t the only starved animal here.

  Minutes later, I pulled away slowly when she still wanted more. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and when she looked at me, it was with so much love and trust in her eyes. I brought my hand up to touch her cheek—it was like touching an angel. Her eyes fluttered closed, her too-long fake eyelashes coming down on her cheeks. I was reminded of that first night we spent together, in Amsterdam, on the balcony of our suite at the hotel.

  Something I’d inadvertently done had scared her and she’d been so vulnerable. But never fragile. She was strong. Like a warrior. She’d always been. Until lately. Until…

  I sighed.

  “You know what it’s time for?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She pulled out her cell phone. “A top-of-the-Eiffel-Tower selfie!”

  She moved up next to me and held the phone out, clicking on the reverse camera, and our faces appeared in the center of the screen.

  Her hand wavered and when she pressed the button, our faces were cut off just under our noses in the photo. “Crap… I can’t hold it still long enough. You try. ”

  And someone approached us. “Bonsoir,” The woman said. She had a glass of champagne in each hand. “Pourrais-je prendre votre photo?”

  “Bonsoir,” I answered with one of the half dozen words of French that I knew. Then, before she rattled off anything more, I used my favorite word in French. “Anglais?”

  The young woman smiled. “Of course,” she answered in clear, accented English. “May I take your photo for you?”

  I handed her the cell phone and she indicated her full hands with the champagne. She handed us each a glass. She held up the phone and took our picture and gave us back the phone.

  “I noticed you two from over there. ” She pointed at the champagne bar behind which s
he had been working. “And you looked so happy and in love that everyone around you was watching you and neither of you had any idea. ”

  Emilia blushed and grinned, looking at me. She reached out and squeezed my hand.

  “Take the champagne. Toast each other with my compliments. ”

  Emilia glanced into the flute and I watched her when she looked up. “Top-of-the-Eiffel-Tower champagne. I think this is definitely worth a sip,” she said.

  I held my glass up next to hers. “What shall we toast to?”

  “I am so not poetic. I think we should toast to all our tomorrows. ”

  “To us,” I said, clinking my glass to hers. “No greater love since Han and Leia. ”

  She laughed and took a sip, watching me as I downed my glass. Then she handed hers to me and said, “Finish it. ”

  So with a smile, I did. I’d call myself a lightweight, feeling the bubbles starting to go to my head, but I’d had almost five glasses of wine at dinner and this added to it.

  By the time we set foot on the ground, our limo waiting to take us back to the hotel, I was feeling light-headed, pleasantly buzzed and one hundred percent into the gorgeous woman beside me.

  I still had one more surprise in store for her tonight.

  “Are you getting tired?” I asked.

  “No… I slept very nicely on the plane and it’s only, what? Like three in the afternoon at home? I feel okay. ”

  “Good. Because there’s still one more thing I want to do. ”

  She threw me a sidelong glance and a sly smile. “Oh?”

  Our hotel had dancing in one of the grand ballrooms, complete with huge polished stone floor, high columns, a private terrace and a live orchestra. And, thanks to my request, they were featuring the tango for part of the night.

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  When we arrived, Emilia threw me a look that was a mixture of surprise and terror.

  “I don’t know this well enough to do anything but make a complete fool of myself in public. ”

  “You can be bald in public—you have the guts for anything. Besides, I know the steps. I’ll lead you. Just trust me, okay?”

  “Okay. I trust you not to let me make a fool out of myself. ”

  I smiled. “Good. Just relax and let me lead you. ‘There are no mistakes in the tango,’” I quoted. “‘When you get all tangled up, you just tango on. ’”