Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  Niko slathered butter on his. “You should try it with butter, mon amour.”

  Alyson shook her head. “Heaven’s no! You want my hips to spread?”

  A slow, dangerous smile creased his face. “Oh, yeah. In fact, I plan on seeing that in the next few days.” His eyebrows wiggled and he bit into his croissant.

  “Hush!” She quickly glanced around the tiny café, hoping none of the five other patrons heard Niko’s remark. “You can just stop thinking those kinds of thoughts right now.” She glared at the very handsome male smirking at her. His dark whisker stubble added a level of danger—sensual danger—to his rakish appearance. Her body responded. He is just too gorgeous for his own good—and mine.

  Niko set his coffee cup in the saucer. “Marie-Clare mentioned she might put her shop on the market and move to Villerville.”

  “Really? She told me of her happy memories of vacations to Villerville, but I had no idea she was seriously considering moving there.”

  “You were upstairs in her apartment. How large were the rooms? What was their condition? Was the bathroom updated? The kitchen?”

  “I thought it was a lovely layout. The bathroom was updated, but not the kitchen. Why do you ask?”

  Niko laid his hand over hers and rubbed her fingers. “I think it’s about time I got my own living quarters, don’t you?” He winked. “Then I would no longer be a momma’s boy, as you call it.”

  She sipped her coffee and thought over what he said. “Are you serious? How would your maman handle that? She dotes on you.”

  He pushed the cup back and forth in its saucer. “Yes, and while I love her attention, it’s not necessarily good for her to focus her life on me. She’s been alone for ten years. A beautiful, loving, vibrant woman like her should have a man in her life. As long as I’m hanging around, she won’t open herself to that possibility.”

  “My dad’s been alone for almost three years. He dates a lot, but nothing serious I know of. He can be a bit of a handful.”

  Niko tilted his head. “Define ‘handful.’”

  “Opinionated. Obstinate. Ah…demanding.”

  He reached in his pocket to retrieve coins for a tip. “The problem with all those fine qualities in a man would be…?”

  Alyson rolled her eyes. “You men always stick together. It’s disgusting.”

  Niko laughed. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s finish this trip.” He stood and extended his hand. “Are you feeling up to riding in front with me? The sun will soon rise. You might enjoy the sights.”

  When they exited off the highway onto a two-lane, tree-lined road, shades of pinks peeked through the thin veil of dawn’s gray light. They rode in silence, holding hands with soft jazz playing on the stereo. Niko glanced at Alyson. “Are you having any pain?”

  “Some. More of an ache than a sharp pain, but it’s bearable. My head throbs, but I’m almost getting used to it. Have you ever been to Villerville or the Normandy coast?”

  “No. I usually go to the Italian Riviera when I take Maman on vacation. I spend a couple days with her family, enough to be polite, and then I drive on to the Riviera.”

  “By yourself?” The thought of Niko watching nearly naked tanned and toned bodies bothered her.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Of course.”

  “You’re a dog.” She looked out the side window.

  Niko lifted her hand to his lips. “Every dog wants to be tamed, mon amour” His voice lowered. “By the right master.”

  Yeah, right, as if any woman could tame you. She glanced at his strong profile out of the corner of her eye. Her heart ached to be the one—the only one—who could.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The country road narrowed, its descent growing steeper. The small village ahead beckoned. Beyond the village, the English Channel glistened in the sunrise. Alyson leaned forward in her seat. “Look. It’s charming. Oh, the buildings are so quaint.” She itched to sketch them. If only she had oils and an easel to capture the loveliness of this beautiful place.

  Niko glanced once more at Marie-Clare’s directions and made a right turn, pulling alongside a pink building trimmed in burgundy. “We’re here and not a minute too soon.” He leaned his head against the headrest. “My eyes feel like they’re gritty.” He rubbed them and yawned. “I think we’ll both take a nap after breakfast.” He climbed out of the car and came around to open her door. “Need help getting out?”’

  “No, I’m fine. Hurting a little, well more than a little, but I’m fine. Thanks.” She stood and stretched. “You were right. This gold amoeba rides smoothly. Like it’s running on air.”

  “The Citroens are known for their ride.” He glanced around. “And I am known for my appetite. You up for a little walk?”

  “Sure. I’d like to check out the bookstore on the ground floor. Maybe we could shop there later.” Alyson hurried around to the front of the building. “Oh, looks like they have all kinds of books. They have children’s books and toys, too. Maybe we can get some things for Olivia and Rhiannon.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “Did I thank you for saving my niece?”

  “It was nothing.” Tears started, and she was powerless to stop them. “Oh, damn.” Too much had happened in such a brief, intense time. Suddenly everything came rolling out of her cerebral closet onto her shoulders. Her long flight to Paris, coming face to face with a terrorist, being on the run, hiding, murders, fights and jail—and falling in love. So much…too much.

  Niko pulled her into an embrace and slowly rocked her. “Cry, cherie. You’ve been through an ordeal these last few days.” His wide hand ran up and down her spine in a soothing motion. “Cry, cherie. You’ll feel better afterward.” He kissed her neck a few times. “Simone calls her crying jags ‘stress-reducers.’ Lord knows, I could use some stress relievers myself. When I found you lying on the sidewalk in a pool of blood, my world collapsed. The last few days haven’t been easy for me either, mon amour.”

  She sniffed and burrowed her face against his warm neck. “Do you need to cry, too?”

  “Men have other ways of releasing stress.” His hand slid down and squeezed her bottom. As usual, her body responded. “Later, in a few days perhaps. I’ll wait. If you’re in pain, you can’t enjoy all the things I’ve been fantasizing about doing to you.” His hand slid up her side and his thumb swept across her nipple. “And I have many things I plan on doing to you.”

  The low timbre of his whispered words sent shivers scurrying across her skin and the heat of passion pulsing through her veins. She smiled through her tears. Yay me!

  Niko held her close, his erection making its own delightful promises. “Let’s see if a restaurant is open or a café, at least. After we eat, you should lie down while I unload the car.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her. “I’ll probably join you once I have us settled in. The only sleep I’ve had in the last two days were a couple naps at your bedside.”

  He placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they started walking. “I did a little research about Villerville online. Population is under nine hundred. Can you believe that? I imagine they do a brisk tourist trade, though. The village is quiet, isn’t it? Especially compared to the bustling energy of Paris.”

  “Could you live in a village like this?”

  One lone car rumbled past, its valves pinging in the early morning quiet. The narrow street and its colorful storefronts were slowly coming to life. Niko stopped and stared at her; his arm slid around her waist and he drew her closer. “Could you?”

  “Oh, no. You answer my question first.”

  “I’d enjoy vacationing here. I have a feeling the quiet would soothe my system. My job gets stressful from time to time, but I am a Parisian, born and bred, as you Americans say.” His head rose. “Smell that?” Niko sniffed and smiled. “Food. Warm croissants.”

  The little bakery eatery, called Le Petite Café and Boulangerie, was an aromatic heaven. A woman, her face flushed wi
th heat when she turned from the ovens, smiled as they entered. “Bonjour Madame, Monsieur.”

  Niko helped Alyson into a chair. “Bonjour, Madame. Your baking smells…” He drew his fingertips together and touched them to his lips for a kiss, the universal sign of taste splendor.

  Alyson couldn’t believe it was possible, but the lady’s face flamed an even deeper shade of red. “What would you like? Coffee? I make a great vegetable omelet.”

  An hour later, Niko and Alyson slowly ambled up the street. “I can’t believe you ate all those pastries.” She was so full, she could barely breathe.

  Niko laughed, placing a hand on his stomach. “The more I ate, the more she set in front of me. She was right though, her omelets were great.”

  “You didn’t have to eat two.”

  He unlocked the trunk and removed their suitcases. “Wonder what she’ll have for us tomorrow?” She shot him a surprised look, and he chuckled. “Marie-Clare said we should enter at the burgundy door on the side of the building. You’re looking tired. You doing okay?”

  She was tired and her wound throbbed. So did her head. The dull ache had blossomed into a fierce and raging storm. “I have to admit some pain killers and bed sound great.”

  When they reached the first landing, Niko handed her the key. The door opened to a hallway. A bedroom on the right was the first room they passed, followed by a bathroom and a narrow kitchen. At the end of the hallway was a large salon with two sets of French doors opening to a balcony. The glass doors were open a few inches to allow the ocean breeze to blow in.

  Wanting to see the view, Alyson stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the wrought iron railing. In a few minutes, two strong arms wrapped around her waist. Warm lips caressed her neck, and her body responded. She turned her head and glanced up at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. With you, the whole world looks beautiful. When Marie-Clare said the apartment had a waterfront view, I had no idea it would be this nice.” His chin rested on the top of her head. “Look, the seagulls are welcoming us.”

  “They’re hunting for food. Too bad you ate it all.” Waves rolled in and crashed against the rocks and beach before swooshing back into the English Channel. Two children followed by a woman collected seashells before running back to show their treasures to the woman. A pang of longing zinged her heart. “I always wanted children.”

  He pulled her back against him. “Did you?”

  “Oh yeah. In the worst possible way.” There were so many arguments with Chaz over having a child. Now, all things considered, she was glad they hadn’t. How would she explain to a child its father was living with another man? Not that it wasn’t done. Still… “Do you want children someday, Niko? You seem quite taken with Olivia.”

  “That depends on the woman. If she wants a child and can conceive, yes. If not, there’s always adoption. A lot of children need good parents.”

  “You’d adopt? Most men wouldn’t.”

  “I’m not most men. Now, you need to go to bed.”

  “In a few minutes. Let me enjoy the view a little longer.”

  “Okay, I’ll bring up the rest of our things.” He patted her bottom and was gone.

  A seagull swooped and pecked at something near the children. The boy and girl ran around the bird, squealing in delight. She smiled at their energy and exuberance.

  Niko would make a great father someday—to someone else’s children. Not hers. Never hers. She swiped a tear. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the weepy type. Was it merely the culmination of the last few days? Or was it knowing she’d soon have to say good-bye to Niko Reynard, her French bodyguard?

  Hearing him return to the apartment, she wiped the last of the tears from her face and stepped back inside. He was setting up a painting easel. “Did you bring this?”

  His dark eyes glanced at her. “I asked Maman if we could borrow her easel. I thought you might enjoy painting while we were here. I asked her to buy you some fresh paints and brushes. A few canvases and extra sketch pads. You should be all set if you’re inclined to work on your art.” He stepped close and tugged at a strand of her hair. “I want you to have your heart’s desire, cherie.”

  “You can’t be real. No man treats a woman this well.” She waved a hand toward the easel, so incredibly touched by his thoughtfulness.

  “An authentic man does. My papa taught me by example.” He grinned. “Papa raised no dummies. You should lie down now. Do you need a pain pill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take your sling off, cherie, and do some gentle stretches with your arm while I get water for your medicine.”

  She stepped into the bedroom and noticed a gift bag on the bed. The bag was familiar; she recognized it as the one from Shakespeare and Company. She toed off the beaded ballet slippers Niko bought her as part of her traveling clothes. After removing the sling, she gingerly moved her arm. The tug from the stitches intensified as she slowly raised and lowered her arm.

  “Here’s your medicine.” Niko handed her a glass of water and dropped pills in her open palm. “Pain medicine, multi-vitamin and extra strong vitamin B for healing.”

  He opened the windows and closed the drapes to put the room in semi-darkness. Then he turned on the bedside lamp and folded back the white comforter covering the bed. “Open your present, mon amour. I bought them as a peace offering when you were angry with me at Shakespeare and Company.”

  “I’ve never gotten a peace offering before.” He stilled at her words, his one eyebrow raised as he regarded her. “What did you buy me?” She sat on the bed and opened the bag, pulling out books wrapped in green and yellow paper.

  Niko kneeled in front of her, as if he wanted to see every nuance of her expression. That act—that act of wanting to share the moment as if her reaction were important to him—tumbled her heart further into love. She sighed, cupped his whiskered cheek and leaned forward to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  “You haven’t opened it yet. I hope you like them.” The arrogance, vanished from his voice and demeanor, was now replaced by vulnerability. A vulnerability she expected he rarely displayed. That, too, touched her. She opened her present and gasped as she looked over each one. “Books of sketches of Paris, Parisian gardens and rooftops.” The books clasped to her breast, she smiled and cried. “They’re perfect. Just like you, they’re perfect.”

  Niko’s dark eyes bore into her. “I love you, Aly.”

  She shut her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered, noting the pain in her voice. “I’ll soon be going home.”

  He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Will you?”

  “Of course. I need to escape the terrorists.”

  “The Red Hand is a worldwide ring. There are members in the States, too. You’re better off here where I can protect you.”

  “Worldwide? Global?” Niko nodded. “Why am I just now hearing about this? Are you telling me I’ll be in danger no matter where I go, for the rest of my life?” Oh, good Lord!

  “I’ll do my best to hunt them down. You have my promise.”

  “No offense, but I’m not exactly reassured by your promise.” His jaw bunched; she’d evidently hit a nerve. “When were you going to tell me I would be no safer in the States than I am here? When, Niko?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down, hell!” she exploded. “You kept some very vital information from me. Don’t you think I had a right to know?” She’d never be safe. This nightmare would never end. How would she live the rest of her life, continually looking over her shoulder?

  “Terrorists often jump from rage to rage, enemy to enemy. I’m hoping with your dropping out of sight for two weeks, they’ll get tired of hunting for you.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Besides…”

  Oh, here it comes. “Besides what?” Her headache increased its pounding. Every minute she stood there drained what little energy she had.

  Niko took a deep breath and expelled it on a whoosh. “They think you’
re dead.”

  She blinked twice. “Dead?”

  “Yes, I gave a fake name to the admissions department of the hospital. Your obituary was published in the Paris newspapers and the story of your fatal attack released to news networks.”

  “What? You did what? My obituary?” She pressed fingertips to her temples to ease the throbbing. Registering his comments took effort. His words slowly marched in and found their rightful place in her confused mine. “What about my family? What if they hear about my fake death just like they heard about the incident in the Louvre?”

  “I called Gwen. She knows the truth. She promised to tell your dad.”

  “You told Gwen the truth, but not me. What about my friends, coworkers?” She wanted to belt him. Her plastic hospital bracelet was still around her wrist. She glanced at the name on it, something she hadn’t thought to do earlier. “Alice Newman. Alyson Moore. Clever. Close enough to my real name I’d respond when someone used it. After all, I was half-looped out on pain meds. Although, I do recall a nurse referring to me as Mademoiselle Newman, but my head was pounding so bad at the time, I figured I hadn’t heard correctly.”

  “I did all that to keep you safe. Stay in Paris, Aly. Let me protect you. Give me a chance to bring The Red Hand down. Don’t go back to the States just yet.”

  “Don’t return to America when my job is there?”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “A job you hate.”

  “My home is there.”

  “Didn’t you say you were thinking of relocating?” Both of his hands were on her hips. His eyes locked on hers.

  “My family is there.” She was running out of reasons.

  He dipped his head and his lips brushed hers. Once, twice, three times. “But the man you love is here.” He flattened her palm against his heart. “Here, cherie.”

  “What makes you think I love you?” As far as fear went, the terrorists had nothing over this enticing man holding her close, his head tilted as if to evaluate the effect of his comments. She was prepared for an affair or so she told herself, but his remarks were putting their relationship onto another plane. How did she tell him he scared her? That loving again scared her?