by Ann Lory
Chris rushed over to her, leaned down, and grasped her hand. “Can you believe it, Kelly? Paris!” She let him pull her to her feet, laughing softly as he picked her up and twirled her around.
Yes, Paris, she thought. What luck! What lousy, lousy luck!
* * * * *
Cassie pulled the suitcase from the top shelf of the closet and placed it on Kelly’s bed. Kelly handed her some personal items, which Cassie packed away.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Kelly rushed around her apartment, grabbing things she needed for her trip. “On the one hand, I’m thrilled about dancing in Paris. What an honor and a dream come true, but on the other hand, I should stay away from things that remind me of Jacques, not flock to them.”
Cassie laughed at her reasoning. “I understand completely.”
Sighing dishearteningly, Kelly sank down on the bed and faced her friend. “I know you do; I’m sorry to bother you like this.”
Cassie touched her chin. “It’s no bother at all, silly.”
Kelly smiled slightly. “I know. I was trying to be polite, since you have to listen to me complain.”
Grinning devilishly, Cassie folded one of Kelly’s shirts, placing it in the suitcase. “Hey, I live for moments like these, remember?”
They laughed. Kelly shook her head and stood, walked to her closet and snatched shoes. She stopped at the foot of the bed beside Cassie, serious and full of sorrow. Cassie set everything down, giving Kelly her full attention.
“I’m scared, Cass,” she whispered softly.
“Why?”
Kelly touched her fingers to her chest. Her heart still ached after all these months. “I’m afraid I’ll see him again ‑‑ and even more terrified that I won’t.”
Cassie hugged her. “I felt that way with Dimitri, too.” She pulled away, motioning Kelly to sit. “In one respect, maybe this is a good thing. If you see Jacques, it will be a chance to talk to him, to get everything out in the open. You’ll know what to do.”
Kelly shook her head. “But there wasn’t anything between us, Cassie, otherwise, he wouldn’t have left.”
Cassie smiled, a kind and understanding smile. “You’re wrong, Kelly. He ran because there was something deep between you two, and there still is.”
“I don’t understand; how could he leave if he really cared?”
Cassie sighed. “Because men are stupid; even when they are vampires, they make bad decisions at times where their hearts are concerned. I don’t think they can help it.”
Kelly chuckled and thought about that. Remembered the way he had kissed her. His gentleness, despite his great need. The fact that he would have died, would have refused to take what she did not offer freely. But she had saved his life with her blood. Saved him because she loved him.
Kelly touched her forehead to her friend’s. “Thanks, Cass.”
* * * * *
Another traveler in the airport rudely bumped into Kelly, almost knocking her over in the process. “God, I can’t stand this place!” Kelly made her way toward the baggage claim and waited while the announcer over the loudspeaker gave out flight arrivals and departure changes in French. Luckily she spoke the language; even so the announcer’s monotone voice was starting to wear on her nerves.
Finally, the luggage started churning out around the turn belt. People began grabbing their bags and walking away. One by one, the suitcases left the line, then circled again. Where was hers? Growing impatient, she crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her shoe against the tile. This was ridiculous! Everyone in her company already had their bags and was now waiting on her. Glaring at the carousel, she clenched her fists at her sides. They’d better not have lost her luggage!
Finally, she had no choice but to join a crowd of people at the lost baggage claim area. Kelly wanted to scream; practically everything she had was in those bags. Luckily she had her purse so money was not a problem, but she was without clothes, makeup, hair combs, and other necessities. She just knew it was going to take forever for the airport to find her bags.
Stepping up to the counter after a twenty-minute wait, Kelly was greeted by the fatigued woman behind the counter.
“Bonjour, qu’est-ce que vous desirez?”
“I’d like my bags. You lost my luggage.”
The woman sighed and handed Kelly a slip of paper. “I did not lose your luggage, ma’am. Please fill out this form.” Then she muttered an obviously rote statement about the airline sending on her suitcases when they were found and looked past her, dismissing her completely. “Merci. La prochaine.”
Kelly wanted to cause a scene, but moved on reluctantly so that the next person could get his form and be dismissed as well. After providing the necessary information, Kelly handed the paperwork back to the woman, then made her way toward customs, where Chris was waiting with his belongings in the middle of what seemed like a mob.
“Any luck with your bags?”
Kelly shook her head and felt a headache beginning. How she wished for an aspirin, but she knew one would not be forthcoming until she could get to her accommodations. “The airline doesn’t know where they are but will bring them to the hotel as soon as they turn up. Where’s everyone else?”
“They’ve already gone through customs and will meet us out front; there’s a limousine to take us into town. Mr. Vincinni asked me to wait for you.”
Kelly rubbed the pounding spot between her eyes when a woman cut in front of them. Of course there were never lines in Paris ‑‑ everyone seemed to mill around ‑‑ but after everything she’d just gone through, there was no way Kelly was letting the woman get away with this.
“Excuse me, but I was here first.”
The woman looked stunned. “Oh, pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle.”
Kelly smiled as the woman walked away, knowing perfectly well the stranger had known exactly what she was doing. It was a game of sorts, but Kelly was playing hardball today.
Chris laughed. “Look at you. You’re not messing around.”
Kelly shook her head. “I just want to get to our hotel, lie down, and take a nap. My head is throbbing, and my previous trip to Paris was a bad experience all the way around.”
Chris smiled apologetically. “Sorry you’re having a rough day.”
Kelly waved her hand to dismiss the apology, then let her gaze wander off to the surrounding windows, where sunlight spilled in. It was late morning, and Kelly hadn’t gotten much sleep on the airplane. She yawned when she eventually reached the customs man and handed him her passport, waiting for him to stamp it. He looked at her picture, then at her, and leered. “Welcome to France, cherie. Will you be here long?”
“Oui.” Rolling her eyes, she reached out her hand for her passport as he stamped it, and then she rushed past the counter, very aware of him watching her all the way. Creep!
She and Chris made their way to the exit. When they stepped out, Kelly had to stop for a moment. She really was here... and so was Jacques. Her heart pounded at the thought, her chest tightening, making it difficult to breathe. Somewhere out there, he was in a deep slumber, unaware she had arrived in his country, his city. She was closer to him now than she had been in the past several months.
Chris touched her arm and she jumped. “Are you okay? You looked a million miles away.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
A chauffeur approached them, took Chris’s bags, led them to the sole remaining limo ‑‑ she and Chris guessed Vincinni and the rest had gotten tired of waiting, not to mention the extra limos probably had blocked the entrance to the airport ‑‑ and placed the luggage in the trunk. Chris opened the back door for her, and she slipped inside, settling into the soft seats and gazing out the dark, tinted windows.
The drive into Paris was not pretty. Old, rundown buildings lined the busy streets in this poor part of town, something people didn’t really think about when they pictured the great French city. As their trip continued, she saw that there were many different cafés and shop
s, but it was the history the city told that interested Kelly, such as that demonstrated by the old stone buildings, some of which had stood since before the French Revolution.
The Eiffel Tower was visible in the distance, metal beams towering over the city, watching over it all. Kelly smiled as she looked at it, then rolled down her window and took a deep breath, smelling fresh baked bread in the air as they passed by one of Paris’s many bakeries.
About an hour into the trip, just as they entered Paris proper, her cell phone rang ‑‑ the airport had found out the location of her suitcases, thank goodness. Unfortunately, the bags weren’t in France.
When the chauffeur pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, La Villa Maillot, Kelly gazed down the road where the Arc de Triomphe stood, taking in the beautiful sight before rushing toward Chris, who was waiting for her at the hotel’s entrance. At least her troupe would be residing in style while they performed in Paris.
Chris walked with her into the main lobby, their shoes echoing off the hardwood floor and filling the air of the sparsely populated area. Approaching the front counter, Kelly was greeted by a young man who smiled warmly at her.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle.”
“Bonjour. I have a room reserved under Kelly Matthews with the Vincinni Company.”
“Aha, I have you here. Do you have any luggage?”
She groaned. “No, I’ve been told it’s in Germany and will be making its way to Paris on the next flight.” Behind her, Chris chuckled, and she nudged him with an elbow.
“I am sorry to hear that, mademoiselle, but here is your key.” He handed her a brass one. “You are in suite 507, on the fifth floor.”
“Thank you.” Kelly turned and stepped back to wait for Chris, but he motioned her to go on. Thankful, Kelly approached the elevator and was soon on the fifth floor. Walking down the hall, she reached the door to her room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid the key in the lock. Nothing. Trying the key again, then a third time with no luck, she shook the door. “No!”
Turning back around, she stomped past Chris as he stepped off the elevator.
“What’s wrong?”
“My key doesn’t work.” At his loud laugh, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors on his smiling face. Back in front of the check-in counter, Kelly handed the man the key. “This doesn’t work.”
“Oh, forgive me. I must have given you the wrong key.”
Trying for a forgiving smile but failing, she took the new proffered key and returned to her room. Setting the key into the lock, she slowly turned her wrist. “Please work.” The door opened and she exhaled sharply.
Entering, she looked around. The suite was large and spacious, with a small fireplace in the wall of the main seating area. The plush carpet was white, and there was a matching large sofa. Two chairs surrounding the sofa were situated in front of the fireplace.
An open bedroom area was on the next landing, occupied by a king-sized bed against the far wall, with a nightstand on each side that held white lamps. A TV was set inside an armoire across from the bed. Flipping on the light to the bathroom on the upper level, she saw there were plenty of fluffy towels and washcloths. Switching the light off, she wasted no time in removing her shoes and rushing to the softness of the bed. Giving a final sigh of relief, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
As the sun set, air filled his lungs, and Jacques woke to another night. He rose from the bed, letting the sheets fall from around his waist, and grabbed the burgundy robe draped over a chair, slipping into it. He breathed deeply, taking in the scents of the night. His keen hearing detected the sounds of Quintin and Marian on the other side of the castle as they prepared to rest.
He hated the term “human servants.” Quintin was his grounds caretaker and Marian, Quintin’s wife, maintained the upkeep within the castle. Though Quintin was at Jacques’s command, Jacques also regarded the man as a friend.
Leaving his chambers, Jacques walked up the steps to the main floor and made his way to the study, where he picked up the newspaper lying on the desk. Seating himself on the leather couch, he flipped through the pages, reading over the world’s recent events. Then he stumbled upon a photo.
A man was lifting a ballerina into the air, her body a picture of grace and beauty. Jacques’s eyes took in every detail and feature of her flawless face; his heart pounded wildly in his chest.
She was here! Kelly was in Paris.
Tossing the paper aside, he bounded from his seat, his mind reeling. He had to see her; though he had tried not to think about her every night for many months, he had failed miserably. Everything in him now cried out for just a glimpse of her in person.
Without a second thought, his body shifted and contorted; glossy black feathers appeared, and his nose stretched into a hooked beak. He let out a cry, the hawk’s high screech echoing down the corridors of the castle; then he took flight up into the rafters and out a window.
The dark ground rushed below him, the warm breeze ruffling his feathers. His eyes were trained on the horizon where Paris lay... and where Kelly was. He reached with his senses, working to locate her. Heartbeats flooded his mind, scents filled his nostrils until, finally, Kelly’s was the only pulse he could hear, her perfume the only one that called to him.
Entering the city, he followed her trail to La Villa Maillot, where he flew onto her balcony. It was dark in her room, but he could see her lying on the bed, asleep. Her hair spilled around her face like a golden waterfall, and her hands were tucked prettily beneath her face, allowing him a view of her profile: one high and elegant cheekbone, a small nose, and full, lush lips. Her body, revealed to him as she lay above the covers, was long and lean, her breasts small and firm. Slightly rounded hips extended from a tucked-in waist, and her legs went on for forever, uncommon for a prima ballerina, but perfect for wrapping around a man’s waist...
Suddenly wishing he were not a bird sitting outside watching her, but a man moving into the shadows of the room and claiming her beauty, he transformed and pushed the balcony door open. Jacques strode across the room; when he came to the bed he stopped and gazed down at her.
Mon ange.
He lowered himself beside her and breathed in deeply. Her feminine scent overwhelmed him, and the sweet flow of her life’s blood was alluring. Then he touched her, unable to resist the softness of her skin, the silky texture of her hair. His palm caressed her cheek, brushing up into the luxurious tresses. She mumbled incoherently in her sleep, and his eyes became riveted by her lips, so pink, so sensual... so inviting.
His breath hitched; he couldn’t remember a time when another woman had made him feel this way. The excitement, the longing, the aching need. His mouth descended on hers. Her arms wound around his neck, and he lifted her into his embrace, holding her against him as his tongue delved, savored. His body seemed to catch fire. He couldn’t believe she was here, in his arms, and that he was kissing her once more.
How often had he thought of her? He wondered yet again if he’d made a mistake and whether he was doing the right thing for them both. Wanting to see her eyes open, he pushed gently against her mind so that he could look upon them. Her lids lifted, and dark blue orbs stared sightlessly at him.
He groaned, his hands coming up to shape her breasts, squeezing lightly, caressing them. She moaned. Cursing, Jacques quickly laid her back on the bed, tamping down the flames consuming him. His need for her was great, but if she woke to find him in her room, mauling her in her sleep, he knew she would be more than upset.
Turning, he fled the room and hid in the shadows of the balcony.
Kelly stirred, then sat up in bed, stretching, before rolling onto her belly, breathing heavily. Her body felt hot, aroused. She had been dreaming of Jacques ‑‑ he’d been holding her, kissing her, stroking her body with his expert touches.
She had to stop doing this, stop tormenting herself. Admonishing herself, she rose from the mattress, fumbling to flip on the light in the darknes
s. Finally, the lamp came on, blinding her momentarily. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned, then placed her hand over her rumbling stomach. Remembering that she hadn’t eaten on the plane or since she’d arrived in Paris, Kelly realized she was starving. Looking at the clock on the nightstand she saw it was 10:00 p.m.
She tried to tame her blond locks in the bathroom by running her fingers through her hair, but its long length was wild around her face. Finally giving up, she made a disgruntled grimace at the mirror, turned off the light, then descended to the main level. She grabbed her bag and the room key, then left the suite, the door locking automatically behind her.
As she walked past the room beside hers, Chris stepped out. “Grabbing a bite to eat?”
“Yes, I am. You want to join me?”
He held an arm out to her. “Escort a beautiful lady to dinner? But of course.”
Laughing, Kelly slipped her hand onto his arm. “Oh, you Casanova, come on.”
“Me? A Casanova. Hmm... maybe I’ll meet someone this trip.”
“I know you will, and he’ll be gorgeous with a wonderful personality.” They chuckled.
Once outside, they found there were several cafés up and down the street. Choosing one, they were soon seated inside. Menu in hand, Kelly was again grateful for all the French classes she’d taken as a teenager, then in college, allowing her to read and speak the language fluently, or she would have had no idea what she was ordering.
The waiter appeared. “And what can I get for you this evening, monsieur et mademoiselle?”
“I think I’ll have the coq au vin, and a glass of Chateau Neuf de Pape.” With its rich flavor and high calories, Kelly was being naughty with that choice of entree, but she was starving, and chicken cooked in rich red wine sounded delicious.
“Very good, mademoiselle.” The waiter took her menu, and then he looked at Chris, who then gave the server his menu and selection.
