by Risk, Mona
The descent proved to be easier on Barbara’s nerves if her relaxed smile was any indication. Too bad she’d stopped squirming closer to him. Still she released a sigh of relief when they exited the lift.
“Happy to be back on solid ground?” He chuckled and ushered her toward the magnificent park extending at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.
“You bet. But it was worth every minute of discomfort. Where are we heading now?”
“We’ll take a stroll in the park in front of the Eiffel Tower.”
“The French call it Champ de Mars. The expanse of grassland was used as an exercise ground for the cadets of the military school.” Her gaze surveyed the big rectangles of green lawns ahead of them.
“You did your homework. I’m impressed.”
“I wanted to soak up the history of this country and I read several books on Paris before coming.” She strolled along the alley separating two rectangles.
His phone rang. Annoyed to be disturbed, he checked the caller id. Damn it, Monica.
“Excuse me, Barbara. I must take this but I’ll be quick.”
He drifted away from his companion and followed her, admiring her swaying figure enhanced by the scenery surrounding them.
“Yes. What’s wrong now, Monica?” he said in the phone.
“I need your help.” The pitiful, teary voice didn’t stir him. The last time she’d called she’d practically insulted him.
He snorted. “Of course, you wouldn’t be calling otherwise.”
“No, seriously, Lou, I’m in trouble. A big mess.” A series of sobs burst on the line. “Please, come and help me.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t now. I’m in France and very busy. Where are you and how much do you need?”
“I’m in New York. Let me explain—”
“I said I don’t have time now. Call me at night. We are six hours ahead here.”
“But—”
“I’ll wire five grand to your account. I hope it helps whatever mess you got yourself into this time. Bye.” He jabbed the off button. His fingers fisted around his phone, he heaved a deep breath, willing his heartbeat to slow down.
Barbara turned toward him. “Problems at work?”
He nodded, afraid his voice would betray his anger if he uttered a word. Problems all right. The type he’d never learned to handle with a cool head. Heck, his blood boiled every time he got a call like this. No wonder he’d never been able to trust a woman in the last twenty-five years. Only someone as sweet and serene as Barbara could make him forget this problem.
“I can smell the roses. Look at these bushes of flowers. Aren’t they beautiful, Lou?” Her question pulled him out of his glum mood and her smile restored his calm. He wouldn’t let the past spoil his special moment—an exceptional moment with the lovely Barbara next to him at this romantic landmark.
“Very beautiful,” he said as he admired her blond silky curls fluttering in the breeze and her turquoise eyes twinkling with happy stars.
“I want a picture with the Eiffel Tower in the background. It will be a picture to frame.”
“In that case, I want to be in it.” He stopped a man in jeans and sneakers. “Do you speak English?”
“I do, but not with your Southern accent.” The American tourist burst out laughing and shook hands with Lou.
“Can you take us a picture together, please?” Without hesitation, Lou draped his arm on her shoulder and smiled for the camera.
“Say cheese,” the American tourist said to Barbara who’d stiffened. Lou almost thanked him for siding with him. “Another one? Different pose,” the man suggested.
“Sure.” Lou heartily agreed. He eased away from his companion but hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“From the side now.” Their volunteer cameraman seemed to enjoy his new role.
“Of course.” Lou chuckled and swiveled Barbara to her side.
A huff of annoyance wafted to his ears. “I don’t need so many pictures.”
Huh… I need them. “It’s just for the camera,” he drawled. She answered with a shrug. “Last one. Now smile, please,” he begged as he wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned his head against hers. Good man. Their photographer clicked before Barbara jerked back toward him. This was one picture Lou would enlarge, frame, and set on his night table to guarantee a night of sweet dreams.
“Enough pictures.” Her clipped tone didn’t bode well.
“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it.” Lou took back his camera and shook the man’s hand.
“Have a great time in Paris.” The old man winked and walked away.
“I hope you’re not upset, Barbara. I wanted to have some nice pictures with you to remind me of our trip while I’m lonely in Atlanta.”
Confusion shimmered in her eyes.
Monica’s call had shaken him to the core, reminding him of the emptiness of his life. Except for his mother, he’d never known love, or loyalty, or anyone as decent as the woman facing him now—a twenty-four carat woman.
The need to take Barbara into his arms and kiss her senseless pummeled his insides. For a moment, he stared at her and fantasized about the first kiss he’d give her, the first time he’d hold her, the first time…
He grabbed her shoulders. Imagine, their first kiss at the foot of the historical tower. A groan escaped him. “Barbara…”
Panic flickered in her gaze. They both inhaled at the same time.
Like a flag fluttering in the wind, her palm rose, trembled, and pressed on his chest. “No, Lou. Let’s not spoil the moment.” The sweetness of her smile sucker-punched him.
He considered her silently. Spoil or enhance? His blood raced through his veins but his arms dropped to his sides. Was she still hanging on to her husband’s memory after seven years?
Her fingers knotted on his shirt. “Lou, you need a good friend who can listen to you. And I need a fun companion to show me Paris. Don’t complicate things.” She seemed to have recovered her poise. He grimaced at the way she’d summarized their relationship.
A good friend, a fun companion. How about a special woman, a hot lover? With a hiss, he swallowed a lump of disappointment.
“It’s our first day in this wonderful city,” she added. “Let’s continue our visit.”
Her words snapped him out of his brooding. The first day of a two-week vacation. They had plenty of time for more fun—her way and his way. He recovered his cool. “How about lunch in a historical café I particularly like? We’ll walk back the same way we came, pass our hotel, and continue to the Champs-Elysées, the most famous avenue in France.”
Half an hour later, Lou chose a table at the sidewalk café Fouquet. A waiter approached them. “I had lunch here several times. Their Croque-Monsieur are delicious.”
She raised her eyebrows. “The grilled sandwiches with ham?”
“You learned a lot about France before coming. How about a glass of Bordeaux to go with it? And later a mille-feuilles. It’s what they call the Napoleons here.”
“You choose for me. Mossieur to eat and Bordeaux to drink sounds great to me.” She burst out laughing. “I know I’m butchering the names with my pronunciation. I’ll wait until I eat my sandwich to see if I can handle a dessert.”
Barbara slumped in the chair and wiggled her feet out her shoes to rub her toes against each other.
“Tired?” Lou chuckled as he stretched his legs to the side.
“Exhausted. Hungry and thirsty, but delighted with my first day in Paris.”
He took her hand and brushed her wrist with a kiss. “Thank you for letting me know you enjoyed the day so far. I did too. Tremendously.” He let go of her hand.
Honesty would prevail in any relationship with Barbara. Worry sprouted in his gut. Too many secrets and sins marred his past.
How much should he share?
Probably not much. He wasn’t in the habit of blabbering about himself with the women who briefly crossed his life.
Monica’s call ha
d darkened his mood. In spite of his efforts he hadn’t been able to forget about her. Lou mentally shook himself. He needed a fun subject to cheer him up.
“Tell me about your family, Barbara. Are all your daughters as strong-headed as Roxanne?”
“Almost.” Barbara chuckled. “Yet none has given me as many gray hairs as your senior reporter. Madelyn, my eldest, is a dedicated doctor. She scared the hell out of me when she had seizures two years ago. Thank God, her colleague, Dr. Nick Preston, helped her. Now they are happily married and have adopted two adorable twin girls. Heather, my third daughter, was the first to marry, at eighteen, to our neighbor’s son. They live on a farm, not too far from my house, and have four boys. Claire, an architect, is engaged. Her fiancé is also an architect. Tiffany…,” Barbara hesitated and shook her head. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you with all that stuff. You know, mothers can’t stop yakking once they start about their kids.”
“Not at all. I love hearing about your grown up children.” Lou’s interest perked. Was one of Barbara’s daughters giving her problems? “What’s wrong with Tiffany?” He’d be curious to see how she handled a difficult child.
“Poor Tiffany, she had a boyfriend for four years. They were planning to get married when they saved enough money to buy a house. But she caught him kissing her own friend.” Barbara twiddled her fingers and met Lou’s gaze. “She was devastated and broke up with him. He claimed he had too much to drink and apologized. Tiffany doesn’t want to hear about it.”
“Smart girl. A cheater will always be a cheater.” He knew it firsthand. His gut twisted with pain as memories from the past assailed him. “And you? How do you feel about it?”
“At first, I encouraged her to forgive him. I want to see her settled with a good man like her sisters.”
“She’ll find the good man eventually. First, she has to stand on her own two feet and be independent.”
“She’s a social worker. Now she’s applied to medical school. Madelyn is encouraging her.”
“She’s doing the right thing by furthering her education. You did a fantastic job with your kids.”
“Not only me. David too. Kids need a mother and a father.”
“Absolutely.” A father and a mother. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “How did you meet David? I’m curious to learn about the lucky man who managed to gain your love and keep you so loyal for thirty years and more.”
A deep blush covered her cheeks and amused him.
“I’m sure he was handsome and perfect. Tell me more,” he urged.
“Like you, he was bright and ambitious, generous and courteous. But he was also a wonderful father and he loved me to death.”
“Ah.” The last sentence rubbed on Lou’s nerves. At least Barbara had paid him a compliment by comparing him to Mr. Perfect.
Tough, he would never be a wonderful father and he would never love any woman to death. Once had been more than enough.
Damn, he wanted Barbara to stay around. Stay as what?
Good friends would suit him, if only he could control the unfriendly surge of desire that stirred his blood when he looked at her lovely face for too long. As he was doing just now.
Time flew in Barbara’s company. After their late lunch, she admitted being too tired to walk along the Champs-Elysées. “It’s already 3:30. I’d rather go to the hotel, soak my feet, and nap.”
“Sounds good. We have the opening reception tonight.”
“I hope I can make it, Lou. I don’t know how you and my daughter can keep up with such a heavy schedule, meetings and receptions. I’d be dead after a while. Not knowing anyone, most probably tonight I’ll be holing in a corner by myself,” she said with a pitiful smile. “I’m a homey woman from Kentucky who enjoys cooking.”
****
Three hours later, Barbara took his breath away when he saw her in the lobby, resplendent in a long green crepe dress that enhanced her impeccable figure and shiny turquoise eyes. He clamped his sagging jaw and strolled toward her.
Her radiant smile dazzled him and her perfume dazed his mind. “Oh Lou, you look stunning in your tux.” Count on Barbara to blurt her thoughts, loud and clear. That was exactly what he liked about her—her spontaneity and honesty. With her he knew where he stood.
“You stole my line, my dear. May I return the compliment? You look ravishing.” He grinned. The homey woman from Kentucky would sure steal many admiring gazes tonight. “When in France, do as the French do.” He bowed and brought her hand to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a lingering kiss. The tremors of her fingers delighted him. A rush of blood tightened his groin.
“Roxanne and Greg already left,” she casually mentioned, but the sparkles in her eyes betrayed her. Barbara was not insensitive to his touch.
“Roxanne has clients to meet. We’re not in a rush.”
In fact, he could spend hours admiring his lovely companion. With effort he tried to draw his eyes away from her generous décolletage and the dangling emerald pendant teasing him. “Beautiful piece of jewelry,” he said to explain his lingering gaze without having to apologize for lusty fantasies.
“David gave it to me for our thirtieth anniversary.” Her voice wobbled. “He died six months later.”
Lou mentally punched himself for his faux pas. Wrong time to remind her of her late husband.
Dammit, this pretty widow from Kentucky was proving way more complicated to date than the sophisticated single or divorcee beauties who’d thrown themselves at him over the years. He racked his brain to compensate for his blunder.
“I love your dress,” he muttered quickly with his most seductive smile in place. “It suits you so well.” He studied the fashionable outfit and held his breath, hoping it wasn’t another gift from the deceased.
Barbara glanced down at her dress and pulled the shoulders of the dress up, concealing part of her creamy flesh. “I love it too, although I wasn’t sure it was appropriate for a business event.” A blush covered her face.
“It’s perfect,” he hastened to reassure her.
“Roxanne bought it for me when she received her latest bonus. She advised me to wear it—”
Lou exhaled and made a mental note to compliment his senior reporter. “She deserved another bonus for her excellent taste.”
Barbara chuckled. “No comments. You’re her boss. I’ll always support you when you encourage good performance…at work,” she added with a wink.
Pleased with himself for restoring his companion’s good mood, Lou linked her fingers in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go. I want to have fun with my beautiful date.” He bent and brushed his lips against her cheek.
“Lou, stop it, please. You make me uncomfortable. We’ve agreed we’re good friends, not dates.”
“Did I?” When had he ever agreed to such ridiculous deal? He tried for humor. “A little flirtation never hurt anyone.” Ignoring the pinch of her lips, he walked her toward the ballroom where the network hosted the opening reception.
“Lou, wait.” She pulled at his sleeve. “I know I sound old-fashioned, or narrow-minded, or whatever, but I’ve been out of the dating game for ages. I was eighteen when I got married.”
God, she was so sweet. He almost imagined her at eighteen, probably the prettiest girl in town. No wonder David Ramsay didn’t wait long to make her his. “I know, Barbara. You married a wonderful, handsome and virile man. With him at your side, you didn’t need any dates. But you’ve been on your own for seven long years. Too long for a beautiful woman to be on her lonesome.”
Silence hovered between them as she considered him through narrowed eyes.
Patience, man. She stiffened, squared her shoulders and raised her chin, all softness replaced by a cold determination. And he braced himself for her answer.
“Yes, I agree. I’ve been on my own for several years, isolating myself.” Her admission hit him with surprise and delight. “I don’t mind starting to come out of my cave. And what better man to take me out of it than
you, Lou.”
Joy burst in his chest. How he loved her spontaneity. “Dear Barbara—”
“Let me finish,” she snapped. “I came all the way to Paris, delighted to be invited by such a smart and brilliant man, a man who seemed to need me, in spite of his fabulous status in life.” He clasped her hand and stroked it between his. Her words were music to his ears. If they weren’t in the hallway leading to the ballroom, he’d have taken her in his arms and smothered her with kisses, and then…
“And then,” Barbara continued. “I enjoyed my day with you even more than I expected.” Lou’s breathing lumped in his throat and he gazed at her with the silly grin of a teenager about to fall in love. “Don’t spoil it for me, Lou,” she said in a hiss. “The maximum flirtation I’ll allow is walking hand in hand when the paved streets of Paris are treacherous.”
His smile fell. She bit her lip and hesitated. “Of course we’ll share a goodnight kiss, on the cheek, like good friends.”
Horrified by her cold rationalization, he stared at her and then blew. “You can’t be serious?”
Her eyebrows arched.
Damn it, she was dead serious. The woman had been out of touch with the real world and with a hot, throbbing male, for way too long. He swallowed a curse, heaved a deep breath, and plastered a bone-melting smile on his lips.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll abide by your rules.” He remembered some of her words. “I need you too much to risk losing your friendship, my dear Barbara.”
He’d show her how to forget her Kentucky kitchen and how an expert womanizer could turn a simple touch or a kiss on the cheek into a blazing fire.
Chapter Four
“I wish I brought my camera.” Barbara filled her eyes and memory with the magnificence of the ballroom illuminated by cathedral chandeliers. With Lou’s hand at her elbow, she proceeded on the intricately decorated wood floor, her gaze flitting from the sixteenth century wall tapestries bracketed by crystal sconces to the large glass doors framing a view of the sparkling top of the Eiffel tower.
