TWENTY-TWO
A rush of violent wind snapped me from my thoughts and made me remember the whisper I’d heard before the show, the murderer on the loose, the disturbing note, and the bloodred roses.
Someone knew who I was.
I needed to get off of this shadowy Parisian boulevard and safely back into my locked apartment. Now.
I turned back toward the main entrance, but stopped when I spotted a tall man in a suit leaning against the club door, smoking a cigarette and eyeing me up. The streetlamp cast a dim glow on his slimy grin as he took a deliberate step in my direction.
His dusty-blond hair told me it wasn’t Thomas, but by the determined look in his eye, it was clear that he wanted something from me. And I could take a pretty solid guess what that something might be.
Honestly, how many men had Ruby had in the wings before I arrived here?
I didn’t have another second to curse Ruby’s extracurricular activities, because the creepy man was advancing, and fast. I swiveled around on my heel and booked it toward the back entrance in the alley behind the club.
Footsteps pounded behind me. I pulled Robert’s overcoat tighter around my shivering shoulders and took off in a run. But just as I rounded the corner, a brutal burst of wind plowed into me head-on, causing me to trip over my flimsy heels. My legs buckled, and I skidded to the ground, my knees and palms scraping against the dirty cobblestones, my forehead smacking up against the cold brick. Scarlet-red drops splattered to the ground as I tried to scramble to my feet. Before I could make it up, a pair of shiny black shoes planted in front of my face and a sweaty palm wrapped around my wrist.
“Get off of me!” I screamed in French, pulling my wrist from his grasp and shooting to my feet. A primal grunt sounded from his throat as he shoved me back up against the wall, the force of his push knocking the wind out of me, bringing me back to my knees.
“Leave her alone.” A firm male voice shot through the bitter night, its force drowning out the howling wind.
The knot in my chest immediately released.
It was a voice I knew. A voice I trusted.
Antoine.
Dressed in a long gray coat and a matching top hat, Antoine charged toward the coward hovering over me. The offending creep barely had time to whimper as Antoine grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the building.
“Ruby, is this him? Thomas Riley?” Antoine asked as the man struggled underneath his stronghold.
“No, it’s not Thomas. I don’t know this man,” I said, forcing a breath into my heaving lungs.
Tense words flew between the two men, but the drumming inside my head drowned out the meaning. All I knew was that Antoine was here. He’d saved me once again.
After looking through the man’s wallet for identification, Antoine issued one final warming then released him. The man hobbled down the alley, muttering French obscenities under his breath. I didn’t even want to think about what he might’ve done to me if Antoine hadn’t arrived.
A gust of wind stole the hat right off of Antoine’s head as he bent down and scooped me off the ground. The fierce look in his stone-gray eyes told me he would’ve done anything to keep me safe that night…and that he hadn’t been happy about letting that man walk away. But Antoine clearly knew how to choose his battles, and he knew that involving the police right now wouldn’t help my case.
Resting my throbbing head on his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his warm neck. “I can’t go back to the club, Antoine. Please, don’t take me back there.”
“Come. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” Antoine carried me through the windy alley to a black taxi waiting at the corner then gingerly placed me in the backseat. After giving the driver directions in French, Antoine pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the cut on my head.
Choppy, shallow breaths struggled out of my lungs, my lips releasing little puffs of cold air with each attempt to exhale.
“It’s okay, Ruby. You’re safe now.” Antoine’s soothing voice was like a cup of chamomile tea to my rattled nerves. “You are absolutely sure you didn’t know that man?” he asked once more, checking out my scraped palms.
“No—not that I can remember, anyway. He must’ve followed me outside the club, and he wanted…wanted—”
“Shhh, Ruby. I know. He will never bother you again, you can be sure of that. And you’re here with me now.” Antoine ran his hands up my arms and cupped my shoulders. It was only then that I realized my entire body was trembling.
The sincerity in his eyes poured into me, filling me up with a warmth that had been missing in my life—Claudia’s life—for years…maybe even since my father’s murder.
“I know you’re scared, Ruby. But it’s not too late for you.”
One hot tear slid down my cheek. Antoine caught it before it slipped off my chin.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He leaned close, kissed me softly on the cheek, then pulled me tight while the night lights of Paris floated past our window.
We crossed over the Île de la Cité, catching once more that same view of Notre Dame I’d seen the night before from the bridge. But this time, from my vantage point inside the toasty car with Antoine’s arms holding me close, the iconic Paris cathedral took on a warm yellow glow against the backdrop of the dark, indigo sky.
The city continued to light up as Antoine took me farther and farther away from that dark club, from its sleazy men, and from a life I had no desire to be living. The Palais du Louvre zoomed by to our right while the Seine flowed like a streaming sapphire ribbon to our left. Streetlamps lined the quai, their little round bubbles lighting up the night sky, coating the city in a magical haze, its charm unmatchable.
Antoine placed his thumb on my chin and swiveled my face to his. I breathed in his cool, masculine scent and remembered the way his lips had felt on mine. I wanted to feel them again, even though I knew, like he’d said, it would only complicate things.
Antoine’s deep voice resonated through my pulsing body. “Your eyes are lighting up, Ruby…like it is the first time you’ve seen Paris at night.”
“It is the first time I’ve seen Paris at night…with you,” I replied softly. “It’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.”
Antoine ran his fingers down my neck then reached for my hand. He raised it to his lips and lifted his thick lashes, his smoky eyes full of desire, truth, and compassion. “You, Ruby, are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.”
Tingles rushed through my body as he kissed the back of my hand once, twice, and a third time. “Come, for one hour, let’s forget everything that has happened. Let me show you my city.” Antoine leaned forward, told the driver the new plan, then shot me a sexy wink.
A wave of intense heat spread up through my legs, fanned through my abdomen, and finally settled around my heart. The harsh freeze was gone, and my hands had finally stopped shaking.
Antoine held me tight in the backseat of the old 1950s taxicab as it chugged down the banks of the Seine, along the winding cobblestone streets, down the busy tree-lined boulevards, which were still bustling even after midnight. Crowded cafés boasted jovial crowds of Parisians steaming up the windows with their cigarette smoke, their laughter, and their late-night kisses. With Antoine by my side, the haunting, eerie city I’d become acquainted with these past two days took on an entirely new glow. The farther we drove from the shady, threatening world of the club, the more lively, thrilling, and sensual the city became.
After we rounded the tall, glowing Obelisk monument in the center of Place de la Concorde, we turned onto the famous, grand stretch of the Champs-Élysées. A gasp escaped my lips as I took in the endless rows of twinkling Christmas lights lining the boulevard, leading the path to the majestic Arc de Triomphe.
Antoine nudged my ear with his nose. “The Champs-Élysées is truly breathtaking this time of year, is it not?” His warm breath on my neck made it difficult for me to focus on his word
s. Instead I was craving his taste, his hands, and his lips. That familiar tingling sensation descended upon me once again, leaving me breathless in this magical moment in time…a moment that for once held no trace of the déjà-vu I’d been experiencing since I’d first arrived.
Which meant that even though I’d seen these glowing monuments, these charming streets, and these breathtaking city lights many times before as Ruby, I hadn’t seen them through Claudia’s crystal-blue eyes. I hadn’t experienced Paris from the backseat of this old French car with Antoine’s arms around me, his warm breath tickling my skin, his deep, knowing voice in my ear telling me the history of this beautiful city that he loved so much and knew like the back of his hand.
And while I didn’t know what that meant for my time here as Ruby, or for my future as Claudia, all I did know was that I never wanted this thrilling moment to end.
After the most stunning tour of the City of Lights, Antoine asked the driver to take us to his apartment at Place de l’Opéra. The regal Opéra Garnier towered over the square, its elegant archways, tall pillars, and golden statues giving off an air of royalty amid the nightlife that buzzed all around us.
Antoine held my hand as we squeezed into the miniature red elevator in his apartment building. Shivers combed through my body as his intense gaze locked onto mine.
“Are you still cold, Ruby? You’re trembling again.”
“Oh, I am?” A tingly flush spread up my neck, fanning onto my cheeks. “It’s so windy out, you know.” What I didn’t tell Antoine was that Ruby and I must’ve had more in common than I’d originally thought.
I wasn’t cold anymore. And I wasn’t scared either.
I always shivered when I was falling for someone.
Inside Antoine’s apartment, he turned on a dim lamp and immediately went to find a blanket. My sparkly heels clicked across the hardwood floors toward a set of French windows framing the sparsely decorated living room. A few random boxes lined the walls, and there were no pictures anywhere.
This apartment could definitely use a woman’s touch.
I shook my head at my own preposterous thought. What was I thinking? What was I doing here? How would I ever explain who I really was? Not to mention the fact that I had a five-day limit to my time in Paris…and I was already two days in.
After my five days were up, would I ever see Antoine again?
I pressed my forehead and palms against the chilly glass to cool off the steamy cauldron of desire that bubbled and brewed inside of me. The blustering winds outside rattled the windows, but I was still searing with emotion. I had only felt this way with one other man in my life—a man who, strangely enough, loved Paris just as much as Antoine did.
Antoine wrapped a blanket around my shoulders then enveloped me in his strong arms as we gazed down at the beautiful view of the grand old opera house. And although I knew I should go, that I shouldn’t complicate this already insane situation any further, my feet refused to budge, my back relaxing completely into Antoine’s firm chest.
And for the first time since I’d arrived in Paris, I could breathe.
“I saved the best Paris moment for last,” Antoine whispered.
“Oh?” I responded, not able to get another word past my lips. His deep voice in my ear, his breath on my neck, the strength of his embrace. It was almost too much to handle.
“Yes, the Opéra Garnier is my favorite place in Paris,” Antoine said. “That is why I chose this apartment. The view of the opera house…it makes me feel hopeful. It makes me remember that there can be true beauty in this world, amid the chaos.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, falling into a trance as our breathing filled the comfortable gaps of silence between us.
“Do you like the ballet?” he asked.
“I love the ballet. I haven’t been since I was a little girl, though. My parents used to take me…before we lost my dad.” I knew it was dangerous opening up to Antoine about my past as Claudia, but from the minute he had scooped me up off the cold sidewalk and saved me from that creep, I’d lost all of my defenses. And as long as his arms were around me, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get them back.
“The ballet brings back memories of a happier time for me too.” Antoine’s voice was low and gravelly, his handsome gray eyes lost in a memory as he gazed down at the Palais Garnier. “My mother was a principal dancer in the Paris Opera Ballet. I grew up in this theater, watching her rehearse and perform. I was eight years old when my parents had Gisèle, and my mother had her in ballet slippers and tutus before she could walk.
“Gisèle loved performing almost even more than my mother did. The two of them would dance around the house for hours at night, laughing and twirling. My father and I always loved watching them dance, the joy on their faces…there’s something about the sound of the dancers’ feet on the stage, the music, the elegance of it all. It’s such a contrast to my stressful world at the hospital, and it calms me. I need that calm in my life again. It’s been missing for a long time.”
I tipped my face back, catching a glimpse of the wistful look that passed through Antoine’s eyes. I wondered what else had been going on in Antoine’s life to take away his calm, his happiness.
“Did you ever learn how to dance?” I asked.
“Of course. It was a requirement in my house. Although I took after my father in my love for science, I couldn’t grow up without learning a few dances. My favorite has always been the tango.”
Chills slithered up my spine as I recalled my last night in San Diego…dancing the tango with Édouard in my grandmother’s dance studio…it was the dance that had landed me here.
“Me too,” I whispered. “It’s always been my favorite. It was the first dance my grandmother taught me when I was a teenager.”
Antoine placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around until our noses almost touched.
“Before she died, my mother used to tell me that I would know when I’d found the right woman for me because our tango would be perfect.”
The words slid from my lips before I could stop them. “And have you found her?”
Antoine searched my eyes, the truth in his gaze mixed with confusion, with longing, with desire.
Complicated or not, I wanted to forget about everything that had happened and feel his breath on my skin. His lips pressing against mine. His hands roaming my body.
“I was at the performance tonight, Ruby. I watched you dance.”
I tried to lower my eyes, to avoid his intense gaze, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t turn away.
“I’ve seen you perform before. Many times. You were different up there tonight. Too different. You had an innocence, a lightness about your movements that you’ve never carried in the past. How can a person change so much in a matter of a day? Tell me the truth.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn’t have an answer for him. I simply could not tell him about my time-traveling, past-life story. Forcing myself to turn away, I shifted out from under his warm touch and inquisitive gaze, wishing things were different. Wishing I weren’t two different women hiding beneath this body of a dancer, of a prostitute, of a woman wanted for murder.
I could feel Antoine taking a step closer to me, the heat of his body making me surge with desire. With one finger on my chin, he swiveled my face back to his.
“I am a doctor, Ruby. I have built my career on medicine, on science, on logic, on facts.” He brushed a strand of hair from my eyes and gazed into them so deeply, so intimately, I couldn’t have escaped his hold on me if I’d tried. “But your eyes, Ruby, those eyes. Medicine does not give me an answer for why they are suddenly blue. Or for why you are suddenly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It’s as if I didn’t see you before. And even though I know I should not involve you in my complicated life right now, I cannot stop thinking about you. And I don’t want to.”
Antoine’s eyes softened, his shield thrown to the wind. As his warm gaze washed down on me and his fingers traced the ed
ge of my blushing face, down the curves of my neck, I remembered feeling this exact gush of warmth before. I remembered loving the way Antoine’s chocolate-brown hair sat all wind-blown on his head, the way his cheeks and nose had turned pink from the cold, the way his touch had warmed me up and made me feel safe.
I remembered being with Antoine, except it wasn’t here in this apartment. We were in Ruby’s living room, gazing out at her gorgeous view of the lively streets of Paris. In the vivid memory that flashed through my mind, I knew that at that time, just as I felt in this moment, I didn’t care where we were. I only cared that we were together.
I felt it then. I knew.
In this life before—as Ruby—I’d loved Antoine. I’d loved him more than anything in this entire world, and now, as we stood at the eye of this hurricane, surrounded by a whirlwind of mystery, emotions, and drama, I felt myself falling again. It made no sense, but somehow it made complete sense.
I was falling in love with Antoine.
As he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me to him, I forgot that I was in Ruby’s body. Because by the way he looked at me, I knew that Antoine—and only Antoine—saw me for who I really was—a mixture of two totally different women who, in this moment, shared a soul.
I closed my eyes and let out a whimper as he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me on the lips, his hands finding their way underneath the large overcoat and roaming my waist, the bare skin on my back, and finally my breasts. Nothing had ever felt so good, so powerful, so fulfilling as having Antoine’s hands on my body, his lips engulfing me with every kiss, his chest pressed firmly into mine, his body telling me he wanted every last part of me.
He slipped the coat off my shoulders, letting it drop to the ground, then took my face in his hands and pulled his lips from mine, our breath heavy and hot. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The way he looked at me said it all. I knew he felt the same electricity I felt, and even though I’d only known him for two days, I felt as if it had been forever. And so I let him pick me up and carry me into his bedroom, where he laid me down on his smooth black sheets and slipped the sparkly red heels off my feet.
Dancing with Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance) Page 17
