26 Hours in Paris

by Demi Alex

  She pulled a travel book from her bag, pushed the extra undies and black teddy back under her laptop, rearranged the only other outfit, also black, and then stowed the borrowed Louis in the proper compartment. Fluffing a pillow and laying a soft blanket on the seat, she decided on a quick nap before dinner and a review of her schedule afterward.

  Plan set, she settled in her seat and buckled her belt. She pulled it tight across her middle and leaned back against the headrest.

  “Bonjour, mon amie.”

  Kathryn looked to her left and saw the dark bedroom eyes that belonged to the deep masculine greeting. Damn, this ride was getting better by the minute.

  “Hello,” she said, observing the lazy manner in which his eyes lowered and his lips smiled. Heat flushed her face, and tingles crawled where his gaze trailed. How the heck had he managed to get such a rise from her body without a single touch?

  “I am very pleased you are my travel neighbor,” he said in a distinct French accent, then stepped across the aisle and into her very personal space, leaned down, and kissed each of her cheeks in turn. “I am Cyril.”

  “Hi,” she breathed. “Kathryn.”

  “Beautiful,” he replied and stepped back. That was when she noticed the gold band on his left ring finger. Charming Cyril was married.

  Disappointed, but remembering the French flirting etiquette she’d read about, she smiled and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. He was being nice and appreciative. French men did that. It didn’t mean he wanted a crazy love affair with her . . . well, maybe just a crazy affair. And that was okay. More than okay. When she’d boarded the plane, she’d climbed over the fence she’d built around herself, and she was ready for new experiences. Cyril was good practice.

  “First time you travel to Paris?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers tapped a quick staccato over her tummy. “Is it obvious?”

  “Of course, my dear. But your nervousness is very endearing.” He sat and stretched his long legs. “You will love Paris. It is very much like you. Beautiful, sexy, and intriguing.”

  She couldn’t help but hiccup a small laugh. “Thank you.” Her face grew hot again, but she refused to become flustered and shut down. “I’m a writer. A magazine reporter. I’m preparing a piece on why Paris is the perfect place to find love.”

  “Very, very true.” Cyril nodded enthusiastically. “I have had much success in finding love in Paris. Of course, I have also had many years there. I was born and raised in our amorous city. My first love found me beneath Pont Marie.” A big smile colored his handsome face in memory.

  She sensed she was missing the significance of the location. “Is that an ‘extra’ pretty bridge?”

  “It is pretty, but my first love introduced me to a sensual custom on that afternoon. It is said that when you stand beneath the bridge, you should kiss the one standing beside you. Josette tipped up my chin and lowered her sweet mouth before she explained why she had kissed me. I fell in love with the first sweep of her tongue over my lips.”

  “Aww, that’s so romantic.” Kathryn hugged her middle and curled her feet beneath her bum. “It’s a perfect first kiss.”

  “It was. Josette taught me so much before her fiancé returned that weekend. I had to stop visiting her because he was much older, and bigger, than I was. I couldn’t compete with a university student.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen. A good age to experience first love.”

  “And Josette?”

  “I did not ask and she never said. But she was more mature than I.” He reached across the aisle and, with a tender finger, swept her hair off her forehead. “With your big brown eyes, long waves, and full lips, you resemble my Josette.”

  Surprisingly, she didn’t recoil from his touch. She actually enjoyed it and hoped he’d linger a bit longer. Kathryn was amazed at how natural it was to speak with such a man. “Thank you.”

  “I wish you find all you seek in our lovely city,” he said, as the aircraft pushed back from the gate.

  “I believe I will,” Kathryn said, and grasped the armrests.

  “You will,” he agreed, taking a business card from his case and writing something on the back. “When you do, bring him here.” He pointed to the address he’d written and handed her the card. “At the door, show Jacques my card. Tell him I have invited you and that you are my guest.”

  “What is this?” Kathryn asked.

  “It is a surprise. One of Paris’s hidden gems,” he explained, adding a quick wink. “Perhaps we will meet again.”

  She tucked the card between the pages of her book and didn’t pursue the invitation any further. The plane was moving. Feeling the power of the engines beneath her seat, she worried her lower lip. Paris may be an adventure, but a plane leaving solid ground had her stomach clenching into a tight knot.

  “Cyril, I have a question,” she said, brushing her hand over his and waiting only long enough for a tilt of his head. “No funny business. I see that you’re married and all. I’m just nervous during takeoffs and landings. Would you mind if I hold your hand while we takeoff?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he replied, closing large fingers over her clenched fist and making little circles on the back of her hand. Comfort and warmth filled her, and she closed her eyes, breathing deep like the Conquer Your Fears podcast had instructed.

  * * *

  The smell of fresh brewing coffee woke her. She looked to the left and found Cyril reading a French newspaper.

  “Bonjour, ma chérie. Did you sleep well?”

  She stretched in her bed and managed to cover a yawn as she nodded. “I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” she added, licking her parched lips. “That was a smooth takeoff.”

  “Yes, you were asleep before we reached cruising altitude. I adjusted your seat to a bed when the seat-belt light went off. You were tired and needed to rest.” He offered her a butter cookie, but she refused. “I also asked the attendant not to wake you for dinner, but they will be bringing breakfast soon.”

  “Breakfast?” She’d slept for hours. She wasn’t ready for Paris. Had no idea which train to take. Which station her hotel was at. Nothing. Bypassing the material at her side, she stood and reached for her laptop. “We have Internet access, right?”

  “Yes, but we will be landing in a little over an hour.”

  “I just need to check on a few things.” She lifted the computer’s lid and pressed the power button. Connecting within moments, she quickly checked her social networks, and then opened the notes she’d made on her arrival transportation.

  A text displayed on her screen.

  Buongiorno, bella.

  Her contacts showed only a phone number. No name. She recognized the New York area code.

  Did you sleep well?

  She glanced at Cyril, but he was engrossed in his reading. Besides, she hadn’t given him her new number, and the original message had been in Italian, not French.

  She typed out three consecutive question marks.

  It’s been so long that you don’t recognize the number?

  Kathryn mentally recited the number and held her breath. She knew it. She’d known it very well. But she’d had no idea Marko had kept it all these years.

  Hi. How’d you get my cell number? I’ve changed it since we last spoke.

  It wouldn’t be difficult to find, bella, but I didn’t. I’m sending the message to your email address. How is the flight?

  Great. I slept for most of it.

  Were they really doing this, messaging like it was an everyday occurrence? And how had he known she’d just woken up?

  Kathryn ran her fingers through her hair, once again unbuckled her seat belt, and looked around the cabin. She stood, placed the laptop on her seat, and searched passenger faces for the man who lit the fire in her belly and set her heart on overdrive.

  Cyril looked up and smiled. “We can call for the attendant if you want coffee.”

  She shook her head, but
didn’t move. He wasn’t anywhere on the plane—not that she could see . A new message sounded.

  Kat, are you still there?

  She dropped back to her seat.

  Yes. Where are you?

  Waiting for you.

  I’m coming for work. I’ll only be there for a day, and I have a lot of research to do for an article. This isn’t a vacation.

  I’ll see you when you clear customs.

  She stared at the computer screen. Waited. Realized she was holding her breath and exhaled.

  Marko was waiting for her in Paris. It had been years since she’d last seen him. Would he recognize her? What did he look like? Well, she actually had an idea of what he looked like, but she wasn’t sure how recent the company photo on the website was.

  Every time she’d known he was coming to New York, she’d hibernated in her apartment, ensuring there would be no chance meeting. She couldn’t risk having to say good-bye to him again. It hurt too much.

  Kathryn bent at the waist and stared at the floor between her knees. Why did he love his career and country more than he loved her? It could never work. He was a European boardroom shark, and she was a New York bohemian. She crossed her hands over the back of her head and moaned.

  “Ma chérie? Are you feeling ill?” Cyril asked.

  “No,” she breathed and straightened. “I need coffee.”

  With cold fingers wrapped around her coffee cup, she continued staring at the screen. The lack of new messages kept her preoccupied, and she didn’t bother to check the train schedules. She knew that once she was in Paris, she was with Marko. Period. She wouldn’t be able to control her schedule, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t mind the idea. She craved seeing him, hearing his voice, and smelling his scent. She missed him so much. She sipped, stared, and sipped some more. As for work, having a real Parisian showing her the best places in the city to fall in love would be a great angle. Yes. She’d enjoy time with Marko. She’d let loose. It was only for a day, so the pain of leaving him again couldn’t be as bad.

  “Excuse me, mademoiselle. We need to stow the laptop for landing,” said the flight attendant who had appeared beside her.

  Kathryn’s hand trembled as she hit the power button and lowered the cover. She returned her beloved MacBook to her tote and handed it to the attendant.

  “No worries.” Cyril reached for her. “I will hold your hand during landing.”

  Chapter Four

  If he didn’t stop pacing, Marko Renard would wear a groove in the marble flooring of the arrivals hall. Kat’s plane had landed, but he hadn’t seen any New York passengers exit yet. She was probably still at immigration.

  He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and willed the electric door to open and Kat to walk out. He missed her. From the first moment he’d seen her, he always missed her when she wasn’t by his side.

  Whether knowingly or not, she had come to him and she was finally on his turf. If she wanted to learn why Paris was the ideal place to fall in love, he was going to show her exactly that. His Kat had put her life on hold way too long. She’d more than met her responsibilities to her family. It was time for her. Her and Marko.

  Marko was no longer a young man who didn’t want to overstep his bounds, nor did he worry about making wrong life choices. He wanted her. He was going to have her. She would be at his side. His lover. His confidant. His everything. Just the fact that she’d mentioned Paris as the perfect place for love proved the point he’d argued for years. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d let her get away this time.

  A loud groan escaped his throat, so he immediately apologized for startling the older woman standing beside him and moved to a different viewpoint.

  Marko typed a quick group message to his college friends: I owe you.

  Big time, came Justin’s reply.

  Make it count, Paul added.

  The door slid open again, and he searched over the heads of the other people waiting at the railing.

  There she was. Standing behind the yellow line, the most attractive woman he’d seen in ages crossed her arms beneath her chest and tapped a booted toe with impatience. He couldn’t help but smile. Long dark hair, tousled and framing her gorgeous face, mocked his fingers for a feel, and the adorable pout of her sensual lips stirred the lower region of his anatomy.

  Fuck. He was a grown man sporting a hard-on in the waiting area of an airport. He stifled yet another groan. Dressed in sleek black, his free-spirited girl was business tailored and ultra-sexy. How had she grown more beautiful?

  Marko frowned, noticing how the smooth Frenchman kissed her cheek and guided her ahead of him. It wasn’t until she waved her fingers in a dainty farewell and left her travel companion that Marko managed to unclench his fist. No matter how, she was coming to him.

  Impatient, he pushed to the railing and didn’t look away from the door. It opened again. Walking toward the agent, she looked past the exit and met Marko’s gaze. He lifted a hand over his head. Her eyes grew big. Her small hand flitted over her chest. Then, finally, she smiled.

  He waved and motioned for her to walk toward the right. He couldn’t move quickly enough, and he wanted to argue with the guard at the gate who stopped her. Instead, he waited, opening his arms and folding her into his embrace when she finally stepped past the barrier and back into his life. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent.

  Kat was with him.

  Her breath warmed his neck and her heart beat against his chest. Marko moved his hands up her arms and cupped her face; then, without a verbal greeting, he took her full lips in a proper hello.

  As he’d expected, at first touch, she tensed. Then her mouth softened beneath his, welcomed the coupling, and invited him to take more. He did exactly that, tasting her essence and breathing his intent against her soft acceptance.

  “Ciao, bella.” He cupped her face, kissed the tip of her nose, and dropped his forehead to hers. He felt her smile beneath his fingertips and sighed.

  “That’s quite a welcome for a best friend,” she breathed against his lips, her voice a little shakier than he was certain she intended. “Even for an Italian-speaking Frenchman.”

  “Kat, you’re in Paris. On my territory. We’re playing by my rules now. We are not simply best friends.” His words burned so damn true that they singed his soul. There was no room to ignore the reality between them.

  “I’m only here for a day,” she whispered.

  “Make no mistake,” he pressed, taking a small step back and tipping her chin to look at her beautiful dark eyes. “I’ve been very patient and understanding. I’ve waited for you, because I want all of you. Every last bit. I won’t settle for only a friend.”

  Her breath hitched and her pupils dilated, filling with yearning and desire. The slowest seconds of his life stretched between them as he waited for a response.

  Six long years earlier, it had torn him apart to do the right thing and put her needs first. There was no doubt that he loved her and wanted her by his side, but her grief had consumed her. He’d given her time and space because she’d needed to cope with her father’s sudden death. He’d stepped back into the role of her best friend. When he’d graduated and revisited the possibility of Kat joining him in Europe, she’d rejected the option. She hadn’t been able to consider a relationship past friendship. The only thing Kat had wanted was to stay with her mother and heal. The tragic accident had cost both women so much, and they’d needed each other.

  At first, he’d remained as close as possible, but he had honored her requests and hadn’t pushed her back into a romantic relationship. Eventually, she’d insisted on personal space and turned away from him. He had believed there was no choice but to continue with his professional plans. When he visited New York, she was never available. It hurt, but he focused on being patient and making his own accomplishments before he would insist on making her see what was truly between them. Their type of connection was not typical.

  Time
had passed though. There would be no limit to their relationship. Kat stood inches from him, and he could no longer deny himself. His need was too great. It couldn’t be appeased.

  He brushed his knuckles down her cheek, and saw the moment she admitted the truth to herself.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  The distance between them disappeared. He claimed her mouth, her acceptance, and didn’t break away until the last bit of oxygen had been spent. A tiny moan escaped her lips when he pulled away. He smiled.

  “You’re so beautiful, bella.” He needed one more kiss before releasing his hold. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn’t resist. “Thank you for coming.”

  Kat held his gaze, telling him with a look what she didn’t say with words. She was glad she’d come. She’d needed to come.

  He lifted her bags, not appreciating how much weight she’d been carrying, and slung them over his shoulder. “Am I correct in assuming this is all you have?”

  “Yes,” she replied, searching his eyes. “I don’t need much. When I made the arrangements, I calculated that if I took the RER to and from the city, I’d have twenty-four hours in Paris. So, the clothes I need are in the carry-on with my laptop.”

  “Twenty six—since there’s no need for the train. I’ll make sure you won’t need clothes for the added two hours.”

  Heat sparked in her eyes. She’d missed him, too.

  “We have a whole day together. Where to first, bella? The apartment to rest and freshen up or—” Her tongue wet her lips and Marko’s body reacted. He wasn’t taking her home so she could get ready to leave and go sightseeing. Once he had her to himself, he planned to keep her that way, and in his bed, as long as possible. “It’s still early. Let’s start with some breakfast. Chocolat chaud?”