From Paris With Love

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘So you see me as some sort of Bond girl, out to help James – like… like Aki, his Japanese guardian angel in You Only Live Twice?’

  ‘Ooh, hold that thought – or what about Ursula Andress. I get posted to a lot of hot locations. Mmm, just picturing you in a teeny bikini…’ He licked his lips.

  I almost gagged. ‘Tell me more about these extra-curricular activities.’

  His eyes crinkled. ‘Let’s just say… Sometimes if the opportunity arises, I might help myself to stuff and pass it on – for a price.’

  ‘You’re a thief?’

  ‘Ooh, that’s a harsh word. I’m… a business man – an innovative one, at that. In fact, I’ve become a victim of my own success and fear it won’t be long before I leave a trail… I need someone else at my side to detract attention from me – I’d become the mastermind in the background.’

  I shuddered. Apart from the fact I’d never get involved in a highly illegal act, the thought of being ordered around by John made my nose wrinkle.

  ‘Sorry, John. That’s enough information. I’m not interested.’

  ‘Why? Because of what you said earlier, about honesty being important…?’ He guffawed. ‘Please. You spent two weeks last year fooling a whole family – a nation – that you were some aristocratic bird and now, several months later, you’re part of another charade. Yet you’ve suddenly found a conscience? Come off it, you’re as bent as the rest of us.’

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ I spluttered. ‘My intentions are always honourable.’

  ‘But you’re so good at carrying off another identity.’ His grey eyes flashed. ‘It’s a talent, being able to blag like that – bluff your way through situation after situation without losing your cool. It would be a shame to waste such a gift that could earn you some serious money by–’

  ‘Don’t tell me any more – I’ve given my answer.’

  His grey eyes cooled back to slate. ‘Shame. That means I might have to implicate someone innocent, who isn’t in on my game.’

  ‘Like who?’ I said.

  His lips narrowed into a line and he sipped his drink again. ‘Upstanding, unsuspecting, loyal-to-the-end Joe might be the perfect candidate. Did you know he almost blew a mission, back in the day, because he couldn’t see that the MI6 colleague he was assigned to was a double agent? They’d trained together – had history – and Joe had let that emotional baggage get in the way. I don’t know why MI6’s top dogs didn’t get rid of him then and there.’

  Er, because he’s clearly loyal and dedicated, has integrity and is kind at heart – not a reckless monster like you, Agent Dick Head,

  I smiled sweetly. ‘Ooh, tell me about some of your previous missions again, John – didn’t you once tell me you’d been to Prague, Thailand and Milan? How exotic. What a jet-setter you are – I bet women find that very appealing…’

  And, as we ate the lobster, me all delicately (thanks to Lady C’s training last year), John rambled on about his previous missions. You see, I, Agent G, would NOT let him get lovely Joe into trouble. Through careful investigation (er, okay Googling) I was determined to find this “trail” John might have left – and find out more about his underhand activity.

  Thanks to him drinking most of the champers, John was mega forthcoming. Sipping water, I mentally stored most of what he said and before I knew it, the lunch hour passed and it was time for me to hurry into work. Trouble was, I was too eager to leave the restaurant and was bursting for the loo within minutes. There was no way I’d last until the nearest underground – Hôtel de Ville – without an accident.

  However, yay! One of those public toilets with swivel doors loomed into view. As I waited for it to become vacant, a bearded man in big sunglasses and a beanie hat queued up behind me. You’d think I’d have been suspicious, after my MI6 training, and asked myself why a man (not in the Secret Intelligence Service) would wear sunglasses on a dull day, in February. He was clearly no fashion follower, so it wasn’t an image statement. But no, I was so desperate to pee that nothing odd crossed my mind – not until I went into the loo and the door closed behind me… with him inside!

  With a squeal, I tried to dive past him. However, he pushed me up against the side of the cubicle. I yanked off his sunglasses and beanie.

  ‘You!’ It was the bearded man from the other night, who’d hollered “Imposteuse” before chasing me onto the trampoline.

  ‘Today, I was at ze dance studio – and couldn’t believe it when you turned up,’ he snarled. ‘For your own good, Anglaise, keep you little nose out of things that don’t concern you – or risk facing the wrath of the mob…’

  Chapter 22

  ‘Dang, he’s so hot, the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs!’

  Er, no, I hadn’t moved onto a farm – Cindy had arrived early at the flat. I’d invited her, Blade and Joe around for an early dinner, before me and Joe left for the dance studio, to spy on Monique. It was all part of my plan to get those two lonely hearts, Joe and Cindy, together.

  ‘Who is?’ I asked innocently and straightened cushions on the sofa and chairs. A bowl of crisps sat on the glass coffee table and good old Texan chilli and cornbread cooked in the oven. Plus, in the fridge was a yummy pecan pie. I’d finished work at two in the afternoon today which had just given me time to get ready. The men were due to arrive at six. Yesterday Cindy, whose shift ended at the same time as mine today, offered to come back and teach me the best of Texan home-cooking. Also she’d muttered something about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach. So here she was, having brought a nice outfit with her to work, in a holdall. After preparing the dishes, we set the table and then got changed.

  Of course, I wore practical black trousers and flat shoes, as after our guests left, Joe and me had to scoot to the dance studio and pretend to be cleaners. To think that before meeting Lady C I’d only ever lived in high heels. However, I hadn’t given up my sparkles and put on a sequinned T-shirt – I’d throw a jumper over it before leaving. Yesterday John explained that there would be a silver Audi parked near the dance studio, containing cleaning overalls and equipment. Joe would have the keys. The arrangements were, as the earl would say, “all tickety boo”.

  Cindy stared out of the balcony window, then turned around with a sigh, her hair sexily piled on top of her head. Tinkerbell earrings swung from her ears. A green wrap-around dress snaked around her curves. She looked awesome. Surely Joe would be unable to resist?

  ‘You know, honey…What did you say Joe’s surname was?’

  ‘I didn’t. Why?’ I asked and grinned. ‘Is he marriage material?’

  Cindy’s cheeks tinged pink. ‘Course not – but I bet he’s a fabulous kisser.’

  ‘Really? No potential for something more permanent than that?’ I said in a softer voice. Since our trip to Disneyland, Cindy had mentioned his name a lot – you know the way people do, when they’ve just started having feelings for someone. Plus she was almost lost for words – this is Cindy we’re talking about! –when he popped into the restaurant on Wednesday. He wanted to tell her about a Star Trek convention due to arrive in Paris, next month.

  Cindy folded her arms. ‘Yes, I’m sure. You know me – commitment-free for the sake of my career.’

  ‘Joe’s a good sort though, isn’t he?’ I said, for one second sounding just like Lady C.

  Cindy’s arms dropped by her sides. ‘He has that appealing, old-fashioned English politeness about him, like Edward, that us Americans just love. And those eyes…’ She shook herself. ‘Anyways, it’s not like a whole lot is gonna happen – you’re only here for one more week. I probably won’t see him after that.’

  ‘One week…’ I muttered. ‘Where has the time gone?’ One week, until me and Edward were returning to England as just good mates. I sighed. From lover to friend was a transition Edward seemed to have easily mastered. In fact, today we’d sat together, over coffee, during our break – well, after one of the regulars, Mme Durand, had come in to show Edward photos of he
r recent trip to a French castle. In her fifties, with dark dyed hair, strong make-up and a flamboyant purple scarf, she clearly saw herself as some kind of cougar. But ever oblivious to his effect on women, Edward laughed at her jokes and sexily ran a hand through his hair whilst she talked about ramparts and dungeons.

  Then Edward had brought me a coffee and talked about his trip out with Monique last night, to a special exhibition at the Louvre. Lamb kebabs, at her favourite Afghani restaurant, apparently followed this. The owner had treated her like family and insisted the meal was free. Yeah, that so-called restaurant owner was probably some Middle Eastern terror mentor, I’d been gagging to say

  Someone rapped at the door and Cindy quickly sat down on the sofa, trying to look casual. Managing not to giggle, I opened the door and Blade walked in.

  ‘Salut, ma pucette,’ he said and my heart pumped as he bent down to kiss my cheeks. His jacket collar was upturned and several silver crucifixes hung around his neck. I had a sudden urge to touch him, like at the concert I took him to, on Thursday night. The band – Vampires de Fer – had played in a tiny crowded student venue and each time Blade and I bumped into each other, the funniest feeling had bubbled inside my chest.

  ‘Howdy, Blade,’ said Cindy, unable to remove the disappointment from her face. He winked at her and handed me a bottle of wine.

  ‘Aw, that’s kind – thanks,’ I said as the doorbell rang again. Mmm… I breathed in – that chilli smelt yummy and I couldn’t wait to try the cornbread. Cindy straightened her dress and pretended to take a sudden interest in her nails. Blade went into the kitchen, pulled open a drawer for the corkscrew and opened the wine. Whilst he hunted through my cupboards for glasses, I opened the door. Joe beckoned and I went into the corridor for a moment.

  ‘After I’ve said hello to Cindy, you and I need to talk, urgently. Alone.’ he said.

  ‘What about?’ I whispered.

  Joe put a finger to his lips. In the other hand he carried a wrapped present. I reached out for it, the word “thanks” on my lips, but he walked straight past me and into the flat. Rude or what! I followed him, to see Cindy on her feet. Joe wore his black suit but muttered some excuse about having just had a meeting with a new client and wanting to impress. Cindy’s cheeks blushed red to match her ladybird lipstick, as she accepted the gift.

  ‘Hey, thanks! Not only are you easy on the eye, ambitious, fit and good company… but generous as well.’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve sure got plenty of arrows in your quiver.’ Carefully Cindy opened the package and let out a gasp. ‘Bluebonnet perfume?’

  ‘A, um, American client of mine accidentally ordered two bottles for his wife, and as soon as I saw the name I asked if I could buy one.’ He shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Bluebonnet… That’s the state flower of Texas you mentioned, right? Your favourite bloom?’

  Cindy pulled off the lid and squirted her wrists. Her eyes glistened, as she sniffed the fragrance. ‘That’s so… I mean…’Her eyes looked watery. ‘Makes me realise how much I miss home.’

  Wow. I’ll say it again – what a real softie Joe was. My stomach pinched as I thought of him so determined to be alone. Perhaps his resolve was weakening. I mean, come on! It was clear to anyone that he’d actually ordered that stuff online, himself.

  Blade passed me two glasses filled with wine and I took them over to the couple who were now talking about that Star Trek convention coming to Paris. When I got back to Blade, he was wiping down some wine that had splashed onto the fridge.

  I giggled.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘The rockstar look doesn’t go with domestic life. You should be throwing that fridge out of the window, not cleaning it.’

  His raven eyes flashed. ‘So, what would go with my look?’

  My stomach tingled. I went to take the dishcloth from him, but it fell onto the floor. At the same time we both knelt down to pick it up, hidden behind the kitchen units from Cindy and Joe.

  We lifted our heads, the same height, for once – usually he towered over me. He was one of the tallest men I’d ever known.

  Greedily, my eyes took in the come-to-bed black spiky hair and sexy thick eyeliner. He couldn’t have been more different to Edward. Yet – without trying – he made me smile. Around Blade I felt good about myself. I swallowed. He lifted his hand and cupped it around my cheek.

  ‘Oh, Gemma,’ he murmured, in his brilliant English and leant forward. So did I. Our lips practically touched and…

  ‘Ow!’ I banged my head, having jumped up, following a loud cough from above.

  ‘You startled me!’ I said to Joe.

  Blade stood up and scowled at the MI6 agent.

  ‘Need to talk to you. In private. Can’t wait any longer.’ he said.

  I glared at him. There was no need to be so rude. Although he’d probably done me a favour – on paper, I had even less in common with Blade than Edward. We didn’t come from the same country and I wasn’t a big fan of heavy metal music. I doubt he liked romcom movies and I loved colours whereas he lived in black and white…

  ‘It’ll have to wait until after we’ve eaten,’ I said to Joe, airily. ‘If I don’t serve up now the meal will be ruined.’ I passed him a box of matches and jerked my head towards the beech table, past the windows. ‘Could you light the candles, please?’

  With pursed lips, he headed over to the table.

  ‘Are all English men so impolite?’ asked Blade and gave one of his crooked smiles. ‘Is Edward the exception? He seems très courteous.’

  I sighed. ‘Yes. Edward is the perfect gentleman; a really decent bloke.’

  Blade stared at me. ‘Is there really no chance, pucette, that you two will ever get back together?’

  I stared back, heart beating faster again, as I wondered why he asked. Perhaps Blade was as gentlemanly as Edward, and just checking that I was really over my ex-boyfriend, before taking things further.

  ‘The thing is…’ I shrugged. ‘In my head, there is no chance at all, but in my heart… Part of me will always love Edward.’ I cleared my throat. ‘But I’ve had no second thoughts. He belongs with someone like Monique…’

  Blade didn’t answer.

  Cindy came over, carrying the perfume bottle.

  ‘Shall we dish up?’ I said.

  She nodded and reluctantly put down the box. Blade carried four warm plates over to the table, whilst Joe collected everyone’s glasses. Within minutes we all sat down and helped ourselves to dinner.

  I bit into the cornbread. ‘Wow. Cindy. This is awesome. Love that texture… and it tastes kind of sweet.’

  And so the meal passed, with us women making conversation about food and work…

  ‘Did you watch JC hold his temper when a customer asked for a sugar-free menu, yesterday?’ I asked and we giggled.

  Whereas Joe and her discussed sci-fi and keep-fit…

  ‘I read about a new fitness craze just for trekkie fans,’ said Joe. ‘You have a five minute start to run away, before being chased by Star Trek villains. It’s a great aerobic activity, as long as you don’t get caught.’

  Plus Blade and I had good chats about general stuff, like what I should still visit in Paris before I leave.

  However, conversation between the two men didn’t exist and they spent the whole meal vying, to see who could be the most polite. Joe insisted me and Cindy finish the chilli, whilst Blade fetched us all glasses of water as no one wanted to open another bottle of wine.

  I glanced at the clock. It was half past seven. Soon Joe and I would have to head out. Cindy had to go soon anyway, as she was meeting a friend. As for Blade, I’d explained it was an early dinner as Joe and I had a lot of catching up to do and our conversation would probably bore him.

  Except that my rockstar friend had quite clearly decided to irk Joe as much as possible. He gave Cindy a big hug when she left and lay down on the sofa.

  ‘That word I need to have with you – now,’ said Joe in a measured tone and I made some excuse to B
lade that Joe had promised to look at a wonky cupboard door in my bedroom. To muffle our voices, as I couldn’t really shut the bedroom door without it looking suspicious, I told Blade to turn on the TV if he wanted.

  Once by the bed, Joe turned to face me.

  ‘Stay away from Blade. His story about having an English mother didn’t check out. So far there’s no trace of someone his age, working in a music shop, footloose and fancy-free, on a French or British birth register.’

  I snorted. ‘There must be some logical explanation!’

  Joe shook his head. ‘Over the years, I’ve come to trust my sixth sense. From the start I found Blade suspicious – I only accepted that invitation to Disneyland Paris so that I could find out more about him.’

  ‘Then that trip should have zapped away your doubts. Remember the fan, in the restaurant?’

  Joe’s voice softened. ‘Look, Agent G… I know you’re fond of him but these are the facts: that magazine the girl asked him to sign… It must have been a set-up. I took a look at it, remember? It was amateurishly put together. I Googled the title – it doesn’t exist.’

  ‘So what? It could be an underground magazine or one she’d just made for herself. And I’ve seen him perform…’

  ‘At a Black Bijou concert?’

  ‘No – in a bar, near to the flea market. He got up on stage and sang a Motorhead song. Wow – talk about bloody amazin’!’

  ‘But don’t you think it really odd there isn’t one single word about his band, Black Bijou, on the internet? I know he purports to not liking social media and computers, but you’d have thought some fan, somewhere, would have posted a few words about his group.’

  I stirred uneasily. ‘Yes. I’ll give you that.’

  ‘And in any event, John visited the shop where Blade supposedly works. The owner had no one working for him that matched Blade’s description.’