"What happened to your meeting?"
He paused his upward journey and smiled-the same million-dollar smile that had captured Trish's attention in the first place-the smile that turned her knees to water and made her lick her lips in anticipation. "I couldn't get you out of my thoughts. And, since it's too beautiful a day to spend inside with a bunch of dry, fussy old businessmen, I gave them my report and told them I'd catch them later, as you North American say."
She noticed he'd exchanged his business suit for black jeans and a black polo-an outfit that made him look even more delicious than before. "I see."
"I thought I'd come back a little earlier than I originally planned. I hope you don't mind."
"No. It's just…umm…I…" Trish felt hot, embarrassed for not trusting him, and a whole lot of other things she prayed did not show on her face.
"You were on your way somewhere?"
"Nowhere in particular. I just thought I'd have a coffee and explore the neighborhood."
He hurried up the last few steps and, placing his hands on her shoulders, kissed her first on one cheek and then the other, and finally very gently on the lips. "I promised I would come back."
"So you did. But people are always making promises."
"And you thought I'd made one I did not intend to keep?"
"To be honest, the thought did cross my mind. After all, you don't know my name, and I don't know yours. You didn't give me your phone number or say where you worked either. You just brought me here and then umm…er…"
"Made love to you and vanished?"
"Exactly. Not a lot for a girl to build her hopes on. I think you'll agree with me on that."
"Really?" He looked a tad confused. "I didn't introduce myself?"
"No." She smiled. "But that's okay neither did I."
He took a step back and held out his hand. "In that case, my sincere apologies for the omission. Guy Rochambault of R amp;H Holdings at your service. And you are?"
She accepted the handshake. "Trish Stacey, tourist and former business studies student."
Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her in close. "I can't believe you were planning to run out on me."
"I wasn't planning anything of the kind. I thought I'd been had, so I was going out to drown my sorrows in a cup of coffee."
A frown wrinkled his otherwise perfect brow. "What do you mean by had?"
"You know…fooled, tricked. The innocent victim of a hit and run."
He slipped his arms around her and began to caress her butt. "You make me sound like a…what do the English call a man who does something like that?"
Trish shrugged. "No idea."
"I think perhaps it begins with a c."
"As in cad?"
"That's it. You thought I was one of those?"
"No. I just thought you were a flirt and left it at that."
"And now what do you think?"
She smiled and gave him a brief kiss on the lips. "I think I need that cup of coffee before I say anything I might regret."
He pulled her in hard against the juncture of his thighs, and she felt his arousal pressing against her belly. "Wouldn't you rather go back upstairs and make love?"
"Anyone ever tell you you're insatiable?"
"But insatiable is good, no?"
She pulled free of his embrace and hurried down the next flight of stairs. "I don't know," she called over her shoulder. "I've never tried it."
Guy caught up her with in the lobby. "Coffee and then we go back upstairs?"
"No. First coffee and then a walk, otherwise I'll have no appetite for lunch. And you did promise me lunch. Right?"
"So I did. Where would you like to go?"
"Le Café de la Paix. According to my guide book, they have great food."
"Not the best in all of Paris," Guy argued as they left the building and started along the sidewalk. "But for a restaurant that's a big favorite with the tourists, I understand they rarely disappoint. However, it's quite some distance from here, so we'll need to take the car."
Trish glanced up and down both sides of the boulevard, but the limousine was nowhere in sight. "I don't see Georges. What did you do with him? "
"Georges and the limo belong to the company. And, since this is not company business, I prefer to drive myself. That's my car's over there." He pointed to a low-slung black sports car parked on the opposite side of the street.
A remark once made by a friend about a man's car being an extension of his libido slipped through Trish's mind, but she merely smiled and kept the thought to herself. If she'd tried to imagine the kind of car Guy drove, then that would have been it in every last shiny detail.
After a delicious cup of café au lait at the first sidewalk café they came to, they continued on until they reached the Boulevard St. Michel. Taking Trish's hand and ignoring the fact the traffic lights were against them, Guy closed his ears to her protests and steered her safely through the speeding traffic to the other side.
"You could've gotten us killed," she said, as they turned into a narrow side street. "I can't believe the drivers let us through. They were all going so fast, it's a miracle they were able to avoid hitting us. You have a death wish or something?"
"No." He frowned, looking vaguely confused. "That's the way I always cross a street."
"If you do that in Toronto, you'll risk getting a ticket for jay-walking."
He laughed and squeezed her hand. "So I discovered. I told the officer I was a tourist, and he said he'd let me off this once, but next time I should wait for the 'walk' sign."
"And did you?"
"No. The next time I did it, I just made sure there were no cops around."
It was Trish's turn to laugh. "You're incorrigible as well as insatiable."
"And you find that to be a bad thing?"
"No." Trish turned her head to look at him and the moment she saw the mischief dancing in his dark eyes a surge of raw need rushed through her body, and she wanted him all over again. Even more than she'd wanted him the last time. "It's just…"
He stopped walking, slipped his forefinger beneath her chin and lifted her face up toward his own, leaving the pedestrians to squeeze past the best way they could. "It's just what?"
"You. Paris. Me. I'm really a very unadventurous person. Until I met you, I never took chances or tried new things. That's why my last boyfriend dumped me. He said I needed to loosen up and get with the program."
"Perhaps with him you didn't want to loosen up. Do you think that might be possible?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure." In Trish's view, sex was something that should happen naturally and be enjoyable for both parties. Unfortunately, sex with Stuart had been something to be endured rather than enjoyed. He'd always wanted to try out weird stuff he'd read about in a sex manual like it was a science project. And she'd refused because, knowing Stuart, he'd have blamed her if the project failed. Anyway, the thought of allowing Stuart to tie her up and tickle her with a feather had sounded about as romantic as a bowl of cold, lumpy porridge, so she'd lied by telling him she had a headache and needed to go home.