"Do you still care about this old boyfriend?"
"No. Why?"
"Not even a tiny little bit?"
"No."
"In that case, with your permission, I will teach you to fly. Metaphorically speaking, of course."
If the lessons were to be anything like the one he'd given her earlier that day, she could hardly wait. "You think you can?"
He drew himself up straight. "You doubt my abilities in that regard?"
"No. It's me I'm worried about. Like I said, I'm not the adventurous type. Anyway, I think we should move. We're holding up traffic," she said, as a woman glared at her as she pushed past.
At the end of the next block, Trish noticed several Greek restaurants lining one side of the street. Most of them had signs outside advertising the day's menu plus the owner or an employee standing in the doorway, trying to lure customers inside.
"My God! I love Greek food it's my absolute favorite," she said, looking up at Guy. "Do you know if any of these places are good? Or are they just tourist traps?"
"This part of the Left Bank is full of restaurants that cater to tourists, but I live only a short distance from here and there is one a little farther on where I go quite often. The food there is excellent."
"Can we forget Le Café and go there instead?"
"But of course."
Like most Greek restaurants, the one Guy took her to was orchestrated pandemonium with the constant crash of pots, pans and plates, and waiters shouting at the tops of their voices, making conversation virtually impossible.
When they'd finished eating and had drunk the bottle of retsina Guy had ordered, he settled the check and they left the restaurant. Trish wanted to see the River Seine, so they walked down le Boulevard Mich, as Guy said it was known locally, a couple of blocks to where the Ile de la Cité and the river separated the city into the Left Bank and the Right Bank.
"So, where do you live?" Trish asked, leaning on the low protective wall and gazing first down at the water and then in awe at the sheer Gothic splendor of Notre Dame Cathedral.
He gestured to the right. "My apartment is down there, at the end of the quai. No more than a short walk away. Would you like to see it?"
"What about your car?"
"It's quite safe where it is. It won't run away."
"You sure someone won't try to steal it?"
"If they do, it's insured. I'll get another one."
"Just like that?"
"Exactly like that." He turned her around to face him. "I don't want to think about cars or anything else. I just want to think about you. Je te veux, cherie."
"Yes, I know."
"And?"
"I want you, too. Very much." As far as Trish was concerned, the sexy look in Guy's eyes and the husky quality of his voice was all the turn-on she needed. She knew she was putty in his hands, totally at his mercy, but instead of letting the knowledge bother her the way it probably should-and definitely would have with any other man-she was relishing every second. For the first time in her life, she was finally letting go and throwing caution out the window. She'd come to Paris for romance and adventure, and she'd found it. She was head over heels in love, or maybe it was simply lust, with a handsome stranger, and the fact their relationship couldn't last was neither here nor there. Time enough for her to get back to being serious and responsible once her vacation was over.
Guy's apartment comprised the entire top floor of a beautiful old, six-story building that he told Trish had been erected around the time of the French Revolution. The rooms were large and airy, and the views from the huge windows were spectacular. Guy pointed out the Eiffel Tower, the Pantheon, the Louvre, city hall, and in the very far distance, Sacré-Coeur, along with a bunch of other places that meant nothing to Trish. But, hopefully, before her trip was over, she would have visited most if not all of them.
"Would you like something to drink?" Guy asked as he opened the double doors of what looked to Trish like a temperature-controlled wine and liquor cabinet. "I also have cold beer and sodas in the kitchen. Or I could make coffee or tea if you prefer."
"A nice cold cola sounds good. That wine made me feel sleepy."
As Guy disappeared to fetch the drinks, Trish unzipped her hoodie, removed her purse and set it on a nearby table, and then she stretched out on a nearby sofa strewn with big, fat, silk-covered pillows and closed her eyes. Between the wine and lack of sleep, she could barely keep her eyes open. Maybe if she kept them closed for just a couple of minutes…
When she awoke, she could tell by the angle of the sun shining through the filmy net curtains that it was late in the afternoon. But, instead of being on the sofa, she was now lying on black silk sheets, on a huge king-sized bed with her head on Guy's chest and his arms clasped loosely around her body.
She glanced around the room. Very masculine. Very contemporary. Concealed lighting, black and white décor, and a couple of cubist-style paintings on the walls that were all form and bright colors.
"You feel better now?" Guy asked, yawning.
Trish struggled to sit up and then looked around for a clock. "I guess, but this is so embarrassing. How long have I been asleep?"
"Not long."
"What time is it?"
"A little after four."
"But we got here around two."
He smiled and pulled her down beside him. "No problem. I was sleepy, too. But rather than leave you out there by yourself, I brought you in here with me. I only woke up a moment or two before you did."
Trish decided there had to be something special about a man who was this sweet and considerate, and she snuggled into his warmth. "I can't believe I fell asleep on you like that. You should've given me a shake or something."
"Why? Between the overnight flight and the six-hour time change, you needed the sleep, and so did I, and now…"
"And now what?"
Moving quickly, he flipped Trish onto her back and leaned over her. "First, I'm going to get us something cold to drink, then I intend to spend the rest of the afternoon making love to you."
She reached up and touched his face. "You're going to teach me to fly?"
"Perhaps. If you ask me nicely."
She pushed her lips out in an exaggerated pout. "Pretty please?"
"Well…" He gave her a lingering kiss and a long, thoughtful look, then he laughed as he got off the bed and headed for the door. "Since you ask so nicely, I'll have to see what I can do. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
When Guy returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a small tray containing two light beers and a couple of glasses. He set the tray on the nightstand and opened both cans. "Would you like yours in a glass?"