He let a beat pass, but when she didn’t volunteer anything else, he shifted into a more probing stance. Clearly, he’d have to do the conversational heavy lifting here.
Not that he minded. He’d been cooling his heels here in Paris for a year, and he missed speaking English. His French was excellent, but there was something about the language you grew up with. The one you’d left behind. The way it curled around your tongue felt like home.
Home. A sick, bitter pang ran through him at the thought.
He cleared his throat and refocused on his smolder. Eyes on the prize. “So, you’re an artist, then?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess?”
“I just graduated, actually.”
“Congratulations.”
She made a little scoffing sound. “Now I just have to figure out what comes next.”
Ah. He knew that element of running off to Europe. Intimately. He knew how pointless it all was.
Still. He could spot a cliché when he saw one. “Here to find yourself, then?”
“Something like that.” A little bit of her reserve chipped away. She darted her gaze up to meet his, and there was something anxious there. Something waiting for approval. “Probably silly, huh?”
“It’s a romantic notion.” And he’d never been much of a romantic himself. “If it worked, everybody would just run off to Prague and avoid a lifetime of therapy, right? And where would all the headshrinkers be, then?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not everyone can afford a trip to Europe.”
Her dismissal wasn’t entirely lighthearted. Part of his father’s old training kicked in, zeroing in on the tightness around her eyes. This trip was an indulgence for her. Chances were, she’d been saving up for it for years.
Probably best not to mention his own resources, then. Mentally, he shifted their rendezvous from his place to hers. Things would be safer that way.
“True enough,” he conceded. “Therapy’s not cheap, either, though, and this is a lot more fun.”
That finally won him a smile. “I wouldn’t know. But I’m guessing so.”
“Trust me, it is.” He picked up his cappuccino and took another sip. “So, what’s the agenda, then? Where have you been so far? What are your must-sees?”
“I only got here a couple days ago. Yesterday, I went out to Monet’s gardens.”
“Lovely.” Lovelier still was the way her whole face softened, just mentioning them.
“I mostly walked around, this morning. Then I was going to sit here and draw for a bit.”
Asking if he could see her work sometime would be good in terms of making his intentions clear. It was also unbearably trite. He gave a wry smile. “A quintessential Parisian experience.”
“And then… I don’t know. The Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, of course.” The corner of her mouth twitched downward. “Everything else I had listed in my guidebook.”
Ah. “Which I’m imagining just got stolen?”
“Good guess.”
Eyeing her up the entire time, he finished the rest of his drink. She still had a little left of hers, but they were closing in on decision time. He didn’t have anything else going on today—he never really had anything going on, not since his life had fallen apart. But was he willing to sink an entire afternoon here, offering to show her around?
He tried to be analytical about it. Her body language was still less than open, for all that she’d loosened up a bit. Given her age, probably not a virgin, but he’d bet a lot of money that she wasn’t too far off. Not his usual fare. He preferred girls who knew what they were doing—more importantly, ones who knew what he was doing. What he was looking for.
This girl… It was going to take some work to get in there. If it paid off, he had a feeling it’d be worth it, though. When she smiled, her prettiness transcended into beauty.
There was something else there, too. She was romantic and hopeful, and between the story of her lost sketchbook and her delusions about Paris having the power to change her life, she had to be a creative type. Out of nowhere, he wanted to know what kinds of things she made, and what she looked like when she drew.
He kept coming back to her eyes. They hadn’t stopped moving the entire time they’d been sitting there, like she was taking absolutely everything in. The sights beyond the window, the faces of the people in the café. Him. It was intriguing. She was intriguing, and in a way no other woman had been in so long.
And the idea of going back to the apartment alone made him want to scream.
Decision made, he pushed his chair out and clapped his hands together. “Well, what are we waiting for then?”
“Excuse me?”
“Travel guides are bullshit anyway. Especially when you’ve got something better.” He rose to his feet and extended his hand.
Her expression dripped skepticism. “And what’s that?”
He shot her his best, most seductive grin. “Me.”
Kate stayed firmly planted in her seat as he offered to help her up. Trying her best to appear unaffected, she arched one eyebrow. “Does this usually work for you?”
The guy didn’t pull his hand back or in any other way appear to alter his strategy, and Kate had to give him points for that. “Yes, actually.”
“Interesting.”
The sad truth was, his offer was beyond tempting. The attention was nice, especially after her self-esteem had been beaten down the way it had in the past year. Hell, in the past twenty-two. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone who spoke fluent French showing her around, either. That he was as attractive as he was just made the deal sweeter.
“Not working so well on you, then?” he asked as she considered him.
“Not so far.”
His smile only widened. “Good. I like a girl who’s hard to crack.” Standing up straighter, he held his palms out at his sides. “Come on, what have you got to lose?”
“I’d say my wallet, but that’s already gone.”
“See? Low stakes. Listen, you don’t trust me.” That was an understatement. Was there a man left on earth that she did? “I don’t blame you. Devilishly handsome man wanders into a café and buys you a drink without asking? Offers to show you around town? Very suspicious.”
“Very.”
“So let’s make this safe. You said you wanted to see the Louvre? Let’s go to the Louvre. I’ll show you all my favorites, and then if I haven’t murdered you by suppertime, you let me take you someplace special. Someplace no guidebook in the world would ever recommend.”
She was really running out of reasons to say no. It was a good plan, this one. They’d be in a public place. She’d have time to feel him out a little more. And if he wasn’t too much of a psycho, well, everyone had to eat, didn’t they?
Still, she kept up her air of skepticism. She rather liked all his efforts to convince her. “I don’t even know your name.”
The way his dimples shone when he lifted up one corner of his mouth was completely unfair. Extending his hand again, he offered, “Rylan. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Rylan. That was unusual. She liked it.
“Kate,” she volunteered in return, and with no more real excuse not to, she accepted the handshake, slipping her palm into his. Warm fingers curled around hers, his thumb stroking the side of her hand, and oh. The rake. He bent forward as he tugged on her hand, twisting ever so slightly so he could press his lips to the back of her palm.
“Charmed.”
“I’ll bet you are.” But her pulse was racing faster, and the kiss felt like it seared all the way to her spine.
This man was dangerous.
He straightened up but he didn’t let go. Sweeping his other arm toward the door, he asked, “So?”
She hummed to herself as she gazed up at him, as if there was any question of what she was going to do. His blue eyes sparkled, like he already knew her answer, too.