Page 28 of The Paris Trip

This was the result.

Now Maeve would refuse to sit for him, no doubt disgusted by what she’d just witnessed in the studio. Perhaps she even thought he had done it deliberately, hoping she might join in the orgy…

He gave a dry bark of laughter, mostly aimed at himself. If only she knew… He had barely looked at a woman in years, and not just in artistic terms.

Still, what did it matter if the Englishwoman refused to sit for him? He could still paint Maeve from memory, though he knew it would never be as good as having her there in person, to see how her skin responded to light, and to capture her essence.

No, it didn’t really matter.

Except that he didn’t want Maeve to think badly of him, he realised with a jolt. A woman he had only just met.

What was that about?

CHAPTER NINE

Someone was knocking at his bedroom door. Loudly and insistently. With a groan, Leo rolled over in bed, gathering the sheets about his lower half, and said thickly, ‘Come in.’

He had half-expected to see an angry Liselle at his door. But it opened to reveal Bernadette, carrying a steaming cup of coffee.

He raised his brows. ‘That for me? Very kind of you. What have I done wrong?’ As if he didn’t know…

But it seemed that news of his naked wrestling bout with Liselle had not yet hit the grapevine. For his sister merely handed him the coffee.

‘Uncle Henri says he needs a video call with you sooner rather than later. I told him you were still in bed. But he says it’s urgent. He’s been calling your phone all morning.’ She glanced at the empty bedside table. ‘Where is it?’

Leo frowned. ‘I must have left it in my studio.’ He checked his watch. ‘Damn, it’s barely eleven.’

‘I call that late.’

‘Yeah, well.’ He ran a hand through tousled hair, wondering how much to tell her. What time had he tumbled into bed? Long after six o’clock, for sure. ‘I only got to bed a few hours ago.’

‘Sounds like you had a good night.’

‘Hardly.’

‘Come on, what have you been up to?’ Bernadette perched on the side of his bed, her eyes lively with curiosity. ‘I thought you were meant to be painting Maeve today. Did you forget?’

He sighed. ‘Okay, you might as well know… There was a hiccup.’ He told his sister the basics of what had happened, leaving out some of the juicier details, and saw her eyes widen. He’d expected her to be annoyed, because he knew she liked Liselle. But she laughed instead.

‘Liselle doesn’t mess about, does she?’ She shook her head at him. ‘I have no idea what she sees in you. You’ve been ignoring her for years. But there’s no accounting for taste, is there?’

Luckily, this seemed to be a rhetorical question, so he merely shrugged.

Bernadette gave up prying and got up. ‘Talking of love rivals,’ she added cheekily, ignoring his exasperated look, ‘I’ve just seen Maeve downstairs. She didn’t seem very happy though. Scurried away as soon as she saw me coming,’

‘I’d better get up and apologise to her properly. I should have done it at the time but didn’t want to chase after her. She might’ve thought it inappropriate for me to turn up at her bedroom door after what she’d just witnessed. Or in bad taste.’

Bernadette chuckled. ‘Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.’

‘Shoo,’ he said briefly, but added as she walked away, ‘Thanks for the coffee, by the way. I desperately need the caffeine.’

At the door, she shot him an odd look. ‘Leo?’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re not drinking again, are you?’

His jaw hardened. ‘Give me a little credit for common sense, would you? I may have the odd drink occasionally, but I gave up my drunken nights when Francis died. As you know well.’

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