Page 43 of The Paris Trip

A strange wailing sound broke them apart.

‘What… What on earth is that?’ she exclaimed, pulling back in alarm.

Leo seemed less surprised, though clearly frustrated. ‘Damn.’ Glancing down to his right, he muttered, ‘Duchess! What are you doing here?’ The words were in French but she was fairly certain she’d interpreted them correctly.

A ‘duchess’? Wailing in the dark hallway?

Well, maybe the old château was haunted. It certainly looked haunted from the outside.

She held her breath, half-expecting to see an eerie feminine ghost as Leo released her and took an unsteady step back.

But the wailer was no ghost.

Instead, sitting behind him in the corridor, a long, fluffy tail wrapped elegantly around its front paws, was a large white cat with glowing eyes.

‘You have a cat,’ she said blankly, staring down at the wraith-like apparition. ‘I didn’t know you had a cat. Where on earth did it come from?’

‘Duchess is my grandmother’s cat. Named for the cat in the Disney cartoon The Aristocats, if you know it. She’s quite elderly now, so rarely ventures out of my grandmother’s apartments. I’m sorry if she startled you. No doubt that's what you fell over. She has a tendency to lurk in the shadows...’ Running a hand through dishevelled hair, Leo shot her a wry glance. ‘Perhaps just as well she came along to interrupt us. There’s a certain chemistry between an artist and his model, especially after a sitting like that. At least, I’ve always thought so. But it would be a mistake to take it too literally. To act on it…’

Without finishing that thought, he bent abruptly, scooped the fluffy white cat into his arms, gave her a brief nod, and said, ‘I’ll let you get to bed. We can talk in the morning. I’d better take Duchess back to my grandmother’s rooms so she doesn’t worry.’ He paused. ‘Good night, Maeve. Thank you for sitting for me tonight. Next time will be easier.’

She watched him go, then staggered into her bedroom and shut the door. She threw herself on the bed without even bothering to undress.

Next time?

She wasn’t sure how safe that would be. Or sensible. And right now, safe and sensible might be boring but it seemed like the best way to go if she wanted to retain her sanity.

There’s a certain chemistry between an artist and his model.

Understatement of the century. She had kissed him. What an idiot. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back, instead of politely declining to be seduced. They had practically done it in the corridor. Good grief…

Dull, sensible old Maeve, kissing an artist in a French château after sitting for a portrait. Everything about that scenario was unprecedented and topsy-turvy. At any moment, the sky might fall on her head. Or the world erupt into flames around her. It was on that level.

But it would be a mistake to take it too literally. To act on it…

He was absolutely right.

No more of that nonsense, thank you very much, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. It would be strictly platonic ‘sitting’ from now on. If she even set foot inside his far too cosy and beguiling artist’s studio again, which was doubtful.

Goodness though, but he was a marvellous kisser.

Mentally, she thanked the lurking white cat for having saved her from herself.

Leo couldn’t believe he had given in to temptation and kissed her. In fact, he didn’t even know why he’d been tempted in the first place. A bizarre impulse had come upon him, no doubt generated by a night spent staring at her intriguing face and body, and frantically trying to get them down on paper before the creative urge disappeared. He knew that kind of intensity could become erotic. But, other than with Liselle, he had never experienced it so strongly. And even with Liselle, it had been pure sexual desire. Liselle was a very attractive woman and it would be hard for any man to resist her once she’d made up her mind to seduce him.

Maeve, on the other hand, showed no interest in him as a man. She seemed interested in him as an artist. But that was completely different. She was certainly not behaving like a woman who wanted to be seduced. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And yet, it had been quite irresistible, catching her in his arms and becoming fixated by her mouth, and wanting to put his mouth against hers, and find out what she tasted of.

Herbal tea, as it turned out.

But something else too.

She tasted of Maeve. And that had suddenly become the most exciting flavour he could imagine. It was as if she’d bewitched him…

Despite clearly being under a spell, he threw himself into bed and slept soundly until late morning, when a knock at his door made him stir and sit up, yawning muzzily.

‘Leo?’

---