Page 44 of Sinful Escape

“I bet we can.” His expression morphed into serious mode. “If you don’t get some sex during this tour, next time we’re in Paris, I’ll stop the bus right outside Pierre’s restaurant and make you go to him.” The dancing gold flecks in his eyes confirmed how serious he was.

A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. “Look.” I shoved a curl from my cheek. “I admit, I could have a little more fun. But I don’t need sex to be happy.”

He winked at me. “Trust me. You will thank me.”

Clutching my glass, I gulped the last of my champagne. “No, I won’t be thanking you. With you around, the only thing getting screwed is my brain.”

“It’s already screwed.” Roman’s delightful grin drew me in with a mad kind of energy.

“Gee, thanks.” It was easy to get caught up in his aura.

But something else was going on.

I was starting to like him. Really, truly like him.

Like you-need-to-kiss-me-right-now kind of like.

I’m in serious trouble.

Chapter Ten

We headed off after an early breakfast, and it took just as long to get out of Paris as it did to drive to our next destination. Thankfully, Roman was busy concentrating on weaving the bus through the congested traffic and following the GPS, so I didn’t have to worry about him returning to last night’s crazy conversation.

Just to be sure he didn’t, I put my tour guide hat on and went into overdrive, drawing my group’s attention to as many sights and revealing as many interesting facts as I could along the journey. It wasn’t hard. Like the rest of Europe, Paris and its surroundings nearly always had something to see out the window and there was an abundance of history to cover.

Half of the passengers slept through most of it. But Sunny had already told me that many of them didn’t crawl into bed until three a.m., so I assumed it wasn’t me making them nod off. If only they knew what they were missing.

A shocking reality slammed into me. In six months, I was going to miss all this too.

Europe. The magical continent that had history on every corner. I wanted to slap myself. I’d wasted so much time.

Shoving that shit from my brain was not so easy this morning. Not when we were about to visit one of my favorite places in Europe.

At nine a.m., right on schedule, Roman turned the bus onto the road for Château de Fontainebleau.

I pressed the button on my microphone. “Okay, sleepyheads, drag yourselves out of those wet dreams. It’s time for history and high tea. Ahhh, my favorite combination.”

I gave them a minute before I began my spiel about one of the most impressive buildings in France. “We’re about to arrive at Château de Fontainebleau. This magnificent building started its life as a medieval castle in 1137, and over the centuries, it’s grown to be one of the largest French royal châteaux. The who’s who of French royalty have resided here including Louis the Seventh right through to Napoleon the Third. If only these walls could talk, huh?” I rattled off a dozen interesting facts until Roman parked the bus in the allocated parking bay and killed the engine.

“Righty-ho let’s go. Follow me please.”

I hooked up the microphone and turned to Roman. “Okay. I’ll see you in about two hours. You got a book to read or something?”

“Nah, I’ll just have a wander around.”

“Okay then. Don’t get lost.”

“Never.”

All my previous drivers stayed with the bus, and I had no idea what they did during that time. The older ones usually brought a book, but the younger ones messed around on their phones. They must’ve been bored out of their brains. If I were them, I’d be trying to sneak into the château and check it out for myself.

After all the passengers had disembarked, I guided them along the avenue of expertly manicured gardens.

Beth, one of the English tourists, pointed ahead. “Look at that fountain.”

I paused at the fountain and waited until most of the group had joined me. “The fountain was a gift King Henry the Fourth received from the Pope.”

“Are those dogs pissing?” Anthony laughed as he pointed at the hounds positioned on the four corners of the statue.

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