Page 37 of Meet Me in Paris

Oh, heavens. Had I really belched in Claude’s face?

I giggled behind my hands. Then the giggle turned into a laugh, and soon my shoulders shook violently.

Hunter sat next to me. “Why are you crying? Did something happen on that boat?” His voice went lower. “If he did something to you, I’ll kill him.”

I pulled my hands away and grinned stupidly. “He invited me to his apartment, and I burped in his face.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise and he smiled. “You really did?”

“An eleven out of ten. You would have been proud.” I lifted my hands to the sky as if imploring the ceiling. “See? This is why I can’t have romance in my life.”

“Is it?” he said innocently. “Because I thought it was your stubbornness, idealism, and suspicion of good men in general.”

I grabbed one of the pillows and hurled it at his face. He dodged it, of course, so I had to use a second. Soon his entire pile of bedding lay strewn across the room and he still sat next to me, each of his warm hands gripping one of mine, pinning me down so I couldn’t launch any more linens, his torso leaning over me.

A few more inches and he’d be within kissing distance.

He must have realized the same thing because he froze.The unexpected position stole the playfulness of the moment, and we stared at one another. My breathing slowed to a crawl, my vision centered on the reddish freckles inside eyes the color of mocha mixed with cream and framed with thick, slightly messy eyebrows. Not Claude’s carefully groomed perfection but perfectly describing the unintentional freedom that was Hunter Morrison.

My traitorous hand wanted to reach up and cradle his stubble-blanketed face, but he held me in place with the force of a bulldozer. I remembered all too well the roughness of this skin against mine as he’d pressed me against his car that day so long ago, our lips finally picking up where we’d left off on graduation night before the call from Jillian changed everything.

“For the record,” he said, slightly breathless, “you are the most capable woman of having romance in the entire world.”

I couldn’t hide my quick intake of breath. What did he mean? That I would find someone else like he’d found Collette? Or something deeper, something my sprinting heart desperately wanted to be true?

I had to know. It was time. “What would Collette think of my staying here?” I whispered.

He pulled back a bit, still pinning me to the sofa. “I would imagine she wouldn’t be happy. I doubt she would be surprised, though.”

I positively gaped at him now. Was he the player I told Jillian he might be? Had I escaped one womanizer for another? But no, that felt wrong. Hunter’s attention had been on me since I arrived, solely and completely. Just like always. That had to count for something.

“Kennedy,” he said softly. “Do you think I’m in love with Collette?”

An odd question for an engaged man, and I couldn’t quite allow myself to hope that he wasn’t one. So I squeaked, “Yes.”

“Then it’s time you understood,” he said, his voice husky, “I’m taking work off again tomorrow. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you for a long time.”

I tried to speak, but my voice failed me. Clearing my throat, I tried again, pretending every cell in my body wasn’t being yanked toward this man with the force of a solar system. “What about Jillie and Alexis?”

“They’ll be fine. They know their way around now. Just tell them to secure their belongings on the metro.”

“It’s not thieves I’m worried about. It’s Alexis and Jillian alone together.”

“They’re adults, and it’s time they worked things out. Kennedy.” The sound of my name on his lips stole what little air remained in my lungs. “If tomorrow is your last full day here, I’m spending it with you.”

As I lay in Hunter’s bed a few minutes later wearing his fiancée’s silk PJs and drinking in the scent of my best friend’s bedroom, Hunter’s words echoed through my tired mind.

If tomorrow is your last full day here, I’m spending it with you.

Nearly identical words from my mom long ago. I still remembered how she lay in her bed on hospice, barely ableto speak. Her eyes blazed with pain, but she’d refused her morphine.

“It takes me away from you,” she complained. “Let me feel today, the good and the bad.”

I nearly called the nurse to force it down her, but I desperately wanted to spend lucid time with her. I wasn’t ready to let her go, even to the comfort of sleep.

“What do you want to do?” I had managed, forcing a note of cheerfulness into my voice. “Jillian won’t be back from the store for an hour.”

She relaxed into her pillow. “Tell me what he’ll be like, the man you marry. Since I won’t get to see.”

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