Page 36 of Meet Me in Paris

Hunter followed, a silent shadow in the night.

“What are you protecting me from now?” I hissed. “Swiss models wanting to sweep me off my feet?”

He looked away. “Paris isn’t safe for women at night, even in this part of town.”

I whirled on him. “You’re taking this overprotective thing to a whole new level. I can’t believe you stalked me on a date.”

“I can’t believe you even thought about going home with that scumbag. You didn’t even know him.”

“I would never have done that, Hunter. But even if I had, it was my choice.Mine.” I grabbed the hotel door handle and yanked on it.

It didn’t budge.

With a blink, I realized all the windows were dark, even the guest ones above. I pulled again, harder this time. No luck.

Hunter pointed at a black device on the door. “You’ll have to use your key.”

My key. Right. The one I’d left in my purse upstairs, assuming my sisters would let me into the room. It didn’t occur to me that the reception area wouldn’t be open twenty-four hours like in the States.

I pulled my phone from my purse and called Jillian. No answer. A quick text got no response. I groaned internally and resorted to calling Alexis, but it went straight to voicemail. A quick scan of the door revealed no phone number to call. I pounded for a minute, but no lights turned on.

I checked my phone again. No texts, and it was after midnight now.

Hunter watched me with unreadable eyes. “I’m taking you to my place.”

Leaning against the stubborn door, I gritted my teeth. And sleep in an apartment belonging to the woman he loved, surrounded by their memories? “Not a chance.”

“I know you’re angry, but it’s the one place I know you’llbe safe. I doubt there are any open hotels within miles of here this time of night.”

“Then I’ll sit on the doorstep and wait until morning.”

Hunter stared at me in disbelief. “Fine by me. I’ll be watching you from the car.” He walked back to his vehicle and leaned against the side, arms folded.

Seriously? “Go home. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving without you.” He pretended to examine the streetlamp overhead.

After a minute, I groaned and stomped back down the steps. “You are such a child sometimes.”

He opened the door and held it. “And you are a perfectly mature adult at all times. It amazes me, really.”

We didn’t speakthe entire drive to his apartment. He parked in an expensive-looking designated spot. Had he borrowed this car from his “friend” Collette? As curious as I felt, my pride refused to bend long enough to ask.

We walked up all three flights of stairs to his apartment, where he turned on the lights and retrieved a few blankets and pillows from an armoire near the bookcase. He dumped them in a pile on the sofa.

“I don’t need that many,” I muttered.

“I do. You’re using the bed.”

“You can drop the hero act with me, Hunter. I’ve known you since you were potty-trained.”

Hunter took a deep, impatient breath. “Kennedy, you wanted to be friends. What kind of friend would I be if I found out about your real estate friend and didn’t warn you? Or left you at his mercy on that dock? Or left you sitting on the doorstep of your hotel overnight, wearing what you’re wearing?

I looked down and flushed. The dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, and I instantly felt embarrassed Hunter saw me in it. I felt like a fool.

His voice lowered, and I detected a note of hurt. “If youthink I would let you sleep on a sofa in my home after the night you’ve had, you don’t know me at all.”

I sank onto the sofa and put my face in my hands, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The romantic dinner, the dancing, the drinks. Claude’s practiced seduction, designed to work on most tourists, should have worked on me but didn’t. He fit all the criteria I’d given Mom that day about the perfect guy, yet I’d driven away with Hunter instead.

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