Page 20 of Seduced By You

“Believe what?” She followed me into the kitchen. “I’ve made tea.”

Before I’d met Lee, I couldn’t understand the English obsession with tea. Now, I preferred it to coffee. If Homeland Security ever got wind of that, they’d bar me from going back home to America.

“Thanks.” I took the cup she offered me. Blowing across the top, I sipped. “The French, in their inimitable Frenchie wisdom, have decided on an impromptu three-day air traffic control strike. Which means we can’t fly to Heathrow as planned.”

“You’re kidding.” Lee blew out a heavy sigh. “So what do we do now?”

“I called my father and asked if the company jet was free. It isn’t. Our only other option is the Eurostar. We’ll have to drive up to Paris and catch it from there.” I cursed. “We’d never put up with this shit in the US.”

She pushed a plate of cookies at me. “Brace for some shocking news. The French aren’t Americans. They like to strike. It’s a way of life.”

I grinned at her sarcastic sideswipe and bit a cookie in half.

“It’s a nine-hour drive to Paris, so I suggest we make the drive tomorrow, stop overnight somewhere close by the train station, and then take the Eurostar over to London on Thursday. From there, we can pick up another car and head out to Berkshire.”

“What a faff. I think the universe is telling me not to go to this bloody wedding.”

“You don’t believe in that shit any more than I do.”

“True. Oh, I meant to show you the wedding gift I chose for them. I haven’t wrapped it yet.” She snickered. “Wait there.”

She ran upstairs. A couple of minutes later, she returned holding a large box which she planted it on the kitchen counter. I checked out the picture on the side and laughed. Lee had bought the gaudiest fruit bowl I’d ever seen. A scalloped pattern of reds and blues and greens, it was the class of gift an Auntie Maud would buy for a niece four generations younger.

Or, as was in Lee’s case, a fuck-you gift.

“It’s genius.”

“Isn’t it?” She gave me a wicked grin. “I picked it up at a charity shop the other day. The lady who served me said there’d been no interest since some clever bugger donated it a few months ago.”

“Color me shocked. It’s hideous.”

“Like the intended recipients.”

I laughed. “That’s the spirit. Remember that for the next few days and you’re golden.”

Leaving Lee to pack and ignoring Dash’s evil stare, I headed back to my place to make the travel arrangements. Flying would have been a hell of a lot easier, and quicker. A direct flight from Toulon Hyères Airport to Heathrow only took a couple of hours. Our new travel arrangements would take two days.

The strike had provided me with an unexpected bonus, though. It meant I got to spend extra time with Lee. If that didn’t shake off my salty mood, nothing would.

Plus, I got to stay overnight in Paris, the city of love, with the woman I loved. She might not have a clue, but I did. I could hold her hand as we walked beside the Seine and sell it as further practice for the main event.

Thank you, French air traffic controllers.

I made the necessary arrangements and waited for the confirmation emails to drop. A few seconds later, they came through. I was about to close the email program and put on my out-of-office reply when another email arrived.

My stomach fell to my feet, a tingling spreading across my chest. I blew out a steady breath.

Oh God.

And then I read the subject line.

Update.

Jesus.

My knees almost gave way. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel relief or despair. Probably a little of both. Joseph, the investigator I’d hired a little over a year ago when the nightmares had become too frequent, always wrote “Update” in the subject line when there wasn’t an update. If it were anyone else, I’d think he was trying sarcasm on for size, but Joseph Saunders was the most serious man I’d ever met. He made my cousin Johannes look like a stand-up comic.

I opened the email and read it, taking in one word at a time to make sure I neither missed anything nor confused the context. Dyslexia sucked, but we all played the cards as dealt.

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