One Night in Paris

by Kate Sweeney

  Once in their room, Maureen locked the door as Annabel set the luggage by the dresser.

  “This is cozy. Hey, a fireplace!” she exclaimed happily.

  “Hoorah,” Maureen grumbled and took off her jacket. Annabel rushed to her to help. “I can manage.”

  “Okay.” Annabel watched as Maureen floundered with the jacket. Finally, she couldn’t take anymore. “Christ, you’re stubborn,” she said seriously and gently pulled the leather jacket off while Maureen groaned.

  Annabel was shocked to see the dark patch on Maureen’s side. Her white shirt was streaked in crimson, and Annabel bit at her bottom lip. “You need to lie down. Go on.” She gently pushed her toward the bed.

  Maureen stopped. “I’ll get blood all over it.”

  Annabel went to the bathroom and came back with a towel. She pulled back the down quilt and spread the towel on the bed. “There now, get out of that shirt.”

  Maureen painfully pulled the T-shirt over her head. She then let out a sigh of relief as she lay down.

  Annabel had retrieved the arsenal of first aid she purchased. She found a washcloth and soap in the bathroom. Gathering all she needed, she turned back into the room and nearly dropped everything.

  Maureen Costello was lying in bed in only her black jeans and a sports bra. Annabel was impressed with the long, lean muscular body. She figured there was a good set of strong thighs beneath those lucky black jeans. Clearing her throat, she walked over to the bed. Okay, focus—stop the bleeding, stop the bleeding.

  Maureen opened her eyes and glanced at the collection laid out on the bed, and cautiously watched Annabel.

  “Well, I at least got you out of your shirt. That’s progress from last night.” Annabel let out a ridiculous nervous laugh and cleared her throat. “Okay, hold still,” Annabel warned and looked at the wound. It was a nice neat slice about four inches long. Not too deep, but it looked nasty and red.

  “What happened?” she asked as she gingerly cleaned the area with the soapy cloth. Maureen flinched but said nothing. “Looks like a knife wound to me,” Annabel continued as she glanced up.

  “And you’ve seen many knife wounds then?” Maureen breathed through her nose and stared at the ceiling.

  “Don’t be rude. I have peroxide, and I know how to use it.”

  “She called you Dr. Mitchell. Medical doctor…?” Maureen asked through clenched teeth.

  “No such luck. I have a PhD in molecular biology and physiology,” Annabel said absently as she cleaned the wound. She looked up at Maureen’s stunned expression and laughed. “I get that look a lot. And I haven’t the strength to explain what I do.”

  “That’s all right. I haven’t the strength to listen.”

  Annabel smiled. “Well, I just graduated. I’m on a summer vacation.” She gave Maureen a sheepish look. “And my name isn’t Francesca,” she said in a small voice.

  Maureen let out a low rumble of a laugh. “Really?”

  “No. It’s Annabel. Francesca was a…well, I thought… And then you were there and looking so sexy and…well, it was my last night in Paris, and I…” She saw the grin and felt stupid.

  “Ya thought ya’d have a bit of an adventure. Well, as I said, I’m sorry I disappointed ya, Doctor.”

  “But you didn’t,” Annabel blurted out.

  Maureen raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Sorry, Annabel. I truly am,” she whispered painfully.

  Annabel looked at the sincere face and smiled. “This is going to hurt.”

  Maureen chuckled tiredly. “Compared to what?”

  Annabel laughed along. “Hold your breath,” she advised as she poured the peroxide onto the wound.

  Maureen stifled a cry and arched her back. She instinctively grabbed onto Annabel’s shoulder as she tried not to move. Annabel knew she should be concentrating on the woman’s wound, but it was all she could do not to stare at her firm breasts and nipples straining against the cotton of the gray bra. She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.

  “Jaysus fucking…” Maureen hissed as she grunted in pain. “Are ya done then, woman?” she begged and squirmed.

  “I’m sorry, but you won’t go to a doctor, and I don’t want it to get infected,” Annabel said quickly. The peroxide bubbled as it cleaned the wound. When she was satisfied, Annabel gently put a clean cloth to it, happy to see it stopped bleeding.

  Maureen took a deep tired breath and nodded. She dropped her hand from Annabel’s shoulder as it flopped on the bed. “Well, that hurt,” she whispered in her thick Irish brogue.

  Annabel said nothing as she placed the gauze on the wound and applied the tape. She then sat back and regarded her work. “There, that’s pretty good if I do say so myself,” she quipped and smiled affectionately at her patient.

  “Ya did just fine, Dr. Mitchell. I thank you,” Maureen said softly. “I am sorry.”

  “Nonsense. And stop saying that,” Annabel assured her as she cleaned up the first aid. She picked up Maureen’s wallet that had fallen out of her pocket. It was opened, and Annabel saw her driver’s license. “Nice picture. I won’t even show you mine,” she said dryly. “Look, why don’t you try and get some rest?”

  Maureen tried to sit up but just fell back. “Damn it all to hell,” she hissed angrily.

  “Go to sleep,” Annabel whispered and pulled the quilt over her. Once again, she tried not to notice Maureen’s upper torso; it was becoming a losing battle.

  Maureen reached out and grabbed her hand. “No doctors, no police. Promise me, please,” Maureen said urgently. “I have no choice but to trust ya.”

  “I promise. Now sleep,” Annabel said and pulled the quilt up; Maureen Costello was already sleeping.

  Annabel soaked the bloodied cloths and washed the stained T-shirt as much as she could and flung it over the towel rack to dry. She then tiptoed out into the room, while Maureen Costello was sound asleep, breathing in a deep rhythmical pattern. All at once, Annabel was exhausted. Jet lag. It was only three in the afternoon, but it felt like midnight. She quietly slipped out of the room and down the stairs.

  “Your friend is all right, Dr. Mitchell?” Mrs. Burke asked kindly. “Come sit by the fire. It’s summer, but there is a chill in the air.”

  “Thank you.” Annabel smiled and sat on the old couch. The heady aroma filled the air, and Annabel couldn’t quite place it. Mrs. Burke poured the tea and noticed the curious look.

  “It’s from the peat. We use dried peat from the bogs for the fireplace,” she offered and sat across from Annabel. “You’re a very young woman. I love the shade of your hair. In Ireland, we’re either brown or red. Yours is a nice soft blond, not too bright like your Hollywood celebrities. What was her name…?” She waved impatiently. “Doesn’t matter. And you have pretty blue eyes.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said, taking the offered teacup. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a while. And to answer your question. My friend seems to have gotten a slight case of the flu. She’s resting now,” Annabel said as she sipped her tea. “You said you had other guests?”

  “Yes. They’re out shopping in Dublin, I believe.”

  After an hour of delightful conversation, Mrs. Burke rose. “If you’ll excuse me, dear, I’ve got a lamb roast in the oven. If I can persuade ya, would ya like to eat here tonight?”

  Annabel hesitated, not wanting to put the old woman out. Mrs. Burke seemed to sense this and winked. “Roasted potatoes, leek soup, and a bit of homemade bread,” she enticed.

  Annabel salivated and licked her lips as she gave the stairs a guilty look.

  “And when you’ve finished, I’ll make a plate for your friend. Ya can take it up to her with a nice pot of tea.”

  She couldn’t take anymore. “Yes. I’d love something to eat. Thank you. To tell you the truth, I’m starving,” she admitted with a chuckle.

  Mrs. Burke let out a hearty laugh and slapped her leg. “It’s done then. Come into the kitchen, ya can work for your supper.”

 
*******

  The meal was exquisite. The lamb was done to perfection. The potatoes and carrots were astounding, and the soup, out of this world. “Mrs. Burke, you should be a chef,” Annabel announced and pushed the plate away.

  “Thank you. Are ya sure ya had enough? You look like you could use a few pounds there, missy,” she countered and took the plate away.

  Annabel patted her stomach. “With a meal like that every day, I’d gain twenty pounds.”

  “You young women these days. You’ll work it off, I’m sure. Let me get a tray ready.”

  Annabel took the tray and balanced it up the stairs. The heavenly aroma wafted up to her nose, and she was once again hungry. Good grief, she thought; it has to be the air in this country. She gently pushed the door open and walked in.

  Maureen Costello was still sleeping, though she had tossed the quilt off, and one long leg dangled off the side of the bed. Annabel gently put the overflowing tray on the bed, walked around to Maureen’s side, and gently lifted the leg onto the bed. Maureen immediately woke with a start.

  “Easy, it’s only me,” Annabel said softly.

  Maureen sighed and slumped back against the pillows, then sniffed the air. “My God, what is that heavenly smell?”

  Her voice came out in a throaty groan that went straight to Annabel’s…well, she shivered violently at the sound.

  “It’s Mrs. Burke’s wonderful lamb. She thought you’d like something to eat. I told her you had a touch of the flu,” Annabel said and retrieved the tray. “Now sit up and eat.”

  She noticed the scowl as Maureen shifted as she sat up. The quilt was at her waist, and Annabel once again averted her eyes from Maureen’s firm breasts. God help me, she begged and placed the tray across her lap.

  “You needn’t scowl so much. It’s just food. No one’s trying to steal your soul,” she said and handed her a napkin.

  “Very amusing.” Maureen took a spoon to the soup cautiously. In a moment, she was ravenous. After nearly licking the bowl, she glanced up at Annabel. “There’s no need to look so superior. Have ya eaten?” she asked as she cut into the lamb.

  “Yes, it was wonderful. You Irish sure know how to cook a lamb roast. My mother couldn’t boil water.” Annabel laughed, remembering all the casseroles her family devoured. She looked at Maureen, who was doing a little devouring of her own. “How about your family?” she asked cautiously.

  Maureen glanced at her while she ate. “Typical,” she said with a shrug.

  Annabel smirked but said nothing as she sat on the other side of the bed. She watched Maureen until she had finished eating. “Mother? Father? Siblings?”

  “Of course I had a mother and father. How do ya think I got here?”

  Annabel laughed at that, though Maureen was serious. “Well, perhaps you’re waiting for the mother ship?”

  Maureen smiled grudgingly as she poured a cup of tea. “Do ya find yourself amusing then?”

  “Yes, on rare occasions, I can be downright hysterical.”

  Maureen continued to smile as she drank her tea. “Yes, I have one brother. Michael.”

  The pensive, almost sad tone pulled at Annabel’s heart. She also heard the dismissive tone and decided not to pursue the topic. She watched as Maureen stared off into space as if Annabel was not even there. She shifted uncomfortably under the quilt as if she were struggling with some inner turmoil.

  “Something’s very wrong, isn’t it?” Annabel asked softly.

  Maureen frowned deeply. “I need to get going. I was wrong to involve you. I’m so sorry.” She shifted again. “I need to get out of this bed,” she said angrily and lifted the tray off her lap. “Thanks for the food.”

  Annabel smirked and watched as she struggled with the quilt. “You can’t even stand. Why don’t you rest for the night? You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  “Where’s my shirt?” Maureen ignored her as she looked around the room. “I’m sittin’ here in my underwear.”

  “I don’t mind,” Annabel said. She nearly laughed at the stupefied look and relented. “It’s drying in the bathroom. There was blood on it. Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what happened to you?” she asked as she put the tray on the small desk.

  “No…” Maureen answered stubbornly; she swayed precariously as she stood. “I’ve troubled ya enough, Dr. Mitchell, and I thank you for…” She stopped her stammering. All at once, she sat back down on the bed as the room began to spin. “Damn it all to hell.”

  “Please get back into bed. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll think clearer, and we can figure out what to do next.”

  Maureen looked up. “We? Look, Doctor, tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Okay.”

  “And ya can go on with your vacation.”

  “Fine.”

  “I never should have got ya into this.”

  Annabel hoped Maureen hadn’t realized she had her back in bed and the quilt pulled up to her shoulders.

  Maureen sighed tiredly. “I mean it now.”

  “I know,” Annabel whispered as Maureen fell into a deep sleep. Annabel reached under the quilt and laughed nervously as she unzipped the jeans. She gently pulled them off; Maureen didn’t even stir.

  It was nearly ten o’clock, and Annabel was now completely exhausted. She quietly stripped out of her clothes and headed for a hot shower. Afterward, she slipped into a pair of pajamas. She looked at the slumbering woman. “I’m not sleeping at a desk chair,” she said with a yawn that nearly cracked her jaw. She found another blanket and lay atop the quilt. She slipped in at Maureen’s uninjured side and pulled the blanket around her.

  Sighing with relief, Annabel turned on her side to face Maureen, who was breathing deeply. In the moonlight, she smiled, noticing Maureen Costello had a nice profile. She looked decidedly feminine when she slept. Her face no longer sported the deep scowl, and now she looked almost childlike. I wonder what you’re into, Maureen Costello, she thought and wondered why she wanted to help this woman.

  Well, I wanted an adventure, she thought as she slipped into her own deep sleep. Molecular biologist Annabel Mitchell of Lincoln, Nebraska, was to find out that the old adage was very true. Be careful what you wish for…

  Chapter 4

  The dull pain in her side woke her. Maureen opened her eyes, completely disoriented. Her first sensation was that of complete peace. She felt safe and warm. It was a feeling all too unfamiliar to her. Lying on her side, she noticed Annabel sleeping peacefully facing her.

  Maureen glanced at her watch—only five a.m. She gingerly stretched and winced; the pain in her side shot through her. Damn it all to hell, she thought angrily. She softened as she looked at the slumbering woman. With her lips parted slightly, she was close enough for Maureen to feel the warm breath on her arm. Why would this stranger help her?

  Well, ya didn’t give the poor girl much choice now, did ya, Costello? What were ya thinking, jumping into her car like that? So they almost spotted ya. Ya could’ve run and made your way out of the airport without too much trouble. Ya just had to see her again, didn’t ya? What is it about this woman? She was ashamed of herself for getting Annabel involved. She had every right to drop her on her arse at the nearest corner, but she didn’t. She was kind and considerate, something else that was all too unfamiliar to Maureen.

  She remembered looking into those deep blue eyes for the first time at the casino in Paris. For an instant, Maureen’s heart stopped; she was so mesmerized by this woman. Her heart beat wildly now. Annabel’s lips were much too sweet, her body much too warm and inviting, her embrace much too safe.

  She smiled slightly as she watched Annabel sleep. Her skin was tanned and soft, and Maureen fought the urge to reach over and brush her fingers against the soft cheek. Annabel was not the typical woman Maureen Costello was accustomed to.

  Maureen loved them, then left them. It was safe, quick, and satisfying, and there were no questions. Her life didn’t allow for love or affe
ction. She closed her eyes and gently took a deep breath. She smiled inwardly as the fragrance of lavender wafted over her. She must have showered last night, she thought stupidly. What an idiot! Stop your foolishness. You’ve got business to attend to. But she smiled again. Well, just one more sweet whiff… She leaned in and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

  Just then, Annabel’s eyes fluttered opened. Maureen stopped in mid-sniff and froze. “G-good mornin’,” she mumbled stupidly.

  Annabel’s sleepy smile melted Maureen’s heart like butter.

  “Morning. It’s early. Why are you up?” Annabel stretched, aware of Maureen, who watched her intently. “How long have you been watching me?” She didn’t wait for an answer, which was fine with Maureen because she had none. “How’s your side feeling?”

  “It’s just fine. Thank you for last night. I…” She stopped and frowned deeply.

  Annabel gently reached over and touched her shoulder. “You’re welcome. Go back to sleep,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “You need the rest. You still look tired.” She yawned and cuddled the blanket to her chin.

  Maureen said nothing as her heart ached. She watched Annabel fall back to sleep. She looks so young, so trusting. She knows nothing about me, yet she sleeps so soundly next to me. I don’t deserve such trust, she thought tiredly. I should be going. I’ve so much to do. She yawned and closed her eyes, reveling if only for a few moments in the peace and contentment she felt lying next to this kind woman. Maureen Costello had never known a peace such as this.

  *******

  Maureen woke some time later. She looked sadly at Annabel knowing what she had to do. Quietly, she slipped out of bed. She stifled a chuckle as she saw her boots and jeans neatly folded on the chair. Got me outta my jeans, did ya? She struggled into them, slipped on her boots, and tiptoed into the bathroom.

  This is more like you, Costello, sneaking away. She pulled the T-shirt over her head, grabbed her leather jacket, and slipped quietly to the door. She gave one last look at the woman who she may have learned to love. As she walked out, she picked up the car keys.