London (International Guy Book 7)

by Audrey Carlan

  Sophie smiles shyly, reminding me of the woman I met several months ago. The one who lacked confidence and serious sex appeal in her wardrobe. Neither of those two things is a problem any longer, but her sweetness has returned in full force. In the months since I’ve been to Paris, Sophie has changed for the better. She’s stronger, direct, and no longer responds like a wallflower, though I can tell this man brings out something demure in her.

  “Bonsoir, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel has eyes only for Sophie; he doesn’t so much as glance at us as he cups her around the neck and hip, bringing her into his embrace. “J’ai rêvé de ton appel.” He whispers something else into her ear, then boldly kisses her on the neck before doing the two-kiss greeting that is standard in France.

  If my memory serves, he said something to the tune of “I dreamed of your call.”

  “Please speak English, as our guests are Americans.”

  “How do you do?” he says with a thick French accent while holding out his hand to me, and tilts his head as if in recognition. “I am Gabriel Jeroux.”

  I smile and shake the man’s hand. “Parker Ellis, and my girlfriend, Skyler Paige.”

  His eyes don’t so much as widen at Skyler’s name. Either he can hide the fact that he just met one of the most famous celebrities in the business, or he hasn’t made the connection yet. I continue, “We’ve met before, briefly. You’re a scientist at Rolland Group.”

  “Oui. That is how I met my Sophie.” He places his hand on her chair. “Please everyone, do sit down.”

  As we sit, Gabriel glances at Nate and Rachel, who flank the private booth, arms crossed, or in Rachel’s case, behind her back.

  “Do you want me to secure chairs for your friends? I’m not sure why they are standing there as though they are guards.”

  Skyler chuckles. “They won’t sit even if we invite them to. They’re my bodyguards.”

  A waitress comes up and discusses the evening’s drinks and chef specialties. We set about ordering wine, cocktails, and appetizers right away, so we can get it out of the way.

  “Skyler, is it?” Gabriel asks, and Sky nods. “What is it you do?”

  Sophie and I both laugh hard.

  “This is so refreshing. You know, I like you already, Gabriel.” Skyler beams, giving him one of her megawatt smiles.

  He pats his chest, making sure his tie is in place. “I shall thank you for the compliment.”

  Sophie puts her hand on Gabriel’s thigh, and he looks at it and then at her as she speaks. “Skyler is a very well-known actress.”

  He blinks a few times. “Oh? Anything I might have seen?”

  This time I’m laughing. “You really don’t recognize her, do you?” I lean back and put my arm around Skyler’s chair.

  Gabriel shakes his head. “I’m sorry, no.” He frowns, his cheeks pinkening with what I assume is embarrassment. “Though, I’m sure that does not mean you are not good. I do not get out to the movies much, or rather, not at all. My time is spent at the lab and with Sophie when possible.”

  Skyler grabs my hand that I have around her chair. “It’s okay. It’s nice not to be recognized.”

  “Do you get recognized a lot?”

  She grins. “You could say I get my fair share,” she responds, with an out-and-out downplay of her success and status. “Tell me about what you do at Rolland Group?”

  Gabriel’s eyes come alight with excitement. “I aid my love in creating unique scents, as somewhat of a perfume chemist.” He nods to Skyler. “Yours, however, is not a mixture I recognize. It’s like peaches . . . and . . .”

  “Cream,” I add, bringing my nose to her neck and inhaling fully. A powerful shiver of arousal ripples through my body. “My favorite smell on earth.”

  Gabriel leans forward toward Sky. “Is it a perfume?” He grabs her wrist and lifts it up to his nose. “May I?”

  Skyler giggles. “Sure. Though no, it’s not perfume. I think it’s just a combination of my bodywash, shampoo, and lotion.”

  “And your natural essence. My nose can detect the subtle differences in each application or beauty product,” Gabriel announces.

  “Gabriel’s olfactory receptors are the best in the business. Many competitors have tried to steal him from me, but alas for them, he stays.” Sophie beams with pride at the man who’s focused only on her.

  “I stay for you, mon amour,” he declares with zero humor. “I live for you.”

  Skyler eases her body next to mine. “She’s gonna give him the green light, right?” she whispers conspiratorially.

  I hold up my fingers to shush her lips and point at them. Sophie and Gabriel are holding hands, facing one another, her long dark hair falling down her shoulders, hiding some of her face from our view. Still I hold my breath, waiting . . . hoping.

  “Gabriel . . .” Her voice is shaky, which in this situation is a good sign.

  He cuts in. “I just want to be with you always, mon amour. Can I please come home?”

  Her chin trembles and she nods. “Oui, I have been so alone without you.”

  Skyler watches the couple and wipes at her eyes. I feel my throat tightening and my heart pumping. Skyler and I were in a similar space only a couple of weeks ago. Just proves where there is love, there is always a way.

  “You’re never going to be alone. You have me. All of me. Until you take your last breath,” he promises.

  “Je t’aime, Gabriel.” Sophie cups Gabriel’s cheek and kisses him.

  Skyler squeezes my hand and brings it up to her lips, so she can kiss the top. She presses my hand to her cheek, her gaze not leaving the romantic display in front of us.

  “Does that mean you’ll marry me, mon amour?” Gabriel’s focus is entirely on Sophie.

  She pulls back and laughs. “One thing at a time. Let us work on this phase and not rush it.”

  Gabriel smiles. “If that is your wish, I shall wait for you forever, if I must.”

  Sophie cups both of his cheeks, kisses him sweetly, and then pulls back. Her gaze goes to our side of the table, where Skyler and I are dead silent watching the show.

  “Where are those drinks, anyway?” she inquires, a blush creeping from her neck to her cheeks.

  Sky and I laugh, trying to break up the tension so they don’t feel as though their entire moment was on display, even if it was.

  Carefully I reach out my hand under the table and grab Sophie’s. She holds mine, and I squeeze it. “Proud of you.”

  She grins and silently squeezes my hand, then lets it go.

  SKYLER

  Parker swings my hand up and back as we walk around the Saint Germain area in Paris. Rachel and Nate are trailing us, but so far we haven’t seen a hint of the paparazzi. It’s like we’ve fallen off their radar, which I gotta admit is awesome!

  “What about there?” Parker points at a boutique filled with women’s clothing.

  I crinkle up my nose and shake my head. “Nah, not feeling clothes shopping.”

  “Huh. That’s unique.”

  “Not really. I’m not much for clothes shopping, but I love accessories.” I swing his arm some more and step over the small ledge to cross the street. We walk along Rue Dauphine, not far from the Notre-Dame Cathedral. The sun is shining, and there’s a chill in the air that has me holding my woven sweater tighter against my neck. “I could use a scarf.”

  As we pass by the Hôtel d’Aubusson and come to an area filled with brasseries and more stores, I notice a stand full of scarves at the front of a small, artsy-looking shop.

  I stop in front of the store and finger the pretty lengths of fabric, appreciating how different each one is. Parker lets go of my hand and scans the window.

  “I’m going to get a scarf for me, oooh, and Wendy, Tracey, and maybe your mom.” I turn around and wait until Rachel locks gazes with me. “You want a memento scarf?”

  Rachel looks down at her black cargo pants, tough-girl boots complete with studs on the heels, and black leather bomber jacket, th
en back up at me. She grins. “Don’t think it would go with my outfit.”

  I twist my lips to the side and take a gander. “Nope, you’re right.”

  She smiles but makes herself scarce, walking around the perimeter as I remove a couple of scarves and unfold them so I can see the design unencumbered.

  “I’m going to go check out something inside.” Parker grabs the handle of the door and heads inside.

  “Cool. I’ll be there in a sec.” I put one brilliant red, blue, and brown scarf around my neck, knowing it will be perfect for Parker’s mother’s complexion. Next, I pick out a bright canary-yellow, white, and black one for Wendy. That girl loves to match wild patterns and colors, and I’m certain she can do something with this. I pick out a lovely pink-and-black one for Tracey, one she can wear with her stylish black peacoat back in NYC. Then I find a cool orange, purple, and royal-blue one that will go with my jeans and sweater, and tuck that around my neck too before heading inside.

  The store has a wide variety of paintings, sculptures, trinkets, and other wares that I imagine tourists go crazy for, except it all looks handcrafted, not just bought in bulk to reach the masses.

  I find Parker in the back of the store pointing at some lengths of leather. Each piece is different. Some have a snap at the end or a buckle, and come in a variety of widths.

  “Whatcha looking at?”

  He grins. “Remember how I told you that I needed to get my mantra tattooed on my wrist?” His blue eyes gleam with mirth.

  I chuckle and loop my hands around his waist from behind and look down at the lengths of leather. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I was obviously joking . . .”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Though the idea of wearing something with my mantra sounds fitting.”

  I purse my lips and finger one of the lengths of leather that look like bracelets. The item seems about nine inches long with a snap on the end. It’s a burnt sienna color with three brassy grommets on each end and a blank space in the center. It’s just under half an inch wide.

  Behind the counter a little old man is working on a machine making a bunch of noise. He then comes back to Parker, blowing on a strap of leather in his hand and rubbing it across his fingers. He lays the bracelet down on the counter, and my heart stops.

  In the center of the leather are three words:

  TRUST YOUR HEART

  “Whoa!” I gasp and run my fingers over the imprinted leather. “He just made this for you? It’s incredible.”

  Parker smiles wide, grabs the bracelet, puts it around his wrist, and snaps it into place. It’s so hip and cool and . . . everything. “You put my words on your body, honey?” I hold his hand and look down at the most amazing gesture he’s ever made besides telling me he loves me.

  “Yes, I did.” His tone is proud and filled with love.

  I frown. “Well, I want one too! With my mantra on it, but I want . . . ohhhhh!” My gaze falls onto a strip of leather the same width as his, but it’s black instead of his sienna color. On each end are cut flowers and leaves as though they’ve been etched into the leather and are a light tan against the stark darkness of the black on top. It’s a beautiful mix of colors. “Excuse me, sir. May I have this one with a different phrase on it?”

  “Oui. As you wish.”

  “I’d like mine to say in all capitals: ‘live your truth.’”

  He nods, grabs a new leather bracelet from under the counter, and goes to his machine.

  “Oh, and when you’re done, I want to buy these four scarves too!” I pull the scarves off my neck, set them on the counter. and bounce from side to side, my excitement rushing through my system like ants dancing in my pants.

  Parker hooks his arm around my shoulders and brings me into his side. “You know, this is positively romantic.”

  I grin and lift up my chin as he looks down at me. “I’m going to wear mine all the time.”

  He kisses me soundly on the mouth and then pulls back. I swear, when he kisses me like this, stares into my eyes so deeply, I feel as if we’re the only two people in the whole world. I fall more in love with him each and every time he stares at me with awe in his gaze.

  “Me too. Then, when we’re apart, I’ll have a reminder of my love for you, hanging right on my wrist.”

  “You know the guys are going to give you mad shit about this.” I chuckle.

  He closes his pretty blue eyes for a moment. “I know. You’re worth it.”

  “It is done.” The man behind the counter breaks up our little snug-fest and lays the length of leather out for my inspection.

  “It’s beautiful.” I run my fingers over the words that have come to mean everything to me.

  LIVE YOUR TRUTH

  Parker snaps the bracelet on my wrist and runs his thumb over it. He lifts my hand and kisses the words over my wrist. “It’s even prettier on the wearer.”

  I nudge his shoulder and laugh. “Smooth talker.”

  He chuckles.

  The Frenchman rings me up, and soon Parker and I are holding hands and walking back down the lanes of the Saint Germain district. I lead Parker down a street I know well and to my favorite place to eat in all of France. Well, my favorite pizzeria.

  Parker’s eyebrows rise near his hairline as he takes in Pizzeria Pepone. It’s a tiny little hole in the wall that can only seat maybe fifteen people on one side. On the other side, the chef is spinning dough in the air and cooking up the pies and pastas made fresh to order.

  “Skyler!” The owner opens his arms, and I let go of Parker in order to hug the man. He pulls back from the hug and smiles. “You have come back.”

  “Told you, every time I’m in France, I’m stopping in for my pizza fix.”

  He ushers us to a prime table where we can still watch people walk by on the street.

  “You come here often?” Park whispers in my ear.

  I nod and bite into my bottom lip. “When I’m in Paris, yeah. Best pizza in Europe.”

  Parker holds my chair out for me before seating himself. “You know, you’re the perfect woman.” His words send butterflies flapping their wings inside my stomach.

  “Perfect?” I return dryly.

  “Well, perfect for me.”

  I can feel the blush rush across my skin in a heated wave. “I guess I’ll have to accept that, since you’re perfect for me.”

  My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out and note it’s a text. Glancing down at the screen, I frown.

  From: Unknown

  To: Skyler Paige

  I thought we were friends. Friends tell each other everything.

  “What is it?” Parker asks while the owner sets down my favorite wine. It’s a burgundy they’ve had available every time I’ve been here, which, over the years, has been at least a dozen times.

  I shake my head, and an uncomfortable feeling sets up root where Parker’s butterflies had been. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Look.” I hand him the phone and he scans it and frowns.

  “Unknown caller. Definitely not someone you programmed. Do you think it’s a mistake?”

  “Guess it could be. Probably.” I run my hand through my hair.

  He taps the top of the phone. “It’s strange. A week ago, I received a text from an unknown caller too.”

  An uneasy feeling prickles at the back of my neck, but I push it aside. “Hmm.”

  Parker stands up. “Pour the wine and order me whatever pizza you’re having. I’m gonna give your phone to Nate and have him investigate.”

  “Don’t you think that’s going overboard a little? It’s one text.”

  “Two if you count my unknown-caller text.”

  “You’re reaching . . .”

  “Maybe, but better safe than sorry, right?”

  I shrug. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. Just hurry up and get your ass back. I want to toast to our last night in Paris before we go home.”

  He leans over and runs two fingers down the side of my face until he gets to my
chin. I lift it up, and he kisses me briefly before heading about ten feet over to where Rachel and Nate have already ordered food, sitting at the table right near the exit, where they can see everything.

  While I watch, Parker hands the phone to Nate and says a few things, and then his own phone must have rung because he pulls it out of his pocket and lifts it to his ear. His face lights up with happiness, and I wonder who he’s talking to.

  The owner comes over, and I order us two margherita pizzas, which are amazing here.

  Parker smiles as he returns and takes his seat. God, I love seeing him in a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a chunky sweater. He’s GQ, the boy next door, the successful businessman, and confident lover all in one. I could lick up the side of his neck, wiggle my hand between his hot skin and the zipper of his pants, and go to town on him right here and be hard-pressed to feel bad about the public indecency of it. The man just sets me on fire with desire.

  “Yeah, Roy, got it. Cool. Two weeks at home, though. Yes.” The word comes out in a happy hiss. “I don’t know if she’s traveling, I’ll find out, but if she’s heading to New York, I may follow her there and take the laptop with me.”

  I grin as he finishes his call and sets his phone on the table.

  “You’ve got two weeks?”

  He smiles. “That’s right. And depending on what you have, I thought we could spend a week in Boston and then a week in New York. I know you said you have some junkets in the Big Apple.”

  “I do. That would work perfect, actually.”

  “Then it’s settled. Besides, Ma has a homemade meal at home planned for us when we get back.”

  “She does?” I croak.

  “Yeah, Peaches. Oh, and Pops wants you to sign a few things he can auction off at this charity thing he and my ma are doing at her local library. If you don’t mind.”

  “Course not. I’d be happy to help. And donate too.”

  “Great! Oh, and Royce and Bo want to challenge you to a game of pool at Lucky’s. They’re still pissed you beat them last time. And . . . if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to stop at Wendy and Michael’s place. See how she’s doing in person.” He rattles off the laundry list of things we need to attend to when we get home.