"You can do all that just as easily from here," Carlos put in. "And if you ask Guy nicely, he might even loan you his car."
A look of pain crossed Guy's face, and Trish laughed. "I don't know Paris or the surrounding area, so I think I'll play it safe and leave the driving to someone else."
"What about the evenings?" Carlos wanted to know. "You can eat at many of the restaurants by yourself, but you can't go alone to any of the famous ones or to a club. I wouldn't recommend the cinema either-at night, those places are full of perverts looking for lonely women. And sitting alone at a café can also result in unwelcome attention."
"Really?" Convinced Carlos was being over-protective and doing a little chest beating as well, Trish raised her eyebrows and faked a wide-eyed, innocent look. "You mean someone might actually try to pick me up?"
"A beautiful woman like you, I guarantee it," Carlos affirmed, his expression almost a scowl. "I've watched how some of those vermin operate. Especially with pretty tourists. They lead you on, grab your tourist dollars and, they hope, your passport, which they can sell, and then vanish into the night."
"Are you trying to scare me?" Trish asked. She knew the first rule for a woman alone in a foreign city was to do nothing she wouldn't do in her own hometown and while she'd gotten carried away with Guy and Carlos' charms, from here on she intended to follow that rule. Of course, she'd imagined herself wandering around the streets in the evenings to see the lights and the nightlife. Now a tiny surge of apprehension invaded her thoughts, and she realized she was every bit as naïve as her last boyfriend had claimed. Paris might be the city of love and a romantic's dream come true in many respects. In reality, Paris was also just another big city with all the same inherent problems and dangers lying in wait for the unwary.
"Is it working?" Guy asked.
Trish grimaced. "I guess. A little bit anyway. I'm a big girl. I don't take candy from strange men, or get into their cars, or-"
"You got into mine," Guy reminded her.
"That was different," Trish defended herself. "We'd just deplaned from an overnight flight, and you were met by a chauffeur-driven limo. If you'd pulled any funny stuff, I could have tracked you down through the airline. What I meant was, if, for example, I was walking along a lonely street at night, and a car stopped and the driver offered me a lift."
Carlos refilled his coffee cup from the cafétière. "What would you do if that happened?"
"There are so many variables, I try to make sure it doesn't. Either I drive myself, or I call for a taxi. I don't take stupid chances." She paused. "But to be honest, I hadn't thought about the perils of Paris by night. I guess my head was so filled with all the glamour and the romance, I forgot it's just another big city, so it didn't even occur to me to bring a couple of books for something to do in the evenings."
"All the more reason why you should come stay here with us," Guy said, smiling. "We will do our best to make Paris everything you dreamed of and more. We both work all week so you'll have to amuse yourself in the daytime, but there will be no boring evenings or weekends, I promise. What do you say?"
Three weeks spent making love with two handsome, charming, and sexy men like Guy and Carlos sounded to Trish like her idea of pure heaven. It would be Christmas, her birthday, and having all her dreams come true at the same time. "You're making me an offer that's very hard to resist, you know that, huh?"
"Then don't resist. Just say yes."
"You're quite sure about this?"
Guy slipped an arm around Trish's waist and pulled her in close. "Never more sure about anything. The only problem is our company owns a chain of boutique hotels and vacation rental properties, and this being the start of tourist season, it's also our busiest time of the year."
"Meaning you can't take a few days off to play tourist guide?"
"We can try, but it might be difficult."
"How do you feel about me staying here, Carlos?" Trish wanted to know.
"No arguments from me." Carlos chuckled. "I'd love for you to stay here with us. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay however long you want. Provided, of course, you continue to make the salads. Guy always complains I use too much oil."
* * * *
For the next three weeks, Trish's life became a whirl of sightseeing, shopping, eating, and making love. The better she got to know Guy and Carlos, the more she liked them, and she knew, despite the constant reminders to herself this was only a vacation and to keep things light, she was rapidly falling in love with them both. By the end of the third week, falling had become fallen hard, and she knew leaving Paris and returning home would be beyond difficult. She even considered avoiding what she knew would be a heartbreaking and emotional goodbye by leaving the day before while they were still at work and spending the last night alone at the airport.
Except she knew it was just as hard for Guy and Carlos, and they would both be terribly hurt if she pulled a stunt like that. They'd treated her like a princess and catered to her every whim, and already it was hard to imagine life without them.
Since it was Trish's last night, they'd planned to go out somewhere grand for dinner, but none of them had much of an appetite. Instead, Carlos made a simple pasta dish and Trish her usual salad, while Guy sat on one of the kitchen stools and watched.
Trish noticed both men were unusually quiet. There was none of the usual banter that always flowed so naturally among the three of them while they prepared dinner-no laughter, no jokes, and no discussion of the day's events.
Finally, Guy stood up and came over to where Trish was busy assembling the salad. After removing the knife from her fingers, he took both her hands in his. Bringing them to his mouth, Guy kissed each finger in turn. "The first time I saw you…when I sat down next to you on the plane, I said something to you. I don't remember now what it was and the words aren't important, but it was enough. We exchanged glances, and right away I knew."
"You knew what?"
"That something had clicked between us, and my life would never be the same again. I think you felt it, too. Am I right?"
"I guess. I'm not sure." She snatched her hands away and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Please, Guy, don't do this. My vacation is over, and tomorrow I have to go home."
"Wouldn't you rather stay here with us?"
"Sure I would. There are lots of things I'd rather do. But I have a life in Canada. I can't just turn my back and forget about it."
"But I thought you told me that you have no close family in Toronto," Carlos said, frowning.
"I don't. Not since my grandmother died a few months ago. I don't even live there anymore. Grandma's house was too large for one person, and Toronto is expensive, so I moved to a small town on the outskirts."
"What about your parents?"
"My mom died when I was a baby, and the only other family I have, apart from a few cousins scattered around the country, is my Dad. But he's remarried and living out west."
"In other words, you're free to come and go as you wish?" Guy said, looking a tad happier.
"Not really. I'm hoping to have a job waiting for me in the business loans department of a bank when I get back. I have student loans to repay. And I still have several months left on my apartment lease. I can't just pick up and run. I have commitments."
"None of which are real problems," Guy said firmly. "Merely small annoyances."
Trish laughed and shook her head. "You guys are nuts. It all sounds very nice and wonderful, but not very practical. We've only known one another a few weeks. I can't just come barging into your lives, upsetting things. It wouldn't be right."
"You wouldn't be upsetting a thing," Carlos said. "Yes, Guy and I are bisexual. We are committed to one another, so we don't seek the favors or the company of other men. But both of us have always known the day would come when a very special woman would enter our lives. Guy believes that woman is you."
"And whatever Guy wants, Guy gets? What about you? The two of you already have a life together. Don
't you have a say in this?"
"Of course I do. Guy and I share everything. If I didn't like you, or I thought the three of us would not be compatible living together, I would have said so."
"And that would have been the end of it?"
"No. I doubt Guy would have given up easily. He would have wanted to work something out. As it is, I agree with him one hundred percent."
Trish looked from Carlos to Guy and back to Carlos, wondering if she'd somehow slipped into a third dimension and gotten herself caught up in a strange and wonderful dream. People never got exactly what they wanted. At least, she never had. "I like you both very much." She hesitated. "If I'm honest, it's gone way beyond simple liking. And I have to admit the idea of living with the two of you here in Paris sounds like the stuff dreams are made of. But it's like I said, I have commitments and responsibilities back home."
"So there are a few problems that would need to be sorted out," Guy said. "But every problem has a solution."
Trish gave a humorless laugh. "You think?" She picked up a knife and began peeling a cucumber, only to give up a moment later and put down the knife. "It all sounds wonderful. And, I admit, very tempting. But we really know nothing about one another."
"What do you need to know?" Carlos asked. "Guy and I are both thirty-five years of age, and we're solid, upstanding citizens. We own this apartment, and our company, which we started some years ago, now owns a chain of small luxury hotels and several vacation properties. In other words, we're financially secure, and neither of us has a criminal record that I'm aware of. Oh, yes…" He grinned. "And we both adore pets and children."
"In that order?"
"Not necessarily. Anything else you wish to know?"
"Nothing I can think of offhand." Trish smiled as she picked up a small heap of vegetable peelings and dropped them in the trash. "I don't know what to say or even think. I feel like I'm dreaming or under the influence of a mind-altering drug." She frowned as she looked from one man to the other. "Now I'm being ridiculous. You didn't…I mean you wouldn't. Would you?"
Carlos laughed. "No, of course not. We operate a perfectly respectable and legitimate business, not a white-slave ring."
Guy slipped a finger under Trish's chin and moved her head slightly so they were again facing one another. "This may sound silly, like a page from a romance novel, but the moment our eyes met, I knew you were that one special woman. The one I'd been waiting so long to meet."
Trish knew exactly what Guy meant because it had been that way for her, too. Just one look and, yes, for her the earth had moved. And meeting Carlos had given her world yet another severe jolt. If there were only one of them…but there were two. Two men she was crazy in love with. She had no idea whether or not a ménage worked on a long-term basis. The important thing was that she liked the idea, and she wanted to give it a try.
Of course, if she had even a single grain of common sense, she'd say she needed time to think. But if she did that, chances were she'd lose her nerve and chicken out. She'd return to her old life, pick up the threads, and pretend the past three weeks had never happened. She might even make a half-assed success of such a life. She might meet some guy and have a couple of kids. But would she be happy? Feel fulfilled? Or would she spend the rest of her life kicking herself for not having had the courage to follow her heart and do something that seemed so right?
"Can I have a little time to think about it?"
"Of course." Guy took a bottle of red wine from the rack, removed the cork and half-filled three glasses.
Trish turned to Carlos. "And you're quite sure you're okay about this?"
Carlos turned away from the pasta, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth. "Yes, yes, and yes. It's what I want, too. If you want some time alone to think about it…"
"No. That won't be necessary."
* * * *
After they were finished dinner, Carlos suggested going to a new club he'd heard about on la rue Royale. "One of my clients told me about it," he said. "It sounds rather interesting."
"Interesting, how?" Guy asked.
"He said it looks an old nightspot from fifty years ago and attracts the more mature crowd. In other words, we might actually enjoy ourselves."
La Boite reminded Trish of nightclubs she'd seen in black-and-white movies. So much so, she wouldn't have been even slightly surprised to see Spencer Tracy or Cary Grant sitting at one of the tiny tables, or to find Edith Piaf as the featured soloist with the three-piece band.
In keeping with the style of the club and also what Guy said had once been French tradition, there was a female soloist, and she did sing a couple of Piaf's songs, along with other slow, romantic ballads, some of which were old standards known the world over, and some Trish hadn't heard before.
After the drinks arrived, Trish gave herself up to the magic of the moment, the music and first dancing with Guy, then with Carlos.
"Guy is right about you," Carlos whispered in her ear as he guided her around the postage stamp-sized dance floor. "What makes you so special is that you're completely unselfish. You don't seem to understand if you decide to share our lives you will be enriching them, not upsetting them or interfering with them, or any of the other things you seem to be concerned about."
"Someone has to worry about the small stuff."
"I suppose. But why not worry about what you want for yourself?"
The song ended and, as Carlos escorted her back to their table, Trish knew he was right. She'd spent a lifetime worrying about other people's problems and maybe it was time she thought about what she wanted for a change.
She was on the short list for the job at the bank, but nothing definite had been decided, meaning she wasn't committed in any way. Once her grandmother's house sold, it would more than pay for her student loans, and the lease on her apartment would run out in a little under three months. Guy was right-there was nothing stopping her from doing whatever she cared to do.
But was moving to Paris and setting up house with two guys she'd only known for three weeks what she really wanted?
Deep down, she knew that was exactly what she wanted, but suppose it turned out to be a huge mistake? What if, after a few weeks or months, she changed her mind and wanted to go home? She'd always been careful and cautious, never making snap decisions or jumping in without looking, and that way she'd kept out of trouble.
Still, maybe, just this once, she should go with her heart? Say to hell with everything and take a chance.
Trish knew she could soul search and agonize for the next month, but it wouldn't change the two things that remained uppermost in her mind-if it didn't work out the way she hoped, she could always return home. If she said no, she would not be given a second chance.
If there was anything holding her back it was the small, but not completely insignificant fact, that neither Guy nor Carlos had said they loved her. She knew they cared. It was there in everything they did for or with her-every look, every word. They made her feel like the center of their universe. But was just feeling loved enough? Or did she need the assurance of hearing them say the actual words?
After they left the club and went back to the apartment, Trish half-expected either Guy or Carlos to start pressing her for an answer, or at least try a little more gentle persuasion. But, apart from being quieter than usual, both men were acting pretty much the same as they'd done every other evening since she'd been there-Carlos was checking his appointments for tomorrow, and Guy was watching the news. They'd stated their case and now it seemed the next move was up to her.
"Anyone for a nightcap?" Carlos called out.
"I'll have a beer," Guy replied. "You want something, Trish?"
"I think there's still a little of the wine we had with dinner. If you don't want it, Carlos, I'll have that."
While the men were fixing the drinks, Trish went to the bathroom where she undressed, removed her make-up, and put on a robe. Picking up a hairbrush, she gave her shoulder-length hair its nig
htly one hundred strokes, and with each stroke told herself she was doing the right thing. When she was finished, she put down the brush and regarded her reflection in the mirror.
Okay, no more dithering, hesitating, or second-guessing. This was it.
She opened the bathroom door expecting to find the guys were still relaxing with their drinks in the living room. However, the lights were out, and she could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the bedroom.
Her bare feet made no sound on the polished wood floor, and when she reached the open doorway, she hesitated.
Both men were naked and Guy was on his back, propped against the mountain of pillows, while Carlos was curled up at his side with his head on Guy's chest and one hand idly caressing Guy's belly. The drinks were waiting on a tray on the nightstand, and both men appeared to be completely unaware of her presence.
She knew how much they loved one another-it was there in every look, every gesture. She also knew Guy and Carlos had been friends since they were children-two small boys, one French, the other Spanish, shipped off to the rigors of an English boarding school by rich parents more interested in pursuing their own lives than caring for the needs of their sons.
"Do you think she loves us as much as we love her?" Carlos said, a slightly wistful tone to his voice. "She's right when she says we barely know one another. But, really, how much time does a person need to know when they're right?"
"Took me less than five seconds," Guy admitted with a chuckle. "We were in such a rush to get our hands on one another, we didn't even bother to introduce ourselves."
"You had sex without exchanging names?" Carlos smiled and shook his head. "I don't believe it. I always thought you had such nice manners." He stopped stroking Guy's belly and began to concentrate on his cock. "It took me quite a bit longer than five seconds. But then, I admit, I was trying hard to resist."
Paris Heat Page 5