Phoebe clutched the phone. She was no novice when it came to traveling. She and her sisters had been almost over the globe and back. But spending days… and nights… with Quentin in the city of love sent an surplus of chills sailing down her spine.
“Paris,” Phoebe said in a breathy voice. Her heart knocked, and in another second, she felt herself lean into the hallway wall.
“Yes, my lady love, Paris.”
Phoebe exhaled with a feeling mixed with gratification and harmony.
“I would love to go to Paris with you, Quentin,” she said. “I can’t promise I’ll be ready in an hour and a half though.”
Quentin chuckled. “If you’re not, we will take what you have and buy the rest later.”
Phoebe grinned. “Okay…” she sang.
“I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”
“See you soon,” she responded, ending their call.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if you have plans,” Jasmine said.
Phoebe glanced over at her sister and smiled brightly. “Jealous?”
“It depends,” Jasmine said. “I didn’t hear where he was taking you.”
Phoebe poked her lips out. “Paris.”
A jovial smile splayed across Jasmine’s face, and she pierced her fingers together. “Just a little jealous.”
Phoebe laughed and strolled down the hallway to her bedroom where she spent the next hour and a half preparing for their getaway to France. As Phoebe moved, she hummed a tune with a dreamy smile on her face. The thought of being with Quentin for so long warmed her loins in anticipation. When Phoebe was done, she flipped her suitcase and pulled the handle out on it as she strolled out of the room. Upon entering the living room, she was met with Eden’s smirking smile.
“What?” Phoebe said.
“I just want you to know that, that little stunt you and Quentin pulled at the game,” Eden kissed the tip of her fingers and snapped, “it was perfect!”
They both fell into laughter.
“We didn’t plan it!” Phoebe said. It was the first time she’d had a conversation about it besides when she spoke with Jordan.
“You might not have, but I feel it in my spirit that Quentin did it on purpose.”
Phoebe tilted her head to the side. “How?”
“Come on, Phoebe,” Eden said, crossing her arms. “After that big ol’ fight with Jonathon, he turns around and takes you somewhere that is so public there is no way you wouldn’t be spotted. Even if,” Eden continued, already knowing what her doppelganger would say next, “he didn’t have control over the kiss cam, he still knew being there together would put you in the news. The kiss cam was just the touch he needed. Quentin is literally confessing out loud that you’re his girl without even saying a word.” Eden shrugged. “And I can only hope that Derek will be that brave.”
Phoebe hadn’t thought about it that way. But hearing Eden say it made sense. It also made her warm up inside even more than before. Eden glanced at her bag with a raised brow, but before she could ask the doorbell rang.
“I don’t have to guess who’s at the door, do I?”
Without a word, Phoebe sashayed to the door and opened it. Her heart did a double thump as her eyes graced Quentin’s gorgeousness. Like a king in his own right, he stood tall, with broad shoulders sprouting into a thick herringbone wool cashmere coat. The spicy scent that drifted from him aroused her, making her nipples soar as they tensed. A delicious smile grew across his magnificent lips as his eyes took in her full beauty.
Unable to help himself, Quentin reached out and touched her face, sending a quiver through her body from his warm fingertips. Phoebe had spoken over the phone as if she would need hours to prepare herself, but she’d never been one to wear much foundation. She didn’t need it, and her skin glowed with a flawless finish.
“Pretty brown, brown, driving me wild…” Quentin sang. He stepped in while pulling her into his embrace. Staring down at her, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth then slowly released it. “I’ve always been a fan of your beauty, my lady love.”
His minty fresh breath tickled Phoebe’s lips.
“Thank you,” he said, “for spending your new year with me.”
Phoebe blushed and leaned into the tips of her feet for a kiss. When their lips collided, they sank into one another, and a whirlwind of heat combed over them.
“Ahem…” Eden said, clearing her throat.
Phoebe giggled at her sister while allowing Quentin to continue their kiss. When her arms slipped up around his neck, a whistle sounded.
Pulling apart as if it took a mass of strength to do so, Quentin and Phoebe glanced over. Jasmine now stood next to Eden, both with knowing looks on their faces.
“Y’all can just get on out of here with all that,” Jasmine said. “Love birds.”
Quentin and Phoebe smiled, and Quentin leaned down to grab her bag. “With pleasure,” he said, taking Phoebe’s hand in his unoccupied one and leaving the premises.
Chapter Eighteen
Shangri-La Hotel, Paris
The eight-hour flight and six-hour time difference from Chicago to Paris placed Quentin and Phoebe in the middle of the afternoon on New Year’s Eve. Arriving at the Shangri-La Hotel, the couple was met with top-hatted doormen who jovially took their bags and showed them to their suite. Upon reaching the large rooftop terrace, Phoebe was taken away by the panoramic views of the Eiffel Tower. It sat immensely large and so close it seemed only a touch away.
“This is so beautiful,” she said, holding a hand over her heart at the breathtaking scenery.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Quentin said, approaching her from behind to wrap Phoebe in his arms.
“Surely, you’ve seen this view before to know it was here,” she said, still astonished by the sights of the metal structure.
“I wasn’t referring to the tower, my lady love.”
Quentin pushed a hot kiss against Phoebe’s cheek, and a tickle of warmth ran down her neck. Phoebe cranked her head up to peer at him through smitten eyes.
“Oh,” she said, flattered by his insinuation.
“Would you like to have lunch out here? The weather is calming enough that we could enjoy a meal without being rushed inside by the breeze.”
“Yeah, this is nothing like Chicago’s windy city.”
“Paris is a world away,” he said, pushing another kiss into her neck and trailing up to her ear.
Phoebe shivered from the heat of his mouth, and she turned full circle in his arms. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of your touch,” she quipped.
“Ever?” he asked.
Phoebe shook her head slowly. “Ever.”
Quentin held her tight and kissed her lips, filling her mouth with the caress of his soft tongue.
“Mmmm,” Phoebe said.
“Or we could skip lunch and…” Quentin implied.
Phoebe’s eyes rose with a flare of sensuality as his tongue continued to explore her mouth as if he’d never tasted her before.
“Or we could mix lunch with a little love in the afternoon before we go shopping.”
Pulling back, Quentin smiled. “Whaaaa,” he said, “Phoebe Alexandria Rose wants to spend money?”
Phoebe smiled delightedly. “Your money, silly, not mine.”
A deep thunderous laughed chortled from Quentin’s throat, sending a vibration wrecking Phoebe’s nervous system.
“Of course,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise,” he said, amused at her sass. “What are you in the mood for, sweetheart?”
“Hmm, something light maybe, veal ragout.”
“The lady knows her dishes,” Quentin said, twirling her underneath his arm as they strolled back into the opulence of the grand luxury hotel suite.
Veal ragout was the quintessential French cuisine. The mixture of veal stew meat and chopped parsley, tomato sauce, and finely chopped celery stalks made for a simple yet fulfilling dish.
Quentin strolled to the
phone while Phoebe removed the coat she’d worn on the jet ride over. She peeled her heels off with her feet and sauntered to the bathroom. The cold marble floor comforted her warm toes as she slipped across the large lavatory to the sink. Taking an eye over her appearance to make sure her light foundation was still immaculate, Phoebe smiled, satisfied that the hustle from the airport to the hotel had kept her mane intact as well. She slipped a hand in her curls and decided right then that she would straighten her tresses for tonight. In order to do that she would have to make this shopping trip quick. It would be easy to get lost in the French malls and shopping centers, and although her celebrity stretched overseas, it was simple to hide in the sea of other famous faces, especially on a night like this.
Turning to the side to catch a glimpse of her waistline and derriere, Phoebe pursed her lips as she held in her belly and poked out her butt. It wasn’t as if she needed to lose weight, her curvy thighs and flat midsection sat with a perfect mixture of angles. But it didn’t stop her from wondering if she should shed a few pounds. Leaving the sanctuary, Phoebe sashayed back into the bedroom, padding across the plush carpet in search of Quentin. She found him with the French doors to the patio open setting the table with an intimate display of wine flutes, expensive china, and rose petals littering the surface. A bottle of champagne sat on ice, and a small golden box wrapped with a red gift bow sat on one side of the table.
Phoebe smiled inwardly and couldn’t help but wonder what was inside the present. Usually, whenever she was awarded a gift, Phoebe would hurry to open it, but at the moment, all she could focus on was the towering structure of Quentin’s tone build. His physique was so thoroughly ripped that the bulge in his arms waved through the cotton material of his sweater. As her eyes roamed over him, they took in the fitness of his broad chest, thin waist and taut ass. The jeans covering his magnificence kissed his muscled thighs, and Phoebe was sure the denim wouldn’t look as roguishly sexy on any other man the way it did on Quentin.
When she made it to his feet, Phoebe noticed he, too, had shed his shoes, opting to leave his pedicured feet bare as he worked around the table. A thought crossed her mind and she wondered how Quentin would feel if their feet mingled underneath the table. Phoebe bit her lip as a trace of heat saturated her thinking about the simple, yet intimate dance of their toes. Coming out of her reverie, Phoebe breathed a dreamy sigh and sauntered onto the balcony.
“For me?” she said, gaining a closer look at his arrangement.
“Oui, ma dulcinée,” he responded.
Phoebe raised a surprised brow. As long as she’d known Quentin, she’d never heard him speak another language. And although she and her sisters and brothers were fluent in several lingos, it didn’t cross Phoebe’s mind that Quentin would also pick up on some of their studies. It surprised and filled her with a deprivation that had nothing to do with food.
“You know, my lady love sounds so much better in French,” she said.
Quentin’s deep grumbling laughter seared her loins. She’d never felt so turned on and completely set on fire by another human until she neared Quentin. The mere fact that she’d attacked him early in the month at his gym, jumping into his arms like she was a freaky vixen was proof in itself that she had no control over the way her body responded to his imminence, or the way she vibrated from his touch. Or the way her pussy thumped when they kissed. The riveting energy was shocking to her core in the most splendid way.
Quentin pulled out her seat, and Phoebe sat down as he adjusted her chair against the table. A knock on the door sounded before Quentin could claim his seat, and it was just as well since, he knew it must have been room service.
“Good timing,” Quentin said when the door opened. “Follow me.”
The server pushed the cart inside and trailed Quentin across the massive expanse of the suite to the balcony where Phoebe waited patiently. One by one, the server removed the dish tops while announcing their food. Steam rose from the freshly prepared stew, and Phoebe’s stomach rumbled just looking at the cuisine.
“Thank you, sir,” Quentin said.
“Would you like me to set your tables, monsieur?” the server asked.
“I think I can take it from here,” Quentin responded.
“As you wish,” the server dipped his head into a slight bow and turned to Phoebe, “Mademoiselle,” greeting her and saying goodbye at the same time.
The server turned to leave the room, and Quentin followed him to the door. As the server crossed the threshold, Quentin offered him a fifty-dollar tip.
“For your troubles,” Quentin said.
“Ah, thank you, sir, but it’s no trouble at all, I aim to please.”
“Which we appreciate, have a good day.”
Returning to the balcony, it was now Quentin who watched Phoebe add their lunch to their china. “I would’ve taken care of that for you,” he said, claiming his seat.
“You set the table, right?”
Quentin tilted his head in a nod.
“Then you’re good, babe, I think I can handle this part.”
Quentin’s gaze roamed over her chocolate covered skin that spanned down her neck and hid inside the long sleeve cardigan sweater she wore.
“So I was wondering,” Phoebe started, bringing Quentin’s attention from her plump breasts to her luscious lips. Phoebe sat and readjusted her seat, then crossed her legs. “Did you plan the whole thing with the game?”
Quentin’s brows knocked together as he thought.
“I mean,” Phoebe reiterated, “did you purposefully take me to see the Bulls to out us as a couple?”
“To out us?” Quentin questioned.
“I know it sounds ridiculous putting it that way, but I just thought there could’ve been other places we could have gone that would’ve been far less attractive for media outlets.”
“Would you rather I have taken you someplace quieter?”
“No, not necessarily.” Phoebe shrugged. “Just wondering I guess.”
“Are you embarrassed to be on the arm of Chicago’s most notorious playboy?” Quentin pushed on.
It was the same thing Phil Grayson had said. It was the same words that had been splashed across the front pages of the newspaper. Phoebe vividly remembered the headline and start of one particular story, the one Quentin had texted to her.
Chicago’s Most Notorious Playboy Dating America’s Sweetheart
Quentin Davidson, the city’s most notorious playboy adds yet another notch to his belt with America’s sweetheart Phoebe Alexandria Rose, shocking Chicago’s elite. The kiss they shared at last night’s Chicago Bulls game was epic and sizzled everyone who witnessed it right down to the bone.
“No,” Phoebe stumbled, “of course not.” She pressed her lips together as Quentin’s lazy grin grew.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve been called worse things,” he drawled.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Quentin decided to cut her some slack. “Of course, I knew going to the game would put us in front of the headlines, but I didn’t see any reason to try and hide it. We’re together, it’s as simple as that. I don’t care who knows about it or who has a problem with it.”
That much was clear from the way he’d sucked in her mouth in front of possibly millions of viewers. Phoebe sat back, content in his assurance. Her eyes dropped to the gift sitting in front of her.
“Open it,” Quentin said.
Phoebe smiled gracefully. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, lifting the small box in her hands. The silk material sat cool in her palm as she made a show of fumbling with the bow to open it. Quentin chuckled, knowing Phoebe was always the kid to rip open presents during Christmas.
Pulling the top off revealed a vintage brass key. Phoebe took her eyes to Quentin. “Is this what I think it is?”
Quentin’s quirky smile drew her in, and a flutter of emotions ran through Phoebe.
“Depends on what you think it is,” Quentin teased.
�
�Okay for the sake of the theatrics, just tell me,” she said impatiently.
“But you know the answer to your question, so why don’t you tell me,” he said.
Phoebe glanced back down at the brass key. She knew Quentin was a collector of vintage items, including but not limited to his old school cars and art canvas, but also his vintage condo.
“Your home?”
Quentin’s smile reached his eyes as he watched Phoebe’s glaze over.
“I want you to be comfortable on the arm of this notorious playboy,” he teased, “so yes, this is a key to my front door. It’s yours to do what you will with it.”
Phoebe sat in silence for a moment, watching him as her thoughts battled, and her heart rate increased. She tried to gather herself as emotions she’d never known washed over her. For Quentin to give up a key to his front door was epic according to her brothers, the media, and anyone else who were aware of his bachelor lifestyle. But for Phoebe, it warmed her heart and solidified a lingering albeit quiet question: was he serious about her or was this something he would move past quickly?
“You’re serious,” she said as if answering her own question. Quickly, she cut back in. “That wasn’t really a question.” She smiled, still in shock at what most people would feel wasn’t that big of a deal.
Quentin sat forward. “You seem surprised,” he said. “I’ve given you a key to my place before.”
“On my eighteenth birthday,” she whispered, remembering when she’d received the gift. At the time she’d been confused but Quentin had elaborated that if she ever got lost in this big old world, she could always find peace at his place. He’d only been twenty-two, but by that time, Quentin had become so protective of Phoebe that he didn’t see any reason not to give her the gift.
“I never used it,” she said as if speaking to herself.
“I always wondered why.”
Phoebe searched for an excuse. “Um, well, I guess I never thought you really wanted me to show up. That you were just being nice,” she said. Although she’d had several dreams of spending the night at his place, going out for a leisurely stroll, and dining at the finest restaurants as Quentin’s new love. “I didn’t want to come over, and you had someone there, you know.”
Mine (Falling For A Rose Book 7) Page 14