He was beautiful.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
He glanced at the boxes behind her. “For awhile.”
“Can I ask where?”
“Paris, to stay with my sister.”
“I forgot that you had a sister.” It was hard to imagine Luc with anything so ordinary as siblings.
“I forgot you had a husband.”
His words knocked the wind out of her and she stared at him, speechless. Was he mad at her for that?
“You did know,” she said quietly, when words returned to her.
“I thought he was on his way out.”
“I’m sorry!” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Ma chérie. I’m not angry with you.” He tugged her onto his lap. “I’m angry with your husband.” He wiped tears away with his fingers. “Don’t cry.”
But she couldn’t stop. Once she started, all the stress and disappointment of the past month poured out of her. He let her cry into his shoulder and held her shaking body in his arms. As she sobbed, all she could think of was that she never wanted to leave his embrace. When finally she stopped, he spoke again.
“What are you doing here?” He looked toward the door. “Nishi told me you are being followed.”
“I drugged him.”
“Drugged who?”
“The guy Richard hired to babysit me. I found the pills and put one in a glass of champagne and gave it to him.”
He looked at her with a combination of disbelief and respect. “Remind me to always open the champagne around you.”
“I’m leaving, too, Luc. If I stay, he’s going to put me in rehab tomorrow. On Christmas.”
“Oh, Marie,” he breathed. “Tomorrow? Where are you going?”
“San Francisco. Nishi knows people out there. And it’s far away. Away from Richard.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, his breath tickling her skin. How was it that something as simple as her hand being kissed could send her stomach into flip flops? She could sit here for hours and be content with just his lips on her palm.
“Come with me to Paris. It’s ... San Francisco on the Seine.”
She made a weak attempt at laughter. “They don’t call it that.”
“No. They don’t. But it’s farther away than San Francisco.”
His tongue lightly caressed the sensitive skin between the base of her fingers. She closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation.
“Have you ever been to Paris?” he asked when he reached her pinkie finger.
Marie couldn’t answer. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, sucking her finger in and out. What made her finger so lucky? She wanted those lips on hers. It had been too long ...
“Kiss me, Luc.”
He looked up from her hand. “If you come to Paris with me.”
Paris with Luc. The thought made her breath catch in her throat. He curled her fingers into a gentle fist, then kissed her knuckles slowly, one by one.
“You’re blackmailing me for a kiss?”
He kissed the inside of her wrist and every vein in her body lit up. She’d forgotten that he could do this, touch one tiny part of her and make her feel it everywhere. He trailed kisses up her arm.
“Mmm, Paris is hardly blackmail.”
“What would I do there?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he murmured against the soft interior of her elbow. “It’s not hard to find things to do in Paris.”
She closed her eyes. It was easy to see the two of them there, together. Ridiculously easy, in fact. Strolling hand in hand down wide boulevards, ducking into cafés, kissing beneath the Eiffel Tower. Luc would show her the Louvre, the Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa ... that right there nearly sealed the deal. Paris! A giddy excitement bubbled up inside. An hour ago, she thought she’d never see Luc again. And now she was going to Paris with him!
“Say yes, Marie. I want you to see my country, and I want to be the one to show it to you.”
She threw her arms around him.
“Yes.”
His lips had barely brushed hers with the promised kiss when she heard the faint ringing of her phone.
“I have to get that.”
“Mmm. Why?” He nuzzled her nose with his.
“It’s Nishi.”
“And how can you know that?”
“She’s the only one who has the number.”
He released her, reluctantly. By the time she dug the phone out of her purse it had stopped ringing. She tapped call back.
“Where are you? I just got your message.” Nishi sounded frantic.
“I’m at Luc’s.”
“Luc’s? I thought you were leaving.”
“I made a stop on the way.”
Luc was walking uncertainly toward her. She frowned and held out her arm to steady him. He snatched the phone away.
“I’m taking her to Paris.”
Marie snatched the phone back.
“He’s drunk, isn’t he?” Nishi said. “Don’t let him drive anywhere.” Nishi’s voice was loud enough for Luc to hear.
“Not drive. Fly,” he shouted at the phone, wincing at the volume of his voice.
“You have to get out of the area tonight, Marie. Luc’s house will be the first place Richard looks. Does Luc have tickets yet?”
Marie’s heart clenched in panic. She looked at Luc. “Do you have tickets to Paris?”
“One. For me. For next week.”
She turned back to Nishi. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Put him on the phone.”
Marie handed Luc the phone. A deluge of French poured out of it as soon as he held it to his ear. Luc replied in kind, wincing some more under Nishi’s withering tirade. After several minutes, he handed the phone back to Marie, a sheepish look on his face.
“We won’t be able to get a flight out tonight,” Marie said. “It’s Christmas Eve. And getting late. And I don’t know if he’d even be allowed on a plane the way he is now.”
She watched Luc stumble into the kitchen and begin grinding coffee beans. He grimaced at the noise.
“Sit tight. I need to make a call,” Nishi said.
“Wait—” But Nishi was already gone.
She went into the kitchen. “Here let me.” She took over the making of the coffee. “Go sit down.”
They weren’t flying anywhere tonight with him two sheets to the wind, not unless she could get him sobered up. But she had to leave before Richard came looking for her. And this time, he probably wouldn’t be content with merely punching Luc in the face. They could drive—or rather, she could drive—and get out of the area, then fly out of another city’s airport tomorrow. More people would be looking for her then, though. A senator’s wife? Who was she kidding? They would never get through security. Tonight was their only shot at flying, and you couldn’t drive to Paris. She was dizzy trying to think through all their options, and the roadblocks to each.
The coffee brewed, hissing and spitting. It matched the sound her heart was making, deflating rapidly. There was no way they were going to Paris together, not if she had to leave tonight. And she did. What she had done this evening, it could only be done once to Richard. She’d had the element of surprise on her side. Richard was not the sort of person to be surprised twice.
She followed Luc to the table and straddled his lap.
“I believe you still owe me a kiss,” she said. “Even though I feel like I am taking advantage of someone who’s—”
“Incapacitated?” He enunciated each syllable slowly. “I am always incapacitated around you, Marie.”
She leaned in, pressing her lips to his. “You hide it well, then.”
She wound her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth hard against hers. His hands slid down her back and cupped her bottom, pulling her in closer. He kissed her back like his very survival depended on it and she let herself sink into the kiss helplessly. She had missed this fiercely. How had she gone an entire month without
it? Her skin tingling, her insides going all hot and liquidy in the way only he could make them.
More importantly, how was she going to live without it in the future?
“You have spoiled me for other men,” she murmured against his lips.
“That was always the plan.”
Her phone rang again.
Luc grumbled but let her go.
“Okay,” Nishi launched right in. “You’re set. I have a client taking his private jet to Paris tonight. His daughter is in school there and he is spending the holidays with her. He has agreed to let you two stow away. You need to be at the private aviation terminal at ten. He knows Luc is a little ... well, you know.”
Marie was speechless, partly because her brain was still addled from the kiss and partly because what Nishi was saying couldn’t ... they were going to Paris.
“Hello-o-o. Marie? Are you there?”
“You’re getting us out?” she whispered.
Luc beckoned to her from the chair. She went to him and sat sideways on his lap, leaned into his arms as they wrapped around her. Even when he was drunk as a skunk, she loved him. She wanted to sober him up, fix pot after pot of coffee, take care of him so she’d never have to see the look that had been on his face at the National Gallery.
Hopelessness.
“I’m going to try and round up a few reporters to see you off, too,” Nishi added.
“Reporters? Why?” Reporters were the last thing they needed.
“If you’re going to run away from Richard, you have to do it publicly. If you leave secretly, he can bring you back secretly. But if everyone knows you’ve run off to Paris with your sexy—well, drunk—French lover, that puts him in a bind. Clearly the two of you aren’t as reconciled as he has told people.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Nish. No one’s going to schlep all the way out here tonight.”
“I think I can get a few to do it. If they’re not covering the Hill, it’s been a slow news day. And to get a senator’s wife skipping town with her lover? Some reporters will drop anything for that kind of story.”
“But what about your client? Surely he doesn’t want to be on the news.”
“He’ll stay in the background, I’m sure. I saved his company a few years ago. It’s a long story, but he promised to fly me and Imran to Paris on his jet. I’ve just made some passenger substitutions.”
Marie was silent for a moment, her heart re-inflating. “Nish. I will make this up to you.”
“You will make it up to me by getting away from Richard. And by letting me come visit you in Paris.”
Marie laughed lightly. “I think you scared him a little.” She looked at Luc, who was gazing at her with a dazed, besotted smile. This was the expression she wanted to see. She wanted to see hope in his eyes.
“He’ll get over it. He loves you, Marie.”
“I love him, too.”
“Now go get his bag packed and get to the airport. You can’t miss that flight.”
Chapter 30
“What did Nishi say to you on the phone?” Marie poured two mugs of coffee and offered one to Luc.
“Oh, just all the things—painful things—she will do to my balls if I in any way mistreat you or make you unhappy in the slightest ... she’s very fluent in French, your friend.” He grinned. “She, ah, knows words that aren’t generally taught in school.”
Marie laughed. “I believe she knows lots of things that aren’t generally taught in school. Or anywhere else. You’ll want to keep her on your good side.”
“Well, for the record, I don’t plan on mistreating you or making you unhappy in any way. Or losing my balls.”
Marie set down her coffee and slid her arms around Luc.
“Good. I have plans for your balls. And a few other parts of your body.”
Luc groaned, a sound that rumbled through her body, shaking loose all manner of desires. How were they going to make it all the way across the ocean without devouring each other?
“You could start those plans now if I weren’t so ...” He shook his head. “Next time you decide to drug someone and run away, call me before I get ... shit-faced.”
She took a deep breath to clear her head. Richard. “We don’t have time right now, anyway.” She checked her watch. “You need to get showered and packed. And maybe shaved?”
He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. Sam told me yesterday that I looked like a terrorist.”
A silence fell between them. Luc was looking at her softly, but something more intense flickered in his eyes.
“We’re going to Paris,” she whispered. “I can hardly believe it.”
“I can hardly believe you’re here. I thought I’d lost you.” He kissed her again, his lips soft and gentle on hers, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was being allowed to.
“No,” she replied. “You belong to me.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, their bags were packed and stowed in the trunk of Marie’s car. Nerves were battling excitement as she drove down the dark country lanes to the highway. She tensed at the sight of every oncoming car, worried that it was Richard or T. Rex or the police on their way to Luc’s house. Until they were in the air, she wouldn’t be able to completely relax. It was nine o’clock. Surely Congress was out by now. T. Rex was probably awake again. Richard had to know she was missing.
Up ahead blue and red lights flashed, around and around. She felt Luc’s hand on her thigh.
“They’re not for us. Don’t worry,” he said.
But they could be for us. That’s what Luc hadn’t understood before. Richard, her parents—they could have the police looking for her. In fact, they probably were. Traffic was light now, making her car that much easier to spot. Her only hope was that they wouldn’t guess she was headed to Dulles.
When the lights of the airport came into view, a nervous excitement began to take hold of her. Paris! It was starting to feel like reality. Tomorrow she would be in Paris with Luc. She took the exit and merged into the heavy traffic on the access road. She squinted at all the signs, trying to find the lane that would take them to the private aviation terminal. If she missed it, she’d have to drive around the airport another time—and every minute was another minute that Richard could be getting closer.
There! She signaled quickly and cut across two lanes, making it just in the nick of time. She parked, Luc grabbed their suitcases and they headed into the terminal, where a small crowd of people stopped milling about and rushed toward them.
“Mrs. Macintyre! You’re running away to Paris? Why?”
People shouted questions at them from all sides.
“How will this affect your husband’s re-election campaign?”
Luc put his head down and pressed his hand to Marie’s back, urging her forward and scanning the room for anyone who might look like their benefactor.
“Wait,” she murmured. “We need to play this up.”
She couldn’t look like she was skulking out of town, under the influence of whatever substances Richard had her addicted to today. She had to look sober, in control and fully aware of what she was doing. She couldn’t look like she was running away, terrified and desperate. She was going to Paris with her lover for the holidays, which she had every right to do, and Richard was just a non-factor in all of that.
She beamed her biggest, brightest smile at the reporters. “Merry Christmas! You all are crazy to come out here tonight.”
“Aren’t you going to rehab?” a woman shouted at her. “What kind of substance abuse problem do you have?”
Marie turned toward her, leaned her body cozily into Luc and made a show of slipping her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “No. I am not going into rehab. I have never had any substance abuse problem—”
“Although I personally am drunk on love,” Luc cut in, his syllables still a little fuzzy.
“So you’re not going into the Allegheny Rehabilitation Center tomorrow?” someone else shouted at her
.
“No. Could you relay that message to Senator Macintyre, please? He seems confused about whether or not he can force another adult into medical treatment.”
“He has said the two of you are reconciling.”
“Does it look like we are reconciling?” She turned her most loving, admiring, infatuated expression on Luc. “No, we are not. Drugging someone and essentially kidnapping them does not constitute reconciling. Nor does it make a solid basis for a marriage. Not to mention that the senator is still seeing his mistress, Maya Redfearn.” She craned her neck to look over the crowd. “Maya? Are you here tonight?” She let the silence swell and fill the room. “No? Guess we know where she is.”
The reporters tittered along with her. Marie was suddenly grateful for the media training she and Richard had taken years ago with Nishi. It was an easy mask to hide behind.
“Mr. Marchand! Do the French like bondage?”
Where the hell did that question come from?
She heard Luc’s low chuckle vibrate through her arm. “Oh, oui.” He winked theatrically at the cameras. “The things she does to me when she ties me up. American women are—” he shook his head as though he were speechless,”—oh la la.” Luc’s accent was thick and comically exaggerated, the very parody of a French lover.
Marie felt her face grow hot. Media training had never covered this scenario.
“Do you have more nude paintings of the congressman’s wife?”
“Not yet,” Luc replied. “But check back with me in a few months.” He looked down at Marie, who was still blushing furiously. “Putain, check back with me in a few days.”
Several of the reporters were biting down hard on their lips, struggling to keep a straight face.
“What are your plans for Paris, Mrs. Macintyre?”
Luc didn’t let her answer that one. He spun her into his arms and kissed her long and deeply as the cameras clicked furiously away around them.
“That’s classified,” he announced when he broke off the kiss. “I’m sure you can use your imaginations. You look like smart people.”
Marie spotted a fortyish man standing by a door across the room, a bemused expression on his face. He was wearing a tailored suit, his tie loosened around his neck. Another man in a pilot’s uniform stood next to him.
Drawing Lessons Page 26