“What’s wrong, Susan? Are you okay? I’m sorry. Are you allergic to dogs?” he asked innocently, not understanding her reaction.
“No. You seemed to know her and her owner quite well,” Susan observed.
“Oh, I see. Are you jealous?” he asked with a slow smile, only infuriating her that much more.
“I am not jealous. I am just wondering why you didn’t bother to introduce us,” she said.
“Well, I could have, but Stella really only understands a few words of English. Introductions would have been lost on her, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, Paul. You know what I meant,” she said.
“You are cute when you are angry,” he replied, smirking a little.
“You know what? I’m going home. You can stay here in the park with your two blonde girls,” Susan said, bolting up from the bench and heading down the sidewalk.
“Hey, hey, wait. I’m just teasing you,” he said, catching up with her on the sidewalk. “I didn’t introduce you because it was a little awkward.”
“Oh? Ex-girlfriend got the dog in the split?” Susan said. She realized he hadn’t said or acted inappropriately toward the woman, only the dog, and that it was ridiculous to be jealous of a golden retriever, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling hurt.
“No. The woman’s name is Gabrielle. She’s a dog walker. Stella is my dog,” he told her.
“What? You’ve never said anything about having a dog. We come to the park all the time. Why do you not ever walk her?” Susan asked, bewildered that she was just now learning of this dog’s existence.
“It’s a long story, but I used to. I just have a lot of other things going on now, so I hired Gabrielle to walk her for me. I take her out for shorter walks at night sometimes, you know, to do her business and stuff, and sometimes I rent a convertible where we can let the wind blow through our ears and play frisbee on the beach,” he told her.
“I just think it’s strange that you’ve never mentioned her,” Susan repeated, but she dismissed it as something he just hadn’t thought of and let it go.
“Well, now you know. There is a beautiful blonde in my life named Stella, and she’s been around for a few years. I hope that you can accept being the other woman,” he told her.
“I guess I can live with it. What choice do I have, after all?” Susan replied with a sheepish smile, somewhat ashamed that she had gotten so jealous without letting him explain.
They continued their walk to her coffee shop, which was closed, but they let themselves in and made a couple of quick lattes for the walk home. All was forgiven by the time they made it back to her place and settled in to watch an old black and white movie on cable.
“I’ve got a vacation planned for next week, so I won’t be in town. Mom and Dad will be watching the shop,” she told him over dinner several weeks later. Though she had spoken of her parents to Paul from time to time, she had yet to bring him to meet them. Part of it was that no promises had been made between them and she didn’t want to push meeting the family on him if this was just a summer fling or rebound for him. Another part of her just wasn’t ready to let go of that whole Daddy’s little girl image her father had of her. Bringing home a lover would change that forever.
“Oh? Where are you going?” he asked, looking concerned for some reason.
“Paris, France,” she said with a large smile.
“Wow. All by yourself?” he probed.
“Yes, all by myself. I plan to be every bit of the American tourist and check out all of the landmarks and museums, eat until I have to buy new pants, and speak what French I can remember from high school,” she told him.
“Vous êtes belle, mon amour,” he responded in what sounded to her like perfect diction.
“Thank you. I find you quite attractive, as well,” she responded, not so much flattered by his calling her beautiful as she was excited that he had called her his love.
“You aren’t going to get very far if people speak to you in French, but you respond to them in English,” he laughed.
“Je vais être très bien, monsieur,” she said, her words a little slow to form as she scrunched up her face to remember them.
“I know you will be fine, but I will miss you. How long will you be gone?” he asked.
“Just a week. I’d like to stay longer, but it is expensive, and I don’t want to put my parents out too much by leaving them here for too long. They spent enough hours in this place before they turned it over to me,” she responded. “They aren’t happy about me going alone, but they will be fine.”
“They might be, but I don’t know that I will,” he told her.
“You will be fine, too. It is only a week,” she said with a smile as she reached over to put her hand on his.
“How would you feel about my going with you?” he asked.
“What?” Susan’s heart pounded against her chest. A week in Paris with him? That would be the most divine thing she could imagine.
“I want to go with you. We could see Paris together. I’ve been there several times and could be your tour guide,” he said.
“Oh, I see. You jet off to France with all your women then?” she replied, feeling a little disenchanted with the idea now.
“Nope, not a one, unless you count my mother. We went there several times when I was a teen. I haven’t been in years, so I can show you all the stuff that always stays the same. I doubt that the Eiffel Tower has moved. We could discover all the new things together,” he said. She could see that he seemed excited about the idea and she was thrilled.
“Well, in that case, I would love for you to go to Paris with me. Paris est pour des amants, disent-ils,” she told him.
“Yes, I’ve heard that, too, and we are lovers, so we must belong there,” he replied. “Est-ce un oui?”
“Yes, that is a yes. It’s a definite yes!” she almost squealed.
Chapter 9
Paris was magical. Paul had replaced her original reservations at an inexpensive hostel with reservations for a grand suite in an old hotel that looked like something out of the movies. Everything was so decadent and richly done, that she felt like she was in a fairytale. They visited museums and fine restaurants by day, traveling through the Louvre and cuddling on benches in open French markets. They saw the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, taking funny pics of her squishing the latter between her fingers at a distance.
At night, they ate French pastries and drank wine, just chatting and enjoying one another’s company. She learned all about how Paul had grown up in a wealthy family and had inherited everything when his parents passed away within a year of one another. His father had died suddenly of heart failure, and his mother’s health just seemed to slowly deteriorate without explanation until she finally succumbed to death. Many claimed she died of a broken heart, but Paul said the autopsy revealed she had been slowly poisoned, and further investigation revealed she had done it to herself, not wanting to be there without her husband.
“How horrible for her and for you!” Susan exclaimed.
“My parents married young. My father was all she had ever known as the center of her life. She loved us children and was a good mother, but my father was the most important thing in her life. She lived for him, and when he was gone, she saw no reason to remain. My sister and I were grown and off doing our own thing by then,” he said.
“And your sister? Where is she now?” Susan asked.
“Off in some third world country, no doubt. She is a physician with Doctors Without Borders. I never know where she is from one month to the next until I get a postcard. Usually by the time it makes it out of whatever remote location she is, she is already back home again. When she is home, she doesn’t live far from me and checks on me quite often. She has been a good sister, especially in recent years,” he said.
“Why in recent years?” Susan asked, wondered if this something he kept dark about himself was the thing that made her wonder about wha
t was happening between them.
“Nothing we want to discuss over crepes and wine,” he told her, taking another bite from his plate and smiling happily at her. Susan didn’t push. He would tell her if he felt there was a need for her to know. In the meantime, she would do her best not to assume the worst. Still, her curiosity was peaked.
Back at the hotel, they climbed between the luxurious sheets, cuddling together as they kissed lazily beneath the covers on the large, four-poster bed of their suite. Susan felt the familiar burn of skin that felt like it was on fire each time he touched her. Every touch was sensual, careful, designed to stimulate the heat already rising like a volcano to the surface of her body. His breath on her ear as he nibbled his way gently around her lobe and moved downward, placing soft kisses gingerly along her neck and shoulder was inviting her in to this little world that existed only between the two of them.
A low moan escaped her throat almost involuntarily as he pushed her forward, softly pinning her face sideways onto the bed and resuming his featherlike kisses down her spine. Shockwaves rushed through her system and seemed to echo through each digit and shoot back inward, resonating between her legs. Her clit hardened as it pressed into the sheets, and his mouth made its way down to the rounded slopes of her backside. He touched her intimately, sliding his fingers between her legs to seek out her wetness. She gasped as he found the already aching nub between her legs and teased it slowly, causing her to squirm and coo beneath him.
Then, he was inside of her, pulling her bottom toward him and filling her with his throbbing need. Her moans grew louder as he plunged slowly into her again and again, moaning her name as he held her firming around the waist with his hands. The friction was intense as he sank deep inside her again and again, finally sliding his hands forward to cup her breasts and pulling her torso back toward him until her back was against his chest. His hips continued to grind into her from behind, hitting all the right angles as she cried out with the force of the orgasm that overwhelmed her without warning.
“That’s it. I love the sounds you make when you come. Keep going, love,” he moaned against her ear.
Susan let herself go, allowing her body to take control and just feel what was happening to it. She wasn’t sure if it was this place they were in or how their feelings for one another had begun to change, but she had lost all self-consciousness and begun to really appreciate the incredible beauty of how their bodies melded together to create such intense explosions. Then all thought was gone as she became lost in wave after wave of climax that echoed and escalated until she had nothing left to give.
It was like this for the entirety of their stay. They wandered the streets of Paris, enjoying the people and the places during the day and went to galleries or find restaurants at night, making love every night in their wonderful hotel suite before falling asleep in one another’s arms. It was too incredible to put into words how it felt to be with Paul. He was older, though just how much older, she still hadn’t really determined. It wasn’t as if it mattered. She was in falling in love.
If Susan had any doubts about Paul, they were laid to rest after their wonderful getaway to Paris. Though she had not yet gotten up the gumption to say it, she knew she loved him, and it felt like he loved her, too. Saying “I love you” always seemed to change things between people, and she just wasn’t ready for that yet. Plus, there was always that little fear that she was wrong about his feelings or that she might say it too soon, and he would be put off by how serious things had become. When it came right down to it, there was so much she didn’t know about Paul, and how could you really say you love someone if you don’t know all there is to know about them?
When things continued to go well between them, she forgot all about her qualms and just let their relationship go wherever it would. So far, that had been only wonderful places, but as they sat at the shop drinking lattes one morning before he went to see a client, she found herself wondering something that had only occurred to her just now.
“Paul, why haven’t I ever been to your place?” she asked, feeling she should just be direct with her concern.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Your place is so much cozier, I suppose. Mine is this big structured building. All cold marble and steel. We can go there if you like,” he said, seemingly nonplussed by her curiosity.
“I would. I’d like to at least just see what sort of place you live in,” she replied, glad that he didn’t seem upset by the inquiry.
“Say no more, we will have dinner at my place tonight. I will call Honey and ask her to whip up something special, just for my love,” he said.
Susan was suddenly torn between the elation she felt over being referred to as his love – even though they had not yet exchanged those three little words – and the twinge of jealousy she felt over him having someone he referred to as “Honey” in his house.
“Honey?” she parroted back to him.
“Yes, she’s got to be a thousand years old, but not a streak of gray, a headful of honey-wheat colored hair. Everyone that I have ever met refers to her as Honey, probably at her behest, considering that her given name is Gertrude,” he laughed, seeming to miss her momentary disdain altogether.
“Oh,” Susan laughed. She found that she was already looking forward to spending an evening at his house, seeing how he lived when he wasn’t with her.
“I have to run for now. I will stop by and pick you up at closing time. I’ll have the car service take us home so we won’t have to walk,” he told her.
“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s not that far,” she objected.
“I know, but I also know how tired you are after all day in this shop, and I have to have the car for a meeting, so I’ll just hang on to it long enough to pick you up and take you home with me. See you in a while,” he said, kissing her on the cheek as he got up to leave the shop.
“See you tonight,” she responded, watching him walk away.
Chapter 10
Susan felt a little nervous as she began closing the shop. It was going to be exciting to be at his place for the first time, but she was a little apprehensive about it, as well. Who knew what she would find there in his private world? She chastised herself for thinking the worst. Had she become so jaded by her own bad luck that he couldn’t accept how well things were going for her now?
After the short drive to his place and a ride to the top floor in an elevator that opened into a large hallway that had been renovated into a library area, Susan found herself standing in the doorway of his place. She felt a little overwhelmed as she realized how much this place must have cost. He was right about it being somewhat cold. It looked more like a museum than a home. The only signs of life were the two of them, the small staff, and Stella, who met them at the door. After a brief tour of the rather large place, he excused himself for just a moment to change, leaving her in the care of his maid, Victoria.
“Victoria, I need to make a quick phone call, and my cell phone has died. Is there a landline somewhere that I can use?” Susan asked.
“Absolutely,” Victoria responded, indicating that she should follow her to the study Paul had shown her during their whirlwind tour.
“Thank you so much,” Susan told her, picking up the phone to call her mother.
She had forgotten that she was supposed to stop by after work and wanted to let her know she would stop by tomorrow instead. As she waited for the phone to be answered and then had a brief conversation, she found herself looking at a photograph of Paul and a woman. She was standing behind him, with one hand draped over his shoulder and joined with his own. Both were smiling happily at the camera.
The same woman was on a nearby wall in a solo photograph that appeared to have been taken on a mountain side somewhere. She was in hiking gear, looking as if she was making her way up a steep slope on which she had paused and looked back for an impromptu photo. Susan was guessing that the photographer was Paul. Who was this woman, and why was she all over hi
s study? She heard a sound at the door and looked up to see Victoria looking at her, checking to see if she was done, no doubt. Susan was guessing she was now thinking twice about letting her in here and anxious for her to come out before Paul returned from changing clothes.
“Victoria, who is this woman?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even, as if it was just a passing curiosity. She wasn’t even sure now if Paul’s staff was aware that he had been seeing her all this time. Victoria might just think she was a friend or casual acquaintance even and not think about answering.
“That is Miranda. She is Mr. Brennan’s fiancée,” Victoria responded with a clueless smile.
“Is? He is engaged?” Susan said, feeling as if someone had just punched her.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. She was. Miranda died more than a year or so ago. Cancer. It was horrible. She was so ravaged by the disease that they couldn’t even fulfil her wishes of being an organ donor, except for her eyes,” Victoria said with a sad tone. Susan stood staring at her for a moment.
“Her eyes…” Susan repeated as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Bits and pieces fell together suddenly. Could it be true? How could he have known? Surely, they didn’t relay that kind of information to those left behind.
“Are you done with the phone?” Victoria asked kindly, not realizing what she had just relayed to their guest, but obviously noting that something was wrong.
“Yes, yes. I’m done. Please tell Mr. Brennan that I had to leave,” Susan said weakly, walking around the desk and out the door past Victoria. She made her way quickly to the front door and raced down the hallway to the elevator, pushing the button repeatedly to get it open before Paul followed her. She just couldn’t see him right now. It wouldn’t be good.
Back at her apartment, her mind raced. What had he done? Why had he done it? It was clear that he had lost someone he had loved – still loved, judging from the pictures on his wall. She had died a long, drawn-out death, and at the end, all he had left of her were her eyes. It couldn’t be that somehow, he had managed to track Susan down and…and what? It was too mind-numbing to consider.
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