“I thought I would, but now I’m excited again. Sleeping in the car was probably like a power nap. Now I want to get out there and make the most of my time here. Besides, all the guide books tell you to stay up until bedtime to get over jet lag.”
He nodded. “That’s a fact. It helps if you can, but not everybody’s built that way. How about lettin’ me come along? I didn’t get my art fix today.”
“You can spare the time?”
“I won’t promise not to take any phone calls, but if you can put up with that, I can spare the time.”
“Then I’d love to have you come.” She was secretly relieved that he’d invited himself along. Although she’d sounded brave and self-sufficient, her recent experience had made her a little nervous about setting off on her own. “But please know that I intend to pay my own way. If the money hasn’t arrived, I’ll gratefully accept a temporary loan, and I’ll be reimbursing you the minute I get some money.”
He started to say something, but stopped and cleared his throat. “All right.”
She’d bet anything he’d wanted to tell her to forget paying him back. But he’d recognized that she had her pride and needed to stand on her own feet financially. Swallowing his argument was the second-biggest gift he could give her.
“Take the phone up to your room so y’all can have a private conversation. You can bring it back down after you’ve showered and changed.”
She hesitated, torn between making off with his phone when he probably needed to have it, and thinking of the info she could share with Astrid if he was out of earshot. “All right. I won’t be long.” Turning, she hurried down the hall.
“Take the elevator,” he called after her.
“I like the stairs,” she hollered back. Then she wondered if hollering was appropriate in a house with museum-quality furnishings and live-in servants. Oh, well. She was a gym-shoe-wearing Texas girl, not a sophisticated French woman. So far, Drew hadn’t seemed to mind.
The minute she got to her bedroom, she closed the door. Then she dialed Astrid’s number and walked over to the window that looked out on a quaint residential street lined with buildings much like this one. Window boxes filled with flowers brightened the view, and a man wearing a beret rode past on a bicycle. Yes, she had to get out there. Paris was waiting.
Astrid answered on the third ring, but she sounded suspicious. That’s when Melanie remembered that the readout would seem really strange to Astrid, like a voice from the past, maybe, because this was Drew’s phone, not hers.
“Valerie, it’s me! I’m in Paris, but I lost my phone, so I’m borrowing Drew Eldridge’s.”
Astrid was silent for a beat. “Are we talking about Drew Eldridge, of the Dallas Eldridge family?”
“I hope so, because that’s what he told me. He said you two were at camp together and he stopped your runaway horse. Did he?”
“Oh, my God. Yes, he did, but how in hell did you hook up with him in Paris, of all places?”
“It’s a long story, but I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Panic edged her voice. “Why are you reassuring me? Did something happen?”
“I was mugged.”
“Oh, my God! Oh, Melanie, no.”
“But Drew came to my rescue.” Melanie explained what had happened. “So I’m staying in his town house, at least until I get my new credit card, but if you have any reservations about me doing that, then—”
“Absolutely not. He’s terrific. At least he was when I knew him, and from what I hear from my parents, he continues to do good deeds. He’s big into charity events.”
“I’m not surprised after the way he’s insisted on helping me out.” She didn’t like to think of herself as a charity, though, so she’d have to move on when she had the means to do so.
“He’s a good guy. I hate that this happened, but it sounds like you came out in pretty good shape.”
“I did. His town house is amazing. I wish I had my phone so I could send you pictures.”
“What about him? He was pretty cute as a teenager, but I haven’t seen him since then. Is he handsome? So-so? The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
Melanie laughed. “He’s gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, and the bluest eyes. When he’s on his computer, he wears these dark-framed glasses that make him look all serious and scholarly.”
“Well, now. Sounds as if you have a crush going on.”
“Nah. It’s like drooling over movie stars. We’re from different worlds.”
“I’m not so sure about that. You and I are friends, and I’m from that world.”
“That’s different. We were sorority pledges together. We went through Hell Week. I’ve seen you at your worst.”
Astrid laughed. “That’s the truth.”
“Drew’s just being nice. He saw a fellow Texan in need.”
“Maybe, but you still don’t know that he’s not interested in you. Why are you writing him off as a lost cause?”
“Astrid, you haven’t seen him or this place. My daddy is a cowboy, and my mama is a cowgirl, and my two brothers are both cowboys. We all know I’ll end up with a cowboy eventually. You might end up with a billionaire because you move in those circles, but I’ll be perfectly happy with some broad-shouldered rancher.”
“You haven’t been happy with one so far.”
“Jeff’s a bad example.”
“Before Jeff was Pete, and before that, Jeremy. I know you think a cowboy’s in your future, but I question that.”
“I just haven’t found the right one.”
“If you say so, toots. Like you said, you’re there and I’m not. But it sounds like a great setup for a romantic interlude.”
“Uh, no. But you’re welcome to your fantasies.” She glanced at an ornate clock on the bedside table. “I need to get going. He’s offered to take me to see the sights this afternoon.”
“Uh-huh. Like I said, don’t discount the possibility that he likes you.”
“Okay, I won’t.” The thought that Drew might think of her as something more than a goodwill project sent squiggles of excitement through her stomach.
“Have fun.”
“I will. I’m in Paris!” She disconnected, set the phone on the nightstand, and started stripping down for her shower. But as she stepped into the elegant bathroom, reality intruded.
She might have stumbled into this fantasy world where Drew lived, but it was only a tiny blip in her life. When it came to men, Astrid might feel comfortable with guys like Drew. But Melanie had more in common with a cowboy of modest means, someone like her father.
Drew was kind, as evidenced by his interest in charitable causes. He might even want to think of her as a charitable cause, but she wouldn’t allow him to. Maybe she couldn’t pay him for the water and electricity she used while she was here because she had no way of tracking what she owed. But whenever a receipt was involved, she would grab it and keep a running total. He’d never miss the amount if she didn’t reimburse him, but she’d never taken advantage of a generous person and she didn’t intend to start now.
Four
Drew usually had an exceptional ability to focus. That ability had been recognized early by his tutors and had played a huge part in his financial success. But knowing that Melanie would be coming downstairs shortly so they could spend the afternoon together had blown his fabled concentration all to hell.
He could explain his fascination with her, but that didn’t mean he could eliminate it. She was so unusual to him because she clearly had no interest in cashing in on his wealth. She didn’t view him as a human ATM ready to spew cash and grant her every wish.
Instead she had the habit, both endearing and maddening, of wanting to balance the scales. He didn’t want to balance them. She was adorable, and he longed to shower her with anything she desired. Ironically, she didn’
t desire a single thing from him.
If she’d had the resources, she would have left by now. Once her new credit card arrived, she would be able to leave. He didn’t want that, either.
It was a frustrating scenario. Any hotel in her price range would be inferior to having her stay here for the rest of her visit to Paris. She’d have to sacrifice location to get a reasonable rate, which would make it impossible for her to see the sights she’d come to Paris to enjoy. If she insisted on moving into a hotel, he’d want to check it out and see if it was decent. She might not let him. He was used to being in the power position, and with her he wasn’t.
But his lack of control over her living quarters wasn’t the only thing that had him pacing the floor of his office. As he’d told her, he admired her gumption. And that admiration was firing up his already hot physical reaction to her.
But he didn’t know what to do about that, either. God knows he didn’t want her to think that because he’d offered her a place to stay he expected sex in return. Some men in his position might work that angle and feel justified in doing it, but he recoiled at the idea.
So what was he supposed to do about his attraction to her? Any move on his part might be misinterpreted. He didn’t think she’d humor him out of gratitude, but the possibility was there and it made him wince.
This was why his friends had always told him to stick with women who had money, either because they’d made it or inherited it. That would even the playing field, they’d said. But he’d reached a financial pinnacle that few women had gained, and many of those who had were old enough to be his mother or his grandmother.
And frankly, the women he’d dated who were “acceptable” lacked the very quality he cherished in Melanie—a sense of wonder. When you had the resources to see and do whatever you wanted, keeping that sense of awe was a challenge many people failed to meet. Personally he worked at it, which was one of the reasons he’d bought a place in Paris.
The city had a host of awe-inspiring aspects, beginning with Notre Dame. The Louvre gave him regular doses of awe. A sculpture by Michelangelo could do it in a few seconds. Then there was the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower and a lazy boat ride down the Seine at night. The wonders of this city didn’t work for everyone, but they worked for him.
In Melanie he saw a woman who might understand his yearning to be awed, someone who wouldn’t think his love of Paris was corny or clichéd. But he didn’t know how to get close to her without scaring her away. For the first time in a long while, he feared that he might be rejected.
So he did the caretaking things that wouldn’t be suspect. First he contacted the museum. Although he already had a ticket, no more were left for that day, but a sizable pledge from him produced one for Melanie.
Next he ordered some sandwiches to take with them, because whether she’d admit it or not, she had to be hungry. His cook tucked a couple of bottles of Perrier in the wicker hamper. Drew had considered wine and decided against it. If anything, she needed caffeine to keep her from falling asleep before ten tonight.
The wicker basket was delivered to his office, and when she came downstairs wearing a fresh pair of jeans, a yellow T-shirt, and a navy hoodie, he stared at her as if she’d arrived in satin and pearls. He took off his glasses, which he only used for reading, so he could get a better look.
She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on makeup, but her freckles still showed. He was used to porcelain-skinned women, and he was entranced by those freckles. He wanted to count them and then kiss each one.
God, she was so refreshingly real. He could look at her for hours. But if he didn’t come up with something to say pretty soon, she’d conclude he was dim-witted. “I called ahead to the museum and reserved a ticket for you. Didn’t want to take a chance they’d be out when we got there.”
“Thanks. Good thinking. Would you mind if we stopped by Western Union first?”
“We can do that.” He understood her preoccupation with getting cash. In her shoes, he would have felt the same.
“No rush, though. Keep working if you need to. I can wait.”
“No need. I’m done.” He used the chore of shutting down his computer to get his bearings. More than anything he desperately wanted to kiss her, and he had no idea how she’d react to that. Before he kissed a woman, he liked to have some guesstimate of how that would be received. With Melanie he hadn’t a clue.
“Is that a picnic basket for us?”
“Yep. We’ll eat it in the car. You said you weren’t hungry, but you will be.”
“I’m hungry now. But why will we eat it in the car instead of on a bench somewhere? Aren’t we going to walk to the Louvre?” She looked as if she’d be fine with that.
“We could, but then you might not have as much energy for the museum. You’ll want to see as much as you can before you get tuckered out. It’s a big place.”
“Good point. And we can eat on the way. It’s hard to eat and walk, at least for me.”
“For me, too.” He smiled at her because she made him want to. That was worth a lot all by itself.
Henri picked them up and took them to Western Union, where cash was indeed waiting for Melanie. Her elation touched him. Being penniless had obviously been eating at her more than he’d realized.
The trip to the Louvre was an adventure in which Melanie tried to eat and keep track of everything they passed at the same time. He repeated we’ll come back more times than he could count, but Melanie was an in-the-moment kind of girl who wanted to absorb everything that was in her field of vision. Drew couldn’t help thinking of all he’d have missed if she hadn’t been mugged.
If the thieves hadn’t come along, he would have exchanged a few words with her in front of Notre Dame. He might have given her his card. But she wouldn’t have contacted him. She would have been off to see the city without him because she wouldn’t have wanted to impose. Those bastards, scum that they were, had done him a favor.
Henri dropped them off, and Drew glanced at his watch. Melanie was a trouper, but he’d be surprised if she made it much longer than three hours, all things considered. Whatever time they spent here would be special for him, though, because he’d be seeing the wonders within these walls with someone who had never been here. Her enthusiasm would carry them along on a wave of discovery . . . and awe.
She didn’t start to droop until well past the four-hour mark. He was impressed. Despite all the walking they’d done, she remained cheerful, even as she reluctantly admitted being tired. As they left the museum, she raved about what she’d seen.
He drank in her excitement and wondered how in hell he was going to show her Paris the way he longed to, by pulling out all the stops. He wanted to arrange a special tour of the Louvre so she could stand in front of the Mona Lisa all by herself instead of having to peer over the heads of other visitors. He wanted to stage a private tour of the Eiffel Tower followed by an after-hours dinner in their restaurant. He wanted to take her on a moonlit boat ride along the Seine in a luxury yacht and walk with her through the soaring arches of Notre Dame before the cathedral opened to the public.
He’d drop a bundle doing that, but he didn’t care. Showing his favorite places to someone who would see them the same way he did would be worth it. Maybe he could make her understand that and she’d stop using her mental calculator every blessed second. It was worth a try.
As they walked away from the Louvre, he suggested they stop at a sidewalk café for some wine and cheese before calling Henri to pick them up. As he’d expected, she was enchanted by the idea of doing something so Parisian. So far, so good.
He chose a place right out of a postcard, with round metal tables and the distinctive tan wicker chairs that were so common in the cafés around town. There was a slight nip in the air, but her hoodie should keep her warm enough for them to stay outside. That was, after all, the way to best enjoy the
experience.
After they were seated he picked up the wine menu. Because it was hard to get bad wine in Paris, he suggested a medium-priced bottle, and she seemed relieved.
They talked some more about the Louvre and the thrill of gazing at original sculptures and paintings by world-famous artists. He asked how she spent her time back in Dallas and found out she worked on her daddy’s ranch. She was a cowgirl. That made him smile, because a job like that fit her so perfectly. He’d never met a real cowgirl before, and he certainly never thought he’d fall for one, but now he realized that it explained a lot about what he liked about Melanie.
The wine arrived with a plate of assorted cheeses, and once the waiter had filled their glasses, he raised his in her direction. “To your first trip to Paris.”
“I’ll drink to that. And to you, for turning a bad beginning into something amazing.” Smiling, she touched her glass to his. Then she leaned back in her chair and took a sip. “Wow, this is fabulous!”
“You’d better believe it. You’re drinking French wine in Paris. It always tastes better here.”
“I pictured doing this, having some wine and cheese at a sidewalk café while I watched the people go by.”
“And here you are.” Her pleasure was contagious. He’d sat in similar cafés many times, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling this much gratitude for the experience.
“Yes, thanks to you. No telling what my situation would be right now if you hadn’t shown up.”
“But I did.” He’d always believed in making his own luck, but coming upon her this morning right when she needed him almost felt preordained. He took a swallow of wine and put down his glass. “Going to the Louvre with you today reminded me of the first time I went.”
“So tell me, does it ever get old?”
“No, but . . . today had a special shine because you were so excited, like a puppy at the beach.”
She laughed at that. “I suppose I was.”
“And that’s a good thing.” He leaned forward, needing to make her understand. “I’ve always loved the place, but I loved it even more today. You gave the experience added value.”
The Perfect Man Page 4