by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo
Ray introduced her briefly to the man, who was called Henri, and he kissed her on each cheek before steering them towards the only vacant table in the place, which was strategically placed for a good view of the floodlit terrace and the river.
‘You were saying?’ Ray asked with a grin as the man disappeared and a waitress immediately arrived to hand them a menu.
‘You’ve obviously got friends in high places, haven’t you?’ She smiled. ‘Not only have you got us a table, but I think it’s the best in the house.’
‘Yes, well, Henri and I go back a long way. We were at school together.’
‘He’s the owner of this establishment, I take it?’
Ray nodded. ‘He operates a system of first come, first served; you can’t book a table—’
‘Unless you are an old school friend,’ Caitlin finished with a smile.
‘Exactly.’ Ray glanced down at the menu. ‘So what would you like to eat?’
She looked down at the selection. It was all in French but she could make out most of it. ‘What’s this?’ She leaned over and pointed at something she just couldn’t decipher.
‘Venison with sweet potatoes. Why don’t you try the escargot to start with?’
‘Snails?’ She pulled a face and then, glancing over at him, realised that he was deliberately teasing her.
‘I don’t even like to look at snails in the garden, never mind eat them.’
Ray laughed. ‘Then predictably I take it your choice is that most English of dishes, Rosbif?’
She laughed as well. ‘But I’ll take French mustard with it.’
‘You are extraordinarily beautiful when you laugh, do you know that, Caitlin?’ he said softly.
The compliment caught her off guard. There was a part of her that wanted to make a glib remark, shrug it off as nothing more than his smooth tongue. She glanced across and met his eyes; they looked dark and intensely serious and for a moment she was completely tonguetied. It was as much as she could manage to just say the words, ‘Thank you.’
He watched the flicker of uncertainty and vulnerability in her green eyes. ‘David did quite a job on you, didn’t he?’ he remarked suddenly.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, clearing her throat nervously.
‘I mean he hurt you a great deal…took away some of that radiant confidence that sparkles naturally in your eyes and your laughter…’
She swallowed hard. ‘It’s been a tough few months,’ she admitted lightly. ‘But I’m fine now, Ray.’
He nodded. ‘Well, at least being here for the weekend will take your mind off things, so we will change the subject…hmm?’
‘Yes, good idea.’ She smiled brightly and looked away from him pretending to study the menu in great detail. But in truth her heart was thumping erratically and it wasn’t because he had mentioned David, it was the way he looked at her…the way he complimented her, the way he talked with such sincerity, as if her well-being mattered to him. It was all probably a very smooth act. But it was a wonderful one.
The waitress arrived to take their order. Self-consciously aware of Ray watching her, Caitlin ordered in French and hoped her accent sounded all right. Then Ray took over, smoothly ordering his meal and some wine.
‘So how was my French pronunciation?’ she asked as they were left alone again.
‘You sounded fine.’
‘I just wondered.’ She shrugged. ‘When you French speak English it sounds deliciously attractive…I wondered if the same could be said of the reverse.’
‘Let me hear you again.’ He rested one hand under his chin and leaned forward as if ready to catch every nuance of her tone, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
She wished now that she hadn’t asked him, as with embarrassment she repeated her order.
‘Hard to tell with a food order…’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘Say something else.’
‘What should I say?’
He grinned and pretended to think for a moment. ‘You could say, Ray, I’m so pleased to be here in Paris with you…Where have you been all my life?’
‘Idiot.’ She grinned back at him.
‘You don’t care for that? Okay, let me think of something else.’
Behind them on a small stage a female guitarist started to play a French love song. Its haunting melody silenced a lot of the conversations around them, and a few people got up to dance on the small dance floor outside on the terrace.
‘Ah, I know,’ Ray said gently. ‘You could say, Please dance with me. I want to be held close in your arms.’
She knew he was only teasing, but even so she felt her skin heat up as he waited for her to speak. Caitlin glanced towards the couples on the dance floor; they weren’t so much dancing as smooching and the thought of being that close to Ray made her blood pressure increase dramatically.
‘Let me help you,’ Ray murmured with a smile, before repeating the words again in French. Then he stood up and held out a hand.
She had no alternative but to put her hand in his and allow him to lead the way. The floor was packed with couples so, even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have kept a distance from him. Wordlessly she allowed him to pull her close into his arms. The familiar tang of his cologne assailed her senses. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. The dangerous intensity of pleasure that ricocheted through her was terrifying in one way, and yet pure bliss in another.
One of his hands rested at her waist, the other on her back; she had never been more acutely aware of a man’s touch before, or of the powerful body against hers. And suddenly it was as if they were alone in the room, as if time stood still. She wanted this dance to go on forever, to stay wrapped in the warm cocoon of his arms and never—ever—come back down to earth again.
As the music changed they continued to dance. Ray murmured something against her ear in French; the sound of his voice and the touch of his breath against her skin sent tingling shivers racing through her.
‘I have something to tell you…my Caitlin,’ he said gently in his native language.
The possessive way he used her name made her raise her head to look up at him.
He hesitated and then smiled. ‘I don’t know how I am going to keep my hands off you tonight,’ he said slowly.
Although her French wasn’t good she knew exactly what he had said. She tried to pretend she didn’t, tried to just give a shrug of incomprehension. But the truth was she understood exactly what he meant…and, worse, she felt exactly the same way. She wanted him so much that it hurt inside.
‘And something else,’ he added in English, a warm, teasing glow in his eyes. ‘You made Moules Mariniére sound like the sexiest food on the planet,’ he assured her solemnly.
She laughed at that, loving him for being able to lighten the sexual intensity of the moment in such a silly, light-hearted way.
‘You are crazy, you know that, don’t you?’ she said huskily.
‘Crazy about you,’ he said softly, looking deep into her eyes.
Caitlin decided to accept that remark as just light-hearted flirting, but even so it sent a tremor of delight rushing through her.
‘Come on, let’s go and sit down…Our food has arrived.’ He pulled away from her and, keeping a light hold on her hand, led her back to the table.
As she took her seat opposite him her heart was still pounding erratically. Ray, on the other hand, seemed totally at ease. He smiled across at her and leaned over to pour her a glass of wine.
‘So tell me,’ he invited easily. ‘How is the house really progressing?’
She should have been relieved that he had returned the conversation to the safety zone, but perversely her house was the last thing she wanted to talk about now. Caitlin reached for her glass and took a cooling sip of the white wine.
‘The staircase is almost in.’ She forced herself to concentrate. ‘Patrick has been working really hard.’
‘He’s a decent guy.’
Caitlin nodded. ‘
I think he’s very trustworthy. I left keys with him because he said he might come and do some work over the weekend.’ She played with the food on her plate for a moment. ‘There are no hard feelings, are there, Ray…about my not selling to you?’
She didn’t know what made her ask that, but suddenly it seemed important.
He thought about that for a moment and wondered what Caitlin would say if he told her that her property was holding back a major development of luxury gîtes. And that every week that passed she was costing his company thousands of Euros. Philippe was getting very annoyed and impatient about it.
She frowned when he didn’t answer her immediately and leaned forward. ‘It’s just that I love that house, Ray.’ She spoke with passion, her eyes shining. ‘It has such charm and I just know it’s going to look fantastic when it’s finished.’
Her infatuation with the project made him smile. ‘You sound like me when I’m working on a new design,’ he said. ‘But if I can give you some advice, Caitlin…Never fall in love with a business project. You should be objective and unemotional at all times otherwise it could end up costing you more money than it is really worth.’
‘And are you objective and unemotional at all times?’ she asked meeting his eyes steadily.
‘I’ve always tried to be in the past,’ he said quietly.
Something about the serious light in his eyes, the intonation in his voice, made her wonder what was going on in his mind.
She shrugged. ‘Well, I think there are more important things than money, a sense of achievement being one. And something that brings pleasure, two…’ She trailed off self-consciously as she felt his eyes moving with searing intensity over her features. ‘You think I’m incredibly naïve, don’t you?’
He smiled at that. ‘I think you are incredibly lovely,’ he said easily. ‘And in answer to your earlier question: no, there are no hard feelings.’
The waitress arrived to clear their table and ask if they’d like anything else.
Ray looked across at Caitlin. ‘Would you like a coffee and cognac here, or shall we have them back at my place?’
The nonchalant question set Caitlin’s adrenalin racing. ‘Let’s go back to your place,’ she said softly.
Chapter Seven
IT WAS cool outside after the warmth of the bistro and Caitlin shivered slightly.
Ray put an arm around her shoulders and all of a sudden there was a different explanation for her shivers. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked gently.
‘I’m fine.’ She allowed herself to lean close to him. ‘It’s not really cold, is it?’ she said lightly. ‘It must be old age.’
‘Old age?’ He laughed at that. ‘You are only twenty-nine.’
‘What time is it?’ Caitlin asked.
Ray glanced at his watch. ‘Quarter past midnight.’
‘Then I’m no longer twenty-nine,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’m thirty. And it’s damned depressing.’
‘It’s your birthday!’ Ray stopped walking and looked down at her. ‘You were going to get married on your birthday?’
She nodded. ‘When I was planning it, it seemed like a mature and sensible thing to do. Thirty felt like a good age to settle down, make a commitment…’
‘Not if it’s to the wrong person,’ Ray said gently.
‘Well, with the benefit of hindsight I can see that,’ she said huskily.
Ray looked down at her and wished he could see the expression on her face, but it was in shadow. He stroked a hand through her hair. ‘Happy birthday, Caitlin.’
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed on a sudden lump in her throat. Being here with him suddenly seemed so right…as if she had come on a long and perilous journey, taken lots of wrong turnings and by sheer fluke ended up in exactly the right place. It was the strangest feeling and she couldn’t really understand it. She was here for the shallowest of reasons: a bit of fun…to take her mind off things…
He reached down and then his lips met with hers and the fireworks started inside her again, and as she kissed him back all those shallow reasons for being here seemed like the thinnest tissue of lies. There was nothing superficial about her feelings for Ray. As the thoughts tried to unfold in her mind she stopped them. She wasn’t going to analyse this, she told herself fiercely. This was just a light-hearted dalliance and if she tried to make it into something serious then she risked getting hurt.
It started to rain, a light, squally shower that took them both by surprise. They broke apart, laughing, and then they held hands and ran for the sanctuary of the car, but by the time they reached it the rain had passed.
Paris looked wonderful by night. They drove down wide boulevards passing floodlit fountains and impressive squares. The Arc de Triomphe looked white against the night sky, and statues of magnificent winged horses almost real as if they might fly at any moment up into the starry night. Then they were passing the Eiffel Tower, which shimmered with gold light, sending ripples of gold reflection over the Seine.
‘This city is so beautiful,’ Caitlin murmured.
‘Yes, I think so.’ Ray smiled. ‘I’ve made a detour to get back to my place so you could see some of it. But tomorrow I’ll show you around properly. And hopefully it won’t rain.’ He added, softly. ‘Although I can’t promise anything—it is April in Paris.’
Caitlin looked across at him and smiled. ‘That sounds wonderful.’
He parked the car on a quiet, leafy road. ‘My apartment is just down here.’ He indicated an elegant row of terrace houses. Caitlin admired their wrought-iron balconies, the intricate detail around the curve of their windows. She could just catch a glimpse of the sophisticated interiors lit by softly shaded lamps.
‘Come on.’ He opened the door of the car. ‘Let’s get inside.’
The words and the fact that she was here at his place made tension suddenly escalate inside her.
Firmly she tried to keep her mind away from the intimacy of being alone with him in his apartment. ‘I half expected your city pad to be in an ultra-modern glass tower,’ she said, trying to keep the conversation going in a light vein.
‘I guess I’m just a traditionalist at heart.’ Ray laughed. ‘In fact I draw a lot of inspiration for my designs from the grandeur of bygone days. I hope you are not disappointed.’
‘On the contrary, I think that’s something we’ve got in common. I like older properties; I suppose it’s one of the reasons I love Murdo’s house. Restoring it almost seems like an honour.’ She watched as he took her weekend case from the boot of the car. ‘So you see I’m a bit of a traditionalist myself.’
The words had a hollow ring inside her. It was true; she was almost old-fashioned when it came to certain things…but she wasn’t just talking about her love of period properties. For instance, she had never had a one-night stand or a casual liaison. Her relationships had all been with people she had loved…and people who she had believed loved her.
So what was she doing here? she wondered, apprehension uncoiling fully like a serpent ready to bite. Was she about to throw her rule book in the Seine and fall into bed with Ray Pascal? And if so, was she making a huge mistake?
They walked up some steps and into a wide hallway lit by a chandelier. She watched as he collected some post from a line of five boxes in the wall. He flicked through the contents briefly, before leading the way across the white tiled floor towards the lifts. The doors were open and they stepped inside.
Ray pressed the button for the top floor. The overhead lights were bright and she noticed the way rain still sparkled in the darkness of his hair, and suddenly she was filled with the urge to reach out and brush her hand lightly over the dampness, smooth it away. The temptation startled her almost as much as the sudden rain shower had done a little while ago. It sent vibrant heat flooding through her.
He glanced over and met her eyes. Their dark, sensual power made the heat increase even more, and that made her even more nervous.
She cleared her throat. ‘I take it you haven’t
been home today?’ she asked, indicating the mail in his hand.
‘No, I headed straight from the office to pick you up at the airport.’
‘You must be tired.’ It was just something to say, but as soon as the words left her lips she regretted them, especially as she saw the gleam of amusement in his dark eyes.
‘Not really,’ he assured her wryly.
‘Well, it’s been a long day for both of us.’ She brushed at an imaginary crease in her grey skirt and studied the black leather of her boots as the lift slid smoothly to a halt.
She felt like a gauche teenager on a first date…This was ridiculous, she told herself crossly.
The doors opened and she followed him out of the close, confined space with a degree of relief. At least the lighting along the hallway was more subdued. He unlocked a door and led the way inside.
The apartment was elegant and spacious. The floors a highly polished maple and the leather sofas a squashy vanilla cream; in fact everything about his home spoke of style, sophistication and money.
‘It’s a beautiful apartment.’ She crossed to the French windows to look out. There was a small roof-top garden outside. Ray flicked a switch and the space was lit with the twinkle of subdued lighting, illuminating the flower pots and the wrought-iron table and chairs. In the background the city of Paris glittered like a million priceless diamonds. ‘You have a wonderful view as well.’
‘Yes, I just don’t get much time to admire it.’ Ray tossed his post down onto an antique sideboard as he crossed to switch on a few more lamps around the sides of the room. ‘Would you like to freshen up while I get us a drink?’ he asked.
‘Yes, okay.’
‘I’ve put you in my room. I thought you would be more comfortable in there.’
Caitlin turned from the window and their eyes met. She wondered what it would be like to share that room with him…to lie in his arms, drown in his kisses. Urgently she tried to ignore the electric feeling of desire that sizzled inside her. She shouldn’t have come here an insistent voice warned her. Maybe she should leave while she still had some semblance of sanity. ‘I feel very guilty turning you out of your bedroom, Ray, especially as you’ve had such a busy day.’ Her words came out in a rush. ‘You know, I can still go to a hotel…There must be hundreds around here.’