by Vonnie Davis
“I bet they spoiled you rotten and you loved every minute of it.”
“What man doesn’t enjoy the attentions of a woman? It’s how we are wired. God created us to need each other.” They were finally approaching his car and he reached in his pocket for his key fob to unlock the trunk.
****
Alyson rested her head against the headrest as Niko navigated the busy streets. The purr of the car and the warmth emanating off her companion lulled her into a state of relaxation. Her eyelids were getting heavy.
Niko reached over and took her hand. “Tired?”
“Yes, very. Just cataloging all that happened today. So much. You know, if I were to read about today in a book, I wouldn’t believe it. I started a blog after my separation from Chaz to chronicle the healing from his betrayal. My last few postings were about preparing for this trip and my first day here. Wait until I post about all of this. Maybe I’ll title it, ‘A day in the life of an American tourist or how to get your ass in trouble while traveling abroad.’”
Niko laughed and down-shifted his car. “Do I need to tell you there are some things you can’t blog about?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?” Like all Americans, she enjoyed her freedom of speech.
“The location of our safe house and anything I tell you. Blog about your experience in the Louvre and about what happened to us this afternoon, but no names. People need protection.”
“Okay, I can deal with that.” She didn’t want anyone else hurt, certainly not because of her or anything she wrote.
“Thanks. Today’s been one of those days no one should have.”
“Oh, yeah, too much drama.” Too much virile male, too much kissing, too much feeling.
“Well, a minute or two and we’ll be on ile Saint Louis, the location of the safe house. My home is a few blocks away. Ile Saint Louis is a charming small island in the middle of the city. I’ve lived there most of my life, terrorizing the neighbors and chasing the girls. I love every inch of it. Most tourists go to the sister island just across the bridge that houses the Notre Dame and the police headquarters where you spent time earlier today. Our little island is like an oasis from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city. It is remarkably the same as it was centuries ago.”
“Sounds lovely. The architecture here in Paris is beautiful. I know it sounds corny, but I’ve been awed by the beauty of this city.”
He raised her hand again and kissed it. “Perhaps because the city is more beautiful with you here.”
Okay, so how am I to respond to that? Best to just let that remark float on by as if she hadn’t noticed—or been charmed by it. “I know I’ve said I want to go home, but I’m also sad my trip here won’t be as long as I planned. There’s so much I haven’t seen yet.”
Niko turned into a short drive, depressed the button to open his window and keyed in the security code. Motion detector lights beamed as the heavy wooden gates opened.
“This is the safe house?” She glanced around the illuminated large cobblestone courtyard flanked with large potted greenery and flowers. A pale yellow brick building wrapped around the court on three sides. White trim framed each window. While some windows were covered with white shutters, others had small wrought iron balconies projecting from them.
“As you’ve probably guessed, real estate in Paris is at a premium. Unlike American cities, the high rent district in Paris is the middle of the city, with the less desirable neighborhoods at its outer regions. This delightfully old building houses several families. Our little apartment is small, but adequate for our needs. Come on, let’s get our things and get settled for the night.”
Niko keyed in a code at the entry door to the wing housing their quarters and held the door open for her. “I see Maman was here. I called her after the incident at the bookstore and asked her to pack a bag for me and bring over some food.”
“She knows the security code?”
He picked up a duffle bag and a net tote bag of food, juggling it with bags from their shopping earlier. “She does now. Do you mind going up the steps? We’ll never fit in the elevator with our luggage and shopping bags.”
Alyson glanced up the wide wooden stairway, and her feet cried out in protest. “Couldn’t we make two trips in the elevator?” She couldn’t wait to get these heels off.
“Okay. I know you’re tired.” He set his duffle bag back down and took her shopping bags and wrapped painting from her. They stepped in the tiny elevator and a few seconds later they were at the second floor. Niko led her down the hall. Floorboards creaked as they probably had for centuries. He unlocked a small box beside the door and opened the panel. When he pressed his thumb against a glass screen a red optic line scanned it. A buzzer sounded. With another key, he opened the door.
“You’ll be safe in here.” He turned on the lights and handed her the packages and bags. “I’ll go down for the rest of our things. Don’t worry, the door will lock automatically. A buzzer will sound in here when I scan my thumb print again.”
Alyson took in the wide entry hall containing a daybed with a small bachelor’s chest and lamp at one end. She stepped through a wide doorway to her right flanked by opened glass doors. This must be what the French refer to as a salon. She took in the desk and chair, sofa, two wide upholstered chairs with a large matching ottoman and various stands. On the wall above a gas fireplace hung a flat screen TV.
Further down the hall, she found a small kitchen and a tiny bathroom with a shower. At the end of the hall was a bedroom and bath with a large tub. One bedroom. Two bathrooms. One bedroom, oh God.
The buzzer sounded, indicating Niko’s return. She met him in the hallway. “There’s only one bedroom.”
“That’s how this apartment is laid out. I sleep here on the daybed, a sentinel guarding the door.” He smiled and set his duffle bag on the daybed before wheeling her carry-on back to the bedroom. She followed. “Why don’t you take a bath and relax. I’ll make you an espresso, if you like.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She took both his hands and examined his bruised knuckles. “You need ice on your hands.” Her fingers touched his bruised cheek. “And here, you need ice.” She hated he was hurt because of her. She stood on tiptoes and placed a kiss on his bruises.
He stilled, his breathing shallow. “It feels better already.”
“Are you in any pain?”
He quirked an eyebrow the way he did when he found something humorous.
“You…ah…you don’t think you have any internal injuries, do you?”
“No, cherie, just a few bruises. No big deal. Maman put a bottle of champagne in the bag of food. Would you prefer that or the espresso?”
“Champagne, I think. Maybe it’ll calm me down enough to help me sleep. I’m tired but wired.”
“Yeah, me, too. I’ll shower while you take your bath. There should be bath salts in the bathroom. Use whatever you need. Relax, you’re safe here.” He turned and walked out of her bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Alyson stared at the lock on the door. It would be prudish to lock it. She reached out and flicked the lock. Yet, foolhardy not to. Not that she didn’t trust Niko. Frankly, it was herself she was starting to have questions about.
While water and bubbles filled the bathtub, she unpacked the clothes Niko chose for her—interesting choices. Imagine, a man choosing her clothes. A long sigh tumbled from her lips when she eased down into the hot water. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The soapy water stung the scrapes on her knees and the heels of her palms. Every muscle in her body responded to the warmth of her bath. What a day!
She was tugging on her faded checked sleep shorts when a gentle knock sounded. Her eyes focused on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“Just checking to make sure you didn’t fall asleep in the tub. I’m slicing some cheese to have with wine. Do you want some?”
She was a little hungry. “Yes, I’d love it. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
&nbs
p; “No rush. Could you bring your laptop along? I want to run some spyware programs on it before you use it. Just to make sure it’s not infected in any way.”
“Okay. Will it take long? I want to send Gwen some pictures tonight.”
“Tell you what. Bring your media card and we’ll download them to my laptop. You can e-mail her on mine. I know it’s clean.”
“Will do.” She pulled on a faded yellow T-shirt with a smiling worm eating an apple and a slogan that proclaimed, “Teachers change lives.” After she ran a comb through her wet hair, she reached for her lip gloss and stopped. She’d be going to bed soon. Why bother? It wasn’t as if she were trying to look good for Niko. Although she did wish she packed prettier nightgowns and a robe to wear in Paris. Something more sophisticated than her old comfy sleep clothes.
She rubbed more body lotion onto her arms. When she rubbed it on her legs earlier, she fell in love with the scent. Simone had great judgment when it came to choosing a fragrance. She dabbed some matching perfume behind her ears and on the pulse points of her elbows.
Wanting her hair to perk up a little more, she applied some gel she got at Simone’s and styled it with her fingertips. No, she would not put on lip gloss. She wasn’t going to any trouble for that bothersome man with the dark eyes.
When she added some of her new eye liner, she smiled at the results. Reaching for her new mocha eye shadow—just to see how it looked, not that she was trying to draw attention to her eyes for Niko’s benefit—she smudged some on her eyelids. Then to test the desired combined effect, she added a couple layers of rich brown mascara to her pale lashes. After all, if she wore lip gloss what kind of message would that send to the man? No, she’d not do it.
She flicked open the blush and brushed a little on her cheeks, just to check the color, you understand, not to look good for Mr. Arrogance. The unopened wand of lip gloss beckoned. No, she would not put any extra efforts into her appearance…
Chapter Nine
Niko popped the cork on the bottle of champagne he asked his maman to stick in the bag of food. Two types of cheeses were sliced and placed on a plate along with red and green grapes. Also on the tray was a container of caviar and toast points. He was just about to carry it into the salon when he heard bare feet padding on the wooden floor.
What he hadn’t counted on, been prepared for, was the bare feet would belong to the most powerful woman in the world. They had to. As soon as Aly leveled those smoking blue eyes on him, the air whooshed out of his lungs. Someone—no doubt her—glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth so he couldn’t speak. A manicured hand gripped his heart and squeezed so it beat erratically. Somehow, from where she stood, nearly eight feet away, she wrapped a tourniquet around his neck and twisted it until zero oxygen reached his brain. He was lightheaded. Quite simply, he was poleaxed.
Aly was tugging on the hem of a God-ugly faded T-shirt, seemingly unaware her simple movement showcased her breasts. “What’s wrong? Is it my pajamas? You’re in yours. What?”
Was he in his pajamas? He couldn’t remember. A quick gaze downward told him his chest was bare and he wore navy silk pajama bottoms. He had on his ancient moccasins. In response to her question, he merely shook his head, wondering where his suave moves and attitude went. He simply couldn’t take his gaze off her eyes made smoldering sexy with makeup. Nor could he keep his scrutiny off those glossy lips; how would it feel to kiss that gloss off? Would he do it torturously slow or fast and furious? While his mind pondered, his cock answered.
She made a few steps toward him. “Is that champagne?”
He nodded, fool that he was. He’d seen plenty of women in less. Of course, their legs hadn’t measured up to hers. Or their eyes. He took a long gulp of champagne to moisten his mouth so he could talk. “Feel better after your bath?” He winced when his voice squeaked. It hadn’t done that since he went through puberty.
“Yes, much.” Concern marred her face. “You’ve got bruises on your stomach.”
She stepped closer and brushed cool fingertips over his flesh, and what little blood remained in his sex-hazed brain dropped to his groin. He sucked in air.
“Did I hurt you?” She cast those smoking eyes on his, concern and questioning on her face. Her hands lightly rubbed across his abdomen and mid-section, teasing and enticing.
He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, or so help me, God, I’ll take you right here, right now.” In his lust-hazed mind, he thought she muttered something about damn lip gloss before she stepped back.
She reached for the tray of food. “I…ah…I’ll just carry this into the salon.”
He placed both hands on the kitchen counter, his back to her, hoping she hadn’t seen his erection. “Yeah, you do that.” He needed to get himself under control.
Aly was bound to be vulnerable after the events of the day. What she deserved was a bit of pampering, not being jumped by some sex-crazed man. This was one of his least professional moments. He was on assignment and he did not sleep with those he was sworn to protect. No matter how aroused she made him.
His need for her had grown to the point of obsession. Granted the woman wasn’t perfect, but damn if she didn’t feel perfect for him. Yet, he was French, she American. He often lived by violence. She abhorred it. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Although, there were those karate moves of hers at Shakespeare and Company. She projected an icy demeanor, yet when he held her, her untapped passion nearly drove him mad. This was not the ordinary babysitting assignment. Not by a long shot.
****
Alyson set the tray on the table in front of the sofa. She sat down. Then she stood. She walked around the room. What a fine mess! The two of them alone in this little apartment with sparks flying like pollen from a field of dandelions. This would never work.
The man looked fabulous in those pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. His muscled chest covered with a sprinkling of dark hair made her fingers itch to touch. A tattoo encircled one of his biceps, giving him that dangerous appearance. Oh, the man was dangerous, all right. It would take a miracle for her to keep her hands off him. Never, never in her life had she been so turned on by a man. She’d been that way all day. Just how was she going to resist?
“Aly.”
Her nipples hardened again, so she kept her back toward him. “Yes?” She cleared her throat.
“Listen, I promise I won’t do anything. I have a job to do. That comes before my desires. You’re safe with me. I promise. Look at me.”
She turned, emotions warring inside—fear, embarrassment and desire, a desire like nothing she’d ever felt. He stood holding flutes of champagne.
“I thought we’d make a toast.” He handed her a flute and tilted his head. “To friendship and self-control.”
She gazed into his warm chocolate eyes and took a deep breath, hoping he meant what he said. Her experience with men—Chaz—showed her men rarely meant what they said. “Okay. To friendship and self-control.” Maybe, just maybe if she drank enough champagne, she’d believe it.
Niko moved the tray of food to the large ottoman, sliding it between the two large blue upholstered chairs. He slumped into one of the chairs, popped a grape into his mouth and then motioned to the chair opposite his. “Have a seat, Aly. The grapes are sweet.” His gaze swept over her like a warm caress, and her legs went weak. Once she was sitting, he spread a dollop of caviar onto a toast point and offered it to her. “Sample some of Maman’s favorite Beluga caviar.”
She took it and made herself look at him, hoping her emotions weren’t evident in her eyes. With more time in his company and less years on her age, she could fall in love with this charming man. And isn’t that the silliest thought I’ve ever had?
“Thanks. I’ve never had caviar.” She leaned back in her chair and noticed Niko’s gaze taking in her legs. A warmth spread throughout her body.
Niko emptied his flute and excused himself to bring in more champagne. A minute later, he carried in an ic
e bucket containing an open bottle. He filled his glass and topped off hers before sitting back down. “Now, suppose you tell me about the incident at Shakespeare and Company and…” he waved his flute in her direction, “how you, as you so succinctly said, ‘kung-fooed the hell out of them.’” His eyebrow quirked either in humor or question. She didn’t know which.
She cleared her throat. “Well…I was looking for a book for Dad. He’s a fan of World War Two history. His father was killed in the war when he was a year old. Anyway, I saw these two men step into the alcove by me, but they looked like businessmen so I didn’t pay them any mind. When they stood on either side of me, close, very close…” She shrugged and gave an involuntary shudder.
Niko moved the tray of food, sat on the ottoman and reached for her hand. “You’re safe, now, cherie. I hate that you were accosted. We should have stayed together. I know you wanted space, but I should have insisted. You won’t walk away from me again, though, right?”
“Look, this being joined at the hip routine isn’t easy for me. I’m not used to being in a man’s company. Not like this.”
“But you were married for twelve years.” He was making small circles with his thumb on her palm, and her body was reacting. Pools of desire overflowed into her pajama bottoms.
“Chaz and I rarely did anything with each other. We attended family and work functions together, but other than that, we lived separate lives.”
He was silent for a minute as if digesting what she said. “Tell me about the karate.”
“Evenings spent alone weren’t good for me. I volunteered as a Big Sister to disadvantaged little girls.”
A wide grin spread across his face, replacing his normal all-too-serious expression. “I bet you were great at that. What a role-model you must be for them.”
Again he shocked her with his unabashed approval. She’d think about that later, not now. “I also took a lot of courses over the years. I still take classes in karate and kung-fu. I have a second degree black belt in karate and a red belt in kung-fu. Plus, I spend a lot of time in the gym.”