Undercover Bachelor

by Rebecca Winters

  Whitney glanced at her watch, surprised to discover it was five o’clock. Last night’s memories had caused her to lose track of the time.

  Much as she didn’t want to accompany him, she had little choice. He had no idea she wasn’t a student. Naturally he would expect her to go along with his suggestion since they were both returning to the same place anyway.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bowen.”

  She followed him out of the gallery where he signaled a taxi. After giving the driver instructions, he settled back and turned to her with a smile.

  “Before we reach the hotel, we’re going to stop at a special gift shop where they import puppets. I always order something to take home to my daughter. Perhaps there will be an item you would like to buy as a souvenir?”

  A puppet sounded too old a gift for her nephew, but she couldn’t go home empty-handed. Her thoughts darted back to a previous trip to Acapulco where panhandlers had tried to sell her a string puppet as she lay sunbathing on the beach.

  If she could find one of those, she could always tell Christine to hang it on the wall till Greg grew older. It would be the perfect gift to back up the lie that Whitney had gone to Mexico on vacation.

  More than ever she didn’t want the family to know where she’d really been.

  “Thanks. Maybe I will.”

  Before long they pulled up in front of the shop. Mr. Bowen instructed the chauffeur to wait.

  The proprietor greeted Christine’s French teacher like an old friend. Whitney wandered around fascinated by the varieties of puppets.

  It didn’t take her long to spot a little Mexican boy in a sombrero and white pants whose parts moved by strings. While the owner wrapped it up for her, Mr. Bowen put in an order for Esmerelda from the Hunchback of Notre Dame series. The other man promised that the hand puppet would be ready for pick-up when the tour came back to Paris for the flight home.

  With that accomplished, they left the shop and climbed in the taxi. During the short trip to the hotel Mr. Bowen explained that the Esmerelda puppet would complete his daughter’s Victor Hugo collection.

  Anxious to get back before Mr. Smith discovered she’d been out, she only half listened to the other man’s explanation. Once they arrived at the hotel, she excused herself to race up to her room where she planned to stay put for the rest of the evening.

  Tomorrow night they would be sleeping in Dijon, the next night, Geneva. The Swiss portion of the tour was about to begin. A tremor of excitement passed through her body just imagining being alone with him again. She knew it was the wrong reaction for a woman who was planning his downfall, but she could no longer control her emotions where he was concerned.

  Around eight-thirty the phone rang, making her jump. She’d been trying to get absorbed in her book but it was impossible to concentrate. Since Mr. Smith had gone to the opera with the boys, she couldn’t imagine who it would be. Hesitantly she reached for the receiver and said hello.

  “Whitney?”

  At the sound of her chaperone’s deep male voice her mouth went dry and her heart began to palpitate out of rhythm. She slid off the bed and stood up.

  “Yes?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No.”

  You should have said yes, Whitney. You have no willpower at all around him.

  “Roger isn’t feeling well so we came back from the opera early. Though he would never admit it, I think he’s suffering culture shock and has a touch of homesickness on top of it. If you were to take him a Coke and talk to him and Jeff for a little while, I think his spirits would improve. I’ll be right next door, so you won’t have to worry about being alone with them for more than a few minutes.”

  Insane as it was, she felt a momentary pang of disappointment at the reason for his call, then scoffed at herself.

  What were you waiting for? Were you hoping he would ask if he could join you in your room? Are you out of your mind?

  Though Mr. Smith was a womanizer of young women, she felt a grudging respect for his concern over Roger. Whitney had experienced a bout of homesickness when she’d first gone to Washington, D.C., to work. It was an awful feeling and she could commiserate with Roger’s condition.

  “I’ll get a bunch of drinks from downstairs and then go to their room.”

  “Thank you. Don’t let on that you know anything, or that this was my suggestion.” After a slight pause, “I know you’re on a tight budget so I’ll reimburse you later tonight.”

  Later tonight?

  She swallowed hard. It sounded like he’d changed his mind about waiting until they reached Switzerland to be alone together. Deep inside she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  “Okay.”

  Still dressed in jeans, blouse and loafers, all she had to do was attach the microrecorder to the inside collar of her blouse and she was ready to leave the room.

  When Gerard saw her blond head disappear down the stairs, he broke into her room, curious to know what she’d bought in the shop on the way home from the museum. Bowen, who’d been a few steps behind her, had exited the store empty-handed.

  With Mr. Hart’s help, Gerard had been freed from the boys so he could tail Donald Bowen’s movements after lunch. It came as no surprise to discover the other man had followed Whitney out of the hotel to the museum.

  A quick search of her room produced the brown sack sitting on the dresser with the words ‘Au Souk Maroc’ printed on the paper. A souk was a North African market.

  Inside he found a Mexican puppet of all things.

  A deep crease furrowed his brow as he put the sack down and returned to his own room.

  Why would she purchase such a souvenir when she was in France? At the least he would have expected something of Moroccan make. Before the night was out, he intended to have an answer to that question.

  Gerard had purposely planned an evening at the opera so the boys would moan and want to come back to the hotel early.

  He’d lied to Whitney about Roger’s homesickness, but she would never know. It had been a perfect ploy to get her away from her room. Now he needed a different ruse to be alone with her again.

  He left his room and tapped on the boys’ door.

  Jeff opened it a crack, then looked nervous when he discovered who was on the other side.

  “Hi, Hank.”

  “Hi, Jeff. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing much.”

  Gerard chuckled inwardly. “I could hear your laughter clear down the hall. What girl have you got in there with you?”

  A guilty expression washed over the teen’s face. “Whitney came by with some Cokes for us. That’s all. I swear it!”

  “I believe you, but you know the rules about no girls in your room.”

  “Hey—” he said in a hushed tone. “This is our first chance to be alone with her. You know what I mean.”

  “Unfortunately I do.”

  Jeff’s expression became mutinous. “We just want to get to know her a little better. Is that a crime? We’re all eighteen. At home we—”

  “That’s the problem, Jeff,” he interrupted the younger man. “You’re not home. You’re on a tour and I’m responsible for all of you.”

  “Ah, come on, Hank. It’s barely ten o’clock, and we’re in Paris. Jeez.”

  Once upon a time Gerard had been Jeff’s age and knew exactly how he felt.

  “Sorry. Rules are rules.”

  He pushed the door open a little farther. At a glance he noticed Whitney on a chair facing Roger who sat barefoot on one of the beds, his face wreathed in a smile. But it faded when he saw Gerard come in the room. All at once he was on his feet.

  “Hi, Hank. Whitney just dropped in for a minute.”

  “So I see.”

  Both teens had a serious crush on her. No one knew how that felt better than Gerard. His mind and body remembered the way she’d clung to him the night before. Over and over again he relived the explosion of excitement her mouth generated with every hungry kiss.
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  She’s lit a fire in you, Roche.

  The exultation he felt because it appeared she wasn’t working with Donald Bowen made it burn that much hotter. He might not have all the answers where she was concerned, but right now nothing seemed more important than getting tangled in her arms again.

  “If you’ve all finished your drinks, then I suggest everyone turn in. We have to be down in the lobby for breakfast by six a.m. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  Whitney got out of her chair. “I’ve had a lot of fun, guys. We’ll have to do it again.”

  “Yeah,” they both said in unison, disappointment dripping from their response.

  Gerard patted both students on the shoulders. “Bon soir, mes amis. Dormez bien.”

  Repressing a smile, he followed Whitney from the room and shut the door behind him. No one else was in the hall.

  It was all he could do not to slide his hands around the womanly thrust of her hips and draw her against him.

  “I think your presence helped Roger feel a good deal better.”

  “Roger didn’t act homesick in front of me.”

  Naturally she’d noticed.

  “Of course not. He has his pride. At this point he’s upset with me for breaking things up, which means your visit distracted him enough to get his mind off himself for a little while. Come in my room and I’ll pay you back for the drinks.”

  He opened his door and waited for her to pass in front of him. Though she hesitated, he knew in his gut she wanted to be with him. Their kind of chemistry was rare. It ran marrow deep.

  He noticed her look around to see if they were alone before she moved inside. Adrenaline charged his body.

  When the click of the door sounded she turned to him, her cheeks slightly flushed. For the first time since they’d met, he could swear she was nervous. Her reaction intrigued him.

  He reached for his wallet on the dresser and pulled out twenty francs.

  “You don’t need to pay me back, Mr. Smith. I didn’t mind buying them a couple of Cokes.”

  “It’s the least I can do considering how hard you worked to earn the money to come on this trip.” No one worked harder or longer hours than a new attorney in a corporate law firm.

  He moved closer, extending the French notes once more. When she still refused to take them, he reached for her hand and folded the bills in her palm. “I’m the chaperone, and I asked you to do me a personal favor. The welfare of my students has to be my first priority. Yours ranks at the top, Whitney, and we both know why.”

  “You mean because of the promise to my grandmother.”

  “I mean because twice now, you’ve told me you were going to stay in your room instead of going out with the others. Yet twice you’ve left the hotel without informing me of your plans.”

  Her eyes had widened. “Twice?”

  “Yesterday you were spotted with Mr. Bowen on the subway from Neuilly. Today a couple of students taking a bus tour of Paris happened to mention seeing you and Mr. Bowen coming out of a building in a seedier part of the city.”

  Taking advantage of her astonishment, he grasped her upper arms. The feel of her warm, scented flesh tantalized him. He could well imagine Bowen’s plans for her. The thought of that swine’s hands on her body...

  “Do you have any conception of the dangerous game you’re playing?” His voice grated. Before he realized it, he’d shaken her. Though he could see the hint of alarm in her eyes, he refused to let up until he’d wrung a confession from her.

  “Don’t you know he’s a married man with a child? If you’ve been trying to make me jealous, then you’ve done a good job, cherie. I thought you and I shared something special,” he whispered against the vulnerable hollow of her throat. A throbbing pulse just beneath the skin revealed her heightened excitement.

  “We do!” she exclaimed in a breathless voice. “I admit I played up to him on the bus to make you jealous, but that was the only time.”

  Her answer sounded like the truth. Obeying an ageold urge, Gerard pulled her into his body and pressed a hard, swift kiss to her mouth. “You knew how much I wanted you on the flight over. The attention you paid Mr. Bowen not only wasn’t necessary, I’m afraid you played right into his hands.”

  He felt her stiffen. “What do you mean?”

  “Hasn’t it occurred to you that a man who leaves his wife and family every year to come on a student tour is looking for female company? Who better than some young, beautiful creature like yourself? Someone who admires him and feeds his ego?

  “At least I, for all my sins, am free to love whom I will, even if you are young enough to be my daughter.”

  A long silence ensued. Something profound seemed to be going on inside of her. She gave him a soul-searching glance, almost as if she’d never seen him before.

  “You really love me?” She sounded incredulous.

  “I think you know I do. But I wager Mr. Bowen told you the same thing when he made love to you yesterday.”

  Her gently rounded chin lifted a trifle. “Yesterday I thought it would be better if you and I weren’t seen together so much. So when Mr. Bowen announced he was taking any students who wanted to go out to Malmaison, I decided to join his group.”

  “And too late you found out you were his only student,” he inserted in an ironic tone.

  “Yes.”

  His brows drew together. “That might explain yesterday, but what about today? Tell me—did he take you to a hotel, or does he have an apartment?”

  A tremor rocked her body he could feel to his insides. What had he said to produce such a violent reaction?

  “Neither one,” she confessed at last. “You have to believe I’ve never let him touch me or be alone with me like this.” Her earnestness was very compelling, but he needed more answers.

  “I’m afraid you wouldn’t convince Roger or Jeff.” Kneading her shoulders because he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, he said, “As far back as Salt Lake they saw and heard how disappointed you were when the woman from STI put you in my group instead of his.”

  “That’s because a friend of mine had recommended traveling with Mr. Bowen,” she argued. “That was before I met you, Hank!”

  “I might believe you if I hadn’t witnessed the two of you making secret arrangements to be together while we toured the château at Fontainebleau.

  “Later, aboard the boat, the man was devouring you with his eyes for all the world to see. Jeff even commented to Roger that it looked like Mr. Bowen had the hots for you. His words...not mine.”

  You just told another lie, Roche, but it’s all necessary until you find out what went on when she was alone with Bowen. “Last night I actually thought you wanted rescuing.”

  “I did! I was waiting for you to ask me to dance.”

  “If that’s true, then how come today I discovered that you not only had lied to me about intending to stay in your hotel room—you slipped out and spent an entire afternoon with him.”

  Gerard’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “You little fool, Whitney. You disappeared with a virtual stranger in a city that swallows people alive. He could have taken you anywhere, manipulated you into doing anything he wanted because of his position of power over you. There would have been no one to help you.”

  Her eyes clouded to an intense purple, as if she’d never entertained the thought before. But that couldn’t possibly be, because she was a grown, savvy woman. One, furthermore, who had a background in the law.

  “For a long time I did stay in my room,” she began. “At the last minute I decided to go to the museum. Toward closing time he appeared. Naturally I assumed it was a coincidence. He asked me if I’d like to share a taxi back to the hotel. Since I would have gotten one anyway, I saw no reason not to join him.”

  Gerard took a steadying breath. “Even if that were true, how come you ended up in another part of town with him? The area where the students spotted you wasn’t anywhere near the museum.”

  “He
stopped by a shop to order a present for his daughter,” she murmured, sounding very far away. “Since I wanted to buy a gift for my nephew, I went in with him.”

  “Then the students saw you coming out of a store?”

  “Yes.”

  The lovely face he cradled in his hands had lost some of its color. What was going on inside of her?

  “I want to believe you, but twice you’ve lied to me. How do I know you’re not lying to me now? Whitney—” His gaze bore into hers. “Don’t you know you’ve come to mean everything to me?”

  Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips against hers. To his surprise, hers were trembling ever so slightly. “If anything were to happen to you, how do you suppose I would feel?”

  Even to his own ears, his voice sounded husky. That was because he realized he’d spoken the truth. In the brief time he’d known her, she’d become more important to him than he dared admit.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS PURE revelation flowed through her, Whitney weaved and would have fallen if Mr. Smith hadn’t been holding on to her.

  Mr. Bowen was the father of Christine’s baby, not Mr. Smith!

  There was no doubt in Whitney’s mind. Her first instincts that her sister had fallen in love with her French teacher of three years had been right all along. Everything fit.

  He was married, he had a daughter, he always bought her a toy and he singled out the female student who showed all the signs of hero worship. Once he’d determined which student to exploit, he went to work on her...

  But if that were true, then it meant Whitney had been seducing the wrong man!

  Slowly she eased herself out of Mr. Smith’s arms and backed away from him. Since the night in the Salt Lake library when she’d first laid eyes on him, his devastating masculine appeal had caused her to make the instant decision that he was the teacher who had compromised her sister.

  Now that she knew differently, what did it say about Mr. Smith? How many years had he been pulling the same stunts as Mr. Bowen?

  Were all the men on this tour immoral?

  Wasn’t there one man among them who could be trusted with a bunch of silly high school girls who didn’t have a clue what their male chaperones were up to?