He had been drowsy when they arrived, but Harper woke up bright eyed and full of energy, and it woke him up too. They peered out of the taxi windows during the hour-long ride from the airport, both overwhelmed at their first glimpse of another country. Paris gradually revealed itself to them, one stately building and wide boulevard at a time, while the Seine curved through the city, a broad, sparkling ribbon.
The hotel was beautiful, with a gleaming marble lobby and a winding spiral staircase.
“This is – I don’t know how to describe it – just French!” Harper said. “Like, you can totally feel that you’re not in the US.”
“True,” Rocco said with a grin, fighting the urge to take her hand as the bell hop lead them to their rooms. If the staff were confused about why they’d booked separate rooms they were too discreet to show it, but they’d found rooms for them side by side. Harper gasped as she entered her room. It had a huge, dark wood canopy bed, a beautiful marble floor, and a huge iron-work balcony, looking out onto a perfect Parisian street scene. Rocco dropped his bags off then came into her room and stood beside her, admiring the view. The tall windows were framed by blue wooden shutters and billowing, white drapes, and there were flowerboxes running along the edge of the balcony.
“This is just like in the movies,” Harper said, as they both hung over the balcony railing.
“I think that means you like it here,” Rocco said, chuckling.
“I more than like it!” she replied, turning her sparkling eyes on him, her lips parted in a happy smile. All he could think was that she’d never looked more beautiful. She was so alive, no sign in her face of the pain that had overshadowed both of their lives. He fought back his bear, which was huffing and scrabbling, urging him to kiss her.
“Let’s get breakfast!” he said.
“Just give me ten minutes to freshen up.”
“Sure.”
Rocco took a quick shower and hung out on his balcony while he waited for her, running over the plans he’d been making for the trip. Wanting everything to be perfect, he’d already selected a café for them to have breakfast in.
Harper had changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and an olive, floral shirt that matched her eyes, the v-neck revealing the top inch or so of her cleavage. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she looked fresh and perky, all ready to explore the city.
Rocco had entered the address into his map app, and he selected a route that took them through narrow, winding streets. The sidewalks were full of fashionably dressed locals, chattering to each other in a beautiful language that they’d both learned for two years in high school, and he’d all but forgotten. There were lots of bakeries, flower shops, stores selling nothing but cheese or cold cuts. It all smelled incredible. The roads wound past little hotels and restaurants, and at last they were there: a famous café, which had featured in at least two movies.
“This is it?” Harper said, eyes shining, then greeted the waiter in French. Rocco swelled with pride, amazed that she’d remembered how to speak the language, and that she was adapting so quickly to the new environment. The waiter seemed charmed by her, leading them to a corner table. They took their seats, and Harper gazed out of the window eagerly. And then she let out a small scream.
“Oh my god! The Eiffel Tower. Rocco!” She leaned toward him, and before he knew it, she’d taken his face in both her hands and kissed him on the cheek, just at the side of his mouth. His skin tingled from the contact, and his bear purred, immediately coming alive. As she sat back down, her eyes glistened with tears. “You organized this for me?” He looked out of the window too, at the world-famous metal structure, towering into the sky, only a couple of hundred feet away.
“Oh – that’s the Eiffel Tower?” he said. “I never would’ve guessed if you hadn’t pointed it out.”
“Idiot!” she said, her grin broader than ever. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. You remembered what I said, all those years ago?”
“Sure,” he said, running his hand through his hair with a flicker of self-consciousness, but he was delighted that she was so happy with the surprise.
“This is so amazing. I could sit here all day and stare at it.”
“In that case we’d better keep your animal fed, if we don’t want to cause a national emergency. Mind if I order?”
“Sure,” she said, and kept gazing out of the window, unable to tear her eyes away from it.
He ordered pains au chocolate, croissants, jam, orange juice and two big cafés au lait, and Harper’s eyes glistened when it all arrived on a silver tray.
“Is it anything like you imagined?” he said as she demolished the first pain au chocolat.
“Better!” she exclaimed, biting into a croissant. “This is on another level.” At last he relaxed. On the way to the café he’d suddenly worried that she’d hate the surprise, and it would be an unwelcome reminder that they weren’t really together. But he could see that she was genuinely happy.
After that, they had an action-packed day, going from one famous landmark to another. They raced around The Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame Cathedral, shopped in the Champs- Élysées, and sailed straight into the Louvre art gallery, bypassing the crazy lines outside with priority tickets Rocco had bought the previous week. As the day passed, Rocco grew increasingly impressed with Harper, at how she was managing to converse with everyone in French, as if she spoke it all the time. She was even more amazing than he’d realized. And that said a lot. Every male eye turned in her direction, and while his bear growled possessively, his heart ached that he couldn’t truly say she was his.
After a million coffees in cute pavement cafés, they finished up in the charming hilltop district of Montmartre, having a glass of wine in view of the white Sacré Coeur Cathedral.
“That wasn’t a bad day,” Harper commented, sipping on her wine and gazing at the early evening streets, and the whole city glimmering below.
“Yeah, I’ve had worse,” he agreed. “It wasn’t too much for the first day?”
“Not at all. I want to make the most of every minute here.” He gazed at her with affection. The soft light of the setting sun caught her hair, making it glow with auburn threads that usually weren’t visible. She looked happier than she’d been in Broken Hill. This was how Harper should be, every single day, he thought with a rush of sadness. She deserved to be happy more than anyone, but a cruel – no, two cruel twists of fate had denied it to her. He opened his mouth to apologize to her again for the fact that her life wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be. But then he closed it again. She was happy right now and he didn’t want to ruin the moment.
“Where are we having dinner?” she demanded.
“I’ve made a shortlist of a few places in the area. I thought we could check them out and you could choose?”
He gave her a tour of five places, and she picked out the coziest one, and they sat at an outside table, with an overhead heater keeping off the hint of evening chill. Is it a coincidence that she chose the most romantic restaurant? Rocco wondered, as they each devoured a huge, rare steak. She was looking at him with warmth, but he couldn’t see anything beyond that – any sign that she was interested in being more than friends.
He also noticed that she was eating as quickly as he was, her bear equally close to the surface. Neither of them were used to spending extended periods in human environments, and his bear was getting nudgy.
“What’s that movie?” she said suddenly, breaking through a companionable silence.
“An American Werewolf in London?” The whites of her eyes got huge.
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking of?” He grinned.
“Because I know you, Harper.” She flashed a quick, embarrassed smile.
“Remember watching that dumb movie together?”
“I do,” he replied laughing. “So, two American bears in Paris. Are you implying that you’re about to go on a rampage, terrifying the innocent citizens of this fine city?” She thr
ew her head back and laughed, in that charming way of hers, displaying two rows of perfect, pearly teeth.
“Nope. But if I hadn’t had that steak, it might have been a different story.”
“There’s a forest not so far from the hotel. We can go run tonight if you want?”
“Is it that obvious that I need to let my bear out?”
“Only to me.” She flashed another one of those smiles – the ones that felt like they were only for him.
They took a taxi to the forest and Rocco paid the driver an extra $100 to wait for an hour. Letting their bears out was incredible, as they raced through the unfamiliar woods, following the scents of prey they’d never encountered before. He hadn’t seen Harper as a bear since their teens, as she tended to avoid him when she was out running in Broken Hill. It was intense and intimate. Her bear had grown a lot, becoming a powerful, agile female, and he watched her move with admiration. And desire. His bear wanted to mate her, and it was much harder to hold it back in their animal forms. They hunted, racing each other to snatch the prey first, and he was reminded of their energetic mating, how they’d tussled between the sheets, Harper giving as good as she got.
Harper gave a warning growl as they returned to their clothes and prepared to shift back again. She’d already told him she’d ‘give him a bite he’d never forget’ if he dared peek at her while she was naked, but it was agony for him, feeling her nakedness so near, her bear calling out to him. He obediently turned his back, but he didn’t have his bear under control, and it snapped its head around, catching a fleeting glimpse of her firm, curvy body as she slipped back into her jeans. Instantly, he felt himself harden and hunger for her ran through his veins.
“Rocco, I’ve warned you!” her clear, strong voice rang out, and with a rumble, he dismissed his desire and put his effort into suppressing his urges.
The second and third days were even better than the first, if that was possible. After they’d seen all the big sites, they picked up a ‘locals guide’ and explored all the secret, cool places that tourists didn’t usually get to see. With every hour that passed, they seemed to get closer, Rocco registered. They chatted easily, often recalling their teenage years, Harper even mentioning experiences they’d shared. It was nostalgic and bittersweet. In those days, Rocco had often gazed at her when she was drowsy after mating, and wondered what she’d be like when she was a full-grown bear. And the reality was even better than he’d imagined. She was so strong and smart and funny. The best mate a bear could ever have.
“Rocco?” Harper called to him softly as they were strolling across one of the bridges of the Seine on a beautiful, golden afternoon. He turned his head toward her, trying to conceal the spark of anticipation that had instantly come to life inside him. “Let’s be friends,” she said. Her green eyes were wide open and full of good-naturedness.
“What do you mean?” he said, with a frown of confusion.
“I mean, I’m done being mad at you. I know you’re a good guy. Let’s go back to having fun together.” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing.
“You mean that?”
“I do. I really want us to be friends.” He leaned toward her, arms outstretched, and pulled her into a hug that knocked the breath out of both of them.
“I want that too, Harper. So much,” he muttered, inhaling the scent of her hair, and feeling her heart beating, strong and steady beneath her ribs – the heart of an incredible, generous woman.
On their final evening, they ended up back in Montmartre again, which Harper declared ‘her most favorite place in Paris’.
“Shall we go back to that restaurant again?” Rocco asked, then regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. It was going to sound like he was trying to be romantic. “I mean, the steak’s awesome there –”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “I loved that place.”
“Welcome back, Madame et Monsieur,” the waiter said when they arrived. “And if I may say so, you make a lovely couple.”
“Oh, we’re –” Harper started to say, and then a very uncharacteristic blush blossomed beneath her skin. On impulse, Rocco took her hand, entwining her long, strong fingers with his own callused ones.
“Thank you,” he said with a dazzling smile, trying not to show the pleasure he felt at having her holding his hand. Harper said something to the waiter in French, and they were sitting at the table they’d had before. Tonight, she was wearing a black tanktop, made of some kind of silky material, and cut low enough in the front to reveal the swell of her cleavage. She had teamed it with a pleated, knee-length floral skirt, and her shapely tan legs were bare. Is she flirting with me? he wondered, his gaze flickering over the slick of red lipstick on her lips and her subtle eye-makeup. There had been a directness in her gaze during the past day or so, and he was constantly aware of her bear, pacing just below the surface, as if something was making it restless.
As the evening passed, they talked about anything and everything, and he noticed that her eyes never once left his face. He used the opportunity to drink in the sight of her unashamedly, enjoying the way the candlelight glanced off the smooth planes of her cheeks and made small lights dance in her eyes. At the end of the meal, he lingered, suggesting they had Irish coffees, not wanting the evening to end.
At last, it was time to go. In the taxi, he felt like he could hardly breathe. Harper was so close to him, her bare thigh only inches from his. Every breath he took was rich with her scent. The self control it took not to reach out and touch her was unbelievable.
As they walked down the corridor to their rooms, she stumbled and fell against him, her hair a whisper on his cheek.
“Oops, sorry! I think I’m a little tipsy,” she said.
“You and me both, Harper Waverly. I can’t believe you forced me to drink that Irish coffee!”
“Stop!” she gave him a playful shove, that knocked her off balance again, and he caught her in his arms and set her back on her feet. His pulse quickened and his bear purred, but he forced himself not to read anything into it. She’s just a little drunk, he reminded himself.
“I hope that wasn’t too boring,” he said, as she opened her door and turned to say goodnight to him.
“Yeah, it was okay. The food was pretty good anyway,” she said, eyes bright with fun. And then her expression turned serious. “Rocco. I just want to say thank you. I’ve had the most incredible time in Paris. It’s been more amazing than I could ever have imagined.”
“My pleasure, Harper. It’s been great to see you looking so happy.” She flashed him a dazzling smile.
“Goodnight, Rocco.”
“Goodnight, Harper.” And then she closed her door, crushing his hopes at the same time.
Back in his room, Rocco paced around. He wanted Harper more than he’d ever wanted her before, and that was saying a lot. His bear rumbled and growled, incapable of understanding why he didn’t just go ahead and seduce her.
He went over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, and at the same time there came a knock at his door. He bounded over and pulled it open in a single movement. Harper was standing there, dressed in a fluffy white toweling robe, her leaf-green eyes huge, and her lips slightly parted.
11
Ten minutes earlier
Harper closed her bedroom door and stumbled over to her bed. Her mind was whirling. Of the three incredible, unbelievable days she’d just spent with Rocco in Paris, tonight had been the most intense. She didn’t even know why she’d agreed to eat at the same restaurant again. It was impossibly romantic – the setting, the candlelit tables, the secluded nook they’d been sitting in. The way the waiter had treated them like they were newlyweds, enjoying their honeymoon. It was a painful reminder of what was missing between them. But knowing Rocco, he hadn’t even noticed. He probably just thought it had a good view. And the worst part was that as much as she’d wanted to act reserved with Rocco, she’d wound up being open and
relaxed with him. He’d looked so handsome that she couldn’t help drinking him in throughout the dinner. At school, no other guy had been able to hold a candle to him, and he’d only gotten more handsome as he grew up. And funny. She felt like they’d laughed their way around Paris, Rocco constantly cracking jokes about all the new things they were seeing.
There had been hunger in his eyes tonight. It was unmistakable; she knew that look well. So he wanted to mate her? So what? He didn’t want to be with her. She shouldn’t have worn that tank top and skirt tonight. With a flash of anger, she ripped them off and exchanged them for one of the hotel’s luxurious bathrobes. Then she wandered around her room aimlessly.
Although it was late, her mind was alive, and she wasn’t ready for bed yet. She thought about having a bath. But I should probably try to sleep, she decided. They had to be up at 10am to catch their flight back home. She went over to the windows and closed the heavy wooden shutters. The last one stuck. Being a little drunk, she couldn’t figure out how to make the long metal rod slide into the correct aperture. She kept trying but it stubbornly refused to behave. With a sigh, she strode over to the main door of the room, flung it open, and knocked loudly on Rocco’s door. I could’ve called down to reception instead, she thought at the same moment. But it was too late. The door was opening and Rocco was standing in front of her in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt, his eyes stormy with hunger and questions. He looked incredible. She swallowed hard.
“One of my shutters is stuck. Can you help me with it?” she said, unnecessarily abruptly. His body jerked very slightly, as if he was mentally shaking himself out.
Bear Cuffs: Bear Shifter Romance (Broken Hill Bears Book 3) Page 7