She could feel him distancing himself from her.
“Well, you’re a big girl. You have to decide what is best for you. But …”
She turned to him. “I don’t just want a piece of a man’s heart. I want it all—or nothing.”
“So you are a better gambler, then, than one might have expected from your showing at the casino. Perhaps all you need is a run of good luck.”
He got out of the car and came round to help her out. She stood in his arms, her head on his shoulder, the balmy air whispering around them.
“I could stay here forever,” she told him and sighed.
“In Monte Carlo or in my arms, chérie?” he whispered.
“It’s taken me so long to raise my self-esteem that I don’t want to risk losing my newfound confidence by making the wrong decision,” she said. “And yes, I’ve grown rather fond of your arms.”
“They are useless when they aren’t holding you in them,” he said, his tone distraught.
“You’ll never forget me, you know.”
“I know. But this has been a dream. A wonderful, exquisite dream. It’s not real life, Grey.”
He put his fingers to her lips, silencing her.
“It can be real if we both want it to,” he insisted. “I want you desperately, Zoe. I want to take care of you.”
“No. I had a husband who took care of me. What I need …want is a man who takes care with me.”
“I can be that man,” he vowed, pulling her close. “I love you.”
Later, in the suite, he made wild, uninhibited, passionate love. His lovemaking—not the sweet, gentle lovemaking of her husband. That was the point when he whispered, “Did your husband ever do this to you …?”
She caught her breath and then he took it away completely.
THEY WERE SILENT on the drive from Monaco to Nice early the next morning. The loneliness of parting put a pall over their last hours together. A pall dispelled by the dazzling cheerfulness of the bright flower markets and gardens of Nice.
After making the arrangements ‘for the car and her ride back to Paris, they decided to climb up to the cliff top park called Château that offered a magnificent view of the Riviera.
She wore her jean jacket and narrow, short black skirt, and he wore his jeans and bomber jacket. Though they were warmly dressed against the chill of early morning as they strolled arm in arm across the green expanse of grass, exploring old ruins, their hearts were cold from their impending separation.
When they climbed down from the park, they stopped at an open-air café and shared a salade niçoise because they were in Nice, and because it was something to do to avoid repeating the goodbyes they’d said late into the night.
“I guess we should go,” Grey said, checking his watch, neither of them really able to do more than push the new potatoes and green beans around on their plates.
Zoe laid down her fork, nodding, her face sad.
“Do you want me to drop you at the train station?” he asked.
“No. I’ll see you off. I’ve got time to make it back to the train station after you leave.”
Once they’d arrived at Nice International, they strolled leisurely to the departure area. He turned to kiss her goodbye before he passed through the metal detector.
“You know where to find me,” he said.
“I know.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I know.”
“Are you going to kiss me? A proper mistress would, you know,” he said, seeing the tears dampening the corners of her eyes, and wanting desperately to leave her smiling.
“Allez ... allez ...”an impatient Frenchman urged him through the metal detector.
“I’ve got to go,” Grey said, kissing her quickly and grabbling his duffel, tossing it onto the conveyor.
As Grey walked through the metal detector, the alarm sounded, and Zoe turned back to look at him.
“What the hell?” Grey swore.
“Monsieur … you will please empty your pockets,” the guard said firmly.
Grey got his wish and left Zoe smiling as he pulled a pair of handcuffs—and a scrap of white satin and lace—from the pockets of his bomber jacket.
“Mon Dieu!” the Frenchman said with sudden respect.
ZOE’S TRIP back to Paris on the bullet train was a quick and smooth ride … physically. Emotionally it was pure hell. The very air around her seemed full of…nostalgia and longing. She was oblivious to her fellow passengers, looking out the window as the gray and green and gold of the countryside passed by.
The orange-and-blue train had her back in Paris before she had absorbed the fact that Grey was gone.
The days and nights they’d shared were all she might have of him.
She had to make a choice, had to decide how she was going to live her life.
13
ZOE LET HERSELF into the loft. Weary from the trip and the emotional exhaustion of parting with Grey, she tossed her bags onto the floor near the door and sank onto the sofa with a weary sigh.
The empty loft echoed with loneliness without her friend there to share it. She missed Lauren-Claire’s friendly chatter.
The flashing light on the answering machine caught her eye and she talked herself into dragging body and soul from the sofa to hit the Replay button, then went to get herself something to drink.
Perhaps Lauren-Claire had called and left a message, she thought, smiling when she saw the tubes of Lauren-Claire’s red lipstick stored in the refrigerator.
She wondered if her friend had indeed lassoed herself a cowboy.
Reaching past the lipsticks for a soda, she heard the answering machine finish rewinding with a click.
“Hi, Zoe … it’s me.”
“Hi,” Zoe said to the empty loft as Lauren-Claire’s cheery voice warmed the space.
“My plane just landed here in Dallas and …”
Zoe carried her drink to the sofa and sank back into it, pulling off her jean jacket as she continued to listen.
“… you didn’t lie. The cowboys grow on trees down here. Mon Dieu! Would you look at that! There goes one now. He’s très gorgeous, like your mystery man. Later, chérie.”
The machine beeped and Zoe smiled. Now she really had something to worry about—she and every cowboy in Texas—Lauren-Claire on the loose in the Lone Star State.
“Hi, Zoe … miss me?”
Zoe nodded as her friend left another message.
“I forgot to ask yesterday when I called. How’s your mystery man? Have you actually met him yet? Gosh, I miss all the good stuff. I bet you two are already married. He probably swept you right off your feet the minute I left town. Oh, speaking of marriage, remember the très gorgeous cowboy I saw at the airport when I was talking to you on the phone yesterday?
“Well, I sort of accidentally tripped, and he had to be gosh darn shucks ma’am real gentlemanly and help little’ol me up. Zoe, he’s got shoulders as wide as Texas and the deepest, most soulful gray eyes. I want to bear his children… yes!”
Zoe chuckled, picturing the scene at the airport, complete with Lauren-Claire batting her dark, sexy eyes, all schoolgirl innocence and whispery French accent. The poor, defenseless, no doubt six-foot tall cowboy didn’t stand Custer’s chance at Little Big Horn.
“And guess what… we’ve got a date tonight. He’s picking me up in a few minutes to take me to Fort Worth to some cowboy place called Billy Bob’s. Oh and Zoe, I found the pink mohair sweater you snuck in my luggage. Thanks, I’m wearing… Oops, there’s the door. Later, chérie.” The machine clicked off.
Zoe yawned and stretched, putting her feet up.
“Zo-oe… where are you? I bet you’re out with your mystery man, aren’t you? Or is he there with you now—is that why you aren’t picking up?” Lauren-Claire asked with a girlish giggle. “Remember, you’re not allowed to have a man in the loft without me being there to chaperone….” More giggles.
Zoe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Did I remember to thank you last night when I called, for lending me your pink mohair sweater? Blade loved it. Oh, that’s not his real name, of course. Everybody just calls him that ’cause he’s real good with a knife, you know.”
Zoe nearly choked on the ice cube she was sucking. It had taken her forever to find an ice tray when she’d moved into the loft, she remembered inanely as Lauren-Claire continued.
“Anyway, I learned how to do some cotton-picking dance, I think that’s what they called it, at Billy Bob’s last night. I must have been real good at it. I left pink fuzz all over Blade’s shirt, and he’s taking me to the rodeo tonight.
“I’ve got to go, need to find me a pair of second-skin jeans if I’m going to hope to compete with all these beautiful Texas girls with legs that go up to their armpits. Did I mention that Blade is darlin’ precious, as they say here in Dallas, and that it will be a major deal when I steal him right out from under all these southern belles’ noses? Later, sug-gar.” End of message.
Zoe was happy someone was happy. Lauren-Claire really seemed to be enjoying Texas and Blade. She hoped Lauren-Claire hadn’t picked up some weekend pretender. She should have warned her friend that everybody in Texas wore boots and cowboy hats. Oh, well, Lauren-Claire was having a good time, it wasn’t as if she were planning on marrying this Blade person or anything, she decided, kicking off her black flats and wriggling her tired toes.
“Bonjour, Zoe … it’s me again. How come you’re never there when I call? You haven’t run off with your mystery man, have you? Not that I’d blame you, him being such a major hunk ’an all …. Zoe, if you’re there, please pick up the phone. No? Well, you’ll never guess.
“You know how I told you last night Blade was taking me to the rodeo. Well, he did. But darling’ precious forgot to tell me this one little oľ thing … he was in the rodeo! Imagine! He rides these big ol’ mean bulls that I wouldn’t get within two states of.
“He got first prize at it, too. And he gave it to me. Said I was the only prize he wanted to take home. I think I’m in love!”
Zoe sat up straight. Lauren-Claire had gained her full and complete attention. She couldn’t wait for and yet dreaded the next words out of Zoe’s mouth.
“So guess what? Blade’s taking me home to the ranch tonight for dinner to meet his parents. If they like me, I might just have lassoed me my cowboy, Zoe. What should I wear? I remember you saying something about gingham… You were kidding, weren’t you? Listen, here’s the phone number where I’m staying. Call me as soon as you get in.”
Zoe grabbed her purse and rummaged for paper and pen, scribbling down the number Lauren-Claire recited.
“Talk to you later, y’all….” Lauren-Claire signed off with a giggle.
Zoe brought her arm up and squinted at her watch. It was way too late to call. She’d have to return Lauren-Claire’s call in the morning.
“Zoe, did you call me last night after I left for the ranch with Blade?” Lauren-Claire asked, the messages on the tape continuing. “Everything went really great and it got so late that Blade’s parents asked me to spend the night.” There was another giggle, followed by, “Not bad for a third date, non?”
Zoe groaned. She didn’t like the sound of where this was heading. She tried to figure out just how many days it had been since Lauren-Claire had met Blade. It wasn’t comforting to realize she hadn’t had to use up the fingers on one hand in her calculation.
“You were kidding me about wearing gingham, weren’t you? I haven’t seen anyone wearing it since I got here, so I wore my flirty blue-and-white crepe de chine dress with the handkerchief-point short skirt. It must have been okay, ’cause I got invited back.
“And Zoe, you ought to see the ranch. It’s thirty minutes east of Dallas … not nearly far enough for me to spend enough time alone with Blade … but it’s huge. Why, mon père’s vineyards would only take up the north forty, as Blade calls it. Be sure and call me when you get back in, okay, so I can tell you all about it … and my darlin’ precious Blade. Miss y’all.”
Zoe wondered if Lauren-Claire had called her parents and if she had told them about Blade.
She didn’t have to wonder long.
“Zoe, me again. I hung up before I remembered I wanted to tell you that if mon père or ma mère happen to call you to ask about me—don’t tell them about Blade. We want to surprise them.”
We …? Zoe mouthed silently, grabbing her pillow from the sofa and squashing it over her face.
There was a beep, the sound of static on the tape and then a click.
Must have been a wrong number, she decided with a shrug. And then a disquieting thought struck. Had Lauren-Claire hung up, giving up on reaching her?
“Come on … talk to me,” Zoe coaxed the answering machine, leaving the sofa to see if any messages remained to be played.
She heard Lauren-Claire’s voice again before she made it to the machine. Backing up, she fell onto the sofa with a sigh of relief. Her hands moved to rub her sleepy eyes and she yawned. This was like being a parent and getting a postcard home from camp from your child that said, “Having fun … don’t worry about the snakebite. The swelling is going back down. I think.” Zoe’s hands measured the pillow and she squeezed it. As soon as she saw her friend again, she was going to wring her carefree little neck.
“Zoe … Zoe. Come on, be there, Zoe. Oh, darn, where are you? How can we keep missing each other? You must have called when I was out with Blade last night. I want him real bad … That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think he’s going to ask me to marry him tonight, Zoe. Call me, okay?”
“Are you crazy?” Zoe said to the empty room. “Why … why your parents will be … They’ll kill you … and me.”
She rose from the sofa to go to the phone. It didn’t matter what time of night it was, she had to talk some sense into Lauren-Claire. Marriage wasn’t a lark. It was serious business. However hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to make hers work.
Before she was able to pick up the receiver, the last message on the answering machine began to play.
“Zoe! Pick up the phone, Zoe! It’s me, Lauren-Claire. Quit, cut if out, Blade. Come on, she’ll hear you.”
Zoe did in fact hear kissing sounds.
“Bla-a-ade, will you behave…. Mmm …”
There were the sounds of a playful scuffle, giggles and the clunk of the phone being dropped to the floor before Lauren-Claire’s voice could be heard again.
“He asked me, Zoe. Can you believe it?”
“And you said no or maybe or anything but yes….” Zoe coaxed aloud.
“I said yes! I’m going to marry Blade. Isn’t it wonderful? Zoe? Blade, it’s two in the morning in Paris, why isn’t she at the loft? I hope nothing has happened to her. She’d call me if it had, wouldn’t she, Blade?”
Zoe heard the sound of her friend’s palm slapping her forehead. “What am I saying? What if she can’t call? What if that mysterious guy who was following her kidnapped her or something? What if he was good looking and dangerous? Blade!”
The tape ran out, clicked and began rewinding.
Zoe picked up the phone, then set it down and went to get the piece of paper on which she’d scribbled Lauren-Claire’s number. She needed to reassure her friend and find out about this wedding business. Surely Lauren-Claire wasn’t serious.
It had been less than a—well, it had been a week, but what could anyone find out about someone in a week? Her mind traveled over the week she’d spent with Grey as she waited for the call to go through. She’d learned things about him that she hadn’t learned about her husband in the many years of their marriage.
So what was she going to tell Lauren-Claire? How could she advise her about anything, when she didn’t know what she was going to do with her own life?
The call went through, saving her from trying to answer that questio
n.
“Hello,” Zoe said, telling the hotel clerk to ring Lauren-Claire’s room.
After a few minutes the hotel clerk came back onto the line. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but she has already checked out of the hotel.”
“What?”
“She has already checked out,” the clerk repeated, audibly growing impatient.
“But that’s not possible!” Where would she have gone? No, she didn’t want to think about that. “Did she leave any messages?” she asked instead.
“One moment. I will check for you, ma’am.” The hotel clerk laid down the phone and she could hear him waiting on someone else… the minutes of long distance expensively ticking away while he chatted. Finally he returned to the phone. “I’ve checked, ma’am, and there are no messages.”
He hung up before she could say thank-you, not that she would have.
Now what? She rubbed her temples with her fingers. She was too tired to think. Whatever she decided to do, it would have to wait until the morning. She needed a good night’s sleep.
A shower, she thought, and then to bed.
Picking up her bags, she began unpacking. Each item she pulled out was accompanied by a memory: the white cotton antique gown …black satin tap pants and demi bra … pale pink hipster panties and matching cropped top … the white garter belt and white lace bra …she laughed upon seeing it. Grey or some French airport attendant had the matching white satin and lace thong bikini….
Emptying another bag, she came across the red leather bustier with gold studs, black taffeta evening pants and matching shoes … the two-piece outfit Grey had bought her to wear to the beach…. Closing her eyes, she could still feel his hands on her, making her come all undone.
Shaking her head to clear it, she emptied the bag of its last contents, a handful of ribbons and a small box, containing the exquisite stickpin he’d bought her as a memento of their trip together. She fingered the piece of jewelry lovingly, then set it aside. Sniffling, she rose to go take her shower.
As the warm water rushed over her, she thought of Grey.
He’d probably forgotten all about her by now. For him the week had no doubt been nothing more than a salve to his ego. A macho thing.
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