Cross My Heart E-Book

Catt Ford

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 330

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Do you believe in love at first sight? Roland Reynolds—or Lana Renault, as she's now known—knows that life is no fairy tale. Fortunately she has her trusted friends, nicknamed "the dwarfs," to keep her company. She lives her life to the fullest while keeping what's beneath her skirt to herself.  American painter Daniel Hunter is no stranger to adversity either, and it's left him with not only strength but secrets. Unlike Lana, he remains aloof, content to observe life and beauty from the sidelines… until the first time their eyes meet on a crowded Paris street. Cupid's arrow finds its mark in Daniel, but while Lana longs for romance, she knows there's no prince in her happy ever after. If their story is to have a fairy-tale ending, Daniel will have to convince Lana to let down her walls—and, in the process, reveal what he fears sharing the most.

Leseprobe

Cross My Heart

By Catt Ford

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Roland Reynolds—or Lana Renault, as she’s now known—knows that life is no fairy tale. Fortunately she has her trusted friends, nicknamed “the dwarfs,” to keep her company. She lives her life to the fullest while keeping what’s beneath her skirt to herself.

American painter Daniel Hunter is no stranger to adversity either, and it’s left him with not only strength but secrets. Unlike Lana, he remains aloof, content to observe life and beauty from the sidelines… until the first time their eyes meet on a crowded Paris street.

Cupid’s arrow finds its mark in Daniel, but while Lana longs for romance, she knows there’s no prince in her happy ever after. If their story is to have a fairy-tale ending, Daniel will have to convince Lana to let down her walls—and, in the process, reveal what he fears sharing the most.

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

More from Catt Ford

Readers love Catt Ford

About the Author

By Catt Ford

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

To JLC for making all things possible. Without you, this story would not have been written.

Chapter 1

DANIEL TOOK great pleasure in watching people, even though hope was dying for finding the one to inspire him to paint again.

Until he saw her.

The first time, her confident stride caught his eye. Attracted by her long legs and perfect derriere, he followed along in a desultory way until he lost sight of her in the crowd.

She must live or work somewhere near his arrondissement, because he kept spotting her. Daniel hadn’t seen her face yet, but he admired her figure and the way she dressed. Like most Parisian women, she had that street-chic thing down. While her clothes were simple, they fit exceptionally well.

She probably wasn’t avoiding him purposely; it was simply one of those frustrating quirks of fate that she always seemed to vanish before he caught up. She couldn’t possibly know how much he wanted to see her face.

The colorful scarf she usually wore helped draw Daniel’s attention to her. Her hair wasn’t tortured to stick straightness. Instead, dark waves danced in the temperamental spring breeze as she moved, her stride long and energetic. Maybe the sun dazzled his eyes, but he thought he caught a glint of purple highlights. If only he could get close enough to check without alarming her.

Some might call him a stalker or obsessive, but ever since… it… happened, Daniel preferred not to get too close to his fellow beings. Watching them from afar was sufficient.

Even Daniel wasn’t sure exactly what he was searching for, but he hoped he’d know it when he saw it. Purely physical beauty did not satisfy him. He wanted something more, a quirk of personality or a hint of the inner spirit. Even a crooked smile might do the trick.

Ironically, now that Daniel had enough money to be able to paint anything he wanted, his muse had deserted him. If only he could catch up with this girl and she sparked his fancy, Daniel was sure he would be able to paint again. If he could convince her to sit for him.

Today she carried a large, flat portfolio, and the breeze lifted it like a sail, pulling her quickly along the pavement. Daniel tried to work his way through the throng of people without stepping on toes or elbowing ribs to get close enough for a good look. She laughed to herself as she turned to wrestle the errant portfolio back under control. For one breathless moment, the world stood still and their eyes met.

She was lovelier than he’d hoped, but not only for her cheekbones and eyes. In that one quick flash, he felt as if her essence had been laid bare to him, all the imperfections and fears, but more importantly the indomitable spirit of her being. Everything about her, the way she moved and the curve of her lips, said that if he was lucky enough to know her, life would be full of pleasant and interesting surprises.

In that split second of awareness, Daniel saw her and he knew she saw him. Then the wind caught her hair and tossed it playfully into her face. She reached up to smooth a strand behind her ear and turned away as if their souls had not just touched. Apparently unmoved by the moment they’d shared, she crossed the street with the rest of the pedestrians.

She was the one. He had to paint her. If only he could do justice to her. Shaken by the glance they exchanged, he doubted his own ability to capture what he’d seen, but he had to try.

Standing immobile on the pavement, buffeted by the hurrying crowd, Daniel let her slip away and disappear.

Damn. So that’s what it feels like.

A PRICKLE of awareness made Lana wary. Someone was watching her. Perhaps overly sensitive, but she’d learned the hard way to be vigilant. She had been followed before.

The day the wind caught her portfolio and spun her around, she realized she’d seen that man on the street before. He hadn’t triggered an alarm in her before this. His face was classically handsome and his eyes were a heavenly shade of blue. His neatly cut light brown hair gave him a conservative appearance. Nothing to make him stand out in a crowd except for the way he stared. As if he’d been struck by lightning.

Since that day, Lana had seen him twice more. Each time, Lana managed to avoid him, but he was persistent. At first she thought it coincidence that their paths kept crossing. This part of the city was crowded, and she recognized other people on the street occasionally, although she didn’t actually know them.

Today had been close, though. The man had almost caught up this time. If he did, he might even try to speak to her.

Without a moment to spare, Lana darted inside her apartment building, hoping the man was far enough behind to miss which doorway she’d entered. Before the door closed behind her, Lana eluded the chatty landlady and raced up the stairs. Six flights to the top floor and then down the dingy hallway to her apartment.

Her hand shook slightly as she inserted the key in the lock. She was panting, and it wasn’t the stairs. Once inside, Lana locked the door and leaned against it to catch her breath.

Then she went into the lounge and flopped down onto the sofa. Lana didn’t turn on a lamp although it was growing dark. No sense in escaping the man and then flashing a beacon if he’d managed to figure out which building she’d entered.

If he was actually following her. She could be imagining his interest, and she didn’t want to examine the reason too closely. Possibly because she found the man attractive rather than threatening.

When she was younger, the sight of a man on her trail could trigger a full-blown panic, but Lana had become used to attracting attention, if only for her height. Lana had learned how to forestall casual encounters, but this was the third time, and she realized he was definitely following her.

Something drew Lana to this particular man… and so far, she hadn’t been able to put her finger on why. It wasn’t simply his appearance. By now she’d learned to pass attractive men on the street without a tremor. No sense pining over what she couldn’t have, but this time her body kept betraying her.

Lana usually kept rigid control over her thoughts and desires. If she gave in to desire, the yearning to be held, kissed, or even more, the walls she’d built might come tumbling down, especially after being celibate for so long. She was definitely better off alone. She already knew the risks, and experience had taught her not to expect a good outcome.

Lana had her work and her friends. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. Somehow the thought of them was not as comforting as usual.

Impatiently Lana kicked off her shoes, as if the man below could hear her heels tapping on the parquet floor. If he was actually still out there. She rose and crossed to the window to check, standing where the curtain concealed her but she could see out. And there he was.

But was he there for her? He walked slowly along the pavement, scanning the buildings on both sides of the street as if looking for an address. Lana hoped the man didn’t know where she lived, but if he was following her and he’d gotten this far, it would be only a matter of time.

Tall and imposing, the man was casually dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. When she’d looked into his eyes on the street, his expression seemed gentle to her, at odds with his tenacity in following her. Stroking her throat with one finger, Lana watched him meander along the street. How long would he wait out there?

A loud bang made her jump. Then she laughed in the silence of her apartment. She ought to be used to the sound of the radiator by now.

She forced herself away from the window. She could make coffee. Or turn on the television. Reorganize her wardrobe. But instead of doing something useful to get her mind off the man, Lana went back to the window to watch him. He was still looking up at the windows, first on one side of the street and then the other. When he turned to scrutinize her building, Lana drew back behind the curtains as if he had the ability to see through brick and mortar.

Lana jumped again when she heard a knock at her door. The man was still down there, so it wasn’t him. Lana went silently to the door. “Qui est là?” she called out in a low voice.

“C’est moi.” The answer came in Dom’s familiar voice.

Lana unlocked the door and opened it a slit to peek out. “What are you doing here?”

“I WAS in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” Dom pushed the door open and squeezed past her into the foyer. “Why the third degree?” Then he did a double take at her suit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

She looked down at her ensemble. “I should think it was obvious. It’s a suit.”

“A man’s suit? With a tie?”

“It’s ironic, Dominick. Menswear translated into women’s fashion is almost a trope, it’s been so done, but I hope you didn’t come by to discuss my outfit. My vocation bores you, remember?”

“I came by to remind you that Colin changed the dinner to tomorrow instead of Friday. Something about his girlfriend’s schedule. And because I like seeing you.” His irritation turned to concern when Lana crossed the darkened room to the window and looked down at the street. “What’s up?”

“You didn’t have to remind me. I have it marked on my calendar.”

“You mean your assistant Catharine marked it out for you. Usually you forget until the last minute, although not if there’s a chance to show off a new outfit.” Dom turned on a lamp and noticed she flinched at the sudden light. She hadn’t seemed as nervous in quite some time, and he felt a twinge of alarm. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Standing, actually.” Lana gestured out the window. “One of my hordes of admirers followed me home. Perhaps.”

Dom hurried over and looked out. “The guy walking back and forth?” At her nod, he moved slightly in front of her and peered around the edge of the curtain. “You’re sure it’s you the bloke’s after?”

“No, not at all. Shall I go down and ask him?” Lana shrugged. “Perhaps we could invite him to come up and join us for a coffee. I was about to make some.”

“Are you daft?” Dom demanded. “You’re not thinking of talking to him!”

“If he’s truly following me, I should think he’ll soon be talking to me. He can’t be doing it simply for practice. Unless he’s a detective or something like that. But perhaps he’s merely looking for an address.”

“You don’t seem to be taking this too seriously.” Dom was worried and Lana didn’t seem worried enough, although she was obviously unsettled.

“Well, it’s exciting in a way, isn’t it?” Lana stared down at the man. “He’s very handsome. Perhaps he’s developed a grand passion for me.”

Dom glanced out the window again and bristled. Anyone who followed Lana couldn’t look good to him no matter how attractive, and he was perfectly willing to believe the worst of the guy without any evidence. “I don’t think he’s all that handsome.”

Lana shook her head. “Not your type at all.”

“Nor yours, if you know what’s good for you. You have no idea who he is. Or what he’s after.” His anxiety soared from zero to one hundred. Dom clamped his teeth together. Now he needed to find out: What was the man doing there?

“If it’s me he’s following, now he knows approximately where I live. If he wants to confront me, it’s inevitable that we’ll be having a conversation.” Lana tensed her shoulders. “Unless this is all a figment of my overactive imagination.”

“If you say anything at all to him, tell him to fuck off!”

“Well, who died and left you in charge, you cockwomble?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Dom had to grin at her colorful way of putting it but forged ahead anyway. “Listen, I worry about you.”

“I know you do.” Lana sighed, her exasperation obvious. “If I need help, you’ll be my first call.”

“You stay away from him,” Dom ordered.

“Dom, you’re a dick.” Lana took off her coat and dropped it on the couch. She wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Someone should be,” Dominick snapped. “Someone ought to put you on a leash so you’d be safe crossing the streets.”

“Somebody has a high opinion of himself.”

“Moi?” Innocently, Dom tilted his head and put his hand on his chest.

“Pitre.” She scowled at him. “If he does try to talk to me, I shall tell him I’m not interested.”

“Just try to avoid him altogether until I have a chance to find out who he is. I’m good at this, Lana. It’s my job. You can leave that bit to me.”

“Don’t waste your time, Dom. So far we’re not even sure if it was really me he was after.”

“It’s not a waste.” Dom curled his hands into fists. Maybe he’d go down there and confront the man right now. Get this over with right quick.

Lana pulled Dom into a hug and rested her chin on the top of his head. “Thank you for caring about me so much, but you have to get past it.”

“Have you?” Dom pulled away and searched her eyes for the hurt she hid so well. “Some things you don’t ever get past no matter how hard you try to lay them to rest.”

“You’re right, that was glib. But we can’t stress out over every little thing out of the ordinary. I’m fine. Some definition of fine. Very likely that gentleman has merely come to visit a friend and was trying to find the right place. His being down there may have absolutely nothing to do with me.”

Dom managed to pry his clenched teeth apart. “I suppose we are being a bit overly vigilant, but I’ll have a look at him in any case. You weren’t planning to go back out again tonight, were you?”

“Do I ever?” Lana’s tone was bitter, but she reached out and tried to pat his head.

“Quit that. You know I hate it. And no, you don’t go out much.”

“I was planning to go to bed soon anyway. I have an early day tomorrow.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can find out. And I’ll be around when you go to work tomorrow, to see if he’s hanging about.”

“Skulking.”

“Definitely skulking.”

“Thank you.”

Dom walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “Bolt the door after me.”

“Of course,” she said.

Waiting only long enough to hear the click of the deadbolt, Dom ran down to the ground floor, his footsteps ringing in the narrow staircase in his rush. He was not going to fail Lana again.

The rational part conceded she might be correct. Coincidence might have led the man to her street after she’d noticed him earlier. If he lived nearby, their paths might cross any number of times and it would be perfectly random and legitimate.

Dom knew quite a few of his neighbors by sight, simply due to proximity. With real estate at a premium, almost everyone lived cheek by jowl, and Dom was always trying to duck one rather relentless woman who showed signs she desired more togetherness that he.

But Dom was not going to leave this one to coincidence. If this man was stalking Lana, Dom would put a stop to it. Dark thoughts about how he might accomplish that almost drove him out into the street to collar the bastard straightaway. Still, Dom took his time, holding the outer door to Lana’s building open slightly to peer out to locate the man.

What Dom saw was the man’s back. He’d strolled up and down the street several times while Dom and Lana watched, but now he’d apparently given up. Waiting only until the man was out of sight, Dom shot out of Lana’s building and ran after him as quietly as he could. At the end of the street, Dom flattened himself against the corner of the last building and peeked around it. Apparently unaware of Dom’s presence, the man was in no hurry. He went on his way at normal speed. Feeling a bit of a fool for his dramatic action-movie turn, Dom followed.

Rage boiled up inside Dom again and he wanted to run up to the man, slam him up against a building until his eyes rolled back in his head, and beat the answer out of him. The fact that the man was taller and heavier meant nothing. No one was ever going to hurt Lana again. Not on his watch! The vow he’d taken had no witnesses, but Dom was determined to keep her safe, if only as penance for his previous shortcomings.

The man stopped suddenly to look into a shop window. Dom hurried to a news kiosk and grabbed a newspaper to cover his face, tapping his foot impatiently before he risked a peek around the edge.

Eventually the man moved on and entered a café. Dom followed him inside. This would be his chance to examine the man’s face in case he needed to describe him later. Realizing he couldn’t sit at the counter without ordering, Dom asked for a bowl of soup. He wasn’t hungry, but he ate anyway without a clue as to what kind he’d gotten. Who knew how long this chase might take? He wasn’t going to lose the man by going faint from hunger.

Dom started to compile a description in his head. The man was tall, at least six feet. Obviously foreign—takes one to know one—quintessentially all-American good looks. Slightly too muscular to qualify as metrosexual. His clothing was characterized by a rugged chic, sporty but with a polish probably acquired in Paris. His face was clean-shaven and he filled out a pair of jeans well, a feature that Dom should not be looking at right now.

And yet the smug, self-conscious look in the man’s eyes roused Dom’s suspicions. He was no innocent tourist. His presence on Lana’s street was not a coincidence. Dom waited impatiently as the man lingered over his meal. Dom had already paid for his own in order to be ready when the man left. If Dom could only follow the guy to his address, that would be enough to get the research started. Then he would have a better idea of how much trouble Lana was in.

Finally, the man paid his bill and left. While Dom dawdled outside the café, a taxi suddenly appeared. The man raised his arm to flag it. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved to the curb, and the man got in.

Dom ran the two blocks to the nearest taxi stand, but before he reached it, the man’s taxi was out of sight. Not beaten yet, Dom fell into the first cab in the ranks, handed over some euros, and directed the driver to turn the same corner the man’s cab had. “Follow that cab” didn’t have quite the same ring in French, but he got his point across. However, by the time the driver had laboriously turned his taxi around, the other cab was long gone, leaving Dom to fume in disgust.

Of course he couldn’t be sure, but the man must have twigged him. Dom hated to admit it, but he could have sworn he saw the man turn around and grin while the cab bore him away.

How could he face Lana and admit he’d lost the man? Dom didn’t even care about making good on his boasts. The important thing was to prevent anyone from getting to her. He smacked his right fist into his left hand. The taxi driver glanced at him with concern in the rearview mirror, and Dom sighed. Defeated for now, he gave the driver his own address and settled back for the ride.

HUNGER DROVE Daniel from his post. Apparently she was not planning to come out again that evening, but at least he now knew the street she lived on, even if he didn’t yet know her name. Tomorrow was another day, and he needed to fill his inner emptiness—with food at least, as there was nothing else on offer.

As he turned the corner, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Having learned the hard way not to ignore his instincts, Daniel took a casual glance behind him when he rounded the next corner. Sure enough, a man was following him. He forced the rush of adrenaline down and kept walking while he decided what to do. First things first. Was the man really following him? Daniel stopped in front of a handy cheese shop and watched for his shadow in the reflection in the window. The man stopped when he did, and retreated to a news kiosk. He pretended to look at the papers while watching Daniel around the edge of one. Amateur.

Daniel started off again and the man followed immediately. Daniel could sniff out the police eight blocks away, and this was no cop, not even a French one. Detective? Undercover? No, a professional would surely be better than this. While his brain raced trying to figure out why he could have attracted anyone’s interest, Daniel amused himself by periodically darting off to look into shop windows in order to gloat over the consternation of his shadow. Then he snapped his fingers with sudden realization.

The man was probably a reporter. Daniel had had enough of them following him in New York after…it… happened. He had come to Europe to escape their attention, but now it seemed one of them was onto him again. His story was so old and unimportant, Daniel had hoped they were onto newer scandals and he could live in peace.

Now that he knew someone was on his trail again, Daniel would be on his guard. A noisy growl from his stomach reminded him that he was hungry. He entered a small café at random and took a seat. Daniel had nothing to hide. Not anymore. Besides, he was good enough to dodge one solo reporter if that’s who it was.

Daniel enjoyed his meal all the more for watching the man suck down a cup of soup at the counter in a hurry. He memorized the man’s appearance, just in case. On the short side of average, nondescript face except for a pug nose, medium brown hair.

After he ate and paid his bill, Daniel left the restaurant and, by an extraordinary stroke of luck, managed to flag down a taxi on the quiet street. The look of chagrin on the reporter’s face when he was left flat-footed to stare after the cab kept Daniel chuckling quietly to himself all the way home, but when he arrived safely, he wasn’t laughing anymore. He made sure no one was waiting for him before he entered his building. He’d won this round, but he would see that reporter again. He was sure of it.

Then a sudden realization hit him. If he felt threatened by the reporter behind him, how would that beautiful girl feel if she noticed him following her? He was in good shape and able to take care of himself. She was more vulnerable. Stalking her was not going to endear him to her. He was ashamed he had taken so long to think of her side of it. He’d been so wound up in the hope of painting again, he hadn’t given her reaction a thought.

If he was ever going to have a chance with her, he needed to back off. But if he did, how could he meet her? Daniel had no idea who she was. The idea of approaching her was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He would have to think about it, but to start with, Daniel resolved never to go near the street where she lived again. Unless invited, of course. But if he didn’t know her, how could she invite him? His brain hopped onto the hamster wheel and started it spinning. He didn’t get much sleep that night.

WHEN DOM finally pried himself away, Lana bolted the door after him in relief.

She really hadn’t needed that added little bit of drama Dom always seemed to stir up. She went back to the window. The man had apparently given up. He was walking west to the end of the block. Then he turned right. Lana waited. After a minute she spied Dom following the man in a suitably surreptitious manner, skulking as he’d promised. Lana rolled her eyes when she saw Dom flatten himself against a building and then sneak around the corner. She drew the curtains, hoping Dom would not call her tonight with the results of his playing detective. If the phone did ring, she would feel obligated to answer to prevent Dom rushing back over here to make sure she was alive.

Lana picked up her shoes and carried them to the bedroom. It was tucked behind a partial wall and furnished with furniture she’d found at the flea market.

The headboard was upholstered in velvet, and a silk duvet covered the bed, lending a bit of luxury to the secondhand pieces. Lana stored her shoes neatly away in the mirrored wardrobe. Early on she’d discovered living in such limited space required organization and constant policing, difficult when paired with an addiction to clothes. She took off her suit and hung it on a padded hanger. Lingerie went into the hamper.

She went down the narrow hall leading to the bathroom. A pedestal sink shared the microscopic space with the toilet and shower, but a bathtub had been sacrificed for the practicality of a washer. The frosted glass window let in light while still guarding her privacy.

Although small, the flat was the first place she’d ever had all to herself. Lana loved the beauty and tranquility she’d created. The only thing that would have made it better was someone to share it with, but that dream was impossible.

Quickly, Lana removed her makeup and bent over the sink to wash. She buried her face in the towel for a moment and then looked up at the mirror to see herself stripped bare.

“Hello, Roland.” His voice was soft and husky. “Nice to see you again.”

Roland reached for a jar of moisturizer. As he started to smooth the cream onto his skin, he closed his eyes and pretended it was another man’s hands roaming over his body. Not just any man, he realized. The hands Roland wanted to feel on his skin were those of the handsome man who’d followed him. The man might prove to be dangerous, but he was sexy as hell. Roland kept thinking about the man even though there was no point. Roland tried to forget him and concentrate on the usual faceless, nameless hero of his imagination. He wrapped his arms around himself in a tender embrace, but tonight the fantasy of happily ever after wasn’t working. That castle in the air dissolved into his lonely reality. After one last try, Roland opened his eyes to be confronted with the reality of him groping himself. He sneered at himself in the mirror.

“L’amour. Le bullshit. Pathetic.”

He returned to the bedroom, put on a negligée, and went to bed.

Chapter 2

ALTHOUGH IT was a wrench to alter her routine, Lana stayed away from her favorite café for a week. She walked to work by a different route and watched out for the handsome man but never saw him.

Two days later she met Dom in a different café for morning coffee. “Well?”

“And a good morning to you, Lana. I thought you didn’t care whether I followed him.”

“I don’t, but I know you were keen to do it.” Lana took a sip of her coffee and made a face.

“Coffee snob.”

“So sue me. Henri’s coffee is better. So what did you find out?” Lana abandoned pretense. Dom was a tease not telling her right out.

A rich red bloomed over Dom’s face. “I lost him.”

“I beg your pardon? I didn’t quite hear that.” Smirking at his discomfiture, Lana put a hand up to her ear. “I thought you said this is what you do, this is what you’re good at—”

“Ha-ha, I get it, very amusing. Mock me while you can. Well, this time I wasn’t such a hotshot. I lost him. He hailed a cab.”

Lana was surprised. “Where, on the street?”

“Yeah, go figure. You never see an empty cab roaming anywhere in Paris, and all of a sudden, he manages to nick one. I had to run to a stand, and by the time I found one, he was gone. He escaped my eagle eye. He won, I lost.”

Lana took a bite of her roll and chewed. “He was probably just lost when he was on my street.”

“But I’m not licked yet.”

She put her roll down. “And just what do you plan to do? Is there a directory I don’t know about for good-looking men where you enter their stats: light brown hair and blue eyes—”

“That would be awesome, wouldn’t it? Blue eyes, eh? I thought you weren’t taking that much notice of him.”

The knowing leer on Dom’s face rankled, but Lana refused to let him know how much. “I merely happened to notice, that’s all. So what’s your deep, dark plan now?”

“I’ll just follow you myself, and if he really is after you, he’ll show up again, don’t you think?”

“And I’m sure your employer will certainly be charmed to pay you to stand guard over me.”

“I’m not planning to cover you 24/7 round the clock, see?” Dom assumed a shifty-eyed sneer and darted a glance around the café. “I figure this way, if a fella has the hots for a dame, he won’t give up, see? He’ll sniff out the trail—no, I mean, he’ll shadow you either on the way to or from work, and when—”

She could almost see the imaginary cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Dom, pick one. Hard-boiled 1940s private dick or cowboy. You’re mixing your metaphors.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m trying just as hard as I can.”

They glared at each other. The way Dom thrust his lower lip out in a pugnacious pout always made her laugh, and Lana felt it coming on. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a giggle.

“I talked to Terry and Colin. They’ll each take a shift. Colin on mornings, Terry at night. So you’re covered.”

“Thanks, I’ll try not to give you guys the slip. See?”

“As if you could.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Dom got serious. “I’m not going to tempt you. I just want to keep you safe.”

The look in his eyes reminded Lana of a time she didn’t like thinking about, but she was touched anyway. “Thank you, Dom. I’ll be good.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “You always are, Lana. And I’m sorry you have to be.”

“DAMMIT!”

Daniel threw his paintbrush across the room into the sink. Two points. Except who the hell cared? He stared at his unfinished canvas. He was well trained; his mentor had seen to that. He knew he was talented; art reviews in the newspaper said so, and the Times was never wrong. But that had been two years ago. Maybe he’d lost it. Maybe he couldn’t paint any longer.

No, he knew he could still paint. Nothing had happened to his hands. And Daniel could still visualize the image of what he wanted to paint, the brush just refused to cooperate. Not that one fleeting glance at a crosswalk was sufficient for a portrait no matter how compelling the model. He was used to spending hours with his subjects. That was how Daniel got to know them, letting them talk while he listened and painted. He’d gotten a lot of action that way in the past. Rich society women whose husbands didn’t understand and never listened.

This girl was different. Something unusual about her fascinated him. She was a mystery he wanted to solve, but slowly, to savor the answer to all of his questions. In fact, to hell with the painting. He wanted nothing more than to listen to whatever she wanted to tell him. Daniel needed that time to study the way light caressed the planes of her face and carved out shadows under her cheekbones. To memorize the exact slant of her eyes and gauge the depth of the hollows at her temples. To find out who she was. But how?

He wanted to hear her voice saying his name. Hell, he just wanted to hear her voice no matter what she said.

Daniel closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he examined his work with a critical eye. He’d tried to capture that split second when he first saw her face and their eyes met. Tried it. Failed. The beauty was there, and some of the spark of life in her eyes. As a quick sketch, it wasn’t bad. He simply needed more time staring at her. A lot more time. He needed to know.

During the week that followed, Daniel tried to figure out a way he could approach the girl without scaring her. He avoided her street but as they lived in the same arrondissement, seeing her again was inevitable. It couldn’t come soon enough for him.

Several disappointing days passed when he failed to see her at all, although he again caught sight of the pug-nosed reporter who had trailed him that night. Eventually Daniel learned which café she favored. To Daniel’s surprise, the reporter joined the girl there for coffee and he realized they actually knew each other. That meeting gave Daniel a different idea about why the man followed him. The short man might not be a reporter at all. Maybe he was merely looking out for the girl. Although Daniel approved of that in principle, her shadow did make things more difficult for him.

Over the next two weeks, Daniel observed two other short men trailing the girl at different times, and once all four of them met at her café for lunch. His frustration built as he watched the easy camaraderie among them, wishing he could be at that table and accepted as one of the group. The realization dawned that these men were friends of hers and not lovers. Their attitude was more protective watchdog than beau. But how could he get past them?

In the end, Daniel decided on the direct approach. At least that way he would know where he stood. If he waited until she came to the café alone, he wouldn’t be forced to run the gauntlet of her protective friends. He would approach her only if there were plenty of people around so she would feel safe. He would hear her voice at last.

Chapter 3

AFTER TWO long weeks of enduring Dom’s presence behind her, Lana told him to give it up. She was alone again when she saw the man standing at a corner two blocks from her favorite café. She stopped short to consider the wisdom of going on or making her opinion known by fleeing in the opposite direction. But the man’s goofy grin and the way he shifted nervously from one foot to the other told her that he would not pursue her if she told him to leave her alone. She didn’t feel particularly threatened and the street was crowded with witnesses. Lana felt relieved that this confrontation was finally here, although she intended to make short work of him. He could tell her what he wanted and then she would send him on his way.

She slowed as she approached the intersection, and the man spoke to her.

He stammered slightly, as if trying to deliver his opening line in style. “Voyez le beau femme avec de longues jambes comme la tige d’une fleur.”

With a polite smile, Lana replied in French: “Fuck off, you pervy asshole.”

He chuckled and tried again. “Classy. Vous portez le danger comme un beau vêtement.”

“Vous êtes américain?” Lana caught the slightly flat r’s, although the rest of his French was good enough.

“Is my accent that bad?” he asked, switching to English.

“No, it’s rather good.” She pounced on his mistake with glee. “But you used the masculine adjective beau instead of belle.”

“Did I?” He smiled. “My apologies. Gendered articles and nouns always trip up the ugly American, is that it?”

“You’re not so ugly that you should avoid direct sunlight.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and turned away quickly when she realized he was watching. He was hard to ignore, but Lana tried not to smile. No point in encouraging him. The traffic light changed and she started across the intersection.

“Je vous ai observée—”

“I know.” She smirked at his dismay. “I spotted you over a week ago.”

“Busted. I hoped I’d been more careful than that. I didn’t want to alarm you. I only wanted to talk to you.”

“What have we to talk about?”

He cleared his throat. “There’s an exciting aura of danger around you.”

“Oh my. Do you get a lot of action with that tired old line?”