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“We can always come back.”
Come back? She searched his eyes. Was she reading him right? “You mean … to France?”
“And sooner than I usually plan.”
Bailey couldn’t take a breath. It was a generous, wonderful offer but … should she read more into it? She supposed she ought to ask herself, How much more did she want? They’d been sleeping together, enjoying each other’s company, but did she want a relationship, if that’s what he was saying?
Her smile quavered at the corners as she tried to contain her whirling mix of emotions. As they headed for a cab stand, she smiled a jumpy smile and said, “I’d like that.”
Thirteen (#ulink_339d85d4-e0db-5c3e-94f1-a38110bd177f)
Mateo made love to Bailey that night feeling both content and never more conflicted. Caressing her silken curves as they played upon the sheets … kissing every sensual inch of her and only wishing there were more. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to keep this woman in his life even if, with every passing hour, he felt himself treading farther into dangerous ground.
After the Emilio affair, it was safe to presume Bailey wasn’t interested in exchanging vows and wedding bands. He’d invited her back to Paris and she’d agreed. Would she presume, too, that he would also invite her to live under his roof on a more permanent basis? In time, would she expect more? Deeper commitment?
Diamond rings?
Mateo slept on the problem and when they stepped out to bid the City of Light good morning, with Bailey looking so vibrant and fresh on his arm, he made a decision—one he hoped she would be happy with. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it.
He arranged for them to spend the morning on a cruise, absorbing the sights from a different point of view. They boarded near the Pont-Neuf Bridge.
“Its name literally means the new bridge,” Mateo said as they settled into window seats beneath a Perspex roof that allowed an unhindered view of the sights, including the many graceful arches of the stone bridge. “But this is the oldest bridge in Paris.”
Bailey narrowed her gaze on a distant point then tipped forward. “Look there.”
She pointed out a couple standing at the center of this side of the bridge in the midst of a passionate kiss. Before their lips parted, the man swept the woman up in his arms and twirled her around. They were both laughing, bursting with happiness.
Bailey melted back into her seat. “I bet he just proposed.”
Mateo’s chest tightened at her words, at her tone. Shifting, he got comfortable again and explained, “The Pont-Neuf is rumored to be one of the most romantic places in the city.”
She laughed. “Is there anywhere in Paris that isn’t romantic?”
He gave an honest reply. “Not this trip.”
All expression seemed to leech from her face before she blushed … her cheeks, her neck. From the look, she’d gone hot all over. That made him smile but also made him want to pull back. He really ought to rein it in. Although she knew his mind on the subject, he didn’t want to confuse the issue. Companionship was good. A marriage proposal was not.
After a leisurely time enjoying the sights from the river, he helped her off the boat. Her posture and thoughtful look told him she wasn’t looking forward to leaving this behind and boarding that jet. But he had one more surprise before they left. One that would, hopefully, surpass all the others.
As they meandered along the avenue, she said, “Suppose we’d better get back to the suite and pack.”
He kept a straight face. “I need to duck in somewhere first.”
“Souvenir shopping?”
He twined her arm around his. “In a way.”
He hailed a passing cab. When they arrived at their destination, Bailey didn’t seem able to speak. Her eyes merely sparkled, edged with moisture, as she clasped her hands under her chin.
“It didn’t seem right that we leave without visiting here,” he said, stepping out from the cab.
“The Paris Opera,” she breathed.
“I have tickets, but the matinee starts soon.” He extended his hand to help her out. “Let’s hurry.”
He escorted her toward a magnificent facade adorned with numerous towering rose-marble columns. The highest level was bookended by two large gilded statues. The interior luxury, including mosaic covered ceiling and multiple chandeliers, had been compared to the corridors in Versailles. When Bailey spotted the 98-foot high marble grand staircase—the one his own was based on—she gasped and held her throat. As he took her arm and escorted her up the flight, she looked over and beamed.
“I don’t need a ball gown or glass slippers. No one could feel more like Cinderella than I do now.”
When they emerged from the theater, she was floating. She literally couldn’t feel her feet descending those incredible grand stairs. The performance was a thoroughly beautiful ballet Bailey knew she would dream about for months.
As they made their way toward the exit, all those amazing sparkling chandeliers lighting their way, Mateo checked his watch.
“We have a little time yet before we need to head off to the airport. What would you like to do?”
She remembered a mention of souvenirs earlier and piped up. “Buy a gift.”
“Who for?”
“I wanted to get Natalie something to thank her for taking me on then letting me have this week off. But then I thought she’d appreciate something for Reece far more.”
Chuckling, he wound her arm more securely around his. “You’re right. She would.”
“Maybe some kind of stuffed toy. A Gallic Rooster.” Her step faltered at his unconvinced look. “It’s this country’s national animal, isn’t it?”
“But Reece isn’t a baby. He’d appreciate something more—” he thrust out his chest “—masculine.”
She slanted her head. Okay. “How about a football?”
“Too young.”
“Suggestion?”
“That we go to the experts.”
“And that would be?”
He quickened his step and propelled her along with him. “The oldest and largest toy store in Paris.”
Soon they arrived at Au Nain Bleu, the massive store that had been serving French children’s play needs since the mid-nineteenth century. There were lots of stuffed floppy-eared rabbits. Bailey seemed especially taken with a pair of bunny slippers. But Mateo ushered her through to a spot where boys’ toys ruled.
They looked at trucks, action figures, miniature drums. Bailey drifted toward a nearby girls’ section while Mateo kept searching. After a few more minutes, satisfied, he called and gestured toward a shelf.
Bailey hurried over from a jewelry stand and picked up the pack. “A builder’s kit, suitable for eighteen months to three years,” she said. With a plastic hammer, automatic wrench, an “electric” drill that buzzed when you pressed a red button. “But Reece is only twelve months.”
“Believe me, he’ll grow into it quickly.”
She quizzed Mateo’s eyes and smiled.
“You would have liked this when you were young?”
“More than anything, I wanted to be a builder.”
“And you ended up becoming a doctor?”
“Ernesto wanted me to make the most of my grades.”
She smiled knowingly. “But there’s still a part of you that wants to hammer and saw and create.”
He rolled that thought over and admitted, “I suppose there is.” Although he hadn’t thought about it in decades. He straightened his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be a hit with Reece with this.”
At the counter, Mateo pulled out his wallet but Bailey held up a hand. “I have money enough for this.”
He wanted to argue but finally put his wallet away while she extracted some French currency. He hadn’t known she’d exchanged any cash. But given her backpacker history, of course she’d be well up to speed on such things.
The lady behind the counter insisted on gift wrapping. Mateo was checking his watch again as they headed for the exit when a large well-dressed man materialized directly in front of them. With a stony expression, he studied Bailey who, looking uncertain, slid a foot back. Mateo wasn’t uncertain. He was annoyed. They had a jet to catch.
Before Mateo had a chance to speak up, the man addressed Bailey in French.
“I am a security officer for the store. Please empty your pockets.”
Bailey clung to his arm. “What’s he saying?”
Mateo stepped in front of Bailey and demanded of the officer, “What’s this about?”
“I have reason to suspect your wife has something in her pocket for which she did not pay.”
Bailey’s hushed voice came from behind. “Why is he upset, Mateo?”
He looked over his shoulder. “He thinks you’ve shoplifted.”
Her eyes rounded. “That’s crazy.”
Yes. It was.
And yet he couldn’t help but wonder why a security officer from a well reputed store should stop them if there was no basis to the accusation.
Stepping beside her again, Mateo assessed her knee-length coat. “He wants you to empty your pockets.”
“What on earth does he think I stole?”
“The quickest way to end this, Bailey, is show him the contents of your pockets.”
If she had nothing to hide, she would have nothing to fear and, doing his job or not, he would then demand an apology from this man. If, of course, the security guard was right.
As shoppers swirled around them and a toddler, trying a mini slide, squealed close by, Bailey reluctantly dragged something shiny from her right pocket then held out her hand, palm up. The officer preened his moustache before leaning in to take a better look. Mateo didn’t need to. He knew what Bailey had hidden in her pocket.
The officer angled his head and frowned. “What is this?”
Sheepish, Bailey found Mateo’s eyes. “You were right. The clasp broke when I was looking through a display. It fell in with some necklaces. I put it in my pocket and was going to have it fixed, first thing, when we got home.”
Mateo let out a lungful of air. Her charm bracelet. She was lucky she hadn’t lost it. He knew how much it meant to her. He should have made her listen.
Mateo explained the situation to the officer who accepted the story with an apology before allowing them to be on their way.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as they walked out onto the pavement. “It could have slipped off without me knowing.” She cringed. “I hate to think what my father would say.”
“He wouldn’t be happy.”
“I’m used to that. But you don’t need to be upset.”
He didn’t reply.
As they cabbed it back to the suite, Mateo mulled over the incident. What really bothered him was that for a moment he’d been prepared to think the worst of Bailey—again. But it had been a misunderstanding, something similar to when he’d jumped to conclusions the second she’d confirmed she’d taken that money from Mama. But that hiccup was long behind them. Bailey wasn’t dishonest. Wasn’t manipulative.
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