A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks (16 page)

“Because you say so?”

“Correct.” Sophie focused on his big, bare feet because she didn’t want to stare into those turbulent eyes. She might do something insane like pull him to her mouth and kiss him happy. “Where are your shoes?”

“Where shoes should be. In my bedroom closet.” He sighed and with a twitchy turn, strode toward the hallway. “All right. We’ll go out. I suppose I need to feed you anyway.”

“Hey!”

Was that a low chuckle she heard drifting down the hallway?

Her heart lifted.

Within a few minutes, they were standing on the sidewalk, with Marcel waving a goodbye from the open door. The night air was crisp, yet there was no rain and only a mellow wind.

“It’s lovely outside,” she ventured.

“You’re a cheery little thing tonight, aren’t you?” He walked off, up the street.

Sophie huffed, but quickened her pace and soon drew level with him, even though she had to take two steps for every one of his. “Where are we going?”

“To feed you.” He darted a look her way and relief swept through her when she noticed the edge of his mouth lift, as if he were attempting to suppress a smile.

“Where?”

“Cheerful
and
demanding.” The wind lifted a long curl of his hair, raising it into the light of a streetlamp, turning the color from dusky to gold. “An interesting combination for you, Sophia.”

Another shot at her. He was feeling better. Relief went straight to giddy. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“Do you want fancy or not?”

Sophie inspected the jeans she’d changed into after finishing with the Paol taping. Then she looked over at his. “I don’t think either of us is dressed for fancy.”

“Agreed.” A real, honest-to-goodness grin slid across his face. “I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Which is…where?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” His grin widened when she slapped his arm.

“See. You’re feeling better already.” She smiled back.

A sliver of the turmoil rolled into his eyes once more and his mouth tightened.

Oh, crud.

She smacked his arm again. “Not that I care or anything.”

The rigidity of his jaw loosened and a wry smile crept across his face. “Or anything.”

There was something in his gaze that made her itchy. She hadn’t said anything particularly important, had she? Why was he staring at her so hard?

“What?” she said. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Nope.” He turned away to stare down the street instead. “I hope you’re game for a walk.”

They walked.

Past the imposing Palais Bourbone, where Alex told her the French Assembly met, over the well-lit Pont de la Concorde and into the Place de la Concorde. The needled Obelisque rose high into the black sky, the lights at the bottom making it appear like a flaming sword slashing into heaven. Cars buzzed around the circle, horns honking. Behind it stretched the Champs-Élysées, lighted in dazzling, holiday brilliance.

A rush of excitement, of being alive, of being with Alex swept through her. She was glad she wasn’t alone in the apartment, drinking her wine and pouting in the marble tub.

“This is wonderful.” Gushing. That was pure gushing. Heat filled her cheeks.

He glanced her way, a quizzical look on his face, yet he didn’t seem to catch on to her embarrassment. “Yeah. I’ve always loved Paris.”

It wasn’t the city. It was being with him in this beautiful city. But she wasn’t going to gush that out, too.

They walked another few blocks before turning onto a street lit like a Christmas tree.

“Oh.” Sophie stared all around her.

Building after building glowed with colored lights. A dazzling mix that made her think of medieval stained glass infused with a futuristic light show.

“Thought you’d enjoy it.” He gave her a smug grin.

This place he’d brought her to was so amazing, she couldn’t begrudge him that grin. “It’s beautiful.”

He stared at her and his narrowed gaze drew her own away from the beauty. Something moved in his eyes. A heated, bewildered something.

“Alex?” she whispered.

“Come on.” He swiveled around and started down the sidewalk. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

A flash of disappointment cracked through her along with a rumble of confusion. Did she honestly want to know what that emotion was in his eyes? Did she truly want to push further into this baffling, complex relationship they’d developed between them?

Better to leave it alone.

Sophie tugged the edges of her coat closer and followed him. This time, she didn’t gallop to his side.

Better to stay back and stay safe.

She’d been expecting a family bistro or a sidewalk cafe. Instead, he stopped in front of a tiny, battered storefront painted a dark green.

“Falafel?” she said.

“
Oui.
” A big hand pushed at the center of her back and she found herself at the end of a winding line of people.

“Middle Eastern food in Paris?” She glanced at him. “Haven’t you had enough of that with your emir?”

“My emir?” His mouth twisted and the turbulence flared in his eyes again.

She could have kicked herself. “Never mind. This sounds good.”

“This is an awesome place.” He stuck one hand in his pocket, his gaze centered on the line in front of them. “I come here every time I’m in Paris.”

“We’re not going in?”

“We’ll eat as we walk.”

Familiar irritation swamped her desire to soothe his troubles. Tugging on his trench coat, she got his attention. “Hey, Mr. Arrogant.”

Golden brows rose.

“You have to ask me if that’s what I want to do before deciding.”

An older woman standing ahead of them laughed.

“Why?” His face filled with confusion. “I know what you’ll enjoy and I know Paris.”

“Because I appreciate being asked.”

“Why won’t you trust me,
krotída mou
?” Leaning down, he shocked her with a quick kiss on her nose. “I know you won’t like the restaurant—it’s crowded and noisy.”

“But I—”

“I also know you want to see as much as you can and sitting in a tiny restaurant will frustrate you.”

“Maybe, but—”

“Okay. Okay.” He heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes as if begging for patience from on high. “Sophia.”

He was seriously cute when put out. Aggravation welled in his voice and yet, there was something else there, too. Affection. She smiled even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes?”

“I think you’ll love the best falafel in the world. In my opinion, this restaurant has the best.” His blue eyes blinked open, filled with exaggerated charm.

She managed to wipe the smile off her face just in time, but a chuckle escaped her although she tried to stifle it. She shouldn’t let him off the hook this easy. Except damn. The guy was too good at what he did. And it was Paris. And she was happy. All right. Capitulation. “This looks fine. Plus, I love falafels.”

He blessed her with one of his smiles that lit a fire inside her. “We could go in and eat. Still, there’s a lot I want to show you tonight and I was thinking—”

“Let’s walk and eat at the same time.”

The woman in line laughed again, as she gave them both a wink.

“Perfect.” His laugh joined in, the real laugh that told her this was the real Alex standing before her.

The queue whittled down until it was their turn. Big containers of fresh tomatoes, lettuce, and a plethora of other fillings lined the stand as two men worked the outside line and the restaurant.

“What do you want?” Alex pulled his leather wallet from his back pocket.

“My turn.”

His blue gaze latched onto hers. “Let me feed you.”

“I can—”

“Sophia.” He kept staring at her with a fierce sort of look. “I like doing it.”

A fierce sort of feeling shot straight into her heart, taking her breath along with it. “Okay.”

Another brilliant smile from him sucked all thoughts and emotions from her, leaving only a snuffling little fear and a big blast of…hope.

Hope?

Hope for what, Sophie
?

Her heart clunked in her chest. Oh, no. No. She had no desire to peer over this cliff standing in front of her and see what lay far down below. This night was merely her friendly attempt to get him out of his doldrums. Nothing more.

Tease. Play. Friends. That’s it.

Walking away with a paper-wrapped pita stuffed with chickpea balls, cucumbers, and hummus, she forced a grin and went back to the tease. “See?”

“What see?” He bit into his own sandwich with relish.

“It isn’t too hard to work together instead of telling the other person what to do.”

Chewing on his food, he actually appeared thoughtful for a moment. Then he gave her a glance, his blue gaze no longer turbulent. Now it was filled with mischief. “It also isn’t hard to follow along with a guy when he knows what he’s doing.”

Happiness sprang right into her heart, brushing away the disturbing emotions she’d been wrangling with during the last few minutes. She’d successfully pulled him out of his doldrums and now he was so cheerful, he’d jumped into their favorite game of baiting each other without even a grumble or a growl.

“But how do I know if he knows what he’s doing?” she shot right back.

“By trusting him.”

His words landed right between them and both of their gaits stuttered.

Trusting Alex.

Sophie stuffed the last of the sandwich in her mouth and concentrated on the tangy taste instead of the thoughts buzzing in her head.

“So,” he coughed. “Now we’ll do what I did when I was a kid.”

She swallowed. “Get in trouble?”

He laughed, his real one again, and the sound swept away the awkwardness to her instant relief. “No, no. I was a good kid.”

Glancing at him as they walked, she caught the slight tightening of his jaw when he continued. “Most of the time.”

There’d be no slipping back into glum while she was around. “Tell me what you did here.”

They’d moved through the crowds to the beginning of one of the brightly lit buildings. His big hand suddenly grabbed hers and tugged her under an arch of the roof. A sky of blinking white lights lit every inch of the cupola making her feel like she stood at the top of the heavens.

“Look,” he said.

Her gaze dropped to the first department store window and she gasped. “Oh, my.”

The window was filled with little dancing mechanical bears, prancing above a silver moons and stars. A giant stuffed Santa nodded back and forth on his chair and the recorded sound of
ho, ho, ho
pumped from the speakers lining the shop’s roof.

“At the risk of getting yelled at for being an unneeded guide…” His eyes twinkled even more than the lights above them.

She sneered so she wouldn’t reward him with a smile. “If you must, go on.”

“The French call what we’re doing
lèche-vitrine.”

A second. Another. She exaggerated the sneer. “I bite. What does that mean?”

“You bite, huh?” He gave her a sly smile. “Good to know.”

“Alex.” She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Tell me.”

Leaning in, he whispered, “It literally means window licking.”

Sophie was almost positive his lips touched the shell of her ear. The touch vibrated down her neck and spine and made her whole body quiver. He was doing it again, turning on the charm, making her want when she’d stated she didn’t want.

But she did. She really did.

She kept her gaze locked onto the Santa.

“Nothing to say?” His voice whispered once more, his breath hot on her skin.

“This happens every Christmas?” She intentionally made her voice bright and abrasive.

He froze, and yet, he breathed on her one more time, a warm mist of enchantment that could easily ensnare her if she let it.

The Santa
ho, ho, ho’d
.

“Interesting.” He moved back and she sucked in a breath of relief. “Not going to touch the window licking, are we?”

“Nope.” Now that he was a safer distance away, she chanced a look at him. He was still in seduction mode. His eyes glowed with hot heat and his mouth held the now familiar sultry slant. “Not licking anything tonight.”

Could she be any clearer?

He stared at her as the crowd swept around them: children laughing, mothers cooing, fathers instructing. A young couple bumped into him and apologized. An old lady strutted by with a dozen packages.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Got it.”

A silly slice of depression stole into her heart. She ignored it. “I’ll ask again, they do this every Christmas season?”

He reached out and took her hand and tugged her towards the next window. It was a friendly touch, not a possessive one, and the depression grew inside her.

Silly. Stupid.

“Yep.” Alex smiled at her, his real smile. Apparently he wasn’t too upset about her subtle rejection. “My sisters and I would campaign every year to come over during the holidays.”

She tried to shake herself back into happy mode. “You came every year?”

“Not every.” He dragged her to the next window display. A jeweled frog, perched on a lily pad, stared at a princess dressed in pink chiffon. A gold ball bounced on her hand, and the frog’s lips opened and closed every time the ball moved. “Only a few, actually.”

“But you loved every time.” She gazed at him, noting the warm smile of memories on his wide mouth, the shine of remembered happiness in his eyes. Her heart did a ping-ping inside her and she didn’t know if it was a warning or an answer.

“Sure.” He kept his focus on the display as his smile grew. “What kid wouldn’t?”

“You’re going to bring your kids here.”

A shadow passed across his eyes, and she cursed herself. What stupidity to bring back memories of Melanie and all the dreams he’d had. Doing the right thing didn’t mean she wasn’t responsible for the hurt she’d caused him. “I’m sorry—”

“No, Sophia.”

His hand moved from the dip in her back to the nape of her neck. He took a step closer and his heat enveloped her, causing her skin to flush. She glanced away because she didn’t want to reveal what he did to her.

“Look at me.”

She kept staring at the shiny frog and his opening, closing mouth.