From Paris With Love (25 page)

‘Hope you don’t mind me ordering,’ he said, ‘but I’ve eaten this dish before, in an exquisite hotel in Rome. You really must try it.’ The champagne arrived and the waiter filled two glasses. John took a sip and then leant back in his chair. ‘In fact it’s the speciality of my local Italian restaurant near my condo in Orangedog, in the States…’

‘Orangedog?’

John shrugged. ‘Yeah, weird name isn’t it? Nice place – well, the half I live in, is. The other district is full of dubious sorts who’d steal from their nearest and dearest, if it earned them a cent. I also own a villa in Barbados and a penthouse near the Thames…’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You could have that life too, if you made the right choices.’

‘What choices?’ I said, hoping we were moving on to what he wanted to talk to me about and could get this whole lunch over with.

His eyes shone. ‘You’re a bright girl,
Gemma
– can I call you that, seeing as this lunch isn’t business?’

‘I thought you lot always stayed on the job.’

A muscle in his cheek flinched. ‘Sounds to me like you’ve been spending too much time with dedicated Joe. Anyway as I was saying, you’re a bright girl and not bad looking – if you lost a stone or so you’d be an absolute stunner.’

My fists curled under the table – bloomin’ cheek! Yeah, and if John got a personality transplant he’d be just about passable.

‘I’ve got a proposal for you,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy living the MI6 lifestyle, without joining the agency? Trips abroad? Stays in topnotch hotels? Wearing the best clothes and jewellery – all the works?’

I shrugged. ‘A chef – that’s what I want to be. Money’s not everything.’

‘It is once you’re used to it and understand its power. Work with me for a few years and you’ll have enough money to buy your own restaurant.’

‘Doing what?’

John eyed me closely. ‘Your intelligence and pretty face… Those two qualities are immeasurably important in my business.’

‘You mean being an agent?’

John smirked. ‘Not exactly. I like good food… well-tailored clothes… expensive accessories. My… extra-curricular activities get me all those things. I could earn even more with a second-in-command – a woman like you who has assets I don’t.’ He ogled my chest.

‘So you see me as some sort of Bond girl, out to help James – like… like Aki, his Japanese guardian angel in
You Only Live Twice
?’

‘Ooh, hold that thought – or what about Ursula Andress. I get posted to a lot of hot locations. Mmm, just picturing you in a teeny bikini…’ He licked his lips.

I almost gagged. ‘Tell me more about these extra-curricular activities.’

His eyes crinkled. ‘Let’s just say… Sometimes if the opportunity arises, I might help myself to stuff and pass it on – for a price.’

‘You’re a thief?’

‘Ooh, that’s a harsh word. I’m… a business man – an innovative one, at that. In fact, I’ve become a victim of my own success and fear it won’t be long before I leave a trail… I need someone else at my side to detract attention from me – I’d become the mastermind in the background.’

I shuddered. Apart from the fact I’d never get involved in a highly illegal act, the thought of being ordered around by John made my nose wrinkle.

‘Sorry, John. That’s enough information. I’m not interested.’

‘Why? Because of what you said earlier, about honesty being important…?’ He guffawed. ‘
Please
. You spent two weeks last year fooling a whole family – a nation – that you were some aristocratic bird and now, several months later, you’re part of another charade. Yet you’ve suddenly found a conscience? Come off it, you’re as bent as the rest of us.’

‘Speak for yourself!’ I spluttered. ‘My intentions are always honourable.’

‘But you’re so good at carrying off another identity.’ His grey eyes flashed. ‘It’s a talent, being able to blag like that – bluff your way through situation after situation without losing your cool. It would be a shame to waste such a gift that could earn you some serious money by–’

‘Don’t tell me any more – I’ve given my answer.’

His grey eyes cooled back to slate. ‘Shame. That means I might have to implicate someone innocent, who isn’t in on my game.’

‘Like who?’ I said.

His lips narrowed into a line and he sipped his drink again. ‘Upstanding, unsuspecting, loyal-to-the-end Joe might be the perfect candidate. Did you know he almost blew a mission, back in the day, because he couldn’t see that the MI6 colleague he was assigned to was a double agent? They’d trained together – had history – and Joe had let that emotional baggage get in the way. I don’t know why MI6’s top dogs didn’t get rid of him then and there.’

Er, because he’s clearly loyal and dedicated, has integrity and is kind at heart – not a reckless monster like you, Agent Dick Head,

I smiled sweetly. ‘Ooh, tell me about some of your previous missions again, John – didn’t you once tell me you’d been to Prague, Thailand and Milan? How exotic. What a jet-setter you are – I bet women find that very appealing…’

And, as we ate the lobster, me all delicately (thanks to Lady C’s training last year), John rambled on about his previous missions. You see, I, Agent G, would NOT let him get lovely Joe into trouble. Through careful investigation (er, okay Googling) I was determined to find this “trail” John might have left – and find out more about his underhand activity.

Thanks to him drinking most of the champers, John was mega forthcoming. Sipping water, I mentally stored most of what he said and before I knew it, the lunch hour passed and it was time for me to hurry into work. Trouble was, I was too eager to leave the restaurant and was bursting for the loo within minutes. There was no way I’d last until the nearest underground – Hôtel de Ville – without an accident.

However, yay! One of those public toilets with swivel doors loomed into view. As I waited for it to become vacant, a bearded man in big sunglasses and a beanie hat queued up behind me. You’d think I’d have been suspicious, after my MI6 training, and asked myself why a man (not in the Secret Intelligence Service) would wear sunglasses on a dull day, in February. He was clearly no fashion follower, so it wasn’t an image statement. But no, I was so desperate to pee that nothing odd crossed my mind – not until I went into the loo and the door closed behind me… with him inside!

With a squeal, I tried to dive past him. However, he pushed me up against the side of the cubicle. I yanked off his sunglasses and beanie.

‘You!’ It was the bearded man from the other night, who’d hollered “
Imposteuse
” before chasing me onto the trampoline.

‘Today, I was at ze dance studio – and couldn’t believe it when you turned up,’ he snarled. ‘For your own good,
Anglaise
, keep you little nose out of things that don’t concern you – or risk facing the wrath of the mob…’

Chapter 22

‘Dang, he’s so hot, the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs!’

Er, no, I hadn’t moved onto a farm – Cindy had arrived early at the flat. I’d invited her, Blade and Joe around for an early dinner, before me and Joe left for the dance studio, to spy on Monique. It was all part of my plan to get those two lonely hearts, Joe and Cindy, together.

‘Who is?’ I asked innocently and straightened cushions on the sofa and chairs. A bowl of crisps sat on the glass coffee table and good old Texan chilli and cornbread cooked in the oven. Plus, in the fridge was a yummy pecan pie. I’d finished work at two in the afternoon today which had just given me time to get ready. The men were due to arrive at six. Yesterday Cindy, whose shift ended at the same time as mine today, offered to come back and teach me the best of Texan home-cooking. Also she’d muttered something about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach. So here she was, having brought a nice outfit with her to work, in a holdall. After preparing the dishes, we set the table and then got changed.

Of course, I wore practical black trousers and flat shoes, as after our guests left, Joe and me had to scoot to the dance studio and pretend to be cleaners. To think that before meeting Lady C I’d only ever lived in high heels. However, I hadn’t given up my sparkles and put on a sequinned T-shirt – I’d throw a jumper over it before leaving. Yesterday John explained that there would be a silver Audi parked near the dance studio, containing cleaning overalls and equipment. Joe would have the keys. The arrangements were, as the earl would say, “all tickety boo”.

Cindy stared out of the balcony window, then turned around with a sigh, her hair sexily piled on top of her head. Tinkerbell earrings swung from her ears. A green wrap-around dress snaked around her curves. She looked awesome. Surely Joe would be unable to resist?

‘You know, honey…What did you say Joe’s surname was?’

‘I didn’t. Why?’ I asked and grinned. ‘Is he marriage material?’

Cindy’s cheeks tinged pink. ‘Course not – but I bet he’s a fabulous kisser.’

‘Really? No potential for something more permanent than that?’ I said in a softer voice. Since our trip to Disneyland, Cindy had mentioned his name a lot – you know the way people do, when they’ve just started having feelings for someone. Plus she was almost lost for words – this is Cindy we’re talking about! –when he popped into the restaurant on Wednesday. He wanted to tell her about a Star Trek convention due to arrive in Paris, next month.

Cindy folded her arms. ‘Yes, I’m sure. You know me – commitment-free for the sake of my career.’

‘Joe’s a good sort though, isn’t he?’ I said, for one second sounding just like Lady C.

Cindy’s arms dropped by her sides. ‘He has that appealing, old-fashioned English politeness about him, like Edward, that us Americans just love. And those eyes…’ She shook herself. ‘Anyways, it’s not like a whole lot is gonna happen – you’re only here for one more week. I probably won’t see him after that.’

‘One week…’ I muttered. ‘Where has the time gone?’ One week, until me and Edward were returning to England as just good mates. I sighed. From lover to friend was a transition Edward seemed to have easily mastered. In fact, today we’d sat together, over coffee, during our break – well, after one of the regulars, Mme Durand, had come in to show Edward photos of her recent trip to a French castle. In her fifties, with dark dyed hair, strong make-up and a flamboyant purple scarf, she clearly saw herself as some kind of cougar. But ever oblivious to his effect on women, Edward laughed at her jokes and sexily ran a hand through his hair whilst she talked about ramparts and dungeons.

Then Edward had brought me a coffee and talked about his trip out with Monique last night, to a special exhibition at the Louvre. Lamb kebabs, at her favourite Afghani restaurant, apparently followed this. The owner had treated her like family and insisted the meal was free. Yeah, that so-called restaurant owner was probably some Middle Eastern terror mentor, I’d been gagging to say

Someone rapped at the door and Cindy quickly sat down on the sofa, trying to look casual. Managing not to giggle, I opened the door and Blade walked in.

‘
Salut
,
ma pucette
,’ he said and my heart pumped as he bent down to kiss my cheeks. His jacket collar was upturned and several silver crucifixes hung around his neck. I had a sudden urge to touch him, like at the concert I took him to, on Thursday night. The band – Vampires de Fer – had played in a tiny crowded student venue and each time Blade and I bumped into each other, the funniest feeling had bubbled inside my chest.

‘Howdy, Blade,’ said Cindy, unable to remove the disappointment from her face. He winked at her and handed me a bottle of wine.

‘Aw, that’s kind – thanks,’ I said as the doorbell rang again. Mmm… I breathed in – that chilli smelt yummy and I couldn’t wait to try the cornbread. Cindy straightened her dress and pretended to take a sudden interest in her nails. Blade went into the kitchen, pulled open a drawer for the corkscrew and opened the wine. Whilst he hunted through my cupboards for glasses, I opened the door. Joe beckoned and I went into the corridor for a moment.

‘After I’ve said hello to Cindy, you and I need to talk, urgently. Alone.’ he said.

‘What about?’ I whispered.

Joe put a finger to his lips. In the other hand he carried a wrapped present. I reached out for it, the word “thanks” on my lips, but he walked straight past me and into the flat. Rude or what! I followed him, to see Cindy on her feet. Joe wore his black suit but muttered some excuse about having just had a meeting with a new client and wanting to impress. Cindy’s cheeks blushed red to match her ladybird lipstick, as she accepted the gift.

‘Hey, thanks! Not only are you easy on the eye, ambitious, fit and good company… but generous as well.’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve sure got plenty of arrows in your quiver.’ Carefully Cindy opened the package and let out a gasp. ‘Bluebonnet perfume?’

‘A, um, American client of mine accidentally ordered two bottles for his wife, and as soon as I saw the name I asked if I could buy one.’ He shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Bluebonnet… That’s the state flower of Texas you mentioned, right? Your favourite bloom?’

Cindy pulled off the lid and squirted her wrists. Her eyes glistened, as she sniffed the fragrance. ‘That’s so… I mean…’Her eyes looked watery. ‘Makes me realise how much I miss home.’

Wow. I’ll say it again – what a real softie Joe was. My stomach pinched as I thought of him so determined to be alone. Perhaps his resolve was weakening. I mean, come on! It was clear to anyone that he’d actually ordered that stuff online, himself.

Blade passed me two glasses filled with wine and I took them over to the couple who were now talking about that Star Trek convention coming to Paris. When I got back to Blade, he was wiping down some wine that had splashed onto the fridge.

I giggled.

‘What?’ he said.

‘The rockstar look doesn’t go with domestic life. You should be throwing that fridge out of the window, not cleaning it.’

His raven eyes flashed. ‘So, what
would
go with my look?’

My stomach tingled. I went to take the dishcloth from him, but it fell onto the floor. At the same time we both knelt down to pick it up, hidden behind the kitchen units from Cindy and Joe.