Tempting Fate (6 page)

“You still haven’t proven you aren’t just as in love with Abby as everyone else,” she teased.

“
Oui, bien sûr, en temps et heure.
” And then he tossed her suitcase off the bed to make room. She didn’t even bother to wonder what it was he said.

Six

Adam

Paris, the city of love. So far it had been a tragic disappointment, but he didn’t dare try to get anywhere nearer to Eve and her DeLeon family after his last attempt. Adam had woken up somewhere in India after that whole wedding incident, a sharp-eyed, brittle old man leaning over him and muttering some all-too-mild warning about the effects of lightning upon a mortal body.

“You know you should not tempt him,” the old grandfather had said, pressing a cup of tea into his hands before he’d even finished sitting up. He was oddly familiar, but Adam couldn’t quite place the memory. The number of holes he’d found in what he could remember was disconcerting to say the least. “And after the last century, you can hardly blame him for being more protective than usual, though I can’t say it serves anything when he interferes.”

It wasn’t until he’d returned to France that he’d thought to wonder what the old man had meant. The wars perhaps? But surely even Eve wasn’t so naïve as to have crossed the Nazis, and it wasn’t as though she didn’t have the power to free herself if she had wound up in one of their camps. Or would she have languished by choice? Suffering beside all the others, in order to give them whatever peace she might offer?

Adam shook his head. It had taken him two weeks to get out of India and back to Europe, because of course he’d been left without his passport, or even his wallet. Modern travel had to be some contrivance of the Trickster gods, as needlessly complicated as it had become. Blurring the memories of every official he came in contact with at the airport had left him with a blinding headache, and then he’d had to do it all over again once he’d reached his destination. Customs agents were always harder to manipulate, and the stronger the mind, the more likely he would have to have physical contact to accomplish it, which was of course that much more difficult to do. Having to misdirect the attention of the rest of the men and women and children in the vicinity while he laid hands on a customs agent for long enough to work his magic was more difficult than changing someone’s mind, no matter how strong, and there was always the risk that he’d miss someone in the process.

In short, it had been a challenge he hadn’t wanted, and exhausting besides, but he wasn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking he’d quit because of it. He hadn’t come this far just to give up, no matter what
any
god threw at him along the way.

If, for whatever reason, Paris was the city of love and lights, he was going to put it to the test. Eve claimed he wasn’t capable of love, of kindness, or anything but selfishness—well, he’d simply have to prove her wrong. Perhaps then, at least, they might come to some kind of understanding, because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that together they could change things. Together, they had the
power
to change things. The power to stand even against the gods, maybe even to remove them from the world altogether.

Why else would the gods have gone to such lengths to keep them apart, all these years?

Seven

Mia

In Paris, Jean took her to every tourist spot imaginable during the day, and a different party every night, and for the first time since she had met him, Mia understood why Abby had tried to discourage her.

“Jean!” What must have been the hundredth woman came up to him, kissing him on both cheeks and draping herself around his neck. She spoke to him in French, and Mia understood nothing, but the way she whispered in his ear said enough.

Jean disentangled himself just a moment later than he should have, laughing at something, and then gestured to Mia. He didn’t even bother to switch to English. “
C’est mon amie
Mia.”

Mia smiled, but she made sure the other woman knew she wasn’t welcome. Jean didn’t introduce her, in any event, and put a hand on the small of Mia’s back, guiding her to the bar and leaving the other woman behind. Mia had to admit, these French girls pouted very prettily.

“Who was she?”

Jean flashed his most charming smile. “
Personne.
Just an old friend from University.”

She didn’t believe it for a minute, but he kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I am here with you, Mia.”

“
Amie
is French for friend.”

He laughed and waved for the bartender, placing an order so quickly she couldn’t even pick out if he’d asked for one drink or two. “And how else should I introduce you? As the sister of my cousin’s wife?”

Mia turned her face away. She could pout just as well as any French girl, if that was what he wanted, but she wasn’t going to spend her night feeling like an obligation. Paris was filled to overflowing with men. She wasn’t even sure if she cared whether they were single or not. Anything was better than watching Jean flirt with every other girl they ran into. She supposed it was some kind of proof he wasn’t in love with Abby, anyway. He wouldn’t have had time for her with all the women he’d obviously been with.

“You can’t be upset that I don’t call you my girlfriend when you’ll barely remember me a month from now,” Jean said, his voice low.

“I suppose that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

“You’re impossible to please.” He pressed a drink into her hand. “If we were in England, you’d be fighting off men the same way.”

“You forget, Jean. Most of my ex-boyfriends were in love with my sister.” She set the glass down without drinking from it and left him.

“Where are you going?” he called.

“To the bathroom.” Or anywhere else. He wasn’t nearly so charming when he was being fawned over and did nothing to stop it.

Mia wove through the dancers, not trusting herself to look back. Any time she left him for even a moment at one of these places he was mobbed with women. Probably only after his money. When she did finally glance over her shoulder, she couldn’t see him at all for the press of people, and she walked right into another man.

“Oh!” She looked up into eyes the color of slate and stumbled back. “I’m so sorry.”

“
Pardonnez-moi,
” he murmured, steadying her. His accent wasn’t quite right though. He couldn’t have been Parisian, if he was French at all. His gaze swept over her body from head to toe, and she felt her cheeks flush. His hand on her arm sent fire straight into her bones, and she couldn’t look away from his face. He looked so familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re English?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Thank God!” He laughed and she let him guide her from the dance floor to a small couch.

Pulling her arm away seemed impossible, even if she’d wanted to. The warmth had spread from her bones to her stomach.

“I thought I would go mad if I didn’t meet another native English speaker. That’s the trouble when you leave the typical tourist destinations and go looking for something unique. Even if they spoke English, they’d never admit it.”

“Don’t you speak French?” she asked.

“
Oui.
” He smiled and her breath caught. Even Jean could have learned a thing or two from that smile. “French women won’t even look at a man who doesn’t. The arrogance is astounding.”

“Oh,” she said, half-falling into her seat. She had never in her life seen eyes that color gray. “Is that why you’re here? To meet French women?”

He laughed again. “I’m on vacation. I’d be content to meet any woman with the time to share it with me, French or otherwise. But you don’t seem like a tourist?”

“I’m not exactly. I’m visiting—” she made a face, glancing back toward where she had left Jean. “My sister just got married, and I’m staying with some of her husband’s family.”

“In Paris?”

“On the outskirts of the city.”

“I feel as though this must be fate,” he said, smiling again.

Good Lord, but he was even more charming than Jean, and absolutely better looking, which was saying quite a bit. She found herself leaning in and staring like a schoolgirl.

“If you’re on vacation, and I’m on vacation, maybe we can vacation together?”

“I think I’d like that,” she said, though part of her was screaming that she didn’t even know his name. His hand covered hers, a tingle traveling up her arm and down her spine, and she didn’t care anymore. Whoever he was, she wanted him. “I’m a little bit sick of Frenchmen myself.”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t even ask you your name.”

“Mia.”

“Beautiful.” He grinned, caressing her knuckles with a sweep of his thumb. Her heart raced at the contact. Why did she feel as if she had been waiting for him, for this moment, for his touch? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia. I’m Ethan.”

Ethan. Even his name was perfect. “I feel like I know you.”

“Fate,” he said again. “I’m sure of it.”

She made plans to meet Ethan for lunch and told Jean that a friend of hers from London was in town for the weekend. He studied her face for a moment and then shrugged when she said she’d be fine getting there by herself. If he had seen her with Ethan in the club the previous night, he never mentioned it. Nor did he comment on the fact that she had spent the night in the guest room Clair had made up for her, instead of his bed.

“Shall I meet you for dinner?” he asked. “Or are you ashamed to introduce me?”

“I don’t think there’s any point,” she said, putting her phone in her bag and checking to make sure she had her ID. Then she gave him her brightest smile. “Especially if I won’t remember you in a month.”

He sighed. “Mia, anyone who saw us together would know we were more than just friends.”

“Just like anyone who saw you with those other women would know they weren’t
personne,
” she said, sneering the French. Whatever it meant. “I’m not an idiot, Jean.”

“Would you have preferred to hear my sexual history?”

“I would have preferred you take me places where you hadn’t slept with everyone there.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed, at least. “You wanted to go out.”

“I suppose that was my mistake.” She slipped the bag over her shoulder. “Just like I mistakenly thought that my sister might have been wrong about you. But of course, Abby is always right. I should have known that the only reason you were upset was because it ruined your fun, not because you felt anything for me.”

She could hear him cursing while she walked away, but she didn’t look back. The truth was she barely cared. And if she wasn’t involved in any kind of relationship with Jean, that meant she didn’t need to feel guilty about going to see Ethan.

Just thinking of him made her smile.

She found her way to the restaurant with little trouble, and he was waiting. When he grinned, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling broadly back. He took her hand, kissing it softly, and though the gesture was no different from what Jean had used time and again, she felt it begin a frisson in her stomach. Just being near him was electric.

“Mia,” he said. “You look even lovelier in daylight.”