The Billionaire's Secret (3 page)

“You’re suggesting we watch TV in Paris?” He clutched his heart. “Hundreds of hardworking artisans just rolled over in their graves. This is not a city to watch TV in, Margie.”

“Don’t you?” she asked, looking so cute in the short doorway, her sable hair curving around her jawline.

“It’s different for me,” he said. “I live here.”

She disappeared from view again and closed the door on him. He gave her some privacy and meandered through the small kitchen, opening cabinets. At least this room was up to snuff, but since this Jacques guy was a chef, he wouldn’t have expected anything less. As for the dining and sitting room, it was obvious the guy barely lived here. Paris was like New York City that way. Most people spent more time outside their apartments than in them, working and eating and socializing in the streets of the city.

“I know it’s small,” she said from behind him, “but I love it. And it’s free. What could possibly be better than that?”

He was glad to hear Jacques wasn’t charging her to use his flat. He knew money had to be tight for her since she was starting her own business. It would be so easy for him to cut her a check for millions and erase any worries she had about money. He wanted to do it, but she’d hate him for it. She was a woman who needed to stand on her own. That much he knew and respected.

“What could possibly make this place better? How about a full-sized bathroom door?” he asked.

“Enough! Now, I am going to get settled in and take a nap like you suggested. I bought a data pack, so we can text while I’m here. When I’m ready, I’ll text you, and then you can take me to this special place to kiss me.”

Fire erupted in his belly. “I was planning to take you to dinner first.”

She shook her head. “Too long. I want my first-ever Paris kiss before dinner. Aren’t most Parisian dinners like two hours long anyway?”

He cleared his throat, remembering how it had felt to kiss her, imagining how it would feel this time. The kitchen was suddenly three times too small. “The good ones are.”

“Then I’m the one being practical this time.”

She lowered her eyes for a moment and then peered at him through her lashes—a look he found incredibly sexy. She hadn’t looked at him that way in Dare Valley.

“Evan, I can’t wait that long.”

He lost his ability to breathe. It was like the fire inside him had sucked all the gas from his lungs. “I can’t either.”

“Then go,” she said softly. “And thanks for picking me up and making it so easy to begin my time here.”

He grabbed the package she’d set on the kitchen counter. “This is another gift to make your time here easier.”

She gave him a half frown mixed with a smile. “You shouldn’t have.”

Inside the plain box was a lavishly wrapped gift in gold paper with a red ribbon. “It’s so pretty, I don’t want to open it.”

But she did, carefully peeling away the ribbon and paper and setting it aside with reverence. Then her brows knit together as she turned the machine from side to side.

“Okay,” she said, “you’re going to have to tell me what this is.”

“It’s a sound machine,” he told her, “specially designed to mask both real and white noise.”

She blinked at him.

“So you can sleep when all of Paris is outside your windows.”

“Oh!” She hit the red button on the top, her mouth gaping when it turned on. “Can you hear me?” she asked, saying the words slowly.

“Smart ass,” he told her.

“Thank you, Evan. This was really sweet.” Then she took off into the bedroom and returned with a box of her own.

“It’s not wrapped pretty like yours,” she told him, handing it over. “I had to put the rolls into something solid so they wouldn’t get squished in my carry-on.”

When he opened the box, he inhaled the cinnamon and bread fragrance he’d dreamed about since leaving Dare Valley. There were four large rolls inside, oozing with the caramel sauce for which they were famous.

“These look incredible,” he said. “Thank you for bringing them to me. I’ve missed them.”
I’ve missed you. I’ve missed everything about you.

His mornings seemed colder now that he wasn’t greeted with her beautiful smile and the tantalizing scent of her baking every time he came into the kitchen. In idle moments, he’d found himself daydreaming about the time he’d caught her dancing to the tango music she liked to play, her red skirt flying through the air with the power of her movements. But perhaps most of all, he missed the way their fingers would brush as they walked together in the park she liked, both of them wishing they could hold hands.

Crossing to her, he didn’t think twice about grabbing her hand now and raising it to his lips. He kissed the back of it gently, looking directly into her emerald green eyes. “I’m really happy you’re here, Margie.”

“Me too,” she said and led him to the door.

Before he could leave, she laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and she traced something in the middle of his ribcage before he pulled away.

After closing the door, he realized she’d traced a heart.

Chapter 2

Margie had planned to save her sexy dark green silk dress for a special dinner with Evan. While she hadn’t expected to wear it on her first night in Paris, it seemed like the perfect choice.

He’d planned their kiss.

No one had ever done that before—or thought to buy her a sound machine so she could sleep better. She sighed as she arranged her roses in small kitchen glasses since Jacques didn’t have a vase anywhere in the cabinets.

She finally allowed herself to admit she’d fallen for Evan big time. While she’d known their connection was strong in Dare Valley, it now seemed to be woven with steel threads. And while she still felt he was struggling with something, he was the same sweet, curious, sexy, and sometimes stubborn man she’d come to care about. She’d texted him earlier to say she was ready whenever he was.

Her stomach felt a little queasy from the lack of sleep and jet lag, but her blood thrummed through her system in excitement.

She was in Paris! With Evan!

She did another impromptu jig in the kitchen and laughed. There was a knock on the door. When she opened it, she pressed her hand to her heart.

“You brought me groceries!” She leapt at him and hugged him, not caring that a sprig of parsley was sticking her in the eye.

“The market will be closed by the time we finish with dinner, and you need to have food before you go to work.”

She had to report to work at nine a.m. tomorrow. Andre had given her the night to settle in. He said it would be easier to give her a tour of the bakery when it wasn’t super busy beyond customers coming into the shop to buy their morning croissants and baguettes. Of course, Andre also sold baguettes to a number of French restaurants. She couldn’t wait to learn everything he had to teach her.

“It looks like you brought me a feast,” she said, taking one of the bags from his hands and putting it on the counter.

He set his own bag down. “Let me look at you,” he said in a husky voice.

When he held out his hands to her, she took them and simply gazed into his eyes. He’d worn a simple navy suit with a white shirt underneath. The combination was so sexy and so Paris.

“You have the fashion here down to a T,” she told him.

He chuckled. “I had lots of help, trust me. If you’d seen me before…”

“Oh, do tell!” She wanted to know everything about him, everything from his past experiences to how he’d become the man he was today.

“In a sec.” His gaze ran down her body, and she felt the heat in his eyes curl around her. “First, I need to tell you how ravishing you look.”

“Ravishing? That seems a little thick.”

“Don’t analyze my compliment.”

He raised her hand to his lips again. Man, she could get used to that. Why had kissing a woman’s hand
ever
gone out of style? Someone needed to bring it back into fashion.

“And you look ravishing too,” she said as he let her hand go. “Like you always do.” Her smile was as coy as she could make it.

“I don’t think guys can be ravishing,” he said, taking out the vegetables, eggs, and cheese from the bag and putting them in the refrigerator. The baguette he set on the counter.

She followed suit, squealing with delight when she saw the purple raspberries in her bag. “These are so awesome!”

His smile was a mile long. “I thought you might like those. I’ll draw you a map so you can visit the best market to buy produce. It’s a bit more expensive than the Monoprix, but you can find special items there no one else carries.”

“Like purple raspberries,” she said, clutching them to her heart. Then she dashed to the sink to wash them. “I have to try these.”

“You’re going to ruin your dinner,” he chided, leaning against the kitchen counter after closing the refrigerator door.

“I’m only going to have one,” she said and then popped it in her mouth. There was a lushness to the fruit and a floral taste that regular raspberries didn’t possess. “Okay, maybe not one. Thank you for getting these. For all of this. You’ll have to let me pay you.”

His jaw locked. “No way. You’re in my town now. Anywhere we go together, I’ll pay. It’s not negotiable.”

She set the raspberries aside, his stubbornness stealing some of her joy. “Don’t be silly. You’re—”

“I’m not poor, Margie,” he said and kicked at the tile floor with his incredibly fashionable brown loafers. “I—I needed to get in touch with another part of myself in Dare Valley, and it suited me to spend my time there a little more…simply than usual.”

“Kinda like the celibacy thing?” she asked.

His lips twitched. “Leave it to you to remind me. Yes, it was kinda like that.”

“So…you were essentially living like a monk in a communal home, working for barely an hourly wage.”

This time his laugh was loud and deep, from his belly, and she found herself joining in.

“My friend Chase called me Brother Evan.”

His lakewater blue eyes were alight with warmth, and it gratified her to hear about his friend. In Dare Valley, he’d seemed so lonely. It was good to know there was someone looking out for him, someone in whom he could confide.

“I hope Brother Evan is gone now,” she said in a husky voice.

“Completely.” His stare curled her toes.

“Then let’s put away these groceries so you can sweep me off for my first-ever kiss in Paris.” She grabbed the fabric of her dress and made a swishing motion like she imagined the belle of a ball would.

“I thought we’d walk tonight,” he said, taking the rest of the groceries from her and putting them in the refrigerator. “Paris is the most beautiful city in the world to walk in.”

She could feel the romance already. “I’d love that.”

“And I plan to kiss you near the Pont Neuf,” he added in a husky tone. “It’s my favorite bridge in all of Paris.”

“I’d love that even more,” she said, and when he offered his arm to her, she took it with a smile of pure anticipation.

***

Evan navigated Margie along Boulevard Saint-Germain, letting go of her hand a half dozen times so she could sprint to a shop window and ooh and ahh over the display. Right now, she was exclaiming over the Ralph Lauren window display. The female mannequin was wearing a gorgeous gold dress, and he had to fight the urge to usher her inside, find her size, and have her try it on so he could buy it for her.

“You weren’t kidding about the people here making art out of their show windows,” she said. “I still remember you telling me that. I’ve been seriously thinking about what I want to do with mine. I have some ideas.”

“I’m glad it sparked your creativity,” he said. She had done that for him.

Once she was finished marveling at the display, they continued to stroll along the busy streets. People were already out in the cafes having a coffee or pre-dinner drink.

“I’ll have to bring you back to this place,” he said, nodding his head to the green café in front of Brasserie Lipp. “Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald used to come here.”

“They did?” she asked, stopping to peer into the restaurant. “I’d love that.”

He angled them across the square past the Cathédrale Saint-Volodymyr-le-Grand so she could enjoy the art displayed on the Rue de Saints-Peres leading to Quai Malaquais.

When they reached the Pont de Arts Bridge, she just had to go up and read a few of the locks that lovers around the world had signed and left to represent their feelings for each other.

“It’s so beautiful,” she exclaimed with stars in her eyes, touching one of the many locks cascading down the metal railing. “There’s so much love here. Can you feel it?”

For the first time, he could. He’d always found the display kind of corny, but the look on her face made him want to find the closest peddler to buy a lock for them. Reaching out a hand to touch her face, he said, “I do now.”

Her face seemed to glow.

“Come on. Pont Neuf is the next bridge.”

Her breathing shattered, and she looked away, as if searching for the spot. When she met his eyes again, she said, “Don’t let me dilly dally anymore. Not until later.” So she was thinking about the kiss too.

His throat grew thick. “Okay, I won’t.”

When he finally led her down the back stairs off Pont Neuf, her hand tightened around his as if she too could feel the tension, the passion gathering between them. Some people missed the stairs leading to the little inlet in the middle of the Seine, but it was one of his favorite places. The park benches lining the slender field of grass were already filled with other couples and families enjoying the day. He led her down the sidewalk right along the edge of the water.

When he reached the willow trees whose branches were dancing in the wind, almost like they were beckoning them closer, he turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He’d never anticipated a kiss like this before, and it seemed as if everything in him was rising with a force greater than himself. He felt like Edison must have when the lightbulb had first worked. When Henry Ford had cranked that first car.