Three Weeks in Paris (25 page)

“You’ll certainly find quite a few of those in the Loire Valley. As you know, it’s full of châteaux. And have you actually read the script yet?”

“No, but Nicky hopes to have the first draft in a few days. I have a feeling it will be quite good. Nicky says the treatment was wonderful, very well written.”

“You suddenly sound excited about the film.”

“I am, Tom. I like designing sets for plays, but there’s so much more scope, so many more opportunities to be truly creative when it comes to movies.”

“Do you know when the film starts shooting?”

“Not exactly. At the end of the summer, early September, I think. Why?”

“I like the idea of having you here in Paris.”

“Oh” was all she could say. She was at a loss for words.

————

NOT LONG AFTER
this conversation, the car came to a standstill on the Place Saint-Michel. “Come on,” Tom said, and opened the door, reached in to help her out. To the driver he said, “
Cinq minutes, Hubert
,” slammed the car door shut, and took hold of her hand.

Striding out, he led her down the rue de la Huchette and up into the rue de la Bûcherie at a rapid pace, without saying a word. As they crossed this small square with its little cafés, going toward the Seine, Tom suddenly exclaimed, “Look, Alexa! You always said this was your favorite view in Paris.”

He brought her to a standstill, and together they stood staring across at the Île de la Cité, one of the small islands in the Seine, on which stood the Cathedral of Nôtre-Dame. Alexa turned to glance up at Tom, just as he looked down at her. Their eyes met and held; she nodded, then turned to face the Nôtre-Dame. Its imposing Gothic towers looked magnificent in the early evening light, silhouetted as they were against the deep blue sky, and the taller spire shone in the last rays of the fading sun.

She did not say anything for a few minutes, and then she glanced up at him and said, “Yes, it does have a very special meaning for me, this view.”

“And for me too. Do you think I don’t remember that we came and stood here the first night we had a date?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He had bent toward her and was kissing her softly. Then he pulled her into his arms, held her very tightly against him, his kisses growing more passionate.

Her arms went around him, and she clung to him.

Finally, when they drew apart, he looked deeply into her eyes, and gently stroked one side of her face with his hand. “I said it before, but I feel I must say it again, I am very happy you phoned me.”

“Why did you bring me here, Tom?”

“So that you would know I haven’t forgotten anything.… ”

“Neither have I,” she whispered, and her heart clenched as she thought of all the pain he had caused her, as well as the happiness they had shared.

At last she said, “I don’t think I could ever come to Paris without calling you.”

“And I couldn’t bear it if you were here and I didn’t know you were.” Placing his arm around her shoulder, he walked her back to the car, and at one moment, he said quietly, “I’ve missed you … a lot.”

Alexa gave him a look through the corner of her eye. “So have I … you.”

Tom took a deep breath, blew out air, glanced around him, and then after a moment, he ventured, “Your friend. The Englishman. Does he want to make the relationship permanent?”

She was silent at first, and then she answered in a low voice: “He’s talked about it, yes.”

“That’s what
you
want, isn’t it? Marriage, children, a family life?”

“I did want that, with you, yes.”

“And not with him?”

Alexandra shrugged, looked up at the sky, squinted into the light, shook her head. Finally, her eyes met Tom’s, and she said, “I just don’t know. Actually, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So sorry, I
am
prying.… ” His voice trailed off, and then he dropped his arm from her shoulder, took hold of her hand, and led her toward the Mercedes parked just ahead.

They hardly spoke on the way to the restaurant, sat quietly in their respective corners, although the silence between them was not angry but as amicable as it usually was. They were compatible, and comfortable with each other, even when they did not want to talk.

Alexa was in a quandary inside. She couldn’t for the world figure out why he was asking questions about her love life. After all, it had been Tom who had broken it off three years ago. Then again, he wasn’t acting as if it were over. He had pulled her into his arms and kissed her with growing passion a few minutes ago. She was glad it was he who had made the first move and not her. He had acted suddenly, unexpectedly, and she was so taken by surprise, she had fallen into the trap … and into his arms. And willingly so. She had clung to him and kissed him back, and her heart had been clattering as erratically as his. So it wasn’t over for him either, was it? She tried to pull her swimming senses together; she knew, only too well, that it wasn’t over for her, it had never been over. She doubted that it ever would be.

For his part, Tom Conners was silently chastising himself for falling prey to his emotions in the way he had. From the moment he had seen her standing in the hotel lobby, he had wanted to grab her, pull her to him, kiss her long and hard. Slake the desire he had felt for her for
years, fill his need. And he had spoken the truth when he said he was glad she had phoned, that he had missed her, and that he remembered everything about their time together. The problem was, he hadn’t meant to say any of those words to her, nor had he meant to start a relationship with her once more. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make love to her, of course he did. But he was well aware that he had nothing to offer her … not in the long run. And he did not want to hurt her again.

“I’d forgotten how charming the Place des Vosges was,” Alexa was saying, breaking into his thoughts, and he roused himself quickly, pushed a smile onto his face.

“It really is the most beautiful old square in Paris, and as you know, it’s seventeenth century,” he said. “And I think I told you once, my mother grew up in an apartment in one of the old houses at the other side of the gardens over there.”

“How is she? And your father?”

“They’re both well, thanks, and yours?”

“The same, they’re great.”

Hubert, the driver, was suddenly opening the door of the Mercedes, and after Tom alighted, he helped her out. They went into L’Ambroisie together, blinking slightly as they entered the dim interior. Within a split second Tom was being greeted warmly, and then they were shown to a table for two in a quiet corner of a medium-size room.

Alexa glanced around once they were seated, taking note of the mellow old paneling on the walls, the high ceiling, the ancient tapestries, the silver candlesticks with white candles, the big stone urns brimming to overflowing with fresh flowers.

“It has the feeling of an old house, a private home,” she murmured, leaning across the table toward Tom.

“And that’s what it was, of course. There are several
rooms for dining, and it’s very hard to get a table unless you’re famous or a politician. Or a noted lawyer.” He winked at her. “And its undeniable charm is matched only by its delicious food. The chocolate dessert is sublime, and they have one of the best
caves
in Paris.”

“You know I’m not a big drinker.”

“But you’ll have a glass of champagne, won’t you?”

“That’ll be nice. Thanks, Tom.”

After he had ordered their drinks, Alexa said, “You know what I’ve been doing lately, because of my name being in the trade papers occasionally. But you haven’t told me anything about yourself. How have
you
spent these last few years?”

He leaned back in the chair, eyeing her thoughtfully, pondering.

She thought his eyes had never looked more blue; he was very handsome, debonair in his demeanor, and irresistible. No, lethal. At least to her. She corrected herself. He would be lethal to any woman.

He said, “I still represent a number of people in the film industry. In fact, I’m now the head of the show business division of the law firm. The firm’s become rather prestigious in the last two years because we’ve had several big, nonshow-business cases, which we’ve won. The clients are coming in a steady stream these days. And my own work has been going well.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “But nothing special has been happening; in fact, I do lead a rather humdrum sort of life, Alexa.”

“I wouldn’t call it that, Tom.”

The waiter arrived with two extra-tall crystal flutes of champagne, pale blond in color and sparkling, and he was saved the trouble of answering her. He wondered why they were here; he wanted her at home in his bed.

Suddenly the maître d’ was standing next to the table,
talking to Tom about the menu. It was obvious Tom was a favored client.

Alexa sat back, half listening, her eyes riveted on Tom, mesmerized by him. Humdrum life, she thought at one moment, wished she could live it with him. And then she thought of Jack and was sad.

The only man she wanted was Tom Conners.

“I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND, BUT I’VE ORDERED FOR BOTH
of us,” Tom said, smiling at her. He took a swallow of his champagne before adding, “White asparagus, a taste of the langoustine in pastry leaves, which is their specialty, to be followed by—”

“Lamb,” Alexa interrupted peremptorily. “I think you must have forgotten I speak French.”

“No, I haven’t.” He sat back in his chair, his gaze level and steady as he studied her. If only she knew what he remembered. Images of her and their time together were indelibly printed on his brain, and she existed inside him, in his heart.

Alexa said, “And you’ve ordered your favorite wine, a Petrus, which you once told me should be drunk only on special occasions. Is tonight special, Tom?” She gazed at him, the expression in her light-green eyes as serious as her face.

“Absolutely. We are celebrating your return to Paris.”

“I’m just visiting. And not for long.”

He threw her an odd look, frowning, and murmured, “Don’t talk about leaving, Alex, you’ve only just arrived.

And you’re coming back for the film.” His blue eyes quickened. “How long will you be here on the movie?”

“I don’t know. Nicky hasn’t said. But quite a few months, I’m fairly certain of that. There’s a lot of preproduction on a film like this, because of the sets and locations, and the costumes as well. Once I get the script I’ll know how many scenes are to be shot in Paris. Nicky and I hope to make a schedule next week.” She lifted her glass, took a sip of champagne, and asked curiously, “You’ve never been to New York in the past three years?”

“No. I was in Los Angeles two years ago to meet with a client.” He shook his head. “I should have phoned you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He reached out, put his hand over hers. “I didn’t feel I had the right, I was the one who brought our relationship to an end. I was positive you had met someone else by then, fallen in love, made a new life. Moved on.”

Alexa gaped at him, her eyes opening wider, and she thought: Fallen in love, moved on. How can he possibly think that? Doesn’t he know how much I loved him, with all my heart and soul, with every fiber of my being? She held herself very still in the chair. Her eyes welled with tears all of a sudden, and she wanted to look away but discovered that she couldn’t. She blinked back her tears.

“I’ve upset you. What is it? What’s wrong?” His fingers tightened on hers and he leaned closer over the table, his eyes troubled.

“I guess I’m surprised, that’s all … that you think I could move on … so quickly …”

“It’s been a long time … three years.”

“You haven’t moved on. Or have you?”

He did not answer at first, and then he admitted, “No, Alex, I haven’t.” He hesitated slightly, and then asked, “But what about your friend? The Englishman? You must have
a relationship with him, since you said he wants to make it permanent.”

“Yes, I do, but I have always been … uncertain, nervous about the situation. Before I came to Paris, I had a long talk with my mother about him, you, and—” Alexa broke off, gave a strange little laugh. “Some people would think I’m crazy for telling you this … feeding your ego, in a way, I guess.” She paused, took a deep breath, and finished softly. “I love you, Tom. I always have, from the first moment we met, and I suppose I always will.”

He nodded, continuing to hold her hand very tightly in his. His gaze fastened on hers. “I’ve spent the last few years having meaningless sex with women who meant nothing at all to me. They’re a blur. You see, Alex, I didn’t want anyone else but you.”

She stared hard at him, her eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you call me? Weren’t you ever
tempted
?”

“Of course I was! I must have picked up the phone a hundred times. But I felt I did not have the right, as I just told you. I had ended it, and it was not for me to attempt to start a relationship with you again. I also knew I had so many problems to work out in my own head.”

“You said at the time that you had nothing to offer, and therefore you were setting me free. But you didn’t do that … I’ve been forever bound to you, Tom.”

There was a moment of silence.

He sat looking at her, his eyes searching her face, that face he loved. Finally, he said slowly in a low voice, “I’ve waited a long time for the call you made last night. I could hardly believe it was you. And ever since, I’ve been anxious, anxiety ridden, really on tenterhooks until I saw you standing there in the lobby.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

He smiled; his eyes sparkled. “Suddenly, there you
were, looking so chic and beautiful and not a day older than when I last saw you.”

“I’ll soon be thirty-one. And you’ll soon be forty-three.”

“At the end of the month. And don’t remind me!”

“It was Anya, you know. She made me call you.”

“
Oh.
” He sat back and gave her a long, contemplative look. “Weren’t you planning to phone me?”

“I knew I would ultimately. It was all a question of getting up my nerve.”