Jennifer Greene - Blame It On Paris

"Yes. But I'm just saying I thought I'd have to do the seducing."

"You do. Go to work, boy."

He smiled, kissed her again, but he wasn't suck-ering into that wicked mouth of hers quite yet. "I will, I will. But I want you to know that I specifically picked this house because you'd never seen it before. And I wanted you to wear the blindfold so everything else would be unfamiliar, too."

She stopped stroking him. as if finally hearing the seriousness in his voice. Her palm touched his neck, then his chin, then his cheek, reading him like Braille, studying his expression through texture. "Why?" she murmured. "Why did you want everything to be unfamiliar to me?"

"Because you've been so worried. About all the unfamiliar things in your life. Discovering you had a father. Discovering the beliefs you grew up with were partly lies. Discovering that you felt different- about yourself-since Paris."

"Yes," she whispered.

"And because of all that, you've felt really thrown. As if you didn't know who you were anymore."

"Yes," she whispered again, sounding fierce, sounding grateful that he'd listened to her and really heard her.

"Well, this was the point of the blindfold and the unfamiliar place, Kel. No matter what's unfamiliar to you, no matter what's throwing you, I'm here. And I know who you are." In moments, he'd pushed off the slacks, unshackled the buttons of his blue dress shirt.

"Who you are," he said, "is my lover. Just like I'm your lover. And this is the thing." He took a long, slow breath. "I love you, Kelly. I want you. All of you. Whoever you are, whoever you were. I love the before and after. I love the during. I love the everything about you."

She ripped off the blindfold and faced him with fierce eyes. Just like that, there was a power shift. He'd tried to direct this whole thing, for her. because he believed she needed to hear not just that he loved her, but that he loved all the incarnations and reinventions of Kelly Nicole Rochard.

Even when she was aggravating the hell out of him. he loved her. She was suddenly winding around him. The seducee turned seducer. The cherishee became the cherisher.

Soft hands stroked him closer. Dark eyes took him in. looking at him-at his face, at his nakedness, at his erection, at all of him. "You are," she murmured, "everything I ever dreamed of in a lover."

Well, hell times three. If she expected him to have any self-control after that, she was dreaming.

But then she didn't seem to have any self-control after that, either. She loved his body as if she owned it, as if she'd never met an inhibition.

An hour later, an eternity later, he lay on the blanket. Kelly curled naked next to him. She'd dozed off like a baby-her own fault, for turning making love into a marathon. He was just as whipped, just as wiped. But he couldn't erase the smile off his face. Didn't want to give in to sleep.

Will didn't care what was rational or irrational, what the world thought or didn't think.

He knew, in his gut, that everything in his world was right as long as Kelly was with him.

Nothing could stop him when they were together.

They could go anywhere, be anything, do anything. He'd gone into this night with Kelly, knowing his dad wasn't going to be laid up forever-knowing that his chances of being able to stay here were steadily deteriorating.

But he had to believe Kelly valued who they were together. She'd come to see it his way-that it didn't matter where they were, as long as they were together.

And for the first time in years-maybe in his whole life-he really believed that things were going to turn out okay. They'd go to Paris. Be together. The rest didn't matter, it would sort itself out.

"Will," Kelly murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Go to sleep."

All it took was her permission. He draped his arm and the blanket over her, then dropped off into deep sleep.

What was with this Tuesday? Kelly put down the phone in her office, stared at it for one long dark second and warned the device. "If you ring one more time in the next half hour, I'm going to throw you against the wall."

It immediately rang.

"Yes," she barked into the receiver. "This is Kelly Rochard."

It was the construction guy she'd contacted-one of three construction companies who were giving her estimates. She couldn't very well not take the call. She had to hear the price, their terms, get their schedules, their references.

She'd just hung up when Brenna showed up at the door. "There's someone in the lobby who-"

Her phone rang before she could answer Brenna. Her coworker threw up her hands and gestured that she'd track her down later. Good thing. This call was from a painter, who was prepared to come in and start the job as soon as this weekend.

Only Kelly couldn't start that quickly. She had to pick out new counters for the bathroom first. And she was a long way from settling on colors.

"But I thought you wanted it done fast, and I got an opening-"

"I do, I do, and I'm grateful you could squeeze me in." Her mom had given her the reference, so she knew the painter was trustworthy. Only holy kamoly, did everything have to hit on Tuesday morning?

She finished the call and pointed the royal finger at the phone.

It didn't help. It rang again.

"My heavens, I've been trying to get you all morning." her mom said. "I'm sorry to call you at work, honey."

"That's okay." It was. Somehow just airing all the old history about Henri Rochard had brought her closer to her mom. For all the turmoil, all the worrying that her relationship with her mother would be scarred in some way, the opposite seemed to be true.

"Well. I needed to know for sure if you could come early on Saturday. They're claiming this block party is for me, but you know how it really goes. Everybody helps set up, and I'm stuck working late on Friday-"

"I'll be there by nine-thirty. Is that early enough? You want me to bring anything?"

"Nope, just yourself. And the time's perfect. Thanks, sweets."

The phone rang again almost as soon as she hung it up. but this time she ignored it. She had to get some real work done, and that included the project she was doing for Will. The hunt for John Henry, his mystery employee, hadn't required tons of time, but she wanted the job completed faster than yesterday.

Brenna showed up in the doorway again, but before she could say a word. Kelly said firmly. "There isn't a client I haven't spoken to this morning who should need me for anything. I just need a few minutes without interruptions!"

"But-"

"Five! Just five whole minutes! Hold the calls!"

She turned back to the computer. It bugged her, the house Will had thrown so generously in her lap. In fact, a lot of things had been bothering her since the weekend.

Will was a darling. He couldn't help that. But it troubled her that she hadn't been pulling her weight. No. she didn't have money like he did. But he'd asked for help, tracking down his employee, and that was one thing she should have been able to do for him.

Will's father was going to be on his feet in another week or so. At that point, Kelly knew perfectly well it was time to sink or swim.

Go with Will to Paris.

Or stay here.

"No," she muttered to herself. "You're not going to think about that now. You're going to…" She narrowed her eyes at the figures popping up on the screen.

She'd become an expert at locating people who didn't want to be found, but people living right out in the open were notoriously harder to trace. They actively and regularly covered their tracks and all their personal histories. Real people, of course, didn't have blank spots of years. When someone had a blank spot, they'd been somewhere and done something.