Pamela Hearon - Moonlight in Paris

Garrett’s spine stiffened at her words. If she needed mental therapy, she needed to get it from someone other than Dylan.

Her thumb caught her middle finger, leaving her index finger pointed to the sky. “Oh, be right back.” She turned and jogged across the terrace to her flat.

Garrett had no idea what she was up to, but he used the time to get Dylan out of hearing distance. “You need to go get washed up for dinner.”

“Can we invite Tara to eat with us?”

Oh, hell. The entreaty in Dylan’s eyes solidified that Garrett’s fears were justified. He squatted down to eye level with his son—time for some damage control. “No, bud. Tara didn’t come to Paris to visit with us. She’s only going to be here for a month, which isn’t really too long, so we need to leave her alone, and let her do what she wants with her time.”

Dylan’s bottom lip protruded in advance of his protest. “But—”

“No buts. You’re not to bother Tara. Understand?”

Dylan sighed. “Yeah.” He dropped his glove and ball inside the door and slunk off toward the bathroom, looking like a whipped puppy.

Garrett watched him until the bathroom door closed. When he turned back, Tara was headed toward him from across the terrace. He stepped out to meet her, sliding the door closed behind him.

The clothes he’d loaned her this morning were arranged in a neatly folded bundle, which she held out to him. “I figured out the washer and dryer, so these are clean.”

Garrett took them from her. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

She slid her hands into her back pockets, which stretched her shirt tighter across her breasts. “Well, y’all didn’t have to help me out this morning, but I sure did appreciate it. I...um...” She cleared her throat and tossed her head in the direction of her place, flashing the tattoo under her ear in Garrett’s direction. “I picked up some sausage and cheese and wine and a few nice pastries. I plan to have a light supper on the terrace, and I was wondering if you and Dylan would like to join me? Give me a chance to pay you back for breakfast?”

Her accent coupled with the expressive, vivid green eyes battered at Garrett’s resolve, but the cautious voice inside him whispered its repeated warning about getting too friendly. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t think we’d better. I work long hours, so dinnertime is special for Dylan and me. Alone time, you know?”

“Oh, sure.” A deep blush crept up her neck into her face. “I should’ve thought of that.”

The disappointment in her voice was palpable, but the first snip was made, and Garrett was determined to stop any more buds of friendship before they blossomed. “Well, there isn’t a lot of privacy around here, so we’ll try to respect yours as much as possible while you’re here.” A movement from the corner of his eye told him Dylan was headed back toward them. Garrett laid his hand on the door handle. “I’m sure you’ll do the same for us,” he added before sliding the door open and stepping back through it.

His escape wasn’t quick enough to keep him from catching the hurt look in Tara’s eyes—the same look that was reflected in his son’s eyes when he met them.

“Now, how about some dinner?” Garrett clapped his hands together in a fake show of enthusiasm.

Dylan shrugged, looking like lead weights were attached to his shoulder. “I’m not very hungry.”

Garrett’s gut twisted at the words.

But they also told him without a doubt he’d done the right thing.

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