“Now tell me about Paris,” she commanded. “Has Devon taken you to Café Michaud yet?”
“Not yet, but he said you’d given him strict orders to do so. Oh, and he had his people work minor miracles to get us into the Hôtel Verneuil on such short notice.”
“He did? How very interesting.”
She sounded so thoughtful—and so much like a cat that had just lapped up a bowl of cream—that Sarah became instantly suspicious.
“What other instructions did you give him?”
“None.”
“Come on. Fess up. What other surprises do I have in store?”
A soft sigh came through the phone. “You’re in Paris, with a handsome, virile man. One whom I suspect is more than capable of delivering surprises of his own.”
Sarah gave a fervent prayer of thanks that the duchess hadn’t yet mastered the FaceTime app on her phone. If she had, she would have seen her elder granddaughter’s cheeks flame at the thought of how much she’d already enjoyed her handsome, virile fiancé.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Grandmama. Give Maria my love.”
She hung up, marveling again at how readily everyone seemed to have accepted Dev Hunter’s sudden appearance in their lives. Grandmama. Maria. Alexis. Sarah herself. Would they accept his abrupt departure as readily?
Would they have to?
Sarah was no fool. Nor was she blind. She could tell Dev felt at least some of the same jumbled emotions she did. Mixed in with the greedy hunger there was the shared laughter, the seduction of this trip, the growing delight in each other’s company. Maybe, just maybe, there could be love, too.
She refused to even speculate about anything beyond that. Their evolving relationship was too new, too fragile, to project vary far ahead. Still, she couldn’t help humming the melody from Edith Piaf’s classic, “La Vie En Rose,” as she started for the bathroom and a long, hot soak.
The house phone caught her halfway there. She detoured to the desk and answered. The caller identified himself as Monsieur LeBon, the hotel’s manager, and apologized profusely for disturbing her.
“You’re not disturbing me, monsieur.”
“Good, good.” He hesitated, then seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I saw Monsieur Hunter leave a few moments ago and thought perhaps I might catch you alone.”
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. Do you by chance know a gentleman by the name of Henri Lefèvre?”
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“Aha! I thought as much.” LeBon gave a small sniff. “There was something in his manner...”
“What has this Monsieur Lefèvre to do with me?”
“He approached our receptionist earlier this afternoon and claimed you and he were introduced by a mutual acquaintance. He couldn’t remember your name, however. Only that you were a tall, slender American who spoke excellent French. And that you mentioned you were staying at the Hôtel Verneuil.”
The light dawned. It had to be Elise’s former lover. He must have heard her give the cabdriver instructions to the hotel.
“The receptionist didn’t tell him my name, did she?”
“You may rest assured she did not! Our staff is too well trained to disclose information on any of our guests. She referred the man to me, and I sent him on his way.”
“Thank you, Monsieur LeBon. Please let me know immediately if anyone else inquires about me.”
“Of course, Lady Sarah.”
The call from the hotel manager dimmed a good bit of Sarah’s enjoyment in her long, bubbly soak. She didn’t particularly like the fact that Elise’s smarmy ex-lover had tracked her to the hotel.
Dev called just moments after she emerged from the tub. Sounding totally disgusted, he told her he intended to lock everyone in the conference room until they reached a final agreement.
“The way it looks now that might be midnight or later. Sorry, Sarah. I won’t be able to keep our dinner date.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Yeah, well, I’d much rather be with you than these clowns. I’m about ready to tell Girault and company to shove it.”
Sarah didn’t comment. She couldn’t, given the staggering sums involved in his negotiations. But she thought privately he was taking a risk doing business with someone who hired thugs to pound on his wife’s lover.
Briefly, she considered telling Dev that same lover had shown up at the hotel this afternoon but decided against it. He had enough on his mind at the moment and Monsieur LeBon appeared to have taken care of the matter.
* * *
She spent what remained of the afternoon and most of the evening on her laptop, with only a short break for soup and a salad ordered from room service. She had plenty of work to keep her busy and was satisfied with the two layouts she’d mocked up when she finally quit. She’d go in to the offices on rue Balzac tomorrow to view the layouts on the twenty-five-inch monitor.
Unless Dev finished negotiations tonight as he swore he would do. Then maybe they’d spend the day together. And the night. And...
Her belly tightening at the possibilities, she curled up in bed with the ebook she’d downloaded. She got through only a few pages before she dozed off.
* * *
The phone jerked her from sleep. She fumbled among the covers, finally found it and came more fully awake when she recognized Dev’s number.
“Did you let them all out of the conference room?” she asked with a smile.
“I did. They’re printing the modified contracts as we speak. They’ll be ready to sign tomorrow morning.”
“Congratulations!”
She was happy for him, she really was, even if it meant the termination of their arrangement.
“I’m on my way back to the hotel. Is it too late for a celebration?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Almost one.”
“No problem. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed. Do you have someplace special in mind? If not, I know several great cafés that stay open until 2:00 a.m.”
“Actually, I was hoping for a private celebration. No dressing required.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and something more. Something that brought Gina forcefully to mind. Her sister always claimed she felt as though she was tumbling through time and space whenever she fell in love. Sarah hadn’t scoffed but she had chalked the hyperbole up to another Gina-ism.
How wrong she was. And how right Gina was. That was exactly how Sarah felt now. As though Dev had kicked her feet out from under her and she was on some wild, uncontrollable slide.
“A private celebration sounds good to me,” she got out breathlessly.
* * *
She didn’t change out of the teddy and bikini briefs she’d worn to bed, but she did throw on the peony robe and make a dash to the bathroom before she answered Dev’s knock. As charged up as he’d sounded on the phone, she half expected him to kick the door shut and pin her against the wall again. Okay, she kind of hoped he would.
He didn’t, but Sarah certainly couldn’t complain about his altered approach. The energy was there, and the exultation from having closed his big deal. Yet the hands that cupped