Nights With Him(80)

But here? Even when he’d had his laptop screen open to a photo of a prototype of a new double-headed dildo, neither the waiter nor the gray-haired woman who’d been sitting next to him, holding a teacup poodle in her lap as she drank a coffee and dragged on a cigarette, seemed to care. The woman had even leaned closer and whispered, “looks like fun,” to which he’d responded “mais oui.”

He’d always enjoyed the pace of life here in Paris, and the conversations he overheard revealed the city’s true nature—discussions about movies, art, an Yves St Laurent exhibit at the Grand Palais, a music festival on the steps of the Musee d’Orsay, even a debate about religion. Very few conversations were about business.

It was a different way of life in the City of Love.

Now, he and Michelle had finished dinner at a small bistro on a cobblestoned street, and were wandering along the river, buzzed on the bottle of wine they’d drunk. The Eiffel Tower beckoned in the distance, lit up like it was covered in diamonds, its nighttime jewels glittering across the night. The Seine cut a ribbon through the city, and he held Michelle’s hand as they threaded their way along a grassy path by the water, still-green trees forming a canopy overhead. They stopped several times to kiss. A small green cab scurried by, its horn bleating loudly. They were surrounded by other lovers on this path, tangled up together on benches, under the trees, on the stone wall.

“Think anyone is taking our picture now?” he joked when they broke the kiss as a young hip couple walked past them, looking at a photo on their cell phone. Even from a few feet away, he could tell the picture was of a dog.

She laughed and shook her head. “Hate to break it to you, big shot, but I don’t think anyone here cares about who Mr. NYC Eligible Bachelor is involved with.”

“God, I love the French.”

“No one knows we’re here, either,” she said.

“No one?”

She jutted up a shoulder. “Well, my brother knows, and Sutton knows. But I didn’t tell my clients where I was going. I only told them I was going to be away on business, and then arranged for a backup therapist. They don’t know where I am, and I like the privacy. I had a new client the last few weeks who just kept throwing me off-kilter.”

He quirked up his eyebrows in question. “What do you mean?” he asked, his shoulders tensing.

“It was weird,” she said, looking at the sky as if she were remembering. “He just seemed to be checking me out during one session, then in the next one he knew too much about me. And when he put his dark black glasses on, he reminded me of someone I’d bumped into once outside the office.”

Now his hackles were raised. He clenched his fists, immediately hating this guy, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Except he didn’t want anyone making the woman he cared for uncomfortable. “What does he look like?”

She shrugged. “Standard businessman, I guess. Short dark hair, dark eyes. Why? Are you going to go all Army Intelligence on me and track him down?” she asked, shifting to a playful tone.

“If I have to, I will,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. He would protect her if need be, though he doubted this dude was anything but a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a beautiful woman.

“Well, I like that the Paris tabloids don’t care about you.”

He nodded in agreement, grateful that Page Six’s obsession with him didn’t extend overseas. Besides, only Casey and Nate knew where he was. “I’m nobody here,” he said.

“Then let’s get back to the hotel, Mr. Nobody.” She looped her arms around his neck as a soft night breeze blew by, kicking up her skirt. He copped a peek. “Pervert,” she teased.

“You love it.”

“I do. You could even grab my ass here and no one would care,” she said, egging him on. Like he was going to back down from that dare. He pushed her up against the stone wall at the river’s edge, reached his hands under her skirt and cupped her cheeks, squeezing them, then smacking her rear once. Hard. So hard it probably stung. Her eyes lit up.

He grabbed her hand, and they strolled away from the river and along the streets of the left bank.

“Are you ready for tomorrow’s keynote?” he asked as they walked.

She nodded. “I think so. I’m as prepared as I can be, and the conference organizers have been amazing at making me feel welcome.”

“You’re going to be incredible. Standing ovation, I bet.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “You’re such a flatterer.”

“No, it’s the truth! Not that I have a clue about love and sex addiction, except I think I’m addicted to making you come. Does that count?” he said, dropping a hand to her back as a breeze blew by again, smelling like rain this time.