French Kiss (15 page)

Cautioning herself to act like a mature adult, Nicky warned herself against feeling the littlest smidgen of jealousy. She’d be crazy to even consider the notion. A one-night stand did not a relationship make. Period. End of story. Really. Do not go there, she sternly admonished her wavering psyche.

Chantel joined Cole in the front seat, while Johnny offered a helping hand to Lisa as she stepped into the
back.
Nicky moved over as far as she could on the broad seat, shifted her purse closer to her feet, picked up the box of chocolates from the floor, put it in her lap, and took pains to put a smile on her face as Lisa sat down beside her. Nicky even kept her
smile
in place when Lisa sha
rply elbowed her in the ribs an
d shoved her even closer to the window.

As Johnny shut the door behind
him
and the
car
pulled away from the curb, Lisa fidgeted with
her purse on the floor.
Sitting up a moment later, she held a cigarette and
lighter in
her hand. With the detached air of a female grandee
speaking
to a servant, she pointed the cigarette at Nicky.
“I see you’re
still around. You must be
very, very special.”

In an apparent attempt to shift the conversation to one less fraught with contention, Johnny stepped in and explained that in
addition to serving as his translator, Nicky had designed a fantastic tree house for Jordi. “It’s going to be a real beauty.”

“You’re kidding.” A silvery litt
l
e movie-st
ar laugh rang through the car. “
Tree houses? Is that like building birdhouses?”

“
They’re a littie bigger,” Nicky replied, feeling totally mature as she ignored Lisa’s pettiness with a completely Zen-like generosity of spirit. There was no way building tree houses was inferior to playing make-believe on the silver screen anyway. But a second later, it took every ounce of discipline she possessed to keep from snapping something uncivil when Lisa Jordan cast her violet gaze on Nicky and purred, “Just because Johnny sleeps with you doesn’t mean a thing. He sleeps with everyone, don’t you, darling,” the goddess of Hollywood added. The smile she turned on her ex-husba
nd was sweetl
y understanding.

“Christ, Lisa, can it. Sorry,” Johnny muttered, leaning forward to glance past his ex and offer Nicky a rueful smile.

“You can make it up to her tonight. He’ll make it up to you tonight, Mickey,” Lisa Jordan said, her voice soft with malice, the glance she turned on Nicky ice cold. “He’s
ver
y
good
at making up.”

“Just a reminder, Lisa, we saved your ass. So kindly shut the fuck up,” Johnny growled. “And don’t smoke in the car.”

“My, my aren’t we touchy.” She leaned over and dropped the cigarette and lighter back into her purse. “I meant it as a compliment, darling,” she went on, sitting up once again. “You’re
excellent
in bed.”

“Jeez, Lisa, take it easy,” Chantel murmured over her shoulder. “Johnny’s right about saving us, and I for one am grateful. Although, if you hadn’t taken those black pearls we wouldn’t
be
in trouble. I
told
you not to take them, but no, you could handle Yuri, you said.”

“What black pearls?” Johnny demanded, his gaze laser sharp.

Lisa glared at the back of her friend’s head, then shrugged dismissively. “Yuri had so many pearls, I never thought he’d notice,” she airily replied. “They weren’t even in the safe. But thanks to Chantel here who caves at the smallest pressure, he found out I took them.”

“Excuse
me
,
”
Chantel drawled. “I call a threat to dump us in the middle of th
e Mediterranean more than a littl
e pressure.”

Lisa snorted. “They wouldn’t have.”

“Is that why you called me? Because you thought they wouldn’t?” Johnny observed with delicate sarcasm.

“No. That’s not why I called you,” Lisa replied, huffily. “I just wanted to get out of town.”

“Wise choice,” Chantel shot back.

“Screw you.”

“Okay, ladies, cut the useless recriminations. Let’s talk about something more productive,” Johnny interposed, not about to listen to an endless blame game. “I’ll send you home in my jet so you don’t have to deal with any possible problems with your friends. But I’d suggest in the future you steer dear of men who operate outside the law. That way you can both live long and productive lives.”

“I don’t need any lectures from you,” Lisa said. “Not when you’ve always done whatever you’ve pleased.”

“You need something from me right now, or you’d still be standing in front of the Elysees cooling your heels,” Johnny said, cur
tl
y. “So don’t give me any shit. I’m sending you home before you get into any more trouble.” He leaned toward the front seat. “We’re going to the airport, Vinnie.”

“I need my clothes from the Ritz first,” Lisa snapped.

If looks could kill, everyone in the limo would be wasted, Nicky thought. With the exception of one blond, fuming movie star. Although every lit
tl
e exchange that had transpired since Lisa Jordan had entered the car allowed Nicky to better understand Johnny’s feelings for his ex. He might be willing to rescue her— out of some sense of duty or for old-time’s sake, or maybe because he was a nice guy. But it wasn’t for love.

“I’l
l have your clothes sent to you,” Johnny said, brusquely. “Cole, call the Ritz and tell them to pack up the ladies’ clothes ASAP and send them to Lisa’s place in the States. Yuri was in that limo across the street, right?” He gave Lisa a hard, searching look.

“Yes,” Chantel quickly answered, sensible of their perilous position, even if her friend was in denial.

“Okay. That means there’s time to get your things out of the hotel, even if they drive there direc
tl
y. Which I doubt.” Yuri was a spoiled brat. He’d go somewhere to sulk—preferably where he could get high and find women to console him.

Even if Nicky was irritated about Miss High and Mighty’s nastiness to her, the scenario unfolding in the limo was fascinating to watch. It was like being in the front row at a play. Only this time the performan
ce was for real. One sullen littl
e movie star who apparen
tl
y lived in a fantasy world made possible by her looks and celebrity, rescued from the big, bad villains by her ex-husband.

And she doesn’t even thank him.

What the hell had he ever seen in Lisa Jordan? Why had he married her? Was she missing something? Or was Johnny Patrick like every other man in the world—dazzled by a sexy, gorgeous goddess of the silver screen?

It gave Nicky food for thought on the largely silent drive to the airport. It presented various possibilities to consider about who, what, when, where, and why these two very different people had married. Mostly, it made her wonder how stupid she was to be infatuated with a man who could actually marry a bitch like Lisa Jordan.

Crap.

Did that make her a bitch, too?

E
n route,
Johnny
cryptically said
to C
ole
,
“Tell Barry to meet us out there.”

Cole nodded, and that was that.

Male ESP, Nicky decided.

Once Lisa and Chantel left the car and were being escorted to the plane by Vinnie and Cole, Johnny moved closer to Nicky. Leaning back, he exhaled a sigh of relief and turning his head enough to see her, grinned. “Problem solved. She’s out of my hair.”

“And solved without a shot being fired, I’m happy to say.” Nicky gave him the thumbs-up.

He laughed. “That was only a remote possibility.”

“You coulda fooled me.”

“Sorry to put you through this, but I didn’t know where we’d
end up.
”
He blew out a small breath. “And if I needed someone who spoke French—you were it.”

“Happy to be of service—now,
after
the fact.” She smiled. “There were times I wasn’t so sure.”

His answering smile was free and easy. “Don’t worry— everything’s good. Once Lisa’s back in the States, someone else can pick up the slack if she needs protection. Hollywood is teeming with security.” His expression took on a sudden earnestness. “I do have a favor to ask of you, though.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked, her tone marginally wary after the recent events.

“If you don’t mind
too
much, I’d like to go to Nice for a couple of days. Just until my pilots can get back. I know it’s a huge imposition with your tight construction schedule, but I’d be willing to make it worth your while. Seriously. Anything you want.”

A large engagement ring? A wedding in Capri? Lifelong fidelity? Jeez, where the hell did that come from? It just went to show how great sex, movie star looks, and tons of money could turn a girl’s head. More realistically, she asked the question that could be the deal breaker. “A couple of days as in two? Or are you thinking more?”

“No, two days should be enough. My pilots will just need some sleep time before they make the run back to Nice.”

Cole suddenly appeared at the car window, and Johnny hit the button to roll it down.

“They’re here, and the charter’s ready.”

“That was fast. We’ll be right out.” Johnny turned back to Nicky. “Jordi and Vernie are here with Barry.”

Nicky gave him an accusing look. “So your questions were rhetorical?”

“No. Look, if you can’t come, I’ll send you home. I just thought you might like to see Nice,” he said, a promise of pleasure in every soft syllable.

He must know no woman could turn him down.

She could be the first.

She could give up seeing his villa and the beach life of the rich and famous.

She could be a complete idiot.

“Okay. Two days. Then I have to get home,” she said, because she
would
be a complete idiot if she let herself be talked into staying any longer just because God’s gift to women was beaucoup talented in bed. A way distant echo of concern, though, was what to tell Buddy. Even two extra days was gonna make him scream big-time. In the interest of adding two days of world-class sexual memories to her souvenir album, she’d have to promise Buddy something good. Like maybe time off for that fishing trip he’d been wanting to take.

“That’s great. Thanks. I mean it.”

Hearing Johnny Patrick say thanks he really meant it, went a long way toward making it easier for her to
say what she was about to say. “There’s one littl
e iffy thing though. I do have
to check with Buddy—you know…
see if he can deal with the work for a few more days. I have a feeling he’s gonna go ballistic.”

“If there’s
anything I can do to help…
”

“Give me your phone. I’ll call him.” As she punched in the numbers she asked, “What time is it back home?”

“Five in th
e
morning.”

“Good. He’s up.” Then she waited for the ring, telling herself
she was the boss, she owned the company, and if she wanted to have phenomenal sex for a few more days, she deserved it. “Hey, Buddy, it’s me, and you’re gonna go ape, but I’m staying for two more days.” She held the phone away from her ear for a few seconds, before saying, “What do you think about going on that fishing trip when I get back? Take off a week. I’ll cover for you.”

“Tell him to use my place in Tahoe if he wants,” Johnny interjected.

“Johnny says you can use his place in Tahoe. Okay, that won’
t work then. Yes, yes…
absolutely. I won’t ask for any more favors. Right after I get home, you take off. Make your reservations, Yeah, yeah, it’s written in stone. Make your reservations.” Nicky nodded her head and said yes or no to a number of que
stions, offered slightl
y longer answers to a few more, and after promising once again that two days wouldn’t be extended any further, she hung up. “Buddy’s going deep sea fishing, but he said, thanks for the offer.”

“So we’re good now? Buddy’s not too pissed?”

She smiled. “Not too much. I’ll be paying penance for a while. But I’m figuring it’ll be worth it.”

“I can promise you it will be. You name it, it’s yours.”

“Meaning?”

“Any
th
ing.”

“Anything sexual you mean?”

“Anything, any
th
ing—if it exists, you can have it.”

“Jeez, you’re kinda freaking me out with your blanket largesse policy. You’re not crazy, are you?”

“No. I’m just really intrigued by your dewy fresh sweetness.”

“Hey!” She wasn’t sure about dew fresh with that teasing light in his eyes.

“It’s a compliment, babe. You’re sweet as hell.” He studied the toes of his shoes for a moment before hitting her again with that cool gray gaze. “Look, you remind me of my life a couple hundred years ago—before I began living in this fabricated, plastic world.”

“I’m not completely gullible just because I don’t know movie producers and rock stars,” she asserted. “I didn’t fall off the last turnip truck.”

“No one’s saying your gullible—or even thinking it. You’re just nice. Hey, there’s Jordi.” He waved at his daughter who was running toward the car, then turned back to Nicky. “So we’re good for a couple of days?” he said, like no one had even mentioned dew fresh or harbored any equivocal feelings. Like life was back to normal.

“We’re good.” She could do measured and calm, too.

In a flash, his mouth was against her ear.

“We’re good in more ways than one,” he whispered. Then reaching for the door handle he shoved the door open. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, greeting his daughter. “Did Vernie tell you we’re going to Nice?”

The echo of his words sent a warm glow through her body, alt
hough, flip side, she was slightl
y intimidated by the ease with which Johnny Patrick bent the world to his will. She’d never known anyone who could bend even a teeny, tiny part of the world to their will. And now, she was traveling with a man who chartered planes like most people bought BART tickets, who rescued women from gangsters and wal
ked into restaurants and hotels l
ike he owned them. Oh, Christ, look at that. There was all their luggage being wheeled out on the tarmac. “Our luggage!” she blurted out. “Who packed it so fast?”

He was halfway out of the car, but he paused and glanced back. “The staff at the Castille is efficient. Although,” he added with a grin, “it helps that I know the owner.”

Of course he did. He fucking knew everybody. Although, that explained the excellent service, Nicky thought, and the excessive courtesy and lack of questions when
she
checked in. Not to mention, the view of the Eiffel Tower in
her
room.

After helping her out, he pulled her close for a second. “Thanks for coming along.”

“Thanks for asking.” She didn’t have time to say more. Jordi was plucking at her father’s sleeve.

“Daddy, Daddy! You won’t believe how fast we drove here! It was
so
much fun! Barry said you were waiting and we had to
rol
l!
Didn’t he, Vernie?”

“We could have raced in the Indy 500,” Vernie noted, her cheeks still sligh
tl
y flushed from the
excit
e
ment.
“I gather you were in a bit of a hurry.”

Johnny met her gaze over his daughter’s
head.
“It seemed like a good idea to leave. I felt like swimming in
the
sun. How about you, sweetie?” he said, brushing his fingers over his daughter’s curls. “Are you in the mood for a swim on our
beach?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Jordi was fidgeting from foot to foot. “Are we going right NOW?”

“Right this second. You lead the way.
Over there
where Cole and Barry are standing.”

“Lisa must have called you at lunch,” Vernie muttered, keeping pace with Johnny and Nicky as they followed Jordi. “I saw your look.”

“Who else precipitates a crisis wherever she goes.” He grimaced. “But everything’s back on track; Lisa and Chantel are headed for
the States. We’re going to wait for the plane to return, so I thought Nice would be as good a place as any to sit it out. You’ll have a couple of days to drink some of that local wine.”

“Twist my arm,” Vernie said, grinning.

Johnny chuckled, then glanced at Nicky. “You’ll like the wine. It’s a nice, smooth red.”

She was figuring there were things in Nice she was going to like better than the wine, but Johnny Patrick’s ego was already more than adequate. “Sounds good,” she said, in lieu of the X-rated comment on the tip of her tongue. “I love red wine.”