Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (37 page)

Faith climbed into the driver's seat and started the ignition. A small tug pulled the door from Sawyer's grasp, and he stepped out of the way.

She backed out of the driveway, leaving him standing there, a lost look on his face. With a push of the button, she lowered the garage door.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HE
E
IFFEL
T
OWER
was even more beautiful at night—an image in lacy, gold filigree, more stunning than any photo could possibly capture.

Tara just wanted to stand and drink it in.

“It's even better from over there. The Trocadéro.” Garrett pointed to a crowded pavilion across the way. His hand found the small of her back, sending a delicious shiver up her spine. “But we'll have to hurry.”

“Why? It doesn't appear to be going anywhere.”

Garrett laughed and gave her a wink. “You'll see.”

The wine served during the cruise had apparently worked some magic because Garrett had loosened up, at last. When he'd first picked her up, he'd been stiff and distant, treating this more like a guided tour than a date. Up until this moment, it was as if they'd reverted back to square one with the flirtation of the other night forgotten—at least, on his part. She, on the other hand, had been giving it all she had. That he'd finally touched her was encouraging.

The cruise had been beyond delightful. The views of Paris from the Seine with each movement of the boat bringing more opulence into view...the running commentary of fascinating tidbits told in the tour guide's sexy French-infused English...the undivided attention of the ruggedly handsome man sitting at her side.
Ooh-la-la!

Now, walking toward the Trocadéro, she kept turning around, eyes constantly drawn back to the Eiffel Tower, half afraid it actually
might
disappear, the other half unwilling to miss a second of the view.

Garrett took her hand, causing the endorphins in her brain to break into a happy dance. Keeping her in tow, he threaded through the crowd, his urgency evident. She paused the questions and comments, keeping pace with his jog up the steps to the crowded top level of the pavilion, where they found an open space and fell against each other laughing and gasping.

“Whew!” Garrett checked his watch, then flung his arm around her shoulder and whirled around to face the landmark. A few seconds later, the Eiffel Tower erupted into a twinkling mass of brilliant white lights, diamonds encrusting the gold filigree—a royal brooch worn by the Queen of Cities.

“Oh, my gosh!” Tara squealed as the crowd shouted and broke into applause. Caught up in the excitement, she intertwined her fingers with the ones on her shoulder and tilted her head against the side of Garrett's face. “You're right. This
is
better.” A blissful sigh accompanied her next breath.

“Told you.”

She swiveled her head and watched the side of Garrett's mouth rise slowly in a lazy smile that oozed sexy. Her insides coiled with heat. “Don't give me that Mona Lisa smile, Garrett Hughes. I can't stand here gawking at you when I've got tourist business to take care of.”

The twinkle in his eyes when he laughed made her even more reluctant to let go of his hand, but a video of the glistening tower to post on her Facebook page couldn't wait. Her heart skipped a beat, though, when she put her phone away, and his hand found hers again.

“C'mon.” He bobbed his head in the direction of the landmark. “More good stuff awaits.”

They wove their way through the crowd and back across the Seine via the Pont d'Iena
,
but the slower pace did nothing to calm her breathing. Garrett's sudden decision to stay in constant physical contact by holding her hand or resting an arm around her shoulders kept causing her breath to hitch. By the time they stood on the top level of the Eiffel Tower, she was dizzy with excitement and the effects of looking down from the thousand-foot height at the exquisite city below.

She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to recapture some calm. “I still can't believe I'm here, standing at the pinnacle of worldly sophistication. If Taylor's Grove could see me now...” She massaged her face, which ached from the smile she'd been wearing all night. When she opened her eyes, a lustrous golden dome caught her attention. “Ooh. What's that over yonder?”

“Yonder?” Garrett's deep laugh brought a flush of embarrassment to her face.

“Guess I haven't stood at the pinnacle long enough to absorb much of that sophistication, huh?”

“I wasn't making fun. That laugh was pure enjoyment. Hearing you say things like that brings home a lot closer.” He pulled her around to face him, brushing a finger down her heated cheek. “I'd like to find a quiet place where I could close my eyes and just listen to you talk.”

Oh, Lord!
Heat moved through her again, having nothing to do with embarrassment. Were all guys in Paris hot? Or was it just something about being in this city? “Thanks,” she murmured. “That was a nice thing to say.” Over his shoulder, she could see the couple behind them locked in a kiss of romance novel quality.

So maybe it
was
the city.

Garrett leaned in so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. Was he about to kiss her? Her own breathing came to an abrupt halt.

Instead, he pointed. “The gold dome ‘over yonder' is Hôtel des Invalides
,
Napoleon's tomb.
”
His boyish grin, so much like Dylan's, said he was obviously pleased with the reference to their personal joke.

“Hôtel des Invalides.”
She repeated the words, using her best French accent. Being short of breath made it sound even better. “Only the French language could make a tomb and a military museum sound so divine.”

“It's pretty interesting, really.” His eyes lit up. “We could go there tomorrow, if you'd like. Dylan loves it, and there's a tradition about touching the foot of the Mansart statue in the garden.”

“I went one day last week although I think I missed the Mansart statue.” Tara drooped her lip in a pretend pout and watched as Garrett's gaze moved to her mouth then back up slowly to tangle with her eyes. There was enough electricity in that look to keep the City of Lights in business for a while, but if he didn't kiss her soon, she was going to blow a breaker.

His eyes darkened. “Well, if you missed Mansart, we can't take any chances. There's another tradition we need to take advantage of right now.” With a tilt of his head, he directed her gaze to the couple next to her, who were also enjoying a sensuous moment, oblivious to everyone around them. “Tradition says if you kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower, romance will forever spread out around you like the city below.” He leaned toward her again, hesitating as if asking permission.

Tara answered him by meeting him halfway. Their lips touched, and she expected something short and chaste, but once her mouth settled on his, it felt so nice, she was in no hurry for it to end. Her hands found his waist and his hands found her back, and they relaxed against each other, warm and comfortable, yet pleasantly enticing. The kiss lasted much longer than she thought possible with no tongues involved.

She leaned back a little, meeting his gaze, but kept her hands where they were. Likewise, his stayed put. “I like this tradition,” she said.

“Well, there's another one, too, you know.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “You're making these up, aren't you?”

“Yeah.” The side of his mouth rose in that yummy lopsided grin.

“Well, tell me anyway.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “If you kiss a second time, it means you'll come back.”

“That's the Trevi Fountain in Rome. Surely you can be more imaginative than that.”

“Okay, how about if you kiss a second time, your love will shine more brilliantly than the tower itself.”

She pursed her lips, pretending to ponder it, and finally nodded. “Works for me.”

His mouth covered hers again, but remained gentle even when she opened and met his tongue. There was no hurry...no urgency...just a long, languid kiss that left her knees weak and her lungs devoid of breath.

“You don't kiss like a girl from Taylor's Grove,” Garrett whispered.

“Actually, I kiss
exactly
like a girl from Taylor's Grove,” she whispered back. “We didn't have any movies, or teenage hangouts. The only thing to do was park by Kentucky Lake and make out until we got it down pat.”

Garrett chuckled. “You did more than get it down pat. You perfected it.”

Tara batted her eyes playfully at him. “I had more practice than everybody else. I was a virgin until I was twenty-three, so kissing was my forte.”

A serious look settled on Garrett's face as he stepped back and took her hands. “That's a tidbit I never would've guessed. What other things am I going to learn about you that will surprise me?”

Her own recent surprise—the one that gave her a reason for being there—pricked her heart. “I'm still in the discovery stage myself.” His brows buckled in question at her cryptic response, but she didn't give him a chance to ask whatever it was he was thinking. She was having too glorious a time at the moment to get into the subject of Jacques Martin. Instead, she pointed at the famous avenue in the distance with the arch at the end. “Champs-Élysées and Arc de Triomphe.”

“Oui. L'avenue des Champs-Élysées et l'Arc de Triomphe,”
Garrett repeated in what sounded like perfect French to her no matter what Dylan said about his father's pronunciation.

She sighed. “You can take the girl out of Taylor's Grove, but you can't take Taylor's Grove out of the girl.”

Garrett caught her chin with a finger and gently turned it toward him. “Don't
ever
lose the Taylor's Grove. It's pure gold.” He touched his lips to hers again in the tenderest of kisses, and she gripped the railing tighter as her knees went weak.

Garrett pointed to the other side of the viewing deck. “Now, let's take a look over ‘yonder.'”

They headed in the direction he'd indicated, not quite making it to the other side before Tara's cell phone rang. Her mom's name came up on the caller ID. “I need to take this. Do you mind?”

“You ask this of a single father?” He ran a finger down her arm. “Of course not.”

Saturday night was an odd time for her mom to be calling. But then, it
was
two in the afternoon at home. She swiped the button to answer. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hey, sweetpea. Just wanted to see what you're doing.” Her mom's voice sounded tired. She'd probably been picking tomatoes from the garden. Or maybe canning, which was a job she hated.

“Actually, I'm having dinner with my neighbor Garrett.”

“That's Dylan's father, isn't it?” The voice on the other end perked up a bit.

Tara winked at Garrett, who'd moved far enough away so as not to hear the conversation. “That's right. Dylan's spending the night with a friend, so Garrett's treating me to a night on the town. We've been on a Seine river cruise, and we watched the Eiffel Tower light up, which is the most gorgeous sight ever. I'm actually talking to you from the top of the tower right now.”

“Oh! I'm sorry, sweetie. I—I didn't mean to interrupt your date. I'll, um, I'll let you go.”

Tara's senses went on alert. Something wasn't right. She could hear it in the way her mom's voice strained and tightened all of a sudden—like she was trying to sound okay when she really wasn't. “What's wrong?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Nothing. I just haven't talked to you in a few days, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Okay, so her mom was probably just worried about the Jacques Martin search. Tara didn't want to get into that. It might put a damper on what was turning out to be a fabulous night. “Well, I'm doing great.” She threw an extra load of exuberance into her voice. “I've got lots to tell you, but it'll have to hold until sometime when I don't have somebody waiting for me. We're just about to head to dinner.”

“Yes, I understand. I should let you go then.”

Her mom's tone slipped into sad, and Tara's gut twisted. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow...or sometime soon.”

Something unspoken niggled at Tara. “Wait, um, how's Dad?”

“He's...okay.”

“Which means not great.”

“He's still upset.”

“But he sounded better when I talked to him yesterday.” The last call from her dad had made her hopeful that everything at home was finally getting back to normal. At least, he talked about everyday things—the first tomatoes, the doe with triplets still in spots that had come into the backyard.

“It's me he's upset with. Not you.” The voice on the other end of the line cracked. “I'm sorry. I'm calling from Grandma O'Malley's house, and it's just making me overly sentimental.”

Ah! There it was. Mama was calling from Grandma's. She was finally going through things, deciding what to get rid of and what to keep. “Well, don't stay too long. No sense in working up a case of melancholy. All that stuff will still be there tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.”

“Yeah, I don't know how long I'll be here...” Her mom's voice faded. “But, I'll let you go now. Enjoy your dinner.”

Tara walked to where Garrett stood. “I will. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetpea. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” Tara blew out a long breath as she touched the button to end the call.

Garrett was watching her, concern hooding his deep-set eyes. “Is everything okay?”

She cocked her head and gave her brows and her shoulders a simultaneous shrug. “I wish I could say yes to that, but I'm not certain it'd be the truth.”

“Why? What's going on?”

Tara chewed her lip, wondering how much to tell him. He'd been very forthcoming about his wife. And with Emma thousands of miles away, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. “I'll tell you all about it,” she promised. “But not until after dinner.”