Page 2 of One Midnight Kiss

I bypassed them all, drawn instead to a parlor with its double doors open to a sweeping balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance and the Eiffel Tower stood tall against the night sky like a beacon. I was drawn to the beauty.

The second I stepped onto the balcony, I froze.

A woman stood with her back to me, gazing out at the view of the city beyond. It was a magnificent sight, but nothing in comparison to my view of her, dressed in a black gown that clung to her body in all the right ways. Cinched at her waist, it accentuated her curves. My vision locked on her full, perky ass. The back of her dress dipped low, revealing a stretch of smooth skin and the posture of either a ballerina or a queen.

One hand rested on the railing and the other held a glass of red wine. She wore silky black gloves that stretched above her elbows. Whoever she was, her picture belonged beneath the word “elegance” in the dictionary. Or “sexy.” Or “mine.”

She turned, giving me her side profile. Her black mask, glittering with a million tiny crystals, glittered like the Eiffel Tower behind her. Beneath the mask lay a cute upturned nose and full, deep red lips. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a sleek updo, exposing an elegant neck that begged to be sucked on. The light caught the diamond earrings dangling from her ears.

I had never felt more like a vampire than I did in that moment. I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck and hear her gasp in pain and pleasure, pliant beneath me.

I was frozen in the doorway, staring like an idiot. Compared to the frilly ballgowns and pageantry of the other guests, she was a shadow. A beautiful, haunting shadow like the angel of death incarnate.

I had to speak to her. Words escaped me but that wouldn’t stop me. I needed to be in her orbit.

Finally, I stepped forward, clearing my throat. She turned fully then, facing me. Her cornflower blue eyes met mine through the slits of her mask and I felt the ground tilt beneath my feet.

If I passed out in front of her, at least I was wearing a mask.

I was rarely at a loss for words, and no woman had ever made my head spin. Maybe she had cast a spell on me. I smiled at her, wondering if she was as enchanted as I was.

“Oh good,” she said. “Finally, a waiter.”

My ego deflated a bit. Women tended to swoon when I flashed them my smile, but she wasn’t impressed at all. It wasn’t too surprising. A woman like her required more effort than a grin and broad shoulders. I was up for the challenge, though.

“I’m not a waiter,” I said. “But for you, I can be anything you want.”

She smiled. “I’d like a waiter.”

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it for you on one condition.”

“Why would I need conditions?” Her head tilted slightly, one earring dipping toward her shoulder. “I can go get a drink myself.”

I stepped forward. “Because I think you want me to get you a drink.”

“Fine, I would like a glass of the finest Cabernet Sauvignon, if you please. But don’t expect a tip.”

Filled with excitement, I made my way back into the bustling party, leaving her on the balcony overlooking the beautiful city. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation filled my ears again as I pushed through a sea of masked faces toward the bar. I wondered if she would still be there when I returned. I didn’t want to play games unless there was a chance of winning. With her as my prize, I was willing to try.

I took the glass of wine and my glass of whiskey and practically hurdled people in my rush to get back to the balcony. Heat filled me when I saw she was still there.

“Are you old enough to drink?” I asked as I handed her the glass.

“We’re in Paris.”

“Yes, and? How old are you?” I didn’t want to find myself embroiled in a scandal.

“I thought the whole point of this night was to be anonymous,” she said with a smile before she parted her red lips to purse them to the edge of her wine glass. Her blue gaze remained entwined with my own stare as she took a delicate sip.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She slowly shook her head. “You really don’t understand anonymity, do you?”

“Okay. You’re American?”

“I am,” she confirmed.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked, searching for any little crack in her defenses.