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"No, I'm sorry I interrupted. I didn't know"
He mumbled into the receiver, his tone shameful. Poor Ed.
She pressed her lips together then let out a hopefully sympathetic sounding sigh. She didn't want to hurt him by being too glad, even though he'd clearly moved on. She adopted a comforting tone. "Listen, Ed, it doesn't matter, really, we are friends and we always will be. I'm glad you've got someone and that you're happy."
"But I..."
But what? "I can't talk right now, let's just let it go."
"Monday, can we talk on Monday?" He was still pushing to discuss it for some reason.
&nb
sp; Monday? She'd shelved Monday for the time being. All she could think about now was the weekend. Nothing seemed to exist past that point on the horizon.
She agreed for the sake of peace, hung up and dropped her phone in her bag. As she did, she noticed the black calling card for The Hub that Zac had given her, lying there in the bottom of her bag. She lifted it and moved it in her hand, watching as the eye winked at her and lured her in. It zapped her with its electric stare each time she turned it.
She remembered their first encounter in the elevator, the electric connection between them, intimate, intensely sexual. Then at The Hub. His arms around her had arrested her life forever. She'd been released into a new realm of experiences through the union of their bodies. Things would never be the same. Working with the Robertson group was over too. She had come to a new departure, no matter what.
She felt like she could fly to Paris on her own wings. Would Zac be part of her future? She hoped so. It might have felt like a secret affair at first, but it wasn't really. It was a turning point.
Chapter Eleven
Abby strode out of the Charles de Gaulle airport terminal building and waved for a taxi. She gave the driver the address and rested back into the seat as the car covered the ground between the airport and the center of Paris.
Anticipation pumped through her veins. Her nerve endings were reaching out for Zac. They didn't need to be awoken. They were already awake and expectant. Since she'd met him she'd become consciously aware of every inch of her body—when she walked, when her clothes brushed her skin. Each sensation was a magic reminder of their joining. She crossed her legs and shifted the fabric of her skirt across her thighs with a secret smile.
The taxi pulled up in an elegant boulevard not far from the Tuileries. The hotel was stylish, fronted by massive wrought-iron enclosed glass doors that were flanked by pillars. Matching tall, wrought iron framed windows echoed them on the refined facade. A liveried doorman clicked his heels and bowed when Abby walked up the steps.
The ornate reception area was filled with opulent velvet sofas and potted palms. When she gave her name, the receptionist presented her with a key, and an envelope that bore her name.
"Monsieur Bordino will return shortly. The room is on the second floor. If there's anything you need, please let me know or call room service."
"Thank you," she murmured, and glanced inside the envelope. It contained a slip of paper. She walked to the elevator. When the doors closed, she slid the paper out.
Soon.
The one word was written in large, slanted letters across the page, underscored with a determined line, and signed with his name. She smiled and curled the piece of paper in her hand.
The brass key fob bore the room number and when she unlocked it she paused as the door swung open. She wanted him to be there, but he wasn't. Walking through the door, she dropped her bag as it shut behind her.
The room had a courtly appearance. Rich furnishings and heavy flowing drapes gave the place a regal air. It truly was a Parisian salon. She glanced at the bed. It was huge, covered in a thick damask quilt that invited the body to sink into it. The headboard reached upwards in a network of gilt spires towards the heavy velvet wall hanging behind it.
A movement caught her eye. The glass doorway to the balcony was open and a long, white lace curtain billowed into the room. It was as if he had stepped out there for a moment, and she followed the movement.
Lifting the curtain aside, she stepped out and found herself on a balcony enclosed by more wrought iron. It overlooked a small courtyard, where a cherub trickled water from an urn into the circular pool that surrounded him. The building closed the courtyard in on all four sides and she glanced at the other windows, wondering how many pairs of lovers the shutters masked from each other. Two pigeons fluffed themselves up on a ledge nearby and looked at her as if she were intruding on their private lovemaking. She smiled and walked back into the room.
The heat of the day was waning, but it was still hot. She slipped her jacket off and moved her camisole over her breasts as she walked back across the room, cooling her skin. She spied Zac's leather jacket hanging over a chair and ran her fingertips over its shoulders. His presence was near. She walked into the bathroom.
It was a marble cavern with a huge tub in the center of the space. Ornate brass taps and a mirror that sprang the length and height of one wall gave the place an air of grandeur. As she came back into the bedroom a small box on the dressing table caught her eye, and she wandered over to it. It was dark charcoal kid leather, mottled like parchment and tied with black string. She didn't touch it but wondered what was inside. Just then, an unseen finger touched her and she held her breath.
The phone rang. She stared at it. What if it was another woman phoning for him? What if she found out something, now, something that she really didn't want to know? It didn't stop ringing. She moved towards the sound reluctantly, but found her hand drawing the receiver to her ear. She listened but did not speak.
"Abby?" It was his voice, the deep intimate sound that called upon something that had laid dormant inside her, until the moment when he stepped into her life.
"Yes," she murmured. "I was worried. I thought I might intercept a call for you, from another woman."
He gave a soft laugh. "No, I told you, you're the only woman."
