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9
She woketo the Paris skyline, the Eiffel Tower shining in an indigo sky beyond the open curtains in the bedroom. They dressed for dinner and stepped into the waiting limo in front of thehotel.
She had no idea where they were going, had no desire to ask. She was back in Jack’s world, back in a place where limousines appeared at will, where beautiful clothes were already hanging in the closet, where a rich and powerful man could make all your dreams cometrue.
They pulled up outside a small restaurant, its windows illuminated by soft light from within, L’Escargot Montorgueil spelled out in brass letters on the black placard above thedoor.
The maitre’d immediately recognized Jack and they were led to a quiet table at the back of a cozy room paneled with dark wood. Antique portraits lined the walls over gilded murals painted on burgundy backgrounds that matched the tablecloths and lush velvetcurtains.
She wasn’t entirely surprised to find that Jack spoke fluent French as he exchanged casual pleasantries with the fawning maitre’d. It seemed there was nothing Jack couldn’t do, nothing he didn’t know, an impression that was borne out over the next three hours as he ordered an assortment of exotic food and drink, plus several bottles of wine so good that Nina’s enjoyment was almostsexual.
He laughed as she delicately placed a snail soaked in garlic butter on her tongue, then smiled when she pronounced it delicious. There was savory french onion soup with a thick layer of Gruyére broiled to gooey perfection, tender lettuce simply dressed with dijon mustard and olive oil, and lamb so tender it melted in hermouth.
She groaned in protest when Jack ordered Crepes Suzette, but she could do nothing but moan with pleasure as she bit into the delicate crepes bursting with caramelized sugar and tangyoranges.
The limo was still outside when they exited the restaurant. Jack spoke a few words in French and the car pulled out into traffic. They’d been driving for about twenty minutes when the carstopped.
She reached for the door and was stopped by the gentle pressure of Jack’s hand on her arm. A moment later, the driver opened the door. Jack stepped out and took herhand.
They were on the banks of the Seine, the walkway lit with lights, canal boats docked for the night. The smell of the water, peaty and ancient, rose in her nose as they walked toward a bridge in thedistance.
Nina settled into the silence between them. Jack had spoken more to her in the last twenty-four hours than in all the time they’d spent together the year before, and she was happy just to feel his presence at herside.
When they got closer to the bridge, Nina saw that its lamps were of the old-fashioned variety, ornately designed with bronze vines. Cherubs circled the bases of the larger lamps, the light casting a soft glow over their innocent faces. Winged horses stood sentry atop columns at eitherend.
“This is the Alexandre bridge,” Jack said as they stared across it. “Named after Tsar Alexandre the Third to celebrate the Franco RussianAlliance.”
“What’s that?” Nina asked, pointing to an illuminated gold dome at the other end of thebridge.
“The Dome de les Invalides,” he said in perfect French. “Napoleon is interred there, and some other well-known war heroes, if there is such a thing. The church is part of a larger complex that includes museums and monuments. It’s closed at night, but I’d be happy to show youtomorrow.”
“I have to work tomorrow,remember?”
They stopped in the middle of thebridge.
“You could call out sick,” he said. “Play hooky with me inParis."
“I can’t do that.” Nina leaned on the railing and looked out over the darkwater.
“Of course, youcan.”
She suddenly wanted very much to call out tomorrow, to stay in Paris with Jack and pretend nothing else existed. It was dangerously alluring, like swimming too close to a powerful waterfall that pulled her closer to its edge with each passingminute.
“My work isn’t much, but it matters to me,” shesaid.
“I didn’t mean to imply that it wasn’timportant.”
He sounded like he meant it, and she wondered about all the other women he’d dated, the supermodels and actresses, the socialites and trust fund babies. Did they ever have to decline an invitation from Jack Morgan for something as mundane aswork?
He took her hand on the railing. “What’s on yourmind?”
“I keep wondering… whyme?”
“Whyyou?”
She turned to look at him. “You can be with any woman in the world. I almost understood it before, but now… I don’t understand why you cameback.”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean you almost understood itbefore?”
