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Thayer knocks over his wineglass, drawing the attention of the table his way. Fabien pinches my leg but his lips twitch.
I giggle at her narrowed-eyed look of disapproval.
“I kid, I kid,” I say with a smile.
“We met at a coffee shop in a bookstore in Sartène,” Fabien supplies. “I’d stopped for a break and was doing a bit of reading.”
“Ah. Fabien, I didn’t know you could read,” Thayer says from a few seats down.
He grunts. “Books, Thayer, and people and relationships and rooms. I’m pretty damn literate.”
His brother snorts. He turns to me. “Your French is perfect, Nicolette, but you’re not from around here.”
“I’m not,” I say. “I’m American.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to travel to America,” Avril says. “Fabien, we should go.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “We should.” He sips from his beer as he pinches my knee under the table. One tap, then two. I look over at him to see him staring at the doorway. A guy that looks like creepy Chance but a little older and less ape-like enters the room.
He’s the cousin we need to talk to. I give Fabien a little nod.
I want to do my research. I don’t know enough about what we’re doing to really begin to prepare, but I know our time is limited and we’re basically under a microscope.
Fabien leans over and whispers in my ear, “He will talk to me if I pay him, but he’s a lot more likely to give you information than me. With our combined efforts, we’ll get what we need.”
“From where does your family come?” his grandmother asks as she stares at me.
“Chicago.”
“And are they good stock?”
“Maman,” Avril groans. “How do you tell good stock?”
“You know when you see it.”
Avril shakes her head. “Please. Stop.”
“No.”
I don’t want Fabien or Avril to worry about me. “I’m not sure how you define good stock, but both of my parents are dead, so unfortunately you won’t be able to see them to judge for yourself.”
Fabien brushes his thumb across my thigh. I shiver.
Music begins to play, and couples get up from the table to head to the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Fabien says.
“Are you asking me?”
“No,” he says in my ear. “Telling you. Dance with me. We’ll head over to my cousin and get what we need.” He turns to face his grandmother. “And Grand-mère, you let Maman marry a peasant, and didn’t stop her, so I’m sure you have it somewhere in you to grant a boon to someone regardless of their stock.”
She grumbles as we take our leave from the table. Avril wiggles her fingers at us.
“Enchantée,” I say to her as we leave. I notice Chance giving me a curious look and the man next to him—
I do a double take.
“Fabien,” I whisper. “Don’t look now, but who’s that guy sitting next to Chance?”
“His father, my uncle.”
Oh, Lord. I’ve seen him before on the evening news. I find the news typically affects my ability to sleep, so I rarely watch it, but the local tavern had it on one evening when the girls and I went out for a drink there.
For some reason, realizing his uncle made the news makes the stakes that much higher.
I can do this, I can do this.
“Why?” Fabien leads me to the dance floor with effortless ease for a big guy like him.
“I’ve seen him before,” I whisper in his ear.
“You’ve seen him before where?”
“On the news. He was arrested for breaking and entering in one of Paris’s most high security banks. How is he here now?”
Fabien shrugs. “Maybe he was found not guilty.”
Or maybe he doesn’t have to stay in jail if he doesn’t want to.
Interesting.
“Pretend we’re talking.”
“We don’t have to pretend, we are talking.”
That earns me a grunt in reply, and another warning to behave myself.
“Haven’t you heard?” I say, remembering the words of a tee shirt I saw at the airport. “Well-behaved women rarely make history.”
“Well-behaved women rarely get spanked, too, which sounds more like it’s your speed, doesn’t it?”
My pulse accelerates. “If you say so.”
His breath in my ear’s so warm and sensual, I quiver.
“I can smell your arousal from here. You’re so hot, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” I lie. “Uh uh. And you’re the one lying, there’s no way you can smell my arousal.”
He sure can if he truly is part predator.
“You’re imagining yourself beneath me, aren’t you?”
“I am now.”
“I bet you’re dying to know what it’s like to feel my mouth between your legs.”
“I wasn’t, but now that you mention it…” I barely recognize my own voice.
“Shh,” he whispers suddenly. “We’re going to dance over to my cousin Milo. Slowly.”
I lay my head on his chest and allow him to hold me close to him. He’s an excellent dancer, and it’s easy to follow his lead.
I love the feel of him holding me. I love the simple elegance of dancing together, my steps following his. I love the scent of his cologne, the feel of his broad hand on my hip and the other in mine. I love the way I feel as if I were designed to fit right up against him like this.
