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She paused and said, “What?”
“In case you’re wondering, I do sleep naked.”
Lily closed her flip-top phone, stared at it, then flopped back on the pillows and burst into laughter. She didn’t know when she’d last been teased and flirted with so relentlessly, maybe never. It felt good; just as it felt good to laugh. She was alive, then, after all. She even felt a little guilty for laughing, because Zia would never laugh again.
She sobered on that thought, and the familiar pain squeezed her heart. The pain would never go away, she thought, but there would be times when perhaps she could forget for just a little while. Today, she would try to forget.
She got out of bed and stretched, then did the set of exercises she’d been doing every day in an effort to regain her strength. She was getting better, her stamina improved a bit every day. After thirty minutes of exercise she was damp with sweat but not breathless; the old ticker was holding up. She got into the shower without having to take off any clothes, because she slept nude. Lying to Swain had seemed like a good idea, plus it was fun.
Fun. There was that word again. It seemed to come up often in connection with him.
She hadn’t wondered before about whether he slept raw, but now her imagination supplied an image of him just waking up, stretching, his jaw dark with stubble. His skin smelled warm and musky, and his morning erection jutted up, demanding attention—
For a moment she could almost smell that warm man-scent, the memory so fresh and so specific she was briefly puzzled that she knew how he smelled. Then she remembered crying on his shoulder, with his arms around her. She must have subconsciously noticed his scent then, and her brain had filed the memory away for future reference.
She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to spend the day with him—at Disneyland, of all places. She hadn’t thought she would ever go back there. This past summer Zia hadn’t wanted to go; she was too old for that baby stuff, she’d said with the withering scorn only a thirteen-year-old could muster and completely ignoring the fact that most of the people who went to the amusement park were older than she.
There were always a lot of Americans there, too, which always surprised Lily, because she’d have thought if any American wanted to go to a Disney attraction, one of those back home would have been closer than Paris. She and Swain wouldn’t be noticed; they would be just two more Americans.
She blow-dried her hair, then found herself picking through her makeup bag for just the right items. She was primping for him, she thought with equal parts amusement and amazement—and she was enjoying it. She had always made herself up for her dates with Salvatore, but that had been more like applying a theater mask. This felt like a date, and she felt as nervous with excitement as she had in high school.
She had good skin, having never been a sun worshipper. She didn’t need a base, though she did need mascara if she didn’t want her lashes to look nonexistent. She had nice long lashes, but without mascara they were a light brown that made them almost invisible. She lined her eyes with a light touch, dusted on shadow, rubbed just a hint of a rose-hued liquid tint on her cheeks and more on her mouth. A dusting of transparent powder and a coat of ego-saving mascara finished the job.
Lily looked at herself in the mirror as she put on her earrings, tiny gold hoops that seemed appropriate for a day at the amusement park. She would never be really pretty, but on her good days she was more than passable. Today was a good day.
With luck, it would get better.
19
The closer they got to Disneyland, the more tense Lily became as her excitement began to fade and memories shoved their way back to the forefront. “Let’s not go to Disneyland,” she blurted.
He quirked his brows. “Why not?”
“Too many memories of Zia.”
“Are you going to avoid everything that reminds you of her?”
His tone was practical, nonchallenging. Lily stared out the window. “Not everything. Not forever. Just not . . . right now.”
“Okay. Where do you want to go instead?”
“I’m not certain I want to go anywhere. There should be something we can do other than wait for your friend to dig up something on the lab’s security system.”
“Other than driving back and forth in front of the lab and giving the guards a good look at this car, I can’t think of anything.”
Was the man incapable of picking out a car that wasn’t noticeable? Yes, this Renault was gray, just as the Jag had been, but the Mégane Renault Sport wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill car. At least he hadn’t got a red one.
“How many ways are there to get into a building?” she asked reasonably. “Doors and windows, obviously. You could also go in through a hole in the roof—”
“No one would notice you on top of the building with a chain saw?”
“—but that isn’t feasible,” she finished, giving him a dirty look. “How about from underneath? The complex has to be connected to the sewer system.”
He looked thoughtful. “That’s a possibility. I don’t like it, but it’s a possibility. In the movies it always looks like they’re splashing around in water, but when you think about what goes into sewers, I’ll bet they’re splashing around in something else.”
“Historic Paris is riddled with underground tunnels, but the lab is on the outskirts, so there probably isn’t a decent tunnel anywhere near there.”
“Just out of curiosity, in case we do end up in the sewer, what kind of laboratory is this? What do they do?”
