A Case for Calamity (2 page)

Sitting forward to match her stance, he dipped his head closer. A conspiratorial grin quirked his lips. “Hmmm. Let’s see. Once, she signed me up for one of those buy-a-guy-for-a-day charity auctions, then picked up the tab so her friend’s granddaughter could make the winning bid. Another time, she conned me into escorting another granddaughter of a friend to a big movie premiere. The woman worked on the movie, Grandmother explained, and wanted to attend, but didn’t know anyone in town. I arrived at the hotel to pick up my
date
only to discover I’d be walking the red carpet with none other than Sophie Collins.”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “
The
Sophie Collins?”

“The one and only.”

“Well, at least your grandmother has good taste. Sophie’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I’m beginning to see why your grandmother has resorted to deviousness to achieve her goals. It’d take a very stubborn man to hold out against the temptation of Sophie Collins.”

“Oh, I was tempted.”

“Then what happened?”

“It turns out I was just a smokescreen to throw off the paparazzi. Sophie is hopelessly in love with her publicist.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Jane shook her head.

Gabe laughed, his green eyes sparkling with approval. “But the worst was when Grandmother gave a strange woman the key to my condo while I was out of town on a junket.”

“Oh.” Her brows jumped together on a frown. “That
is
devious, and so wrong. What happened?”

He sipped from his glass. “The woman was an interior decorator with some, shall we say, interesting tastes.”

“She redecorated your condo? Without talking to you about it?”

He shrugged.

She cocked her head. “What do you mean by interesting tastes? What’d she do?”

“Besides painting every wall bordello red and replacing all my furniture with tasseled pillows, she installed a stripper pole in my bedroom.”

Jane’s jaw dropped until his twisting lips and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes tipped off she was being had. She snapped her jaw shut and flattened her lips in a narrow smirk. “You’re making that up.”

The rich rumble of his laughter slid over her skin like a caress. Merriment danced in his eyes.

“Yeah, I am, but sometimes it seems that bad. The woman is relentless.”

She snorted a helpless laugh. “I was beginning to feel sorry for you, but not anymore. I’m rooting for the little old lady. You deserve whatever she throws at you.”

His laughter eventually wound down to a chuckle as he glanced at his watch. “How much did your father tell you about this evening’s dinner meeting?”

She hadn’t realized how relaxed she’d become while trading slightly flirtatious jibes with the near stranger across from her, until returning nerves dropped on her shoulders like a leaden yolk.
Crap
. The devil was in the details, and the prick of horns jabbed her right in the center of her guilty conscience.

Shae hadn’t given her any particulars, other than her father was shoving her at another potential son-in-law who needed an interpreter. Now that Jane had met Gabe, and found him likable as well as charming, she didn’t want their deception harming his business.

“Uh, not much, actually.”

“No problem. We have a few minutes before Ms. Fougere is due to arrive.”

“Josette Fougere, the designer?”

He nodded. “I’m here to discuss charter flights for the Sexy Six Spring.”

Jane gulped another mouthful of wine. Last spring, the cunning new French designer had captured New York’s fashion week by storm, unleashing a wily marketing campaign featuring a group of six stunning models, clothed in Josette’s sexy evening line and draped over famous points of interest around Manhattan. The sultry video promptly went viral. The ladies were dubbed the Sexy Six, and Josette Fougere’s exclusive Park Avenue boutique suffered a near riot the day it had opened.

Gabe tapped his finger against his glass. “Her marketing team is taking the ladies’ show on the road next spring. They’ve booked a forty-city tour throughout the U.S. and Europe. I’m hoping to win the U. S. leg of the trip.”

She stared at him wide-eyed. First Sophie Collins and now the current rage of the fashion world. Gabe Sutton moved in some elite circles.

He leaned on his elbows. “Ms. Fougere’s English is extremely limited. My French isn’t much better. I understand most of the words, but not the subtle nuances. That’s where you come in. Without a good feel for the dialect, I’m at a disadvantage for reading her tells.”

“Tells?” Jane shook her head and struggled to keep up.

“Hesitation. Negativity in her choice of words. Body language and facial expressions will give me much of what I need. I want you to tip me off to any negative nuances in her language.”

She set down her glass. “Look, Gabe, I don’t know what…my father told you, but I’m not a linguistics expert.”

He pinned her with an uncompromising stare. “You’re fluent in the local dialect. All I want are impressions. If she’s hedging, I want to know.”

She studied his earnest face. No wonder he’d achieved so much at such a relatively young age. A man who controlled every detail of a meeting, including dialect nuances, couldn’t help but succeed.

“Okay, I can see where a second set of eyes and ears could be helpful, but how am I supposed to let you know there’s something you should be concerned about without tipping her off? You said her English is limited, but she’s bound to notice if I halt the conversation to say,
Hey, Gabe, I think she’s trying to jerk you around
.”

Humor twinkled in his eyes below arching brows.

She cleared her throat. “What I
mean
is, how do I let you know if I sense she’s dissembling? Do I kick you under the table or something?”

He chuckled, sitting back once more. “I’d rather you didn’t resort to kicking.” His Texas drawl dropped an octave to a near croon and an utterly male smile slid over his face. “Those boots you’re wearing are damn sexy, but they look lethal.”

She blinked.
He noticed my boots and thinks they’re sexy?

Jane swallowed against the resumed batting of delicate wings. Okay, she should probably reevaluate that whole “ingrained habit” thing. The sensual challenge in his eyes was far too purposeful for him to have uttered his comment out of simple habit.

He smiled when she remained silent. “I see your point. Let’s try something a little less…intimate.” He nodded toward the glassware in front of her. “Straighten your water glass if you sense something is off.”

Heat tingled across her cheekbones. God, was she blushing? She clenched her fingers in her lap to keep her hands from flying to her face. Relief clashed with disappointment when his intent gaze suddenly left hers and settled on something beyond her shoulder. Though subtle, his countenance shifted. His smile broadened, even as his eyes cooled, full of polite greeting rather than the amused warmth of a moment ago.

She sighed on an internal shrug. Playtime was over. The businessman had reappeared.

Chapter Two

“Wow.” Jane stared at the taillights of the cab pulling away from the curb. “You may want to consider a personal bodyguard for the duration of the Sexy Six Spring.”

Gabe jammed the Stetson onto his head, spinning to face her. Dark brows arched over narrowed green eyes.

Okay, so maybe she’d stepped over the line by announcing Gabe had to leave to make the charter he’d booked with
The Condom King
, but after witnessing the predatory glint in the beautiful designer’s eyes for the past hour, Jane’s catty side had finally had enough. She covered her guilty grimace with a cheeky shrug. “I just wanted to give her something to think about on her lonely ride home.”

Big hands propped on his hips, a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. “If you really
were
my assistant, I’d fire you for insubordination.”

Relief made her cocky. “And I’d demand a hefty severance package.”

He shook his head. “No doubt.”

She grinned, and the moment stretched out in silence. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Well. I’ll report back to Dad, so you needn’t bother coming up with an excuse for why his matchmaking failed.”

“What will you tell him?”

She cocked her head. What the hell. She’d never see him again anyway. “I’ll tell him the truth. Gabe Sutton was a perfect gentleman, and lovely to look at, but we just didn’t click.”

He arched a brow. “Will he be satisfied with that?”

If Michael Austin was anything like
her
father, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a ring, a prenuptial agreement and a ceremony.

She jerked her shoulder in a careless shrug. “Of course not, but you’ll be off the hook. He’ll find another stud to dangle in front of me soon enough.” She shifted the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stuck out her gloved hand. “Thanks for tonight. The meal was delicious and the business interesting.” He shook her hand, lingering over the process a bit longer than she expected. She tugged free. “Well, bye.” Turning, she headed down the sidewalk.

“Shae.”

Jane winced, stopped and looked back over one shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He jerked a thumb toward a waiting cab. “Can I give you a lift?”

“I’d like to walk, thanks.”

His gaze followed the night-dimmed sidewalk to the end of the block. “A woman walking alone at night isn’t a good idea.”

She glanced around. The hour was still relatively early by Parisian standards, and though the sidewalks weren’t overly crowded, they weren’t empty, either. Couples still strolled and occasional shoppers carried their purchases on their way home. “People are still out. I’ll be fine.”

He waved off the cab, closing the distance between them. “I’ll walk with you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. Your father won’t buy your perfect gentleman description if he learns I let you walk the streets of Paris alone.”

“Really, I’ll be perfectly safe, and I won’t tell if you don’t.” One arched brow was his only answer. She shrugged and eyed the black, snakeskin boots on his feet. “Suit yourself, but I hope those are comfortable. You’ll be walking for a while.”

His sardonic gaze bounced down to her three-inch heels and back. “You’re not headed to your hotel?”

She shook her head. “I go home tomorrow. I want to say goodbye to the city.”

His hat, riding low on his forehead, shaded his eyes, but a smile curved his lips. “How does one say goodbye to a city?”

“With a smile and a bit of sadness.” She cut him a sidelong glance. “If you’re saying goodbye to a city you love.”

He nodded. “I feel the same way every time I leave Dallas, but though I’ve been to Paris several times, I’ve never had the time to really experience what others claim to love.”

“Then hold on to your hat, cowboy. You’re about to get the nickel tour.”

He chuckled, briefly slowing his steps to give space to a couple heading in the other direction.

They walked in silence for several moments before jittery nerves had her clearing her throat. “Have you always lived in Dallas?”

“Until I left for college.”

“And then?”

“After graduating, I settled in Manhattan to launch the charter service.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you live on the east coast.”
Crap. He lived in Manhattan? Relax, Jane. So do ten million others.
Her gaze flicked up. “The hat threw me off.”

He grinned. “Have you always been a New Yorker?”

She racked her brain. Shae had moved next door when they were both eight, but had the Austins lived outside the city before then? She couldn’t remember. Evasion seemed the wisest course. “I’m a city girl.” They rounded a corner and Point Neuf came into view. She grabbed hold of the diversion with both hands. “Oh, look. Isn’t it lovely?”

The oldest of Paris’ bridges, Point Neuf was her favorite. She made a point to visit at least once a trip. Like an old friend, the bridge never failed to please her eye, with twinkling lights outlining the aged architecture by night and by the pale brick arches reflecting against the dark water of the Seine by day.

Her nickel tour quickly turned into a private, detailed excursion. To their left, she directed his attention toward the Arc De Triomphe standing strong in the distance. To their right, Notre Dame shone like a beacon calling to the faithful, its stunning reflection dancing on the Seine.

They turned onto Quai de L’Horloge, passing la Conciergerie, the long-ago palace of French kings. In later days, the grand structure became famous as the site where Marie Antoinette and so many others spent their last days before falling to the guillotine.

Humor flickered in his eyes as she plied him with obscure historical facts she’d picked up on her many visits, but there was genuine interest in them as well. They covered a lot of ground, eventually entering the wide pedestrian way of Rue de Lutèce, where she offered a blushing apology for rambling close to two hours.

“Don’t apologize.” His secret weapon dimples fired with his smile. “You promised me the nickel tour, remember?”