Defy the World Tomatoes (35 page)

“If you hadn’t grown on me, I’d not have sweet talked you into bed. I’m not in Paris just to see the sights either.”

“There, that’s what I mean,” he teased. “It doesn’t take much to get your back up.”

“And you actually find that appealing?” she asked incredulously.

“Oh hell, yes.” He leaned toward her. “When I turned sixteen, my mother sat me down and told me that I was not only a good-looking kid, but bright and talented as well. She warned that everything would come to me so easily, I’d probably not appreciate it. She was especially adamant that I not take advantage of the women who’d be drawn to me.”

“Isn’t that the type of talk a father usually has with his son?”

“I’ve no idea, is it? My dad was probably in court pulling some poor kid’s ass out of the fire. But regardless of who gave me that particular bit of advice, I remember the main point, which was if I expected everything to just naturally come my way, I’d never learn how to go after what I wanted on my own.”

Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “Your mother’s a wise woman, but hasn’t it occurred to you that being the chick magnet you are, you might be overly susceptible to a challenge?”

Highly amused, Griffin tried not to laugh. “I’ve never thought of myself as a magnet for anything other than lint, but you’re a lot more than a challenge, Darcy. You’re a very exciting woman.”

“Yeah, all the hot chicks go to work in overalls.”

His gaze brightened. “Don’t discount what you wear underneath.”

What she couldn’t discount was that she was no different from all the other women who’d adored him on sight. She’d just hidden it better than most to avoid being totally humiliated when her chances with him were slim to none. She’d never confess how easily he had gotten to her before he had spoken a single word.

“Every time I try to talk about us, you get awfully quiet, Darcy. That worries me. Do you want to spend the rest of your life alone?”

“No, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

The waiter arrived with their entrees, and Griffin let her end the conversation for the moment, but he was determined to wring at least one word of affection from her before they flew home.

His lamb chops were so good he wished he’d asked for a double order, while Darcy was merely picking at her curried chicken. “You mentioned avoiding red meat. Do you eat lamb?” he asked.

“No, they’re much too cute.”

“They’re also delicious. How about pork?”

“No, not since I saw
Babe
.”

“Piglets are awfully cute, I’ll agree, and apparently quite intelligent. I know better than to ask about veal, but you’re fine with fish and fowl?”

“Yes, and I love snails, lobster, and crab.”

Griffin took a sip of his Burgundy. “But you don’t care what I eat?”

“No, not at all. That’s your business. You’ve not made fun of me.”

“And you appreciate that?”

Darcy gestured with her fork, then caught herself, and laid it along the edge of her plate. “Yes, I’m very grateful. Now what is it you’re really after here?”

“Just a kind word is all. I’d hoped that you’d stumble across something you liked about me.”

She rolled her eyes. “When other women spew a fountain of compliments, I think you’d be glad I give your ears a rest.”

“You’re right, of course. Just as my mother warned, I’ve been spoiled by cascades of lavish praise, while you stubbornly refuse to accept compliments graciously.” He butted his fists together. “I’d say we pull each other toward the center. Such perfect balance is difficult to find.”

Darcy paused to take another bite of chicken. “Maybe we could borrow the chalkboard they use to list their daily specials and chart all our differences over dessert.”

“Sure. That sounds exciting.”

“You excite too easily.”

“Perhaps that’s what you like best about me.”

Darcy was about to respond with a suitably sarcastic reply when a car backfired out in the street. Her knife slipped from her grasp, clattered against her plate and brought disapproving glances from several of the café’s patrons.

She wiped her hands on her napkin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

“Of course you should. We can’t pretend nothing happened last night.”

She drew a deep breath, but it didn’t ease her mind. He had lain in wait for a man rather than allow them to be stabbed in their sleep. They would have killed a second man if he hadn’t committed suicide right in front of them. Then dear little Astrid had died. It was all more than she’d been prepared to face.

“I thought pretense was our only option,” she responded wistfully.

“I’ll show you another when we get back to the hotel.”

Darcy shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re the one with the dick, because I sure couldn’t get it up tonight.”

“Darcy!” Griffin fought to contain his laughter to a deep chuckle, then had to use his napkin to muffle the sound. “That’s another thing I love about you. No one talks to me the way you do, and I’m so sick of fawning women.”

“Well, no one’s ever mistaken me for Bambi. But just for the sake of argument, what if I were to fall madly in love with you and pay you effusive compliments all day long?”

When she quickly focused on her plate rather than wait for his reply, Griffin was hit with a blinding glimpse of the obvious. “Oh, Darcy, how can you believe that I’d ever tire of you?”

She shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Yeah, and a piano could fall out of the sky and crush us both while we’re out sightseeing tomorrow, but it’s highly unlikely.”

Darcy hadn’t meant to reveal so much and, badly embarrassed, she toyed with her food rather than argue. Up until now, she’d met a lot of boys masquerading as men, but here was Griffin, the genuine article, and she was terrified she wasn’t nearly woman enough for him.

She looked as though she were about to dive under the table to avoid him, and Griffin couldn’t bear to watch her squirm. “Would you like to call Christy Joy when we get back to the hotel and see how things are going at home? Or maybe you’d like to call your parents.”

Relieved he’d changed the subject, Darcy nodded. “Thanks. Maybe I will, but you better tell me what to say so I won’t get us both into trouble again.”

“Okay, but I don’t suppose there’s any hope of your saying any flowery stuff about me.”

She almost hoped he would write out some audacious script, because when it came to describing him, she had no clue where to begin.

Griffin took his time taking Darcy back to the Meurice. The evening was cool, but not too cold to be out for a walk. The glittering lights were beautiful, and he hoped the exercise would help her sleep. While she made the telephone calls from the bedroom, he sat at the piano and played Debussy’s “Le Mer” very softly.

Darcy waited in the doorway until he looked up. “Everyone says hello. I was afraid J. Lyle might want Twink to stay in San Francisco, but he called Christy Joy this morning, admitted he couldn’t keep up with his little girl and promised to bring her home today. I’d like to buy her a present while we’re here.”

“Sure. Does she like dolls?”

“Not really. She’ll probably skateboard and play soccer in a couple of years. She likes to draw and color, but as her father discovered, she’s a very active little girl.”

A teasing light sparkled in Griffin’s dark eyes. “Let’s buy her a drum.”

“Easy for you to say. She’ll not be banging on it in your house.”

“It was just a thought.” He was tempted to ask if she wanted children, then realized how poorly she’d react and thought better of it. “How are your folks?”

“Fine, and once I mentioned we were in Paris, they reminded me of the time the three of us were here together. No one asked any questions I couldn’t answer with the truth.”

“That’s a relief,” he replied. He played another few bars of Le Mer, and then paused. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this afternoon about having been a bird or squirrel. Do you really believe in past lives?”

“If being a squirrel qualifies, but let me ask you something. Do you feel any different than you did as a child? I realize our bodies age, but the part of you which is most you, your spirit or soul, do you feel your inner self aging?”

He played a final chord and left the bench to lean back against the piano with his arms casually folded across his chest. “No, but all the time you hear people say, ‘I’m eighty, but I don’t feel a day over twenty. It’s just seeing an old man in the mirror that’s a shock.’”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I mean, and if our spirits don’t age, why would they die?”

“Excellent question. Philosophers and theologians may have debated it for centuries, but you’ve convinced me it’s true.”

Appearing skeptical, Darcy came toward him. “Are you saying that your experience supports my theory, or are you simply trying to be agreeable?”

“Your theory makes perfect sense to me,” he swore. “I told you I was never really a child. But it sure would be helpful if we could remember what we’d learned in our last life so we’d not have to start from scratch every time we’re born.”

“Maybe if we remembered, we might mourn for what we’d lost and ruin our chances for happiness in this life.”

“A valid point, and this whole line of inquiry will give us something new to contemplate while we sit in my Zen garden.”

“Yes, I can imagine post-it notes stuck all over the back with questions worthy of further thought.”

“When we get home, remind me to leave post-it notes and pencils out there with the rake.”

“Will do.” She leaned against him. “This was a lovely day, thank you.”

He ran his fingertip along her cheek. “It’s not over yet, is it?”

In response, she unbuttoned his shirt, laid her ear upon his chest and listened closely. “Hmm, your heart’s still beating. That’s a very good sign we might hope for more.”

He wrapped his arms around her to press her closer still. Her reticence to say she cared for him when she gave affection so freely confused him completely. She’d claimed to be very particular about her partners, so he knew she didn’t just love sex. She had to care for him too, but he wished she’d just come out and admit it.

He swung her up into his arms, carried her into the bed and dropped her in the middle. “Where’s that lavender nightgown?” he asked.

“You like it?”

“
Oui
. You look delicious in lace, but first, let’s take that bath you jumped out of last night.”

After being out all afternoon, she did feel a mite gritty. “That sounds wonderful. Give me a minute and I’ll fill the tub.”

She entered the bathroom and looked through the bottles of salts, bubble bath, creams and perfumed oils. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she turned on the tap and added some of each to the tub. She quickly slipped off her clothes and opened the door before climbing in.

Griffin paused at the doorway where the combined fragrances nearly bowled him over. “Are you daring me to go to bed smelling good enough to eat?”

“I sure am.” Darcy flung a handful of soapy bubbles at him.

“You’re on.” Griffin kicked off his loafers. He couldn’t understand how any woman could be so invitingly playful one minute and maddeningly aloof the next. If she kept it up much longer, she might run the risk of his drowning her in some fancy bathtub. Then he remembered how they’d used the shower at his house.

“What are you laughing about?” she called.

“Private joke,” he insisted as he slipped into the tub behind her. He reached around her to roll her soapy nipples between his fingers and thumbs.

She relaxed against him and looped her arms around his thighs. “I’ve long been of the opinion that adults don’t have nearly enough time to play.”

“You’re just full of opinions today, aren’t you? Fortunately, I agree. We’re a little old for a sandbox, but could we suspend a swing from the wisteria arbor?”

Darcy wiggled her bottom against his erection. “One we could use together?”

“Sure, although I do have exposed beams in my bedroom. Maybe we ought to put it in there.”

“I’d say that all depends on what you intend to do in your swing.”

Griffin traced a meandering trail from her breasts down over her flat stomach to the soft nest between her legs. “I can think of several amusing pastimes.”

As he described them, his faint accent turned each word into the most enticing possibility. She floated on his honeyed whispers as much as his knowing touch. He knew just where to lightly graze her skin, and where to apply gentle pressure. It wasn’t just his great hands she loved, though
—
it was all of him.

“Of course, the motion of the swing should make every sensation more intense,” he added.

Darcy let her head drop back on his shoulder. “I like the way you think.”

He pulled her across his lap to kiss her, but kept up his intimate massage. Next, he dipped his head to draw a tightly puckered nipple into his mouth. He sucked and licked until her whole body grew warmer than the water.