The Accidental Mistress (3 page)

Chapter Two

Zuri strolled back through the hotel’s
lobby. Taking her time, she admired the pearl grey floors and
Grecian décor. Almost to the revolving front door, the soft
tinkling of piano keys beckoned.

She looked around, her eyes
finally falling on a sign, which read,
Bernard's Bar
. With the spicy taste
of red wine coating her tongue and a bit of rebellion stiffening
her spine, she contemplated celebrating her birthday,
differently.

Joi was right. She’s the one hiding from the
world. Swinging her purse at her side, she entered the bar. It was
empty except for three men staring into their drinks.

As she approached, several heads lifted.
Their eyes fixated on her reflection beyond the bottles of liquor
and lights along the mirrored wall. Zuri didn't shy away from their
leers, even though she found the stranger's mostly too old and
unwelcoming to be real prospects for conversation.

"What can I get for you pretty lady?"

"A red wine."

The bartender smiled. "Merlot, Cabernet,
Pinot?"

"Um... Merlot."

"Got some ID for me, beautiful?"

Zuri blushed. "Yeah, I do." she reached in
her purse and the box of condoms lifted into view. Zuri quickly
tried to cover, but the bartender leaned in with a wolfish
grin.

She found her license between her ATM card
and her student ID and turned it over for the bartender. He gave it
a cursory glance and then reached for a wine goblet.

Zuri fixated on her image in the mirror
behind the bar. She had gone all out to look mature. She was quite
impressed with her dark locks curled past her shoulders and her
raised bust line under her coat.

***

Christophe chose a corner table. The octagon
shaped bar made his choice the best for obscurity. He sipped his
scotch, counting down the minutes of the evening. Maybe he could
drink the sun in. He didn't want to go upstairs to the empty bed
awaiting him. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. He sure
as hell didn't want what the courier had left for him in a brown
envelope at the concierge desk.

He arrived at Bernard's just minutes before
she did. She entered and instantly his interest piqued. Her long
and slender legs and her graceful stride were enough as his gaze
followed her to her seat.

Strange that she would be in this hotel, on
this night. He tossed down the scotch. She was quite beautiful.
After Gabriella, he should be leery. Still he couldn't tear his
eyes away.

***

"What's your name?"

A lean man with bifocals and breath of vodka
sprayed the question. Zuri stiffened; she glanced over to him and
tried to decide if it was safe for her to answer. Before she could,
Mr. Stinky Breath put a hand to her back, leaned in and looked down
at her breasts. "You got big tits. How much?"

"Please don't touch me," she said shifting
her body forward on her bar stool to make his hand drop. But it
just slipped down her backside. Her eyes stretched in alarm. "Yeah,
you got a nice ass too. How much?"

"I said don't touch me."

"Or what? You a working girl, aren't you!"
he barked at her.

Zuri shriveled a bit.

"The lady said back off."

Her gaze turned to the stranger behind them.
It was her stranger from the restaurant.

"Now move on."

The drunk stammered an apology, grabbed his
drink and staggered out to one of the tables. Zuri released a deep
sigh. "Thank you. Thank you very much. He just wouldn't stop."

"You okay?"

Mon Dieu, he's tall. What
is he, six-six?
She had to careen her neck
back to get a glimpse of his handsome face. Thankfully, he didn't
stand in too close as she noticed the way his toned body dominated
what appeared to be an expensive suit.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

"Yes," Zuri smiled, finding his concern
endearing. "Thank you."

"Christophe." He extended his hand.

"Zuri."

"Beautiful name. It was nice meeting you,
Zuri." The stranger's gaze softened. She found it sexy that a man
could smile with his eyes. "Have a good night," he said, tossing
bills on the bar to pay his tab. He turned and walked away.

Where did he come
from
? She didn't see him when she entered.
And for the second time that night he left her spellbound.
Disappointed, Zuri turned back to her wine. She downed it fast.
"Can I have another please?"

***

Christophe wasn't the kind of guy who
rescued damsels in distress. She compelled him to be chivalrous yet
again. Thankfully, when she smiled he came to his senses. Women in
need of rescue only meant trouble his mother would say. He
abandoned the idea of a nightcap in the bar and decided to take one
in his room.

"Mr. Montague! Excuse me, Mr. Montague?"

Christophe stopped. The hotel clerk caught
up with him. When he turned, she was panting before him. In her
hand was the envelope he'd avoided all day. He didn't need proof.
But his mother had insisted on it. Christophe knew there was no
need in avoiding it. There wasn't enough scotch in him to take his
mind off of it.

"This came for you sir. We were given strict
orders to deliver it to you personally. I tried your room."

"Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

Christophe sucked down a stilted breath. The
weight of his pride and troubled heart was tucked away in the brown
envelope. It's where he should leave it. But he was never a man to
leave loose ends. He eased open the fold and removed the
glossies.

***

Who was she kidding? Picking up a guy in a
bar on her birthday wasn't her. It was insanity, and maybe even
dangerous.

Zuri dug deep, fingers searching the side
pocket in her purse for her parking ticket, while trying to keep
the box of condoms concealed. She felt giddy and light-headed for
no apparent reason than the second glass of wine.

As her pulse buzzed in her ears, she had no
choice but to reconsider her father's warning that she shouldn't be
driving. Her birthday was officially a bust. She sat there a minute
longer and then summon the strength make it to her sister's
room.

"Johnny Walker Blue and make it a pour," A
deep smoky voice spoke.

Slowly her gaze lifted. Her hero had
returned. He didn't acknowledge her. His eyes seemed to be fastened
on the bottles of liquor the bartender went through. His lips
pressed into a tight thin line making the muscle in his jaw
twitch.

"Decided on another?" she asked.

He seemed surprise to find her next to him.
"So it seems," he said.

Curious, Zuri watched the bartender pour
amber liquid from a blue label into a snifter and set a small glass
of water next to it.

Elbows on the bar, she leaned her face in
her hands and stared, fascinated with his choice of drinks.

Christophe took it down in a gulp, hissed
through his swallow and chased it with a shot of water. He gave a
nod to the bartender who poured him another.

"What kind of drink is that?" she asked.

"It's a perfect pour," he said dryly.

"I gather that, but you don't like it much.
You drink water after?"

He chuckled deep in his throat. "That's the
point. You sip and then you savor it on your palate by chasing it
with cold water. Want to try?"

Zuri sat up too quickly. A bout of dizziness
hit her and she swore stars danced before her eyes.

"It's safe," he said.

She shook off the mental wave of delirium,
and forced herself to sit up straight.

"Yeah, um, okay."

He eased his drink down to her.

"It's her birthday," the bartender
added.

"Is that so?" asked Christophe.

"Wow, how did you know?" Zuri smiled.

"I pay attention to the little things like
your ID for starters. She's twenty-one today," the bartender
offered. Christophe's stare became a bit more enticing, shifting
between shades of blue and violet.

Was it the lighting? Suddenly she felt sexy.
Zuri nodded and tossed her chin up in a false show of confidence.
"Yes, today is my day."

"Well happy birthday, Zuri."

"Thank you. Now how do I do this?"

He sat in the bar seat next to her and
dropped his arm on the back of her chair. "You can tell a lot by
how a person handles a perfect pour."

"Um, okay," she nodded.

"Personally, I prefer to hold the snifter at
its stem, between your thumb and your ring finger."

Zuri did as he instructed, and the bartender
moved on to a young couple who arrived at the other end of the bar.
She glanced up for Christophe's approval and the sexy curl to his
lips made her dizzy once more. So, she refocused on the drink.

"Swirl the scotch."

She tried but it sloshed around the wide
circumference of the snifter glass. His hand came over hers and he
assisted. "What's in it? I mean I know it’s alcohol, but is it
scotch?" she asked, believing there was something more to the story
of the whisky. She had read it somewhere.

"Ah, this is a first for you, isn't it? You
a virgin?"

"Huh?" she said in a hurried, revealing
voice.

"Not a drinker of the malts are you?" he
chuckled. She blushed. "It's a good shot of scotch, a mix of about
seventeen different rare whiskeys. The grain is aged for more than
sixty years."

"Scotch... from Scotland right?"

"Give the lady a blue ribbon."

"Are you from Scotland?" she asked, liking
the flow of the conversation.

"No, are you?"

"Funny," she chuckled. "Okay, so I've
swirled it. What next?"

"You want to take your time and inhale the
aroma."

She did. It wasn't the normal stench that
alcohol had for her. She liked the fragrance. It was smoky, smooth
and strong, a lot like him.

"Now, this is important." He moved in on
her. Not in the creepy way the other man had, but in a way that
made her straighten her back and heave up her chest to entice him
to stay close.

His hand lifted. Suddenly, fingers moved her
tresses and tucked her thick strands behind her ear. It was the
most sensual gesture, which made her heart flutter as if many
butterflies were trapped inside. And his voice, though deep like
timber, was now a personal whisper. "You don't sip but you swallow.
It's your first shot of scotch. It has to be all or none or you
might abandon the relationship forever. So take it down fast and
think of the taste later. And when the scotch sears your throat,
torches your tongue, and warms you from the center of your chest,
it will spread through you like a bushfire."

"Bush fire? Are you a poet?" she
grinned.

"In another life," he chuckled. "Afterwards
you smooth it out with the water. Bring the blaze down a bit."

She dared a glance. Now she
knew the truth. His eyes were indeed violet, under those dreamy
lids, and straight silky black brows. They were too beautiful for a
man's face. Looking in them, she was reminded of the waters of the
hot springs deep in the mangroves near
Mount Pelée
. The blue green waters in
the cool morning were often a crystal clear shade of violet with a
slow moving mist hovering over the still waves.

Zuri sobered instantly. Nodding that she
understood, she did what he said. The bite of alcohol hit her hard
and her reflex was to gag. She picked up the water and sipped, then
drank the rest hurriedly. Setting the glass down and panting, she
stretched her eyes wide, reacting to the even layered taste.

“
Excellent,” he said,
finally moving away.

Zuri laughed, hand to chest. “That was....
wow. Johnny Walker Blue?”

“
A perfect pour," he said,
nodding to the bartender to fix them another.

Zuri took down two more shots again, and
again, enjoying the ritual.

“
Slow down, sweetheart. It
has a kick.”

She burped. She blushed. “Excooose me.”

It’s Christophe's turn to laugh.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Twenty-seven," he confessed.

"You seem much older," Zuri said.

"I get that a lot. It's mostly my
height."

"Yeah, you taaaalllll!" she caught the base
in her voice and quickly tried to lower it. "Sorry, but um, it's
been a day."

"And what kind of day is that, birthday
girl?" he asked, tossing back his fourth shot. He was actually
making conversation. That made her even more nervous. She accepted
the next shot of whiskey because it did wonders for her confidence
and loosening her tongue. "Um, I graduated today."

"From college?"

"Northwestern."

"Wow, Impressive, and on your birthday?"

"On my birthday. The official commencement
ceremony is in June," she hiccupped. "This is yummy. Can I have
another one?" she asked the bartender after she finished.

"Are you staying in the hotel?" Christophe
pressed.

"No, my family is. I," she hiccupped, "I...
got an apartment all by myself."

Christophe shook his head, his brows dropped
with concern. "You know, it's not really safe for you to drink and
chat up strangers. You’re too beautiful to do this alone."

"Thank you, I think?"

She noticed how he gave a command to the
bartender with his eyes that stopped the shots from coming. She
tried drinking down the water to dilute the alcohol, but it didn't
work. Her head began to swim. "I um, gonna go home." She flopped
off the stool and landed on her feet. Her legs went to jelly.

"Hey, careful," he said helping steady her
on her feet.

"I don't think I feel right," she slurred,
her forehead bumping his chest.

She felt his hand close around her arm.
"I'll call you a cab. Have the concierge desk call you one. Come
on."