The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel (8 page)

BOOK: The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel
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“And I’m sorry, too,” she said. “For the cheap shot. Please forgive me.”

“But I deserved it. I shouldn’t have kissed you. And now I need to apologize to you.” He nodded his head. “I’m so very sorry.”

She was flabbergasted. Because somehow she knew apology wasn’t anything that came to him easily and was likely even more rare. “Are you now.”


Oui
,” he said, smiling briefly. He reached out to her, his thumb tracing a line down her jaw. “I want you to like me. If only for a little while. It’ll make things easier.”

She laughed, incredulous. “As if this situation needs more complications.”

He looked to the water and back. “You said this place brings you clarity. So perhaps I’ve had a bit of my own. We’re attracted to each other, Charlotte. We’ve both admitted to it. But whether or not we act on it anymore really doesn’t matter because it’s out there.” He stretched out his arms as if holding a rifle. “Boom!” he said, pulling the imaginary trigger. “Now our elephant’s dead.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Charlotte said. “I really like elephants.”

He waved her off. “Oh, I just shot a bullet over her head. See? She’s still there.” He pointed toward the street and where Lucy still loomed. “I just chased her off.”

“Well that’s good. But the problem is, she
is
still there.”

“Though not
between
us anymore,” he said. “She’s out in the open.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” he said. “When you decide, I’ll be right here waiting.”

“Hm . . .” she mused, crossing her arms as she turned to walk back. “Ought to be an interesting next couple of days. But it’s not like we should lack for conversation. There’s still your little problem.”


Oui
, there’s that,” Rex said, chucking another oyster shell into the water. He fell in step beside her. “If anything, what’s between us will teach me tolerance. Strengthen me to not go chasing after
les filles
in the future.”

She slanted a glance at him. “I’m not sure I know how to take that.”

He laughed. “Let me put it this way. Resisting you will no doubt drain my very reserves.”

“Let’s try to stay on topic.” She had to. Because resisting him would be just as daunting. “So if you’re innocent—and I do believe you—why would she accuse you? What’s in it for her? Do you think she’s just out to get your money?”

“That would make sense if it were just the girl behind it. With the way she looks, why would she pick on me? Not to seem smug, but there are too many old letches out there that’d be easier targets.” He looked at her, as if obvious. “I don’t think I’m quite in that category. Not yet, anyway.”

Absolutely not
. “So you don’t think she’s acting alone.”

“I thought that the moment she started screaming. I should have realized it when she got so insistent about my ripping her panties.” His mouth crooked. “To tell the truth, even though I’ve heard the request before it’s always been, how shall we say . . . spontaneous.”

“Yes, okay, all right,” Charlotte said, not really wanting the details. “Any ideas who might be behind her?”

“You mean if there’s anyone out there who would like to see me ruined?” He laughed with honest mirth. “The queue would probably stretch around the world. Including a few women whose panties I
have
ripped.”

“Way too much information,” Charlotte said, veering toward the water.

Rex pulled her back before the surf broke halfway up her leg. “The thing is, I have no idea. I’m well aware there are people who hate me, but to do this?” He just shook his head.

“I think the congresswoman should be at the top of the list for taking your phone, but at this point that seems incidental. One may have nothing to do with the other.”

“Yet I can’t help thinking everything that happened that night is somehow connected.” He threw a frustrated hand in the air. “Lilith should have had that bill up for a vote a long time ago. Why didn’t she just do it? I don’t understand.”

“Why do people do anything? Really, it’s all for the same reasons. It’s all about power, I guess. Or sex. Money.” She looked at him. “Even love.”

“In which case at least three out of four are involved.”

“Who knows? Maybe it was love.” The wind gusted, and she pulled the jacket closer. “Haven’t you ever been in love, Rex? It can make you do strange things sometimes .”

He looked at her, smiling vaguely. “I’m sure it can. Are you speaking from experience?”

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever been was in love. Perhaps I thought I was. The only thing I do know is that men most definitely make me crazy. I’m still trying to figure them out.”

He switched sides with her as the swells started getting rougher. “You might call it your life’s work.”

“You might,” she said. “You know I really am sorry about what I said before. I think sometime I get a little too wrapped up in my own dogma.”

“Or not deep enough into it. True feminism encompasses either sex, doesn’t it? All it really means is working toward the advancement of women.”

“That’s right,” Charlotte said. “Though that statement’s definitely in the minority with how most men feel. At least in my experience.”

Before long they were back at the top of the beach, both sharing a little laugh over the value of their shoes versus the economic strata of her neighborhood.

“Some of these homes are legacies from the time the average middle-class worker could afford a vacation house,” Charlotte said. “Now you’d need at least six figures a year.”

“You mean lunch money?” he said, at which Charlotte shot him a smirk. “If that’s true, it also means you’ll have to do a whole lot better than those Louboutins if you expect your shoes to be stolen.”

“Okay,” she said, looping her fingers into her shoes. “Next time I’ll leave Hermès.” They walked up the driveway, Charlotte stopping at the garage door. “We should get our stuff out of the . . .” She trailed off.

“Car,” he finished, his gaze locking onto hers.

All at once she was flooded with trepidation.
What now?
she thought. They’d get their clothes out of the car and then go inside and there’d they be, in this suddenly tiny little house with the two of them and the elephant once again, crammed between them.

“She’s not here,” Rex said, reading her mind. “Remember? We shot that bullet over her hear. She took off.”

But it was only a warning shot, Charlotte knew. She was still there but just off to the side, still watching, still waiting.

They got their bags and went inside, both dropping them to the kitchen floor.

“Charlotte,” Rex said, turning toward her, right back where they were before.

 

Chapter Eight

Egg MacGuffin

“C
HARLOTTE . . .” REX
said, his rumbling baritone prickling her skin with the very sound of her name. He gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “I need to ask you something.”

They were alone now—really alone, the vacant street, the closed door, the emptiness of the house, all working to seal them in. Charlotte fell into his gaze, the jacket still around her feeling as close as it could get to his actual embrace.

“What?” she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears.

His hand slid lightly down her arm and he smiled a bit sheepishly “Charlotte,” he said, “I’m ready to gnaw the furniture. Can we please go get something to eat?”

“Is that it?” She sighed. Although whether it was from relief or disappointment, she couldn’t say. In all actuality, she wanted to smack him. “Oh. Sure.”

He eyed her with trepidation. “What, were you expecting—”

“I don’t know what I was expecting.” She pulled off his jacket, tossing it at him. “Damn you and your goddamned sexy voice. I’ll bet you can read a menu and make it sound like pornography.”

He stared at her a moment, then burst into laughter. “Right now even a piece of toast sounds pretty decadent to me. But if you’re expecting more . . .” He leaned in, kissing her lightly on each cheek. “Just let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige.”

Charlotte pulled back, peeved. “Goddamned Frenchmen. I know too many of them. And they all give me a pain in the ass.”

He tilted his head, scoping her
derrière
. “And a fine little
cul
it is.”

She threw him a scowl, grabbing her overnighter.

“Hey.” He looked around. “What time is it?”

She glanced at his wrist. “Didn’t I see you wearing a Hublot in Boston?”

“You don’t wear a thirty-thousand-dollar watch to go begging for money.”

“But five-thousand-dollar cuff links are all right?”

He lifted that Gallic nose in indignation. “How do you suppose I was to close my cuffs?”

“The clock’s just over your head, above the sink,” she said. “Sheesh.”

He turned. “Two o’clock! No wonder I’m starving.”

“Just give me ten minutes to clean up.” She brushed the front of her skirt. “I think I’m still covered in all the vacuuming I didn’t get a chance to do this week.”

“Explain this
vacuuming
,” he said, eyes narrowing in faux curiosity. “Is it some kind of a native term?”

“Oh Jesus Christ . . .” She sighed, shaking her head. “If you’d like to crawl out of that socioeconomic bubble for a bit, there’s a bathroom right behind you, though I’m sure not as elegant as you’re used to.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed the distinct lack of a bidet, but I’ve been known to slum now and then.” He set his own bag on the table, rummaging through it. “I’ll survive.”

“I sincerely hope so. When I’m through there’s a nice little café not far from here we can walk to. You remember walking, right?” She left for the upstairs.

My God
, she thought.
I can’t imagine what he’s thinking
.

M
ON DIEU,
I
can’t imagine what she’s thinking
. Rex peeked around the kitchen archway, watching that gorgeous little
cul
traipse up the stairs.

Screw thinking
. What the hell was he going to
do
? He left for the bathroom, unable to think of anything beyond the visceral at the moment, leaning over the toilet as he drained himself of the morning’s bad coffee. From the upstairs he heard Charlotte turn on the shower, and he was half tempted to run up and jump in with her. Then his belly rumbled and he remembered how much harder it was to run this engine on an empty tank.

Goddamn—he was
starving
.

What a day it had been. And it was hardly past two p.m. So far he’d woken up in jail, stood before a judge, dropped five mil on a bond, was nearly brained with a brick, got kicked out of Philadelphia on the threat of being blown up, outran a tail—all to land in some godforsaken town on the New Jersey coast, complete with voyeuristic cops and a six-story high wooden elephant. He shook and flushed. Not his usual morning. But then again, there was that hot little
avocate
and some stellar scotch tossed into the mix, just to make things interesting.

Christ almighty, he could still taste her on his lips. A rather nice taste at that.

He turned to the sink and set the water running, washing his face and wetting down his hair. He opened his shaving kit and found his toothbrush, and scrubbing his teeth, brought himself back to a semblance of normal.

Normal
. Is that what this was?

Normal on his last trip stateside was the Hay-Adams in D.C., drinking Stoli martinis and banging the congresswoman in the elevator.

Between floors, of course.

Oui
, now
that
was normal. Or at least it had been. Until everything suddenly went wrong. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to find out how that happened holed up in some off-season tourist town. He slipped off his tie and opened his collar, reflexively checking his hip pocket. “
Merde
.” He’d really like to get who stole his goddamned phone so he could break their fucking neck.

And he would, too. After he found a way out of here. And for that he needed to make a phone call.

From upstairs, he could hear Charlotte’s shower just shutting off. He left for the kitchen and the landline on the wall. Did it work? Or was it just some relic from a World War II war bride? He picked it up—a tone hummed in his ear. He started to dial, then stopped halfway. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but since the cops had already come to the house, maybe they were listening as well.

This was America, after all. He set the receiver back on the hook.

Better to find a pay phone somewhere or get one of those cheap phones they kept behind the counter at the 7–Eleven. Paranoid or not, he was charged with a felony and out on bail, and that was a sticky situation no matter what country he was in.

No watch, no phone. He felt almost naked—and without the benefits. He glanced at the wall clock. Two-fifteen. Had he been in Marseille he’d just be finishing off a salad and a nice Grenache, with either a board member or his latest
objet d’affection
, if she still had his attention from the night before.

Was that what Charlotte was? He heard her moving things around upstairs, imagining her stepping into her panties and slinging those luscious
seins
into her bra. Shame. He’d like them better out of it. He’d like them heavy in his hands where he could caress and squeeze them, lower his mouth to them, run his tongue over . . .

He cleared his throat. And moved away from where he could hear her and toward the next room. After just one kiss, Rex quickly learned Charlotte wasn’t the type to be toyed with, no matter how much she shivered and sighed. And no matter how much he wanted to make her do it again.

He entered through an archway into a large room, all arranged in a simple chic style. A dining area on one side, the living room with overstuffed cane furniture on the other, a screened-in porch just out the front door, hardwood flooring with the occasional rugs scattered around. And off to one side the stairs, and Charlotte just coming down them.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” she said. She wore no makeup, her damp hair piled in the back of her head into a kind of curly froth, her shoes low leather sandals that matched the color of her simple sleeveless dress. “I know you’re probably as hungry as I am, so I just threw myself together so we could go eat.”

Rex perched on the edge of the sofa, pleased with what he saw. “If that’s how you throw yourself together I’d sure like to see when you make the effort. You look lovely.”

“Oh stop,” she said, blushing slightly as she grabbed a sweater out of the closet. “I already know you’re hot for me, so save it.”

Yet her blithe attempt to blow him off only irked him. He latched hold of her hand as she passed. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She slipped away from him and toward the kitchen. “If you really meant it, you wouldn’t have to say it.”

“What kind of sense does that make?” he asked, going after her. “Christ, he really must have been a dick, right?”

She fumbled with something in her purse, not looking up. “Aren’t they all?”

“I’d like to meet that asshole who took you for granted,” he said, slipping his arms around her. “All you’d have to do is ask and I’d pound him right into the ground. And you know why?”

“No,” she said, looking up. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He kissed her forehead. “Because, damnit, I’m starting to find out I
like
you.” He tipped her chin with his finger. “So be honest. Is that going to ruin our relationship?”

She stared at him a moment, then she laughed, slapping his chest. “Oh my God, let’s go eat, okay? I’ve so had it with dicks for a while.”

“Hey,” he said, following her out.

T
HEY WALKED TO
a little café a few blocks away, which had about a half-dozen tables outside. Away from the beach the temperature was warmer, Charlotte slinging her sweater along the back of her chair, Rex grateful he’d left his jacket at the house. With his tie off and the few top buttons of his shirt open he felt quite the libertine, as usually his stateside visits were all work and no play—no matter the degree of his indulgences—warranting his usual business attire. But there in the salt air and afternoon sun, sated by a tolerable bottle of local wine and an asparagus omelette, Rex felt able to breathe for the first time in over twenty-four hours. And it wasn’t only because he was starting to form a plan. It was also because of the woman sitting next to him, and the not-so-placating admission he’d just made. For all their blathering and fussing, he really
did
like her.

And because of that, he also needed to find out if her could trust her.

They sat facing the street, cars and pedestrians crossing and cruising past them, as Rex eyed the dinosaur on the corner. Not the kind that Charlotte accused him of being, but one of the more recent kind.

“I have to make a call,” he said, sipping his wine.

Charlotte grabbed her purse, saying around a mouthful of omelette, “You con huse ma hone.”

“What?” He leaned in, grinning wickedly. “Swallow,
chere
.”

She did, her brow arching. “I said, you can use my phone.”

“No.” He slung his arm over her shoulder, leaning in. “Not for this.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My boss.”

“Oh.
Him
.” She retrieved her phone, holding it out. “You can still use it. Go ahead.”

He wrapped his hand around it, guiding it back to her purse. In the split-second he had to figure, he pondered again whether to tell her. Ultimately he knew he’d have to. “Thanks, but no. I’m contemplating something illegal, and I’d rather not leave a trail.”

“You
are
?” Her face lit up. “What? Can I help?”

He was surprised how relieved he was at her reaction. “You just might,” he said, his finger twirling a curl at her neck. “I need you to cover for me while I dash down to Washington.”

“You—you want to go down to D.C.?” When he nodded, she stared at him, aghast. “But that’s jumping bail. It’s bad enough we’re here in Margate, but at least the cops know about it. Why would you deliberately jeopardize your case? Do you want to be thrown into jail?”

“No, I want to find out why I was arrested to begin with.”

“But why would you think the answer’s in D.C.?”

“Because that’s where all the players are.”

Charlotte was mystified. “So you’re thinking it was the lobbyist or the congresswoman who set you up?”

Rex dug into his pocket for change. He couldn’t remember the last time he used a pay telephone, let alone an American one. “It could be either one of them, but I’m not going to find out from up here.”

“But what’s the point?” Charlotte said. “As bad as it seems now, maybe you won’t need to prove your innocence. This is turning out to be a classic case of he said/she said. If there’s no forensic evidence, then the charges have no teeth. That’ll come out in the investigation.”

“The point is why did it happen in the first place?” He rubbed his chin, his beard bristling. “The only thing that connects me to Washington is that dredging bill. What other reason would anyone have to discredit me or Mercier or both? But I only have until Thursday to find out who is out to nail me and why.”

“Because after Thursday Congress clears out of town until after the November elections.”


Oui
.”

Charlotte set down her fork. “Or, more specifically, the congresswoman?”

“That’s about as specific as it gets.” He took a sip of wine, his gut roiling with that realization.

Charlotte gripped his arm. “So to prove your innocence you’ll need to confront the congresswoman—”

“—who’s down in Washington and has a fifty/fifty chance of losing her seat.”

“And if she does, that’ll make her a lame duck, then the bill and—”

“—the mystery dies with her.” He lifted his wine in salute. “
Exactement
.”

“Oh God.” She backed up. “Don’t tell me we’re finishing each other’s sentences.”

“It appears so.” He took one more sip of wine and got up. “I’ll be right back.”

The pay phone was outside a pawnshop and Western Union, looking as neglected and forlorn as those dinosaurs of the pre–cell phone age typically did. As with the house phone and all similarly abandoned instruments, Rex wanted to make sure it still worked, so he picked up the receiver, listening for a dial tone. He heard one so he dropped in a couple of coins and dialed, knowing full well Marcel wouldn’t answer a strange number. And since he couldn’t text him to let him know who it was, Rex knew he’d have to leave a voice message.

“Call me back ASAP.”

He hung up to wait. In less than a minute, the pay phone rang.

BOOK: The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel
13.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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