Paris Heat

* * * *

After a delicious cup of cafe au lait at the first sidewalk cafe they came to, they continued on until they reached the Boulevard St. Michel. Taking Trish's hand and ignoring the fact the traffic lights were against them, Guy closed his ears to her protests and steered her safely through the speeding traffic to the other side.

'You could've gotten us killed,' she said, as they turned into a narrow side street. 'I can't believe the drivers let us through. They were all going so fast, it's a miracle they were able to avoid hitting us. You have a death wish or something?'

'No.' He frowned, looking vaguely confused. 'That's the way I always cross a street.'

'If you do that in Toronto, you'll risk getting a ticket for jay-walking.'

He laughed and squeezed her hand. 'So I discovered. I told the officer I was a tourist, and he said he'd let me off this once, but next time I should wait for the 'walk' sign.'

'And did you?'

'No. The next time I did it, I just made sure there were no cops around.'

It was Trish's turn to laugh. 'You're incorrigible as well as insatiable.'

'And you find that to be a bad thing?'

'No.' Trish turned her head to look at him and the moment she saw the mischief dancing in his dark eyes a surge of raw need rushed through her body, and she wanted him all over again. Even more than she'd wanted him the last time. 'It's just…'

He stopped walking, slipped his forefinger beneath her chin and lifted her face up toward his own, leaving the pedestrians to squeeze past the best way they could. 'It's just what?'

'You. Paris. Me. I'm really a very unadventurous person. Until I met you, I never took chances or tried new things. That's why my last boyfriend dumped me. He said I needed to loosen up and get with the program.'

'Perhaps with him you didn't want to loosen up. Do you think that might be possible?'

'Maybe. I'm not sure.' In Trish's view, sex was something that should happen naturally and be enjoyable for both parties. Unfortunately, sex with Stuart had been something to be endured rather than enjoyed. He'd always wanted to try out weird stuff he'd read about in a sex manual like it was a science project. And she'd refused because, knowing Stuart, he'd have blamed her if the project failed. Anyway, the thought of allowing Stuart to tie her up and tickle her with a feather had sounded about as romantic as a bowl of cold, lumpy porridge, so she'd lied by telling him she had a headache and needed to go home.

'Do you still care about this old boyfriend?'

'No. Why?'

'Not even a tiny little bit?'

'No.'

'In that case, with your permission, I will teach you to fly. Metaphorically speaking, of course.'

If the lessons were to be anything like the one he'd given her earlier that day, she could hardly wait. 'You think you can?'

He drew himself up straight. 'You doubt my abilities in that regard?'

'No. It's me I'm worried about. Like I said, I'm not the adventurous type. Anyway, I think we should move. We're holding up traffic,' she said, as a woman glared at her as she pushed past.

At the end of the next block, Trish noticed several Greek restaurants lining one side of the street. Most of them had signs outside advertising the day's menu plus the owner or an employee standing in the doorway, trying to lure customers inside.

'My God! I love Greek food it's my absolute favorite,' she said, looking up at Guy. 'Do you know if any of these places are good? Or are they just tourist traps?'

'This part of the Left Bank is full of restaurants that cater to tourists, but I live only a short distance from here and there is one a little farther on where I go quite often. The food there is excellent.'

'Can we forget Le Cafe and go there instead?'

'But of course.'

Like most Greek restaurants, the one Guy took her to was orchestrated pandemonium with the constant crash of pots, pans and plates, and waiters shouting at the tops of their voices, making conversation virtually impossible.

When they'd finished eating and had drunk the bottle of retsina Guy had ordered, he settled the check and they left the restaurant. Trish wanted to see the River Seine, so they walked down le Boulevard Mich, as Guy said it was known locally, a couple of blocks to where the Ile de la Cite and the river separated the city into the Left Bank and the Right Bank.

'So, where do you live?' Trish asked, leaning on the low protective wall and gazing first down at the water and then in awe at the sheer Gothic splendor of Notre Dame Cathedral.

He gestured to the right. 'My apartment is down there, at the end of the quai. No more than a short walk away. Would you like to see it?'

'What about your car?'

'It's quite safe where it is. It won't run away.'

'You sure someone won't try to steal it?'

'If they do, it's insured. I'll get another one.'

'Just like that?'

'Exactly like that.' He turned her around to face him. 'I don't want to think about cars or anything else. I just want to think about you. Je te veux, cherie.'

'Yes, I know.'

'And?'

'I want you, too. Very much.' As far as Trish was concerned, the sexy look in Guy's eyes and the husky quality of his voice was all the turn-on she needed. She knew she was putty in his hands, totally at his mercy, but instead of letting the knowledge bother her the way it probably should-and definitely would have with any other man-she was relishing every second. For the first time in her life, she was finally letting go and throwing caution out the window. She'd come to Paris for romance and adventure, and she'd found it. She was head over heels in love, or maybe it was simply lust, with a handsome stranger, and the fact their relationship couldn't last was neither here nor there. Time enough for her to get back to being serious and responsible once her vacation was over.

* * * *

Guy's apartment comprised the entire top floor of a beautiful old, six-story building that he told Trish had been erected around the time of the French Revolution. The rooms were large and airy, and the views from the huge windows were spectacular. Guy pointed out the Eiffel Tower, the Pantheon, the Louvre, city hall, and in the very far distance, Sacre-Coeur, along with a bunch of other places that meant nothing to Trish. But, hopefully, before her trip was over, she would have visited most if not all of them.

'Would you like something to drink?' Guy asked as he opened the double doors of what looked to Trish like a temperature-controlled wine and liquor cabinet. 'I also have cold beer and sodas in the kitchen. Or I could make coffee or tea if you prefer.'

'A nice cold cola sounds good. That wine made me feel sleepy.'

As Guy disappeared to fetch the drinks, Trish unzipped her hoodie, removed her purse and set it on a nearby table, and then she stretched out on a nearby sofa strewn with big, fat, silk-covered pillows and closed her eyes. Between the wine and lack of sleep, she could barely keep her eyes open. Maybe if she kept them closed for just a couple of minutes…

When she awoke, she could tell by the angle of the sun shining through the filmy net curtains that it was late in the afternoon. But, instead of being on the sofa, she was now lying on black silk sheets, on a huge king-sized bed with her head on Guy's chest and his arms clasped loosely around her body.

She glanced around the room. Very masculine. Very