Instead, I’ll make the most of the last few weeks with her.
I buy a few of the small notecards of flowers, grab a pen from Julien, lean against the stone wall by the river, and write a note.
But when I look back at my words, I can’t say that. I can’t ask that. I tuck it into my wallet, and write another.
An invitation.
Ivy climbs the white walls at the back of the six-room boutique hotel, while songbirds chirp in the night air. Music pulses low and sensual, and absinthe flows freely in glasses at this outdoor enclave, a secret nighttime garden that Joy uncovered deep in the heart of the hip Oberkampf district in Paris. It’s at the Hotel Particulier Tenth, nestled among verdant trees and lush bushes, off a quiet side street with an address nearly impossible to find.
Her friend Elise knows the owner. I have the impression Elise knows everyone worth knowing in Paris.
“So, this is the woman who says days should be eaten,” I say as we’re introduced.
“So, this is the man who’s so enchanted my friend,” she says, her chocolate-brown eyes skeptical behind her glasses, almost as if she doesn’t quite trust me. Elise has a sisterly protectiveness to her, even though I doubt Joy needs it. She’s the kind of woman who can fight her own battles.
I tip my forehead to Joy, next to me. “The enchantment is entirely mutual.”
Elise raises an eyebrow appreciatively and nods at me. “Good. Then you’ve passed my test for the night.”
I wipe my hand across my brow. “Whew. I was worried.”
“A woman needs a friend to keep her man on his toes.”
Joy laughs and sets a hand on my arm. “By the way, have I told you Elise has been appointed in charge of all the inquisitions in my life?”
“No. I’m in charge of the fun,” Elise corrects playfully from atop her towering heels. I suspect they add four, maybe five inches to her height. I also suspect she’s the type of woman who could run in heels and never wobble. She has that air about her.
“Fun? Did someone say fun? I believe that’s my middle name.” Christian is here. He strides across the patio, stopping next to Joy and Elise. I make the requisite intros, and Joy throws her arms around him, hugging him like an old friend, then to Elise I explain that he’s a translator, too.
“French to English?” Elise asks my friend.
Christian shakes his head. “Yes, but no. I specialize in the Scandinavian languages.”
Elise roams her eyes over his tall, blond frame. “You do look something like a Viking.”
Christian laughs. It isn’t the first time a woman has said that to him. “Denmark is my first love. Copenhagen-born.”
“A Dane with a British accent. You look like Alexander Skarsgård, and you sound like Tom Hardy. This might very well be fantasy made flesh,” Elise says, waving her hand to fan herself.
He smiles. “Why, yes, I’d love to take you home right now.”
Joy laughs loudly. “And clearly it’s time for us to go.”
Elise shakes her head and pats Joy’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly. I can admire your man’s friend and make sure you get drunk on absinthe at the same damn time.”
“You’re a multitalented woman,” Christian says, and Joy and I step back, grabbing a spot on the outdoor couch and ordering absinthe.
“Copenhagen is a lovely city,” Elise says to Christian. “I traveled there a year ago. I took one of those canal tours.”
“What was your favorite part of the tour? Seeing the palaces? Hearing the stories of all our crown jewels?”
Elise chuckles, shaking her head. “Neither. I most enjoyed when the boat glided past a private dock, where a very fit, very muscular Danish man was doing handstands naked on the dock.”
Christian taps his chin, his expression serious. “Was it right by Nyhavn? A little past the outdoor food market?”
“I believe so,” Elise says with a curious smile. “Do you know this gentleman? Is he the Mad Naked Handstander of Copenhagen?”
“Mad? No. More like fit, handsome, and well-hung.”
She scrunches her brow. “You’ve been admiring his package, too?”
“So, you were indeed admiring it?”
“There was a lot to admire,” she says with a happy shrug, and Joy nudges me as we watch them like spectators.
Christian taps his chest. “That was me.”
A laugh bursts from Elise. “What?”
Joy turns to me with wide eyes, whispering, “Was that Christian?”
I shrug, laughing quietly and listening to Christian’s answer.
“Well, I suppose it’s entirely possible there could be other tall, fit, muscular men who have homes on the water in Copenhagen, and do handstands, yoga, and other acrobatics naked in an attempt to entertain the canal tourists with other crown jewels,” he says, and Elise laughs. “In fact, I have a few good mates who also engage in this pastime. But there’s a good chance it was actually me.”
Elise whistles. “Then I’m even more pleased to meet the man whose photos are already on my cell phone.”
The waiter arrives with our drinks, and I thank him, then wrap an arm around Joy and nuzzle her. “Looks like they’re getting along without us.”
She stretches her neck, inviting me to kiss her more. “That means you can entertain me.”
I brush my lips along her throat, kissing up to her chin, along her jawline, then to her ear. “How do you most like to be entertained?”
“With your tongue,” she whispers.
I groan. “Now, you’re going to make it so very hard to stay here.”
She reaches for our glasses and hands me one. “Just think how worked up you’ll be when we finally leave.”
Raising her glass, she takes a drink and murmurs her appreciation. The sound of her pleasure over the drink is sensual and dirty, and turns me on even more. “I’m already worked up.”
Her eyes wander down my body, and she raises an eyebrow. “Good. Now,
