The next morning, Adrienne picked him up in her plum-blue Citroën, and they spent the day exploring the city. Ross hadn't asked for her company, but was certainly glad she had volunteered for guide duty. They started with croissants and cream-filled éclairs at the oldest pâtisserie in the city, and then strolled through the Gallery Vivienne-the very first indoor mall built in the 1820s. Next the strolled the rest of the streets filled with a wide assortment of boutiques, offering everything from the latest haute couture to tourist tee shirts. They stopped at the large Les Halles marketplace to buy food for an impromptu picnic. The market offered a dizzying array of foodstuffs-from fresh herbs to the more expensive, earthy truffles-as well as plump bouquets of rainbow-hued flowers.
They ate their cheese, ham salad, baguettes and fruit in the beautiful metropolitan park, Le Jardin des Tuileries. From there, Adrienne took him to the Left Bank where they admired the works of such impressionist artists as Manet and Renoir at the Musée Orsay. Late afternoon they strolled along the Quai Saint Bernard adjacent to the Seine River, enjoying waffle cones with real French Vanilla ice cream and the view of the magnificent cathedral of Notre Dame in the background.
"Of course, there's still so much more," she offered. "There are more gardens and palaces and museums, shops--"
"Hold it right there!" Ross countered with a chuckle. "I can only handle so much culture per day. After that, my mind becomes mush. We still have quite a few days left, unless I'm keeping you from your work."
"Oh, no. I'm between jobs at the moment."
"Good, or should I say, tres bon."
He liked the way she walked, with a little bounce to her step, a slight sway of her hips, her head held high, and her eyes focused and bright. Today she wore a pastel pink dress with a matching neck scarf and a white bolero sweater. She looked, acted, spoke, and even smelled Parisian.
"Do you mind if we begin tomorrow where we left off today?" Ross hoped she'd agree to his plan to see her again, to take up as much of her time as I dared.
Adrienne turned to him and smiled. "If you like, we can go to the Palais Versailles. That's where the last king, Louis XV, lived and partied before he was beheaded by the French people."
"Ah, opulence, you gotta love it. Too bad old Louie loved far too much to suit the general populace. Sure, why not admire a little decadence? How about tonight? Care to repeat our dining experience?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, but I have a dinner appointment with a client. Another time, perhaps." A little shadow, just very visible, swept across her face. Of doubt, regret, even fear? He couldn't tell.
"Yes, perhaps."
Ross kept his gaze ahead of him, refusing to allow her to notice the twinge of disappointment his eyes. He knew he would have to be careful not to alienate her. She should be the first to initiate contact, he kept telling himself. Like the kiss last night. Don't make any moves unless she starts the intimacy. Yeah, it sounded great in his mind, but the rest of him balked, especially his groin area where a certain appendage had a mind of its own.
After a reviving shower, he stretched along the sagging mattress and punched the speed dial button on his cell phone. When he reached his party, he identified himself with a simple, "Hello, it's me."
He listened for several seconds and then made his report. "I've managed to make the connection with number one." Of course, he didn't throw in any of the more intimate details.
"Very good," his contact replied. "Continue with operations as planned."
"Oh, don't be alarmed when you see my dining expenses. I find it necessary to do a bit of wining and dining while I wheel and deal and finagle."
"Just don't let your finagling get out of hand, if you understand my drift."
"Of course. Have I ever let a bit of finagling get in the way of my work?"
"Well, if I recall, there was that cute little salsa dancer down in Mexico City, the one you described as having mucho grande maracas."
"Um, yeah well, besides that, I'm committed and focused on this case."
"Just see you stay that way. As always, I appreciate the timely updates. Keep up the good work and the communications. Until then, au revoir, R.B."
"Ciao, mon capitaine."
Now, in order to fall asleep, he would probably have to count sheep, although he had a feeling his woolly lambs would come in the form of sexy, willowy brunettes with luscious lips. Oh, well, beggars can't be choosers.
Rising, she padded over to the French doors and opened them. A rush of morning air greeted her, ripe with the smells of the city, the flower kiosks, the meat market, the coffee bars. The aroma of fresh-baked bread from the bakeries competed with last night's restaurant garbage, piled in trash bins along the alley. The city line of Paris stretched before her, roofs and chimneys, small balconies with blooming flowers, and clotheslines filled with morning wash. Allie loved it all, the sights, the sounds, the smells. Nowhere in the world could she find such a mix of cosmopolitan energy and old world charm; and she had traveled and lived just about everywhere, from London to Milan to Hong Kong.