The Baby Proposal

“I adore it!”

“I thought you might,” he drawled. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Everyone has to share.” When she looked around at him, his lips were twitching. He was such a handsome man, her body quickened.

“My room’s the next one on the right. I’ll meet you in the foyer in ten minutes and we’ll take a walk before dinner. I need to stretch my legs and imagine you do, too.”

“Will Emile and the others be joining us later?”

“Not tonight.” So saying, he left her to her own devices and shut the door.

That seemed odd, but maybe he was too tired to deal with employees and be social. As for Andrea, she was so excited to be in Paris, she was glad to put off work until tomorrow.

The first thing she did was run to the window and stick her head out to survey her kingdom above the foyer. The late afternoon light was fading into evening. As far as she could tell, of the few people who were passing by, none of them were tourists.

An older teen drew up on a bike with a few baguettes in the basket. He whistled before calling out something to her in his native tongue. Andrea couldn’t help smiling before she turned from the window and headed for the bathroom where she could freshen up.

The old-fashioned lock didn’t look like it could keep anyone out, but she honestly didn’t care. This was the kind of adventure you dreamed about, but rarely experienced.

She examined her cream linen skirt which was somewhat wrinkled after their flight. Luckily the mango-colored cotton top never creased.

After rummaging in her purse, she combed her hair and applied some coral lipstick. Thank goodness she’d chosen to wear her comfortable Italian leather sandals. She’d be able to walk around without problem.

Andrea had just reached the foyer when a male voice in a heavy French accent said, “I was hoping the beautiful American woman would come down soon.”

The guy she’d seen moments ago had put his bike behind the front desk. Up close he looked like he might be twenty, twenty-one. His Gallic features resembled the male concierge who’d checked them in earlier.

There was no sign of Gabe.

“I’ll have to tell my girlfriends to stay here when they come to Paris if they want some fun,” she teased.

He grinned. “You’re not sleeping in the same room with your friend. That means you might go out with me tonight? I could show you a very good time. My name is Pierre.”

She chuckled. “That’s a tempting offer, Pierre, but I’m here on business.”

His hooded eyes dwelt on her face. “You work for him, or does he work for you?”

Pierre would be shocked if he knew who Gabe was.

“He’s my boss.”

“What is wrong with him?”

“Excuse me?”

“He brings you to Paris and doesn’t share your bed? That I cannot understand.”

“No one asked you to,” a low, chilling voice broke in on them. Gabe had descended the staircase without her being aware of it. He’d changed into a black silk shirt and gray trousers.

She’d never seen him dressed in anything but a suit. The transformation brought out a potent masculinity that took her breath. But his chiseled features revealed an aggression directed at the younger man.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” Andrea whispered. “Let’s go.”

She could feel the rigidity of his body before he put his hand on the back of her waist and ushered her out of the hotel. The heat of his touch seemed to burn through her top.

When they’d walked past the adjoining patisserie he said, “I’m sorry you were subjected to that. I won’t leave you alone again.”

Andrea turned to him. “I’ve met boys like him before.”

Gabe’s jaw hardened. “He’s no boy, Andrea, and he’s on the make for any willing female.”

“So are a lot of guys his age.”

His eyes studied her features. “I suppose after the way you defended Bret, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” She smiled as she said it. “I’m sure he feeds the same line to all women young or old who stay at the hotel. An extenuation of his job. Keep the customers happy.”

One dark eyebrow quirked. “Did it make you happy?”

“Well—yes, in a way. It’s a fun memory to take home with me.”

After a long silence he said, “I’ll have to remember that.”

His dark mood had passed.

For half an hour they made desultory conversation while they walked beneath the cathedral of trees. The soft, warm summer air played havoc with her senses and seemed to be affecting him, too. Andrea took care not to brush against him. The slightest contact of his leg or arm sent a live current of electricity through her body.

She should have been relieved when Gabe broke the spell by stopping to speak to one of the fishermen around a bend in the river. The older man didn’t seem to be having any luck, but whatever her boss said brought a light to his eye.

From his tackle basket he drew out another type of lure and put it on the end of his line. Then he began casting. Before long he had a fight on his hands. After he’d reeled in a nice-size fish, he grinned and patted Gabe on the shoulder.

“What kind is it?”

“Carp.”

“I’ve never tasted it.”

“Smoked carp is out of this world.”

“You’re full of surprises,” Andrea said as they started to circle back. “Were you born here in France to know what kind of bait would catch it?”

He darted her a curious glance. “No, I’m a native of St. Pierre et Miquelon.”

She frowned. “Is that in Belgium or Switzerland?”

“Neither. It’s a French territorial collectivity off the coast of Newfoundland.”

The mention of the Canadian province rang a bell.

“That’s right!” She stopped walking. “I remember my junior high geography teacher telling us about some islands being the only French possessions remaining in North America. A big fishing industry. As I recall, she said Al Capone used to hide out there during prohibition.”