Ugh! He’s making sense. I don’t want some photographer on my heels. That would be freaking weird, and honestly, unbearable.
“Fine. Then be private. Just do it elsewhere.” I pick up my bottle of beer.
“Would you want to be with a man who can’t be with you in public?” he demands.
I turn to face him. “You have a high opinion ofyourself,ComteAsshole. What makes you think I want to be with you?”
“Then why are you so upset that I pretended not to know you a minute ago?”
I narrow my eyes. “Because you insulted me, and I deserve to be treated with respect.”
“And how would it look if I introduced you to one of Simone’s closest friends and her husband as the artist working at the Louvre? You think Simone won’t hear about it? You don’t think she’ll put two and two together?”
“Good God!” I set my glass down with a thud. “Leave me alone then, Gustave.”
“I want to. Every day…I want to. And every day, I find myself hoping I’ll see you, and then today, as I walk down the street, I see you….” He shakes his head as if in awe of the moment. “I…the universe smiles at me because I see you. And I can’t resist it. Tell me, am I alone in feeling this way?”
His tension radiates off him. I feel it, all the way into my soul.
I lick my lips. Honesty is easy even when it’s heartbreaking. “No, Gustave, you’re not alone.”
He drinks some of his beer and grimaces.
I roll my eyes, amused.What, a Bud isn’t his style? Duh!
“Well…what do we do then?” I ask. “We can’t keep…this is….”
“I want you.” That shuts me up. It also makes my clit throb.
What the hell am I supposed to say now?
He smiles at me, and I want to drown in those beautiful gray eyes of his.
“You’re only here for a short while.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“But…I…Tara, it can’t be more.”
I nod in understanding. “You mean more than sex?”
“Oui.”
He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life, up close and personal, and I once saw Chris Hemsworth in Los Angeles.
Why can’t we have an affair? A discreet one? Quiet and easy. And I’ll return to the States, while he continues his life in Paris. No harm, no foul.
But can you handle it, Tara, being hidden, being careful, pretending?
“The last man I was with…. He cheated on me. I haven’t dated since.”
“Tara, I’m so sorry.” He genuinely is. I can feel it. “That kind of betrayal is…impossibly difficult.”
I meet his gaze, mulling over my thoughts. “Yes, it is, but…the truth is that after we were done, I didn’t spend much time wallowing over it.”
He regards me steadily. “He wasn’t important to you.” It’s not a question.
“True.” I let out a quiet chuckle. “Regardless, it soured me. Then I came to Paris. And that, too, on Valentine’s Day. And I met you.”
