He shook his head. “Hardly the time for a detour.”
“It’s relevant. I promise.”
He didn’t look so sure, and frankly, neither was I, but I kept my game face on.
Ten minutes later, we were riding the Métro’s number eleven line. I closed my eyes.
Roux nudged me. “Everything okay?”
I swallowed hard and weighed up whether to answer with the truth or a lie.
The truth, of course. Roux never shied away from it. Why should I?
“Just pretending for a little while.”
“Pretending what?”
“That this is a hot date and not an investigation.”
His eyes lit up. “Hot date, huh?”
I blushed. “Considering last night… Yes.”
He grinned, then shook his head. “I guarantee you, I would do better than discount night at the museum for a hot date.”
I smiled back. “You mean,all dayat the museum? No discount?”
He wound his fingers through mine. “I’ll keep my plans secret for now.”
My heart skipped a beat. Did that mean he might make good on this fantasy someday?
I put my hand over his. “Watch out. I might just hold you to that.”
He slid an arm over my shoulders, then closed his eyes. His turn to pretend?
I kept my mouth shut and my hand over his.
All too soon, we were in the Musée d’Orsay and back to reality.
Roux checked his watch. “Okay, what now?”
I pulled my scarf from my bag and led him to the elevator to the top level.
“My favorite floor, too,” he said as we rode up. “But—”
I shushed him and tied the scarf over my eyes. “This isn’t about what’s here. It’s about what I heard in my father’s painting — and in the painting hidden behind it.”
A good thing we had the elevator to ourselves. I must have sounded insane.
The elevator pinged, and I groped around for Roux’s arm.
“Okay, go,” I said. “Lead me to any painting, and I’ll tell you what I hear.” Then he would have to believe me, I figured.
“Anypainting?” he asked dubiously, leading me out.
I nodded. “Any painting.”
I couldn’t see his expression, but his long pause gave me a good idea of what that must be. Then he led me forward, keeping me close at his side.
