Since they had a lot of ground to cover and Zane stared more at her face than The Spirit of Eternal Repose, Delphine waved him toward what she lovingly dubbed Hero’s Forest. In the shadows of the small woodland, Cowboy couldn’t caress her body with his gaze quite so easily.
And she might hide her blush at the thought of his strong hands keeping the promises in his searing stare. Better still, she might manage to steal a few admiring glances of his extraordinary body without him noticing.
She turned her back to man and dog and headed into the copse of trees. “Come on, slowpoke,” she called over her shoulder.
Used to hearing that phrase, Henri yipped.
“You’re not living up to your reputation as expert docent, Cutoffs. Appreciation of art can’t be hurried.” Zane’s voice surrounded her like a wind in a storm. Wild and warm and unsettling.
“True,” she replied, keeping her focus forward. “But we need to view the statues displayed in the woods before it gets too dark.”
He caught up quickly. His bare arm brushed against hers, sending a flirty thrill on a dangerous joyride through her body.
“Dark doesn’t bother me, and cities never go all the way black. In fact, I rather like it. It gets quiet when it’s dark. Everything becomes easier. The brain calms. The heart steadies.” He skimmed the exposed skin of her arm with rough fingertips, and another dose of heady pleasure zipped through her. “Don’t you think?”
No. Delphine thought just the opposite. She stopped walking to put distance between them, but the imprint of his gentle touch lingered with the intensity of a bee sting.
Zane twisted to look at her. One corner of his mouth lifted, and a single, deep dimple winked at her. “You afraid of me or the dark, Cutoffs?”
Both. Danger lurked in the dark and in his sweet blue eyes. But she couldn’t tell him that.
“You’ve no reason to be afraid of me. Right, Henri?”
The dog barked and dutifully sat his butt down at Zane’s heel.
“See? And he’s the best judge of character you know. If it’s the dark that scares you…” He extended his leash-free hand to her. “Tonight you have me. I’m a walkin’-talkin’-fear-free zone. Nobody messes with a Gideon. Not man or ghost.”
Ghost. He’d said it like he knew about her nightmares. Her pulse froze. Every cell in her wanted to latch on to his offered hand, to tap into his strength, meld into his warmth, allow the desire swirling inside her to grow.
But she should not and would not succumb to his charms.
Or his dimples.
Or the broad, muscular shoulders so well defined by the thin fabric of his simple front-snap shirt.
Or his sexy, sinuous legs where toned calves flexed beneath a light coating of fine blond hairs.
She nipped her bottom lip and considered how safe she’d feel, walking hand in hand. She might even sleep nightmare-free if she gave in and spent the night in his hotel. Heaven knew the man was six and a half feet of perfect distraction.
But one-offs didn’t suit Delphine. Never had. How many one-night stands left her mother crying all the following week? She’d not turn out like her mother. Not in any way. She’d protect her heart no matter how much she longed for him to lean close. To cradle her head in his big, rugged hands. Press his sensual mouth against hers until her breath stopped and her head spun.
Instincts kicked in, and she stomped past him into the woods. “We’d better get going.”
“You trying to ditch me?”
“No. We have a deal.”
“Not a deal. A date.” He caught up to her in no time.
“A pointless date.”
Unexpectedly, his fingers closed around her arm just above her elbow.
She froze in place. The firmness of his palm against her skin. The way his thumb stroked over her muscle. In an instant, she became acutely aware of every cell where her skin met his. The longing he triggered intensified even as she fought it.
Slowly, he walked around to face her. His gaze with those eyes, so expressive and vibrant blue, searched her face.
A shiver skittered under her skin when he moved in closer and lowered his head, so the brim of his hat skimmed her hair.
“Pointless?” His low drawl dropped a half register, oozing temptation. “What makes you think this is pointless?”
Stopped in the shade of the tree line with the evening sun burnishing the colors from bright green to intense gemstones, she gazed into his earnest face. The romanticism of the moment almost overtook her. Her heart ached for her to lean in rather than arch back. Common sense and old-fashioned control kept her guarded. She spoke honestly and unabashed. “You have one foot here and one foot on an airplane, Mr. Gideon.”
“First off, I like it better when you call me Cowboy, Cutoffs.”
Heat flooded her cheeks at the use of the nickname he’d given her.
“Delphine. Please, don’t call me Cutoffs.” She raised an eyebrow and purposefully used his given first name. “Zane.”
“Why not? It’s sexy and suits you.”
“I don’t like it,” she lied. The flirtatious undertone to everything he said lit her up inside. For the first time in forever, she felt like a desirable woman, and she hated denying the pleasure. “And at your suggestion, we began from the farthest point on the grounds with the intent to work our way back to the Hotel Biron. The sun will set quickly. There is the Marble Gallery before we even enter the museum. It could take the better part of a week to do it justice.”
“I’m all about justice.” His eyes seemed to twinkle like blue stars. He grinned, flashing her those matching dimples that appeared deeper than ever in the shade of his hat’s brim. “The deal, as you say, was to show me around, then I’d take you to supper. If we need more than one day, I can arrange it if you can.” His gaze rested on hers, soft and inquisitive. “I hope by the end of tonight you’ll want to.”
She opened her mouth to counter, unsure of her reply. In her hesitation, he replied for her.
“You can decide later. And you’re right about the sun.”
She’d half expected him to take her hand or drape a lazy arm across her shoulders. Instead, he walked on ahead, slowly until she caught up. A pang of disappointment punched her heart when she should have been relieved. Side by side, they entered her favorite part of the grounds, Henri trotting along between them.
“You said you were going to train Henri, but he’s obeyed your commands ever since you took the leash. I don’t get it. He’s usually a scoundrel.”
“He needs discipline more than training. The key is, I don’t acknowledge him trying to pull away. I don’t take no for an answer, so he does what I want. You, on the other hand, need—”
“Don’t you dare say training.”
“Confidence. Be calm. Be self-assured. Be in charge. It’s as simple as that. Same goes for your grandmother.”
“You think I should treat Mamie like the dog?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“No.” His laugh matched the rustle of the leaves. “I mean she needs to do the same thing. Henri’s not a baby, so she shouldn’t treat him like one.”
“Good luck to me there. She’ll never stop spoiling him. And she doesn’t lack confidence.”
“I believe you. Look. When she sees you handling the dog differently, she’ll follow suit.” He waited a beat. “Maybe. Some folks are stubborn.”
“Trust me, she is.”
“So that’s where you get it.” He grinned at her and slipped the nylon cord from around his palm. “Here. Take the leash and mirror what I’ve been doing. Give him enough lead to walk comfortably, but not so much as he can get in front and pull. Don’t look down or acknowledge something is different, and he won’t either.”
Without the happy little mutt noticing, she slid the bundle of loops over her fingers and walked as if nothing had changed. “You know this won’t last long.”
“It’ll last as long as you want.” Zane shrugged.
“I meant the dog.”
“Me too.”
“Hmm. I think you’re lying to me.”
“You think too much, Delphine. Relax and let your mind wander for a change. Refuel.”
If only he knew how much she wanted to refuel, but she didn’t dare let her mind wander for fear the nightmares would overrun her waking, rational thoughts.
His chest rose from a deep breath and then collapsed slowly. “Smell that? I love the woods after a rain.”
The shaded grove, cool and wet from a brief afternoon shower, exuded a heady perfume of earthy scents, sweet and musky like his cologne, blocking out Paris only a few feet away.
He adjusted his hat and smiled before offering her his hand. “A perfect evening for a stroll and quiet conversation? Nothing more.”
Nothing more. His words sounded more like a vow than a promise. His placid expression oozed sincerity. “Okay.” How could a little conversation hurt? Or holding hands? As always, he’d offered like a gentleman.
She switched the leash to her left hand, and Henri dutifully scurried to the side. Sliding her fingers across his warm palm, she felt as giddy as a teenager at her first dance.
Not wanting to focus so much on his touch, she dived into conversation. “So, what’s second?”
“Second?”
“You said first off, you prefer I call you Cowboy. What’s second, or isn’t there one?”
“Second, my business trip isn’t all that short. In fact, I booked a one-way ticket not knowing how long I’d be here. I admit it’s subject to change, and honestly, I didn’t know how much time I’d be spending in Paris. I expect to be in the outlying areas as well.”
“What is it you do? You said you don’t study art, you know art. I take it you work for a museum?”
“Sort of.” He pursed his lips and then licked them. “I’m doing a study on Julian Eymard. He was the—”
“I know who he was.” She grinned. “Mamie would be sorely ashamed of me if I didn’t, and shaming her is unacceptable. So why?” she asked, truly intrigued. “Are you with the Vatican, looking to reverse his sainthood?”
“I definitely don’t work for the Vatican.”
Almost afraid to ask, she blurted out her next question. “Are you finishing a thesis and graduating from a seminary? For priesthood?”
He laughed aloud, filling the small woods with his sexy voice. “Priests don’t date. Not even for a last fling. And this is a date.” Before she could jump in with another protest, he continued. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m not at liberty to disclose my employer. Part of my contract. But I can tell you I’m sort of an historian slash archeologist slash art lover slash—”
“Cowboy.”
He nodded. “Sums it up. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Gotta leave some mystery, or you won’t want to see me again.”
“One step at a time,” she warned, but her heart lurched a little too joyfully for her own good. He wasn’t leaving Paris in a hurry. “So why Julian Eymard?”
“Well, a man smart enough to boot Rodin out of his congregation and back into art deserves a deeper look.”
His response rang true, but she felt like he held back.
“That’s it? All this way when you could have researched from books in the comfort of your living room.” She shook her head.
“One, I live with Boone, so there is no comfort in our apartment. Not in one corner. And two, I don’t think any book is comprehensive. I can’t travel back in time, but I believe there is information and, for lack of a better description, essence to be uncovered by visiting a man’s place of origin.”
“Slash investigator?”
“Yeah, something like that. I’m intrigued by people. All people. I want to know what shapes someone—their thoughts, feelings, and values. To truly understand the human psyche, I believe I need to stand in their shoes, look out through their eyes, and feel with their heart.”
With all that earnestness, she believed Zane Gideon might be the one man that could be truly empathetic. Even with her.
“We all have hard and fast core values, but how do they develop? What makes one man a saint and another a criminal? If they shared the same experiences, would they react and develop into a similar person, or do our choices come from someplace deeper? Some compass we’re born with?”
“Slash philosopher. Slash psychologist.” She gripped his hand a little tighter and allowed their arms to touch.
He grinned, his defined lips shaping a bow around even teeth. “Guilty. Eymard didn’t have an easy childhood and was plagued by illness his whole life. Yet he didn’t give up on what he knew to be his greater purpose. To make a difference in the lives of the unfortunate. I think his inner compass was engineered.” He hesitated for a moment, and for the first time, his jaw tensed, and his eyes smoked over. Suddenly, the man of ten thousand words turned guarded. “Never mind. I’ve gone on too long.”
“No. Finish. I really want to know what you think.”
He shook his head, and his grip on her hand loosened.
“Tell me, and I’ll kiss you good night.” She issued the temptation with a warm smile, a smile that said he’d get the kiss anyway.
“What about a kiss good morning?” Those wicked-sexy dimples pierced deep into his cheeks.
“Only if you pick me up at Mamie’s for breakfast.”
“Quick thinker. Not sure I like that.”
Delphine pursed her lips and let them morph into a grin. “I think you do. Come on, Cowboy. You know you want to talk, and I enjoy listening.”
He swallowed hard. “Fine, but only because you called me Cowboy.” He stopped them from walking and turned to face her. “I believe Eymard was touched by the divine.”
“Divine? You mean by an angel? By God?” Not at all what she expected, and her hand went slack, slipping away from his already loosened hold.
“There. I said it. You must think I’m crazy.”
“Not crazy. Not at all.” Thanks to her nightmares, her previously wishy-washy belief in unworldly beings, at least the evil ones, intensified. She wouldn’t mind proof of winged good guys. “So, what have you learned about Eymard so far?”
“Not much new. I need to get out of the city. I’d hoped to head over to Grenoble, check in with some of his ancestors, then work my way back.”
Grenoble. South and east. Much closer to Geneva, Switzerland, than Paris. Too far away for another date. Irritated at the new information, her insides turned cold. “Why aren’t you there now?”
“Got pulled onto another project.”
“Which involves…” she said, hoping he’d finish her open-ended statement.
His expression turned serious, even downright pissed off, judging by the crease between his brows. “Nothing as fun as tracking Julian Eymard. In fact out-n-out boring, but the boss insists, so I do what I’m told.” Evasive. The tone of his voice told her that Cowboy didn’t like being told to do anything. Even by a boss. He expelled a breath like flushing out his system, and the crease disappeared. He lifted her fingers with the tips of his, and she angled her hand until they pressed palm to palm. He grasped her lightly, drawing circles over the back of her hand with his thumb that elicited the most delicious shiver over her skin. “As of yesterday, I’m glad he’s a shortsighted jackass. Had I stuck to my plans—”
“We never would have met?” Delphine met his magnetic stare, and a sensation as strong as the voice in her dream overwhelmed all her inhibitions. “I’d have hated that. Not meeting you.” Was kismet in play? It sure as hell felt like it.
“Me, too.” His voice lowered, and blue eyes turned smoky in the shadows. “Enough about work. Here I am with a beautiful woman, and all I can do is talk.”
“I didn’t complain. You’re interesting. Complex. Surprising.” She hadn’t dated in more than two years, but she could have sworn he was going to lean in for a kiss. She wanted to misshapen those hard lips with her own and prepared with a quick flick of her tongue over her bottom lip.
To her intense disappointment, he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he let go of her hand but kept his face close to hers. “Not so fast, Cutoffs. I’m saving my kisses to keep you around.” He stroked his fingers along the flesh of her jaw. “And when I kiss you, you won’t want me to stop.”