AN APPOINTMENT MISSED, A DISASTER AVOIDED

Back in the 7th, the murders were the talk of the whole neighborhood. Amazing how quickly news spread, amazing how many strangers were fascinated with the story. Sutton walked to the café on the corner, her place, as she’d come to think of it over the past few days. She set up shop with her laptop and delayed breakfast, but everyone was buzzing, and she finally closed the lid of the computer and listened to the chatter.

How odd, Sutton thought. The rumors all agreed on one thing. The victims had not been robbed. The girl’s purse was there, zipped, intact; the boy’s wallet and phone and money clip were still in his pockets. They both wore watches. Passports left behind, too.

It felt weird to everyone.

“If it wasn’t random...” they whispered.

Americans being targeted in Paris was cause for alarm for everyone, especially expats on the run from their lives, who couldn’t completely pass as Parisians. And to think, she’d been right there, had practically walked into the crime scene. The thought chilled to the bone.

She wondered briefly about Constantine, whether he’d be disappointed when she didn’t show for their lunch date. She’d decided on the Metro home, it was for the best that she didn’t see him again. He’d filled his purpose, helped her make the break with her past. That’s what she needed. A break from her past.

There was nothing more to learn this morning. She slipped in her earbuds and started to write.

* * *

A tap on her shoulder yanked her back. She pulled out the left earbud, only half processing who’d interrupted her. Startled at the familiar voice.

“Hello there.”

Constantine.

“Oh. Hi.”

“You don’t look happy to see me,” Constantine said, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. She forced herself not to draw away, though she wanted to. “I thought we were meeting for lunch. You weren’t there.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, squeezing gently, possessive and familiar.

She rolled her neck to knock his hand away unobtrusively, feigned looking at her watch. “Oh, my goodness. I lost track of time.” All the while thinking, You tracked me down? Uh-oh.

It was nearly three in the afternoon. She was cramped from crouching over the computer on the tiny table, but she had ten new pages on the book. She was just about to cut out for the afternoon, drop off the laptop, and go for a walk.

Sitting, he leaned close and whispered, “Why don’t we go back to your place? I’ve been dying to see you.”

She could smell him, a combination of man and subtle cologne and sex. He smells of sex. Who had he been with? Was it just left over from her? She tried not to notice he was still handsome, still had that animal magnetism. Tried not to listen when a nasty little voice inside her said, Why not?

Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be an idiot.

“I can’t, Constantine. I’m afraid I must work.” She heard the ice in her tone. The old Sutton was back, empty, devoid. No more mistakes, no more dalliances. It was how she’d been talking to Ethan for the past month, since she found the allergy medicine in the closet and started planning her escape. Cold and remote.

That tone cut like a knife. She’d honed it well. There was hurt on Constantine’s face, and she felt terrible. Why must women worry about hurting feelings?

Don’t give in, don’t be stupid. Stay emotionless.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, sitting back in the chair.

“No. Not at all. I had fun. It was fun. But I came here to be alone. I wasn’t planning to get involved with anyone.”

He ran a finger along her arm, like she had to him when they first met. She swallowed. What could it hurt, once more?

“It’s all good fun. No involvement necessary. I’m not asking for anything.”

“I know you’re not. I acted impetuously. But it can’t happen again.”

Constantine’s eyes walked over her body, and she could swear she saw the barest predatory gleam in them when he licked his lips and shrugged, then stood. His voice was no longer warm and cajoling. It was cold, the perfect match to hers, but there was genuine hurt and confusion, and she felt the pull, the need, the desire to be loved and to love, to connect.

“Suit yourself. It was nice knowing you, Justine Holliday.”

He started to walk away and she felt the shroud lift. What a dumb mistake she’d made, allowing her baser instincts to take over. Maybe when you’re settled here, maybe when you’ve made up your mind that this is permanent, then you can think about moving on for real.

She saw him disappear around the corner and squared her shoulders.

Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan.

And then she was up, on her feet, tossing bills on the table, running after him.