Once in Paris Read Online Free PDF Page A

number, here in the hotel. If you get in trouble, if you need me, use it.”
    She picked it up and lifted her eyes to his. “I’m sorry I misunderstood.”
    â€œAnd what exactly would I pay you for, anyway?” he demanded irritably. “The sort of woman you’re thinking of does a little more than take off a man’s pants!”
    She gasped.
    â€œGet out,” he told her. “And take your evil mind with you, nasty girl.”
    â€œYou stop calling me names,” she said haughtily. “I don’t have an evil mind.”
    â€œHa!”
    She put the card in the pocket of her dress and smiled at him. “You must be feeling better,you’re growling again. Now, I’m really leaving.”
    â€œIt’s just as well if all you have to offer me are insults.”
    She glared at him from the door. “Would you like me to go back to Chez Georges and send that woman with the thick lipstick up here to visit your wallet? I’ll bet she’d know what to do when she got your pants off.”
    â€œWhy, you libertine,” he accused softly.
    â€œAnd one of these days, I’ll learn what to do, too, then you just look out.”
    â€œBrianne.”
    She turned with the door open. “What?”
    His expression was very solemn. “Be careful about tutors for that particular skill. Be very careful.”
    She tossed back her hair. “Oh, you don’t need to worry. I already have someone in mind.”
    â€œReally? Who?” he asked curtly.
    She stepped out the door and stuck her head around it. “You, when you’ve had enough time to get over your grief,” she said gently. “I think you’ll be worth waiting for.”
    And while he was getting over that shock, she closed the door and left him.
    Â 
    Nassau was filled to bursting with tourists, strolling along the coastline from the new development at Coral Cay all the way into Nassau itself. Colorful jitneys darted through traffic, barely avoiding collisions with mopeds and cars and pedestrians. Brianne wandered through the market at Prince George Wharf, admiring the colorful straw purses and hats and dolls, but all she bought was a new hat. This one was made of crushable hemp with woven purple flowers on the brim. As she paid for it, she grinned at the lady who sold it to her, then moved along to watch an ocean liner from the United States being maneuvered out of the expanded bay. She was sure that she’d never get tired of watching the huge ships come in and out of the port city. Often, too, there were military ships in port, like the United States destroyer down at the end of the pier. Sailors filtered through the tourists on their way back to the ship, pausing to admire a pretty brunette boarding one of the glass-bottom tourist boats.
    It was time for lunch, but she wasn’t ready to go home. Not that Kurt’s villa could be called anyone’s home, except perhaps, her mother’s and half brother’s. The baby, Nicholas, was a year old now and the apple of his mother’s eye.
    Brianne spent as little time at the villa as she could. Kurt had a business acquaintance staying with them, a Middle Eastern national who was very nearly Pierce’s age. He was tall and slender and dark, with scars on one lean cheek that gave him a dangerous look. Brianne hadn’t met him before, and now she wished she hadn’t come home. Philippe Sabon was said to have a perverted obsession for young, innocent girls. He was some sort of rich state-official in an underdeveloped Arab nation. Sabon’s mother was of Arab descent and his father, allegedly, was French but of Turkish ancestry. Very little was known about his shady background. He had millions, they said, but he’d spoken to Brianne of small, ragged beggars in the souks of Baghdad, as if he knew firsthand what their life was like. If it hadn’t been for his smarmy reputation, Brianne might have enjoyed his