Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

Lucy nodded, thanking him in her terrible French, and then breathed in sharply. It wasn’t just this beautiful entranceway that felt foreign to her, it was everything she was doing right then. She wasn’t the sort of woman who flew to Paris at a whim, and she definitely wasn’t the type who agreed to spend the weekend with a man she hardly knew. And yet here she was, her heart cantering in her chest like a thoroughbred, her feet propelling he

r towards the room where he was waiting for her.

The salon was as eye-catching as the entranceway had been, its tall windows framed by expensive draped curtains, the walls dominated by dark tapestries that spanned from floor to ceiling. But it wasn’t the décor that she was staring at, it was the man sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, his white shirt open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up. He was lifting a glass of amber fluid to his lips. But then their gazes met and they both froze.

Just one look and it felt as if her whole body was catching fire. She tried to take a breath, but her throat was too tight. Then he was standing, putting his glass down and walking towards her.

‘You came.’

‘I said I would.’ It had only been two days since she’d last seen him, but she’d already forgotten how beautiful he was. And there was that horse again, running around inside her chest like it was a racecourse.

His lips slowly curled into an easy smile, one that did nothing to calm her heart. And then she was smiling too, laughter tickling the back of her throat, because this really was so crazy.

A waiter walked into the room, carrying a tray with two glasses on it. ‘Du vin, mademoiselle?’

One of the glasses had white wine, the other red. ‘I didn’t know what to order you,’ Lachlan said, inclining his head at the tray. ‘So I asked them to bring both.’

‘I’ll have white,’ she said, reaching out as the waiter passed her the glass. ‘Merci.’

‘De rien.’ The waiter disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived, and it was the two of them again, standing in the empty salon, smiling at each other until their cheeks started to ache.

‘You should drink it before it warms up,’ Lachlan said. ‘Come and sit down.’ He took her hand and led her to the table he’d been sitting at, holding her fingers until she sat on the easy chair. As soon as he let go she missed his touch.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the airport,’ he said, sitting in the chair opposite hers. ‘I had a telecom I couldn’t miss.’

‘It’s fine, I enjoyed the drive through the city.’ She didn’t tell him that she’d stared out of the window like the tourist she was, her mouth wide open as she took in the sights she’d only seen in photographs before. Why had it taken her so long to visit?

She took a sip of her wine – cool, crisp and expensive. Idly she wondered if he’d be charged for both glasses.

‘I always enjoy it too.’ He was smiling at her, as though pleased they had that in common. ‘This place never gets old. I could visit a hundred times and there’d still be more to see.’

‘How often have you been here?’

‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘Ten, fifteen times, maybe? I used to have some investments here, but I sold them.’

‘Did you own this hotel?’ she asked. She wouldn’t put it past him.

He laughed. ‘No, not this one. I’m not sure even I could afford this.’ He put his glass down – empty. Hers was still half full. ‘Do you want to look around?’ he asked. ‘I can take you on a quick tour if you like. There are some amazing paintings here, worth taking a look at.’

She wasn’t sure if she should feel disappointed that he wasn’t jumping on her as soon as she walked through the door. Not that he seemed the type to do that. He was too sophisticated, too urbane. The man knew how to seduce slowly and with intent.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost one a.m. in the UK, which meant it was already two a.m. here in France. No wonder she felt tired. A few hours ago she was contemplating an early night, and now she was in a different country.

‘Can we do the tour tomorrow?’ she asked him. ‘I’d really like to freshen up if I can.’ And then go to bed. But she wasn’t brave enough to say it.

There was a flicker in his eyes that matched the beating of her heart. He watched as she finished her wine, then placed the glass on the polished wooden table between them.

‘Yeah, that sounds perfect to me.’

Lachlan glanced at the bathroom door, watching the steam curl its way through the gap. He could hear a tap running, and the buzz of what sounded like an electric toothbrush. She’d only been in there for ten minutes, and he was already getting antsy.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, and stared at it, bemused. A few hours ago he’d been certain that he could keep the layer of professionalism between them; now she was almost certainly naked in his bathroom.

The thought sent a shot of desire through his body.

Lucy opened the door and a wall of steam escaped into the living area. She stopped short as soon as she saw him standing there, pulling her white fluffy bathrobe tightly around herself, her wet hair brushed off her face.

There was that scar again. It reminded him of that night he held her. Below it her skin was pink and clean, the aroma of flowers clinging to her. It drew him in, making him walk towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.