“I don’t have a charter for the next few days, so I’ll come over and help George with the nursery.”
“Thank you, I’d like that, but when I invite you up here for lunch, you’ll know I won’t have food on my mind.”
Jeremy sat beside her and pulled her into a fond hug. “That sounds awfully good, but let’s make certain J. Lyle doesn’t walk in with Twink before we climb the stairs.”
Christy Joy leaned in to kiss him. “You’re right. Tomorrow, I’ll pin him down as to when he intends to bring Twink home, and if it isn’t in the next few days, I’ll go and get her.”
Jeremy kissed her again. “We’ll go get her, and I won’t give a damn if he calls me Popeye when I’ve won the girl.”
Christy Joy savored his next kiss and then sighed, “Honey, why don’t you start calling me Olive Oyl.”
For a couple of hours, Darcy slept fitfully, but then awoke with a start. Their amorous neighbors were now sighing softly with a rhythm that convinced her there was a whole lot more going on under their blanket than hers.
It hadn’t been their near-silent lovemaking that had awakened her, though. It was the sudden awful realization that should their plane experience any difficulty during the flight, she might not be able to wake Griffin. She’d actually seen a television program containing tips for surviving a plane crash in the sea, but it hadn’t included advice on how to rescue an unconscious man twice her weight.
She was sorely tempted to give him a good shake just to see if she could wake him. “God, Darcy, get a grip,” she mumbled under her breath. She’d never been given to panic attacks. Well, withdrawing her savings to open Defy the World Tomatoes had taken an enormous burst of courage. But she’d countered that anxiety with the exhilaration of achieving her dreams before she turned thirty.
Now she was just scared and there was no joyful happenstance to balance her fright. She toyed with the diamond note. It was a spectacular reminder of the man seated beside her, but she felt strangely disconnected from her own life.
How in the world was she going to remain in Monarch Bay, placidly replanting gardens, if Griffin continued jetting around the globe consorting with master criminals to pass tips along to Interpol? Equally worrisome, how was she to help grow Defy the World’s business if she neglected it to accompany him?
Griffin was such an extraordinary man, perhaps he deserved a woman whose mission in life was to dote on him. But she had too many goals of her own to become his devoted shadow. Of course, that was a feeble complaint on a night when she’d willingly accompanied him on his latest adventure.
She tried to breathe deeply and relax, but the engines’ deep hum was far from comforting. Too antsy to remain in her seat, she crawled over Griffin and went to the restroom. She splashed her face with water and peered into the mirror. With a slight pout, she did look like a sultry French woman, but inside, she felt like a deer caught in headlights.
“Darcy, wake up,” Griffin urged softly. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
She opened one eye and was surprised to find he’d been awake long enough to shave and comb his hair. “Why do you look so damn fresh while I feel as though I’ve been turned inside out like a sock?”
“Modern medicine,” he replied, “and I’ve also learned how to clean up real quick so I don’t have to be awake too long.”
Darcy yawned and stretched, then sat up straight. “Couldn’t you use your sedatives to knock out Lyman Vaughn?”
“Slip him a Mickey, you mean? I suppose I could, but I doubt he’ll be alone, and his companions might become suspicious.”
“Yeah, I suppose they would, but please keep it in mind just in case you need an escape plan.”
“Believe me, I file all your ideas.” Griffin stood to ease her way out into the aisle. “You’ll want to fix your makeup before we land.”
Darcy slipped by him and noted the couple who’d kept her awake were asleep, snuggled in each other’s arms.
It took a while to go through customs, but just as Griffin had predicted, a chauffeur holding a placard with his name awaited them. He was a sandy-haired young man with sparkling blue eyes and a ready grin.
“I hope you had a pleasant flight,” he greeted them in softly accented English. “My name is Antoine, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to Paris.”
The chauffeur was a personable young man, not the shifty-eyed fugitive from the law Darcy had feared they might encounter; but that didn’t alleviate her worries about what might await Griffin later.
As Griffin replied, Darcy covered a wide yawn. It was still morning to her, but early evening there in Paris. As the other passengers hurried away, she clung to her lover’s hand.
“I usually stay at the Hotel Meurice in the Tuileries Quarter,” Griffin explained. “The staff is discreet, and they provide excellent service. Do you know of it?”
“Certainly, sir, it has a wonderful reputation,” the young man responded.
“Good. I’d like to take Ms. MacLeod there before we go on to Monsieur Jordan’s.”
“As you wish, it is not out of our way.” Antoine took Darcy’s bag and led the way to their limousine. He stowed their luggage in the trunk, then opened the rear door and made certain they were comfortably seated. “The bar is fully stocked, and I’m told the DVDs are quite entertaining.”
Darcy gave Griffin a startled glance. “DVDs?”