Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,39

the moment she swipes my card.”

“Maybe not.”

There was a knock on the mirror door. Piers flipped it open.

The girl was outside. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing. I know you don’t want me to swipe your card, and I totally don’t want to be the one who gets you caught. So, I was thinking, maybe I could write down the number and I’ll charge it in a few days. You know, when you’re a long way from here.”

“Really?” Sidney grabbed hold of the girl’s hands. “That would be great. Really great. Wouldn’t it, Piers?”

The girl beamed.

“Oh yeah … great, “ Piers said.

Sidney and the girl stared at him. He blew out a deep breath and gave a smile. “I’m sorry. Yes, that would be great. This has been a stressful day. We’re making this up as we go.”

The girl’s smile returned.

Piers pulled out his credit card. She wrote down the number. “I’ll give you a few days to get away, okay?”

“That should be enough,” said Sidney as she looped her arm through Piers’, “Because, apparently, I’ll be traveling by taxi with a man who understands women.”

The girl sniggered, but Piers was frozen to the spot. Beyond the miniature trees, beyond the red outfits, and beyond Rover’s big eyes, police officers were spilling into the grace and tranquility of Place des Vosges.

Chapter 18

The girl pushed Piers and Sidney through racks of clothes. “Out the back. There’s an alley. Vite, vite. I’ll lock the front door.”

“Rover,” Piers said.

“Leave the damn dog,” Sidney said.

“We’ll have to come back—”

The shop assistant kept pushing. “I’ll look after him. Go!”

Piers didn’t need any more encouragement. He flew through a small stockroom and hit a fire escape door at full speed. It crashed open and he piled into a narrow lane. Sidney ran past him, tugging at his arm. He took off after her, his shoes slipping on the old, wet flagstones. Sidney looked back and waved her arm, urging him on. She took another alleyway that emerged onto a main road.

He followed her to the right and into a Métro station. She stopped beside a ticket machine but his wet leather soles didn’t, and he slipped, sprawling all over the floor, taking out several people in the process. He struggled to his feet, apologizing profusely as weary travelers swore at him.

Sidney moved around the back of the throng and pulled him out of the growing mass of unhappy people. “Come on. Forget the tickets. We can get out on the other side of the station.” She led them through a maze of tunnels and up a flight of stairs, back to street level.

Piers kept grabbing at the leash that wasn’t there. “You think Rover will be okay?”

“That was the best name you could come up with?”

“It was the name on his collar.”

Sidney squeezed his arm. It felt good. She smiled at him. His heart skipped and he felt a wave of heat rush over him. He knew his face would be red. He looked away.

She shook his arm. “He’ll be okay. That girl will look after him.”

“Right.”

“We need to look after ourselves.”

“Yeah.” He patted her hand on his arm.

“There wasn’t anything else in Auguste’s apartment, was there?”

He looked at her quizzically. “No, why?”

“Nothing. Just, you know, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” She wrapped her arms around him. Her hair brushed over her face and he could smell her skin. She went from one extreme to another. He hesitated to hug her back.

He felt her hands pat his back. “I’m sorry. I’ve been hard on you. We need to work together as a team, right?”

He slowly closed his arm around her shoulder. “Course.”

She ran her hands down his sides and up and down his arms. He swallowed. The tension melted from him. It felt wonderful to feel her touch. He tightened his hug and relaxed his head onto her shoulder.

Her hands slid over his waist and hips and he felt his phone bump against his side. After a few moments she patted him one last time and took a step backward, separating them.

Piers felt the chill air where her warmth had been. He wanted to reach out and pull her back, but her smile had faded.

She stared at him. “So there was definitely nothing else at Auguste’s?”

“No. I told you. Nothing else.”

She turned. “Okay, then. Let’s try the bank.”

“Wait a minute.” Piers stuffed his hands in his pockets, almost expecting his phone to be gone. “Were you searching me?”

“No!”

“You were frisking me!”

“I was not.”

“You were