Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,51
bit her bottom lip and smiled. “Mmmm, endurance.”
Piers swallowed and rubbed his hands together. He watched her gaze trace over his face, down his chest, and back up to his eyes. His blood thundered in his ears and the backs of his hands tingled. He wanted to get up, to cool down, to run away, to hide and think, to work out what he should say, to understand what he should do—but his muscles refused to cooperate. He was trapped between dying to say how he felt, and dying on the spot.
Sidney’s phone dinged and her smiled dissolved. Her gaze drifted away. Piers felt his heart pause, waiting for her look back at him, hoping for the chance to say the right thing, to say anything that would prolong the moment. But she stared at her phone and muttered, “junk mail,” before glancing around the room. “Six-thirty. We should have coffee.”
Piers sighed. His shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes for a second. He felt as if a cold wind had blown over him. He had to open and close his mouth twice before his voice worked. “Coffee?”
“Yeah, coffee. People have coffee after dinner. At least this people does.”
Piers arranged his knife and fork and pushed his plate away. His heart was pounding. He didn’t want the meal to end, but he told himself he would feel better when they had got rid of the painting. They had to focus on that first. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go outside.”
“No, let’s sit here.”
He shook his head. “I told Little and Large we’d be outside.”
“At seven o’clock, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s only six-thirty, so we can stay here a while longer.”
Piers looked around the room. It was quiet, and perhaps they should keep out of sight as much as possible. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, they chinked their coffee cups in a second toast. He sniffed at the thick black liquid. “I’m going to be up all night.”
She laughed. “I was hoping we’d be able to go to bed.”
Piers stopped breathing with his cup inches from his mouth.
She looked at him for a moment before laughing loud. “On my own, so wipe that look off your face.”
He felt as if his face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t . . . I wasn’t—”
“It’s okay, I’m teasing.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.
He shuffled in his seat. “Of course. I wasn’t—”
The front door to the restaurant slammed and Sidney jerked her head up.
Piers twisted in his chair and saw an old couple being led to a table by the maître d’.
He looked back at Sidney. “Getting twitchy?”
“No, why should I?” She checked the time on her phone. “Still fifteen minutes yet.”
Piers leaned back in his chair. They’d have to go outside soon, but he didn’t want her doing anything rash. He took a deep breath. “There’s one thing you need to know.”
She turned her gaze slowly toward him. “What?”
“Little and Large warned me that their boss isn’t one to be messed with.”
She shrugged. “That’s not exactly a surprise.”
“And that he would be bring a different crew.”
Sidney cheeks sagged. She spoke slowly. “Meaning?”
“Meaning trained killers.”
She slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh, god! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought it was going to be Little and Large, and now . . .”
“Now what?”
“Now . . . now …” She shook her head. “This isn’t good.”
“Obviously. I’ve no desire to meet trained killers either. But we’ll do it outside. On the street. With plenty of people around. That way they won’t be able to do anything, you know?”
“Like kill us if things don’t go their way?”
“Well—”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier?” She looked at her phone and shook it, as if willing it for some kind of answer.
“I didn’t want to frighten you.”
“Great, so you leave it until the last minute, until it’s a crisis.”
She started typing on her phone.
“What are you doing?”
She ignored him and finished her typing. Her phone dinged a moment later.
“Did you send a message to someone?”
“You’re just full of questions this evening, aren’t you?”
“Thinking ahead is what’s kept us alive. It’s why we’re here with a chance to get our lives back. Did you send a message to someone?”
She glowered at him. “Get your life back, maybe. My life will be the same as ever. Men tramping in, walking all over me and buggering off.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about me?” He leaned forward. “Have I tramped all over you and buggered off?”
“We only