One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,9

mission, so she started downstairs. The runner cushioning her steps glowed with red and gold threads, and the dark wood of the banister gleamed.

She slid her hand along it as she descended, and she wondered if kids had ever polished it with the seat of their pants. The house seemed too formal for children to play in, but if it had been here for centuries, they must have at some time.

Three flights down she finally heard noise, but most of it was coming up from a simple stairway that led to a basement level. She’d seen enough foreign movies to know that the servants probably stayed on the bottom floor, and they were the ones she could hear talking and laughing.

She paused in the foyer. Above her head a crystal chandelier glittered. To her left, double doors opened to what she would call a living room, but it might be known by a different name over here. She registered the contents as expensive, with vivid upholstery, polished wood, more art on the walls—no doubt originals—and a marble fireplace. But the room was empty, and Drew had said he’d be in his office, so she needed to find that.

The door to the next room down the hallway was open, and when she glanced in, she found Drew. He sat facing her, but all his attention was on the computer screen sitting on the dark wood desk. He’d taken off his jacket, and the top two buttons of his snowy long-sleeved shirt were undone, revealing the strong column of his throat. His dark hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his fingers through it several times.

His expression was intense as his fingers flew over the keys, and he wore a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses. Seeing that small vulnerability, a lack of perfect eyesight, touched her heart. He was concentrating so hard that she hated to interrupt him.

But if she didn’t, no telling how long he’d continue to work. He looked completely engrossed. As she stood in the doorway, she spoke his name softly, not wanting to startle him.

His head came up immediately and he blinked. “Oh, Melanie. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I was being quiet.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. The room’s beautiful and the bathroom’s to die for. But I’d like to call home before I take a shower and conk out. Someone needs to know I’m not staying at the place I gave them the number for.” She decided not to mention that she planned to call Astrid, in case he thought she was checking up on him, which she was. “Could I please borrow your phone again?”

“You bet. Come on in.” Standing, he picked the phone up from where it lay next to his computer, but it chimed before he could hand it to her. “Hang on.” He checked the readout. “That can wait. That old boy can leave a message.”

“But I don’t want to interfere with your—”

“You’re not.” He smiled and gave her the phone. “Sometimes it’s better to leave ’em hangin’ for a while.”

The warmth of his smile took her breath away. It also took care of any weariness she’d been feeling. Earlier he’d mentioned plans to go to the Louvre, but he’d interrupted that when he’d come to her rescue. She wanted to go now, with him. He probably knew the place inside and out.

Then again, he might not be free to traipse off with her. Come to think of it, she’d bought a ticket in advance for the Louvre, and it was gone, along with everything else in her backpack. She didn’t have money for a new ticket, even if she could get one.

But she was in Paris. Who took a nap when they could be exploring a city they’d wanted to visit forever? And how fabulous if they could have a guide who looked like Drew Eldridge?

He gazed at her. “You must really be looking forward to calling home.”

“Why?”

“Your eyes got all sparkly just now.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“Oh?”

She couldn’t very well admit that he’d been responsible for a good part of that sparkle. “It just hit me. I’m in Paris. To heck with sleep. If my money’s arrived at Western Union, I’d love to go to the Louvre, although I’m not sure if I could get a ticket this late in the day. Even if the money’s not there yet, I could walk along the Seine, and through the Tuileries Garden, and . . .” Then she remembered that she’d interrupted his work.