Free The Paris Game by Alyssa Linn Palmer Page A

ma chere.”
    “It will have to be.” Sera took another sip of the whiskey. She watched in the mirror as Marc bent to kiss the skin he’d exposed. His touch was featherlight, sending a frisson of desire through her.
    “Perhaps I should take you home tonight, tie you up.”
    Sera turned to stare up at him. “Don’t you dare.”
    Marc laughed and stroked her cheek. “I’m just teasing you, ma chère. But I might do it anyway if you keep snooping through my things.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know very well. My bookshelf was out of order when I returned home.”
    “I bumped a stack when I was leaving.” She gave him a puzzled glance, wondering if he’d see through her lie.
    “Was that all?” His fingers slid under her chin and tilted her head so he could see her face. His expression was terse, unlike his earlier flirtation. She held her breath. “Whatever you saw, forget about it.”
    “I didn’t see anything.”
    “Good girl.”
    Sera sank back, resting her head against him for a moment. He stroked her hair.
    “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” he asked. “It’s getting late.”
    It would be so easy to say yes, but she wouldn’t set herself up for another fall. “It was one night. No more.”
    “As you will, though I am disappointed.” He tweaked a lock of her hair. “Bonne nuit.”
    “Bonne nu it, Marc.”

    Only several regulars and two sets of couples lingered in the club when Sera returned. She wouldn’t make any of that €200 tonight. She heard her name. Jeremy sat at a table on the far side of the stage, nursing a bourbon. His tie was loose and he’d shed his jacket. He smiled at her. He hadn’t been there earlier, but she brightened to see him now. Maybe her evening wouldn’t be a complete disappointment. She mouthed ‘I’ll be right there’ and gave him a wave as she headed up to the bar.
    “Another?” Edouard asked.
    “Just water this time.” Sera gave Edouard a grateful smile.
    “Your color is better.” He set a bottle of Vittel down on the bar in front of her. It was chilled and beads of moisture ran down the bottle, pooling on the wood. She cracked it open. He turned away and put a trio of clean brandy snifters back in their spot on the shelf.
    “Have you seen Sophie?” he asked.
    “Not since Friday. You should call her.” She fished in her purse for the napkin with Sophie’s number, crumpled but still legible. She smoothed it in her hand.
    “And say what?”
    Sera shrugged. “Offer to show her some museums. Invite her for coffee. You’ve done this sort of thing before.”
    “Oui, but Paula was always the one deciding where we should go. And, before her...” he shrugged. “I didn’t get out as much.” He took the scrap of napkin from Sera and scribbled Sophie’s number down on the back of a cardboard drink coaster, tucking it into his pocket.
    Sera had an idea. Something to ease Edouard and Sophie together.
    “Are you working Tuesday?” She wasn’t, as a band from New Orleans had been booked for the evening as a part of their French tour.
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Switch shifts.”
    “Who would I get to cover me at such short notice?”
    “Don’t tell me no one would.”
    Edouard pulled out his phone and flicked through the contacts, frowning. “Perhaps Alain would switch. He said he hates working Wednesdays.”
    “Good. Call him. I was thinking of having a dinner party. You could have an afternoon date with Sophie, and then come for dinner.”
    “Just the three of us?”
    “No, of course not. That’d be no fun. I’ll invite the usual crowd. And then afterwards you could escort her home, and...” she trailed off and Edouard’s cheeks went a light pinkish hue.
    “You’re devious.”
    Sera laughed. “Hardly. Every girl likes to be walked to her door. Then she can kiss her man goodnight, or invite him up for a coffee. And maybe more.”
    “What time on Tuesday then?”
    “About seven. And bring a couple of baguettes. Everyone will