Free The Paris Game by Alyssa Linn Palmer Page B

bring something, so I don’t have to cook too much.”
    “No wine?”
    Sera smiled. “Someone else can bring the wine. You’ll be too busy.”
    Jean emerged from the back, frowning. “Edouard,” he called. “Can you come check the kegs? There’s not enough room for tomorrow’s order.”
    Edouard rolled his eyes before turning to follow Jean. Sera smiled and tried not to laugh. She took her water and went back to join Jeremy. He stared grimly into his bourbon, his mouth a thin line. He didn’t notice her immediately and she set her water down on the table across from him. He glanced up.
    “May I?” she asked. If he didn’t want her there after all, she’d go home. His expression softened.
    “Please. I’ve been waiting for you.”
    “You looked deep in thought—and not about anything pleasant. I’m hoping you weren’t thinking about me.”
    Her flirtation did the trick: Jeremy laughed. She settled into her chair, her legs brushing his under the table.
    “No, if I’d been thinking about you, I’d have been smiling.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his fingers enveloping hers. He had large hands and seemed to think she was made of porcelain. His touch was different from Marc’s. She wanted him to be determined, to touch more than just her hand.
    “Then what were you thinking about?”
    “Just work. Nothing worth telling.”
    “You must have an awful job if it makes you look like that.” She wanted to kiss him, to pull off his tie, but instead she merely held his hand.
    “The job has its perks. Travel. Meeting lovely women.”
    “So you’re here for work?”
    “My poor French must give it away.” He gave her a half-smile.
    “Just a slight accent,” she assured him. “You speak it well.”
    “Grammar school,” Jeremy confided. “And a French girl I met at the Dalston, though she wasn’t nearly as lovely as you.”
    “Is that a bar?”
    “A club, a bit like this one, but the music isn’t as good. Gina introduced me to chanson, but I hadn’t really heard it properly till I came here.”
    “Are you a musician?” Sera let her gaze wander over him, watching his hand cupping his glass of bourbon, the slight shake of his head, the widening of his smile that flashed slightly crooked teeth.
    “I’d have more of a chance with you if I were,” he remarked.
    “How do you mean?” Even though he’d kept it light, she’d been chastised.
    “The cellist the other night was a lucky man,” he replied. As she thought.
    “He and I aren’t together, if that’s what you’re wondering.” So that’s what this was about. Was he disappointed?
    “You’ve been together before, though. Performed, I mean.”
    She almost laughed. “Yes, a few times.”
    “I’m glad I was here tonight. Would you sing for me?” He looked at her intently.
    “When?” she asked. The house lights flickered and brightened. Sera looked up in surprise. The club was closing. It couldn’t be that late. She’d only just sat down.
    “How about now?”
    “You timed that with the lights, didn’t you?” Sera teased.
    “I’d like to think so.” He rose, tossing back the last of his bourbon before holding out a hand. “Shall we? My hotel is close by.”
    “D’accord.” Sera smiled to herself. He didn’t pull any punches. But why not? Better than spending the night alone. She welcomed the warm weight of Jeremy’s arm draping over her shoulders, providing shelter from the cool night air. Still, she shivered, enough that Jeremy looked down at her.
    “It’s not far.”
    Several streets over, Jeremy ushered Sera into the dim lobby of a small hotel. The decor was sparse but well-kept, though she noticed that the front desk was empty. As they made their way to the staircase she thought she could hear the faint sound of snoring. The hall smelled slightly musty and the carpet runner they walked on needed replacing, but it was quiet. Jeremy produced a key from his pocket as they reached the second floor,