She thought she should make some kind of protest. “This is insane.”
“Yes.” He surveyed her out of surprisingly blue eyes, almost a turquoise color, startling in the familiar/unfamiliar face. “You’re here.”
“Yes,” she said. She glanced at the car. “This thing run?”
“Like a champ.” He tilted his head, surveying her. “I figure if I can’t kill you then I might as well keep you.”
“Very romantic,” she said. “I’m going back upstairs.”
“No, you aren’t. By the way, my name is Thomas Lambert.” He didn’t move, and neither did she.
“Hello, Thomas Lambert. What do you do for a living?” She held her breath. There was an odd look in his eyes, as if he were far away, and then he smiled at her with surprising tenderness.
“Actually I’m at loose ends right now. I decided it was time for a change. I didn’t like my old job much.”
She nodded. “Change is always good. Where are we going?”
“Do you care?”
“Not really.”
“Then get in the car.” He moved out the way, even opening the door for her. Despite the outside wreck of the car, the inside was perfectly restored and spotless.
She sat very still as he went around the back of the car and climbed in beside her. He turned to look at her, and then he put his hand behind her neck and held her for a deep, endless kiss. When he pulled away his eyes were suddenly sober. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
And a moment later they were flying through the Paris traffic, heading for God knew where.
She leaned back and smiled. Everyone would scream, no one would believe it. She’d have to send her mother an anonymous email telling her she was fine. But for now, she was going to disappear, with a man she couldn’t possibly love, a man who couldn’t possibly love her, and maybe they’d never come back.
For now, that was good enough.
Anne Stuart, Risk the Night
(Series: # )
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