Blame It on Paris Read Free Page A

and brass part, but the tawny lion part. “I have to admit, it feels a little weird, being here,” she said with a laugh. “For one thing, it’s just crazy for you to feel stuck with me, someone you don’t know from Adam.”
    â€œKelly. You’re not worried this is a pickup, are you? The only reason I suggested coming here was because it was nearby. It was the fastest we could get you to a place where you could put your feet up, have a cup of coffee in one hand and a phone in the other. It’s not like there isn’t another way to handle this, but you’ve got a bunch of calls to make, no easy way to do it on the street.”
    â€œAnd you’re from South Bend besides.”
    â€œAnd I’m from South Bend besides.”
    â€œWhich practically makes you like family.”
    He stuck a key in the lock and pushed open the door so she could enter first. She did, grazing his arm as she walked past him, thinking that Will would feel like “family” when it rained cats.
    She knew perfectly well she’d been blathering on like a goose. Another time she’d feel embarrassed or guilty, but the truth was, she’d started shaking about fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t stopped yet. It wasn’t every day a woman got mugged. She kept remembering the creep’s stinky breath and body odor, the feel of his arm choking her neck, and that started the shakes all over again.
    They were just little shakes. Not big ones. It wasn’t that she was a wimp or anything. At least she never had been before this, and Kelly kept telling herself she was mighty grateful that Will had offered to help her. Being suddenly penniless and without ID in a foreign country would have been pretty darn daunting if she’d been alone.
    Yet she only caught a single glance at the inside of his apartment before some silly instinct made her whirl around and back out again—or try to back out. Will was still standing in the doorway, blocking her escape. Her nose was suddenly an inch from his chin. She was only a breath’s distance from those killer blue eyes. And those shoulders. And those disreputable blond whiskers.
    â€œI’m engaged. Did I mention that?”
    â€œYeah, you did. What’s wrong now?”
    â€œNothing. Nothing. You’ve really got an interesting place.” But interesting wasn’t the word for it. One look, and she labeled it bachelor lair. The whole place shouted single guy on the prowl.
    His flat took up the second floor of an old building. She could only see so much from the narrow hallway, but there seemed to be a bunch of rooms, all small. The main living area, off to the right, had long, thin windows; old, rich woodwork; carved tin ceilings. He’d left the French doors open a crack, leading to a step-out balcony. The sunlight and erotic, exotic breeze drifted through the open door.
    Well, possibly it was just a plain old spring breeze, and possibly her mind had totally invented the erotic, exotic thing, but Kelly didn’t think so. Reality was that sex appeal poured off Will in sheets.
    She tried to concentrate on being nosy, which should have been natural for her. The living room was tiny, with a soot-stained corner fireplace and an elegant tiled hearth. The couch was old leather, all wrinkled and soft. The Persian rug looked seriously ancient, thick and fringed, in reds and dark blues. One wall had built-in shelves, with books heaped to the ceiling.
    The dust wasn’t more than half an inch thick, and Will swooped a shirt off a chair. “Look around, make yourself at home, okay? The bathroom’s off to the left. I need to call work, and I’ll start some coffee. Then we’ll concentrate on what you need to do from here.”
    He squeezed her shoulder as he ambled past—an erotic, exotic squeeze, totally inappropriate for an engaged woman.
    Or more likely it was her response to him that was inappropriate. Splashing her