Foreign Love (An International Sports Romance) (Love in Shades) Read Free Page B

steady their steps. “ Ah, les jeunes de nos jours ,” the old man grumbles, tightening his grip on his wife’s hand.
     
    I offer them a sheepish grin in apology and the wife gives me a cross glance. When I turn back to Julia, her jaw is still hanging open. “Real smooth,” she says shaking her head. “Real fucking smooth, Lucien.”
     
    And then she laughs. And I want to make her laugh all day.
     
    “You’re not very subtle,” she says, cheeks red and blushing.
     
    “I am a grown man. And you are grown too, no?” I say pointedly. “Why waste time dancing around the issue when we could both be getting what we want?”
     
    Her eyes narrow as she shakes her head at me in disbelief. “It’s about buildup. Flirtation. Seduction.”
     
    My mouth tilts up at the side. “Hmmm? Is that what you need to get those panties wet?”
     
    She hocks as she walks away from me. “You are un-believable.”
     
    I can’t let her get away. I snatch her by the wrist. “Come have lunch with me,” I offer.
     
    “I – I’ve gotta get home,” she says curtly as she watches busy pedestrians zip around us.
     
    “Well, even better. Let me come with you,” I say waggling my brows.
     
    “You wish…” she says sarcastically.
     
    “Oh, yes. I certainly do.” I give her a smug grin, deliberately highlighting the innuendo in my statement.
     
    She rolls her eyes but she’s still smiling. “You really don’t take a hint, do you?”
     
    “No, I do not,” I say trying to look earnest. “It might be the language barrier.”
     
    She throws her head back and giggles. “Yeah, right.”
     
    She’s laughing. Good. We’re on the right track . I press on. “So, what will it be? Lunch at the wonderful little café around the corner,” I stick out one hand, palm facing the sky, “or, we just head straight back to your flat and pick up where we left off on the plane.” I stick out my other hand, weighing her options.
     
    She shoves me playfully in the shoulder, her small hand squeezing at my deltoid muscle. I like the way that feels . “How about a quick coffee?” she suggests.
     
    “ Très bien alors ,” I say with a smile. I will take whatever I can get from her.
     
    “Okay, Monsieur Beauvier ,” she says with a smirk. “Lead the way.”
     
    My hand itches with the urge to curl around her slim waist and press my fingertips into her side. So, I do just that as I lead her down the cobblestone road.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Julia
     
     
    The waiter sets a tiny shot of espresso in front of me and one in front of Lucien. Lucien wrinkles up his nose at me, amusement twirling in his eyes, as I dump one teaspoon and then another of white sugar into my coffee before adding enough milk to make the drink spill over the sides of the small cup.
     
    “Americans,” he says shaking his head in pity as he pulls off his cap and sets it on his knee. His brown, wavy hair is cropped close to the scalp. He runs a hand over it distractedly, brushing it into place.
     
    “What?” I ask furrowing my brow at him.
     
    “You complicate everything, even a simple cup of coffee,” he chuckles before lifting his cup to his lips.
     
    “I resent that,” I say sharply despite the smile on my mouth. “America is the greatest nation on earth. We employ methods far superior to those known of here in France,” I state in a faux-haughty tone.
     
    “If you say so.” He throws up a hand in defeat. A serious but pleasant look settles on his face. “I did not ask you here to discuss diplomacy and foreign relations, though.”
     
    I lift an eyebrow. “So, what exactly did you invite me here for?”
     
    He gives me a curious look. “I want to know you a little,” he says. “Why is that strange to you?”
     
    My gaze wanders past his shoulder to a couple zooming down the winding cobblestone street on an electric scooter. They look happy and carefree. I wish I could feel that again. “Why is it strange to me? Because we had a moment