As they neared the river, the cool night air off the water made Julianne shiver. The gold wrap was more decorative than functional.
“Here,” Heath said, slipping out of his coat and holding it for her. “Put this on.”
“Thank you,” Julianne replied, accepting the jacket. “It’s quite a bit cooler than it was when we went to dinner.” She snuggled into the warm, soft fabric, the scent of Heath’s skin and cologne comingling in the air surrounding her. It instantly brought to mind the hot nights they’d spent together over the last few weeks. The familiar need curled in her belly, urging her to reach for him and tell him to take her back to the hotel so she could make love to him.
Despite the night chill, her cheeks flooded with warmth. She no longer needed the coat, but she kept it on anyway. As much as she craved his touch, she wasn’t in a hurry to end this night. The sky was clear and sparkling with a sprinkle of stars. The moon hung high and full overhead. After the emotionally trying few weeks they’d had, they were sharing a night together in Paris. She wouldn’t rush that even to make love to Heath.
They stopped on the bridge and looked out at the moon reflecting on the water. It was such a calm, clear night, the water was like glass. In the distance, she could hear street performers playing jazz music. Heath was beside her. For the first time in a long time, Julianne felt a sense of peace. Here, there were no detectives asking questions, no family to accommodate, no unfinished art projects haunting her and no dead men chasing her in her dreams. It was just the two of them in the most romantic city in the world.
“Do you remember when we put the lock on the Pont des Arts bridge?”
Heath nodded. The bridge was farther down the Seine near the Louvre. It was covered in padlocks that had couples’ names and dates written on them. Some couples came on their wedding day with special engraved locks. Others bought them from street vendors on the spur of the moment, like they had. The man had loaned them a marker to write “Heath and Julianne Forever.” They’d put the lock on the bridge and threw the key into the river before heading to the train station and leaving Paris for Spain. The idea was that you were sealing your relationship forever. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t fully let go of him.
“I wonder if it’s still there.”
“I doubt it,” he said. “I read that they cut locks off or remove entire panels of the fence at night. It’s been eleven years. I’m sure our lock is long gone.”
Julianne frowned at the water. That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. A part of her was thinking they would be able to walk down to the bridge and find it. That they might be overcome with emotions at seeing it firmly clasped to the fence, never to be unlocked, and they would finally be able to triumph over the obstacles that were keeping them apart.
Yes, because that’s exactly what she needed to do when her divorce was virtually finalized. But if she were honest with herself, if she let her tightly clamped down emotions free like she did that night in Paris all those years ago, she had to admit nothing had changed. She still loved Heath. She had always loved him. It was her love for him that had forced her to push him away so he could have a real chance at happiness. And it was her love for him that wouldn’t let her cut the cord that tied them together. She didn’t need a lock to do that.
Heath had accused her of commitment-phobia, of using their marriage to keep men away. But that wasn’t the whole truth. The whole truth was that she could never love any of those men. How could she? Her heart belonged to Heath and had since elementary school.
“That makes me sad,” she admitted to the dark silence around them. “I was hoping that somehow our lock would last even though we didn’t. Our love should still be alive here in Paris, just like it was then.”
Heath reached for her hand and held it tight. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The warm comfort of his touch was enough. She didn’t expect him to feel the same way. She’d thrown his feelings back in his face and never told him why. He’d asked for a divorce, so despite their mutual attraction and physical indulgence over the last few weeks, that was all he felt for her. He’d carried the torch for her far longer than he should have, so she couldn’t begrudge him finally putting it down. Telling Heath she had feelings for him now, after all this time, would be like rubbing salt in the wound.
Instead of focusing on that thought, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of Heath’s touch. In a few weeks, even that would be gone. Carrying on their physical relationship after the divorce wasn’t a good idea. They were divorcing so Heath could move on with his life. Find a woman who could love him the way he deserved to be loved. Maybe take his mystery woman to the Caribbean. For that to happen, she couldn’t keep stringing him along. She had to let him go.
She needed to make the most of the time they had left and indulge her heart’s desires. And tonight, she intended to indulge in the fancy, king-sized bed of their hotel suite. She wanted the passionate, romantic night in Paris that she couldn’t have when they were young and in love.
Julianne opened her eyes and turned to look at Heath. His gaze met hers, a similar sadness there although he hadn’t voiced it. He probably thought they were mourning their marriage together in the place where it started. That was the smart thing for her to do. To appreciate what they had and to let it go once and for all.
She pressed her body to his side and with the help of her stilettos, easily tilted her head up to whisper into his ear. “Take me home.”
Ten
Heath opened the door to their suite and Julianne stepped inside ahead of him. In a bucket by the seating area was a bottle of Champagne with a note. Julianne plucked the white card from the bottle and scanned the neat script.
“Madame Badeau has sent us a bottle of Champagne. She’s not quite the cougar you warned me about, Heath.”
Heath was slipping out of his coat jacket and tugging at his tie when he turned to look at her. “She told me earlier tonight that she could see we had a rare and precious love.”
Julianne’s eyes widened at him, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy chuckling and shaking his head.
“Boy, did we have her fooled. I think she’s finally given up on me.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and cast the card onto the table. A woman she’d known less than a day could see what Heath refused to see. “Spoils to the victor,” she replied, trying to keep the bitter tone from her voice. “Open it while I change.”
He walked over to take the bottle from her. When she heard the loud pop of the cork, she moved the two crystal flutes closer to him and took a few steps away to watch as he poured.
As many times as they had been together over the last few weeks, there hadn’t been much fanfare to their lovemaking. No seduction. No temptation. It hadn’t been as frantic as that first night in the shower, but they wanted each other too badly to delay their desires. But tonight she wanted to offer him a night in Europe they’d never forget, this time, for all the right reasons.
Heath set down the bottle and picked up the flutes filled with golden bubbly liquid. His gaze met hers, but instead of approaching him, she smiled softly and let her gold wrap fall to the floor. She reached for the zipper at her side, drawing it down the curve of her waist and swell of her hip. His gaze immediately went to the intimate flash of her skin now exposed and the conspicuous absence of lingerie beneath it.
Julianne knew the exact moment he realized she hadn’t been wearing panties all evening. He swallowed hard and his fingers tightened around the delicate crystal stems of the glasses. His chest swelled with a deep breath before his gaze met hers again. There was a hard glint of desire there. He might not love her any longer, but there was no question that he wanted her. The intensity of his gaze stole the breath from her lungs.
Drawing in a much-needed lungful of cool air, she turned her back to Heath and strolled into the bedroom. Her fingertips curled around the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. Her hair spilled back down around her shoulders, tickling her bare shoulder blades. She tossed the dress across the plush chaise and turned around.