French Twist by Roxanne St. Claire - French Twist

Author:Roxanne St. Claire - French Twist [Claire, Roxanne St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Contemporary, General
ISBN: 9780743498593
Google: NX58ORk4BV0C
Amazon: 0743477294
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2003-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fifteen

J anine managed to shower and eat the stew that Luc warmed for her. They ate quietly, the lights low, the gun on the table next to him.

They didn’t discuss the danger they might be in, which suited Janine just fine. If she dwelled on it, terror took hold. And if he knew she was afraid, he might send her back to Versailles.

“Do we have to wait for her?” Janine kept her eyes on the gun as she asked. “I mean, is it that important, what we’re wearing?”

He nodded. “If we stand out, we might as well put a target on our backs. Slipping in unnoticed is critical. And to that end, you need a wig. Or something.”

“I’ll wear a hat.”

“Maybe that would work. I’d hate to see you cut your hair.”

“Actually…” She smiled for the first time in hours. “My ex-fiancé used to beg me to cut my hair and color it red. It would just about put him over the edge if I came back from France with short, dyed hair after I refused him for so many years.”

“That must be your Sam. The liar,” he said.

“He’s not my—” She frowned at him. “How do you know his name?”

“You said it when you fainted.”

“Oh, hell.” She didn’t want to hear this. “What did I say?”

He grinned playfully. “Something like, ‘Sam, you’re forgiven. If only you’ll cough up a bigger, better diamond than the one I flushed away.’ ”

“Amazing how the lack of oxygen can turn a person into a raving lunatic.”

This time he laughed with her, maybe as relieved as she was to not be concentrating on the danger, and the gun. “Is he also an art historian?”

“Not a chance. His idea of art is a movie with subtitles. He can’t stand to set foot on the UCLA campus, except to hunt for coeds who want to be movie stars.” And he was very good at finding them. “He’s a producer. A Hollywood hotshot.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “You’re too smart for a guy like that.”

“Not smart enough to figure that out for five years.”

He scooped a mushroom onto his spoon. “So what made you stay with him?”

“He’s very funny and charming, and we had a good time together. We traveled a lot, until he got a big movie deal last year and, well—” He lied, cheated, and made promises he couldn’t keep. “Things sort of slid downhill after that.”

“But you were going to marry him,” he countered. “They couldn’t have gone that far ‘downhill.’ ”

She abandoned her stew and looked straight into his eyes. “I was optimistic. Sam offered me the kind of lifestyle I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl in Porterville.”

“What kind of lifestyle was that?”

“Comfort. Security. Big-time luxury.” She was surprised at how easily she could admit that, now that she’d separated from Sam. “I wanted a home. You know, with a curved staircase and a grand piano. It took me a while to realize that the price for the house and husband was way, way too high.

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