We'll Always Have Paris by Barbara Bretton

Author:Barbara Bretton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460395622
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

“CELESTE,” Kate said as they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor. “She set us up.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Ryan said, as the elevator doors slid open and they exited into the hallway. “She’s almost ninety. She must have made a mistake.”

“This isn’t a mistake. Aunt Celeste knew exactly what she was doing.”

Her great-aunt was a born matchmaker who had tried to set up the undertaker with the hospice nurse at her husband’s funeral.

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh yes, she would,” Kate said, “and I’ll prove it.”

The elevator doors slid open and they exited into the hallway.

“Okay, here’s a question. Did Aunt Celeste have anything to do with that interview you did in London?”

The look of disbelief on Ryan’s face was starting to be replaced by one of shock. “She put me in touch with the footballer.”

“I rest my case.” She couldn’t keep the smug note of triumph from her voice. “This was a setup.”

“The guy announced his retirement to me. I don’t think your Aunt Celeste had anything to do with that.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Kate said. “When it comes to romance, she’s Patton in pearls. Nothing gets in her way.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe the desk clerk gave me the wrong key by accident.”

“Right,” said Kate as she slid the old-fashioned brass key into the lock and opened the door. “And I suppose your bags were put here by accident, too.”

A familiar leather carry-on and a duffel bag had been left in the hallway adjacent to the escritoire.

“Believe me now?” she asked.

He dragged his hand through his hair and whistled low. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“That’s because you’re a man. She can work right there in plain sight and you’d never see it coming.”

“Hey, Nancy Drew, you didn’t see it coming, either.”

She stalked across the room and picked up the phone.

“What are you doing?” He had the look of a man who had been dropped behind enemy lines without a battle plan.

“I’m calling Celeste. I want you to hear it from her own lips.”

The phone rang twice at the inn. A woman answered with a cheery “’Allo!”

Kate, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, stumbled through a mixed-up mess of English and high-school French as she tried to get the woman to take the phone to her aunt.

“Non! Non!” This was followed by a stream of rapid-fire French that made Kate dizzy.

“Madame Beaulieu, s’il vous plaît,” she tried again. “Je m’appelle Kate Donovan. Je suis sa niece.”

“Madame Beaulieu away…”

Kate thanked the woman and hung up. She turned to Ryan. “The inn says she’s not there.” She then said something she would have punished her daughters for saying when they were ten years old.

He had been her husband long enough not to laugh.

“You think she’s ducking your call?”

“What else?” She handed him the phone. “You call and say there’s a wedding emergency.”

“Like hell. I like Celeste.”

“Do you like what she did to us?”

Wait a minute! What if he did like what Celeste did? Wouldn’t that be something.

He took the phone from her and dialed 0, which effectively brought that line of conjecture to a halt.

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