of her had struck home. The comment underscored his contempt for certain members of her profession. How much would it take, she wondered uneasily, for him to lump her in with the sleaziest among them?
Still troubled by Dev’s parting comment, Sarah knotted the sash to her robe and stepped out onto her little balcony. She’d lost herself in the view before, but this time the seemingly endless vista of chimneys and gray slate roofs didn’t hold as much interest as her bird’s-eye view of the street four stories below.
The limo Dev had called for idled a few yards from the hotel’s entrance. When he strode out of the hotel, the sight of him once again outfitted in his business attire gave Sarah’s heart a crazy bump. She couldn’t help contrasting that with the image of his sleek, naked body still vivid in her mind.
The uniformed driver jumped out to open the rear passenger door. Dev smiled and said a few words to him, inaudible from Sarah’s height, and ducked to enter the car. At the last moment he paused and glanced up. When he spotted her, the friendly smile he’d given the driver warmed into something so private and so sensual that she responded without thinking.
Touching her fingers lightly to her lips, she blew him a kiss—and was immediately embarrassed by the gesture. It was so schmaltzy, and so out of character for her. More like something Gina might do. Yet she remained on the balcony like some lovelorn Juliet long after Dev had driven off.
Even worse, she couldn’t summon the least desire to get dressed and meander through the streets. Peering into shop windows or people watching at a café didn’t hold as much allure as it had before. She would rather wait until Dev finished with his meeting and they could meander together.
She’d take a long, bubbly bath instead, she decided. But first she had catch up on her email. And call Grandmama. And try Gina again. Maybe this time her sister would answer the damned phone.
* * *
Gina didn’t, but Sarah caught the duchess before she went out for her morning constitutional. She tried to temper her habitual concern with a teasing note.
“You won’t overdo it, will you?”
“My darling Sarah,” Charlotte huffed. “If I could walk almost forty miles through a war-torn country with an infant in my arms, I can certainly stroll a few city blocks.”
Wisely, Sarah refrained from pointing out that the duchess had made the first walk more than fifty years ago.
“Have you heard from Gina?” she asked instead.
“No, have you?”
“Not since she texted me that she was flitting off to Switzerland.”
She’d tried to keep her the response casual, but the duchess knew her too well.
“Listen to me, Sarah Elizabeth Marie-Adele. Your sister may act rashly on occasion, but she’s a St. Sebastian. Whatever you think she may be up to, she won’t bring shame on her family or her name.”
The urge to tell her grandmother about the missing medallion was so strong that Sarah had to bite her lip to keep from blurting it out. That would only lead to a discussion of how she’d become involved with Dev, and she wasn’t ready to explain that, either. Thankfully, her grandmother was content to let the subject drop.
“Now tell me about Paris,” she commanded. “Has Devon taken you to Café Michaud yet?”
“Not yet, but he said you’d given him strict orders to do so. Oh, and he had his people work minor miracles to get us into the Hôtel Verneuil on such short notice.”
“He did? How very interesting.”
She sounded so thoughtful—and so much like a cat that had just lapped up a bowl of cream—that Sarah became instantly suspicious.
“What other instructions did you give him?”
“None.”
“Come on. Fess up. What other surprises do I have in store?”
A soft sigh came through the phone. “You’re in Paris, with a handsome, virile man. One whom I suspect is more than capable of delivering surprises of his own.”
Sarah gave a fervent prayer of thanks that the duchess hadn’t yet mastered the FaceTime app on her phone. If she had, she would have seen her elder granddaughter’s cheeks flame at the thought of how much she’d already enjoyed her handsome, virile fiancé.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Grandmama. Give Maria my love.”
She hung up, marveling again at how readily everyone seemed to have accepted Dev Hunter’s sudden appearance in their lives. Grandmama. Maria. Alexis. Sarah herself. Would they accept his abrupt departure as readily?
Would they have to?
Sarah was no fool. Nor was she blind. She could tell Dev felt at least some of the same jumbled emotions she did. Mixed in with the greedy hunger there was the shared laughter, the seduction of this trip, the growing delight in each other’s company. Maybe, just maybe, there could be love, too.
She refused to even speculate about anything beyond that. Their evolving relationship was too new, too fragile, to project vary far ahead. Still, she couldn’t help humming the melody from Edith Piaf’s classic, “La Vie En Rose,” as she started for the bathroom and a long, hot soak.
The house phone caught her halfway there. She detoured to the desk and answered. The caller identified himself as Monsieur LeBon, the hotel’s manager, and apologized profusely for disturbing her.
“You’re not disturbing me, monsieur.”
“Good, good.” He hesitated, then seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I saw Monsieur Hunter leave a few moments ago and thought perhaps I might catch you alone.”
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. Do you by chance know a gentleman by the name of Henri Lefèvre?”
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“Aha! I thought as much.” LeBon gave a small sniff. “There was something in his manner...”
“What has this Monsieur Lefèvre to do with me?”
“He approached our receptionist earlier this afternoon and claimed you and he were introduced by a mutual acquaintance. He couldn’t remember your name, however. Only that you were a tall, slender American who spoke excellent French. And that you mentioned you were staying at the Hôtel Verneuil.”
The light dawned. It had to be Elise’s former lover. He must have heard her give the cabdriver instructions to the hotel.
“The receptionist didn’t tell him my name, did she?”
“You may rest assured she did not! Our staff is too well trained to disclose information on any of our guests. She referred the man to me, and I sent him on his way.”
“Thank
