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Authors: Tess Gerritsen
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I’m so tired of secrets, so tired of trying to tease apart In Their Footsteps
73
the truths from the half truths. And I’ll never know which is which with this man.
Abruptly she went to the door. “If we can’t be honest with each other,” she said, “there’s no point in being together at all. So why don’t we say good-night. And goodbye.”
“I don’t think so.”
She turned and frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not ready to say goodbye. Not when I know you’re being followed.”
“You’re concerned about my welfare, is that it?”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
She shot him a breezy smile. “I’m very good at taking care of myself.”
“You’re in a foreign city. Things could happen—”
“I’m not exactly alone.” She crossed the room to the connecting door leading to Jordan’s suite. Yanking it open, she called, “Wake up, Jordie! I’m in need of some brotherly assistance.”
There was no answer from the bed.
“Jordie?” she said.
“Your bodyguard stays right on his toes, doesn’t he?” said Richard.
Annoyed, Beryl flicked on the wall switch. In the sudden flood of light, she found herself blinking in astonishment.
Jordan’s bed was empty.
Four
That woman is staring at me again.
Jordan stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his cappuccino and casually glanced in the direction of the blonde sitting three tables away. At once she averted her gaze. She was attractive enough, he noted. Mid-twenties, with a lean, athletic build. Nothing overripe about that one. Her hair was cut like a boy’s, with elfin wisps feathering her forehead. She wore a black sweater, black skirt, black stockings. Fashion or camouflage? He shifted his gaze ahead to the street and the evening parade of pedestrians.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the woman again looking his way. Ordinarily it would have flattered him to know he was the object of such intense feminine scrutiny.
But something about this particular woman made him uneasy. Couldn’t a fellow wander the streets of Paris these days without being stalked by carnivorous females?
It had been such a pleasant outing up till now. Minutes after sending Beryl and Richard on their way, he’d slipped out of his hotel room in search of a decent watering hole.
In Their Footsteps
75
A stroll across Place Vendôme, a visit to the Olympia Music Hall, then a midnight snack at Café de la Paix—
what better way to spend one’s first evening in Paris?
But perhaps it was time to call it a night.
He finished his cappuccino, paid the tab, and began walking toward the Rue de la Paix. It took him only half a block to realize the woman in black was following him.
He had paused at a shop window and was gazing in at a display of men’s suits when he spotted a fleeting glimpse of a blond head reflected in the glass. He turned and saw her standing across the street, intently staring into a window. A lingerie shop, he noted. Judging by the rest of her outfit, she’d no doubt choose her knickers in black, as well.
Jordan continued walking in the direction of Place Vendôme.
Across the street, the woman was paralleling his route.
This is getting tiresome, he thought. If she wants to flirt, why doesn’t she just come over and bat her eyelashes? The direct approach, he could appreciate. It was honest and straightforward, and he liked honest women. But this stalking business unnerved him.
He walked another half block. So did she.
He stopped and pretended to study another shop window. She did likewise. This is ridiculous, he thought.
I am not going to put up with this nonsense.
He crossed the street and walked straight up to her.
“Mademoiselle?” he said.
She turned and regarded him with a startled look.
Plainly she had not expected a face-to-face confrontation.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “may I ask why you’re following me?”
76
Tess Gerritsen
She opened her mouth and shut it again, all the time staring at him with those big
I’m so tired of secrets, so tired of trying to tease apart In Their Footsteps
73
the truths from the half truths. And I’ll never know which is which with this man.
Abruptly she went to the door. “If we can’t be honest with each other,” she said, “there’s no point in being together at all. So why don’t we say good-night. And goodbye.”
“I don’t think so.”
She turned and frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not ready to say goodbye. Not when I know you’re being followed.”
“You’re concerned about my welfare, is that it?”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
She shot him a breezy smile. “I’m very good at taking care of myself.”
“You’re in a foreign city. Things could happen—”
“I’m not exactly alone.” She crossed the room to the connecting door leading to Jordan’s suite. Yanking it open, she called, “Wake up, Jordie! I’m in need of some brotherly assistance.”
There was no answer from the bed.
“Jordie?” she said.
“Your bodyguard stays right on his toes, doesn’t he?” said Richard.
Annoyed, Beryl flicked on the wall switch. In the sudden flood of light, she found herself blinking in astonishment.
Jordan’s bed was empty.
Four
That woman is staring at me again.
Jordan stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his cappuccino and casually glanced in the direction of the blonde sitting three tables away. At once she averted her gaze. She was attractive enough, he noted. Mid-twenties, with a lean, athletic build. Nothing overripe about that one. Her hair was cut like a boy’s, with elfin wisps feathering her forehead. She wore a black sweater, black skirt, black stockings. Fashion or camouflage? He shifted his gaze ahead to the street and the evening parade of pedestrians.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the woman again looking his way. Ordinarily it would have flattered him to know he was the object of such intense feminine scrutiny.
But something about this particular woman made him uneasy. Couldn’t a fellow wander the streets of Paris these days without being stalked by carnivorous females?
It had been such a pleasant outing up till now. Minutes after sending Beryl and Richard on their way, he’d slipped out of his hotel room in search of a decent watering hole.
In Their Footsteps
75
A stroll across Place Vendôme, a visit to the Olympia Music Hall, then a midnight snack at Café de la Paix—
what better way to spend one’s first evening in Paris?
But perhaps it was time to call it a night.
He finished his cappuccino, paid the tab, and began walking toward the Rue de la Paix. It took him only half a block to realize the woman in black was following him.
He had paused at a shop window and was gazing in at a display of men’s suits when he spotted a fleeting glimpse of a blond head reflected in the glass. He turned and saw her standing across the street, intently staring into a window. A lingerie shop, he noted. Judging by the rest of her outfit, she’d no doubt choose her knickers in black, as well.
Jordan continued walking in the direction of Place Vendôme.
Across the street, the woman was paralleling his route.
This is getting tiresome, he thought. If she wants to flirt, why doesn’t she just come over and bat her eyelashes? The direct approach, he could appreciate. It was honest and straightforward, and he liked honest women. But this stalking business unnerved him.
He walked another half block. So did she.
He stopped and pretended to study another shop window. She did likewise. This is ridiculous, he thought.
I am not going to put up with this nonsense.
He crossed the street and walked straight up to her.
“Mademoiselle?” he said.
She turned and regarded him with a startled look.
Plainly she had not expected a face-to-face confrontation.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “may I ask why you’re following me?”
76
Tess Gerritsen
She opened her mouth and shut it again, all the time staring at him with those big
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