Read Online Meet Me in Venice by Elizabeth Adler - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Adler
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all-enveloping look again.
THIRTEEN
S EATED next to Bennett in the taxi on the way to the Pont de l’Aima, Preshy wondered whether he was going to try to kiss her. And if he did would she let him? After all she had met him only a couple of hours ago. What would he think of her? But to her surprise he did not attempt to kiss her. In fact he kept a discreet distance between them, filling in the silence that had fallen by asking her questions about herself and life in Paris.
“I know nothing about antiques,” he said as the taxi finally squealed to a halt at the
quai.
“You’ll have to teach me.”
Did that mean he wanted to see her again, Preshy wondered as he hurried her toward the sleek, brightly lit
Bateau Mouche.
As the glass-topped sightseeing boat slid smoothly down the river, Bennett led the way to a seat in the bow. The boat’s floodlightslit up the magical scene as they glided under Paris’s loveliest bridges, illuminating in turn the magnificent public buildings and gilded monuments; the white dome of the Sacré-Coeur; and the massive buttresses and towering gargoyle-topped finials of Notre-Dame.
Preshy had never seen Paris from this angle before. “It’s breathtaking,” she murmured, instinctively reaching for Bennett’s hand.
His lips were close to her ear as he whispered, “I have a confession to make.”
She said, surprised, “We’ve known each other only a few hours, what could you possibly have to confess?”
“I saw you earlier, before La Coupole. I was looking in the window of your antiques store. It was your hair that grabbed my attention.” He took a strand of her long coppery hair, smoothing it between his fingers. “I couldn’t see your lace and you hurried away so fast, so . . . well, I just followed you.” He laughed as he said it. “I promise I’ve never followed a woman in my life before, but there was just something about you, that long-legged lope and the hair flying all over the place . . . Anyhow I took a seat near you at Deux Magots. And then I saw your face.
“I’m surprised you didn’t feel my eyes on you,” he added. “I was staring so hard. I was just getting up my courage to come over and speak to you . . . actually, to try to pick you up,” he confessed smiling, “when I heard you say you were going to La Coupole. So again I followed you. My luck held and I was able to get a table next to you.” He shrugged. “Of course, now you’ll probably think badly of me. But I’m an honest man, I had to tell you.”
Nothing this romantic had ever happened to Preshy in her entirelife, and she was dazzled. “I’m flattered,” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been followed by a man before.”
“And I hope you never will be again,” he said. Then as the boat slid silently into the darkness under a bridge he leaned in and kissed her.
Preshy’s lips trembled under his. The kiss was not passionate, though. Rather it was filled with a questioning tenderness. Bennett James seemed to know not to rush things; he seemed to be holding back, taking his time with her, letting her get used to the newness of it. She was grateful he recognized that she was not the quick-into-bed let’s-make-out kind of woman. She needed to be gentled along; she needed romance.
Still enchanted by the magic of Paris illuminated from the sightseeing boat and by their kiss, they took a taxi back to the Deux Magots where they sat over a final glass of champagne, talking and watching the street performers, the acrobats and the jugglers dressed in fantastical costumes, while a solitary guitarist played out-of-tune Spanish flamenco music, making them laugh. And then later, Bennett walked her back to the rue Jacob.
They stood in the courtyard, facing each other. He took both her hands and again Preshy felt that electric connection between them. She studied his lean finely sculpted face; he was without doubt the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
“I don’t know when I’ve
THIRTEEN
S EATED next to Bennett in the taxi on the way to the Pont de l’Aima, Preshy wondered whether he was going to try to kiss her. And if he did would she let him? After all she had met him only a couple of hours ago. What would he think of her? But to her surprise he did not attempt to kiss her. In fact he kept a discreet distance between them, filling in the silence that had fallen by asking her questions about herself and life in Paris.
“I know nothing about antiques,” he said as the taxi finally squealed to a halt at the
quai.
“You’ll have to teach me.”
Did that mean he wanted to see her again, Preshy wondered as he hurried her toward the sleek, brightly lit
Bateau Mouche.
As the glass-topped sightseeing boat slid smoothly down the river, Bennett led the way to a seat in the bow. The boat’s floodlightslit up the magical scene as they glided under Paris’s loveliest bridges, illuminating in turn the magnificent public buildings and gilded monuments; the white dome of the Sacré-Coeur; and the massive buttresses and towering gargoyle-topped finials of Notre-Dame.
Preshy had never seen Paris from this angle before. “It’s breathtaking,” she murmured, instinctively reaching for Bennett’s hand.
His lips were close to her ear as he whispered, “I have a confession to make.”
She said, surprised, “We’ve known each other only a few hours, what could you possibly have to confess?”
“I saw you earlier, before La Coupole. I was looking in the window of your antiques store. It was your hair that grabbed my attention.” He took a strand of her long coppery hair, smoothing it between his fingers. “I couldn’t see your lace and you hurried away so fast, so . . . well, I just followed you.” He laughed as he said it. “I promise I’ve never followed a woman in my life before, but there was just something about you, that long-legged lope and the hair flying all over the place . . . Anyhow I took a seat near you at Deux Magots. And then I saw your face.
“I’m surprised you didn’t feel my eyes on you,” he added. “I was staring so hard. I was just getting up my courage to come over and speak to you . . . actually, to try to pick you up,” he confessed smiling, “when I heard you say you were going to La Coupole. So again I followed you. My luck held and I was able to get a table next to you.” He shrugged. “Of course, now you’ll probably think badly of me. But I’m an honest man, I had to tell you.”
Nothing this romantic had ever happened to Preshy in her entirelife, and she was dazzled. “I’m flattered,” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been followed by a man before.”
“And I hope you never will be again,” he said. Then as the boat slid silently into the darkness under a bridge he leaned in and kissed her.
Preshy’s lips trembled under his. The kiss was not passionate, though. Rather it was filled with a questioning tenderness. Bennett James seemed to know not to rush things; he seemed to be holding back, taking his time with her, letting her get used to the newness of it. She was grateful he recognized that she was not the quick-into-bed let’s-make-out kind of woman. She needed to be gentled along; she needed romance.
Still enchanted by the magic of Paris illuminated from the sightseeing boat and by their kiss, they took a taxi back to the Deux Magots where they sat over a final glass of champagne, talking and watching the street performers, the acrobats and the jugglers dressed in fantastical costumes, while a solitary guitarist played out-of-tune Spanish flamenco music, making them laugh. And then later, Bennett walked her back to the rue Jacob.
They stood in the courtyard, facing each other. He took both her hands and again Preshy felt that electric connection between them. She studied his lean finely sculpted face; he was without doubt the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
“I don’t know when I’ve
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