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“Shopping?” he asked.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowed, saw a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. He had a good mouth, wide with a full lower lip and a thin upper lip. A contrast of lush and stern. She smiled. “Oh, no, Jack would have approved of extravagance—couture clothing and jewels would appreciate. Charities don’t.”
He gave a warm laugh. The sound echoed in the empty bar, deep and rich, and consummately male. Paris felt it right down to her toes, much like the whisky. She lifted her glass. “To better days.”
She drank and slapped her glass on the bar. He drank as well and hissed out a breath. “Grows on you like red-hot razor blades.”
He tipped his head and smiled at her. Her breath caught in her chest. She knew he was going to kiss her—knew it from the look in his eyes, from how he leaned closer. He gave her every chance to pull away, but it had been a long time, and she’d had just enough whisky to be a little reckless. And thinking of Jack had reminded her how lonely she’d been—even before Jack had died.
He slanted his mouth over hers, his breath tasting and smelling of whisky—a sharp burn to go with the soft lips. He knew how to kiss and that was good. It wasn’t a wet kiss, not at all sloppy or uncertain. He teased her lips with his tongue and she opened her mouth to him. He tasted her, and she tasted him back. Her body tingled in a way that had nothing to do with whisky, and she touched a finger to his cheek and pulled back with a breath let out.
“Thanks.”
He tipped his head to the side. His eyebrows—so very flat and dark—lifted in the center. “For what?”
“A distraction.”
“It could be more.”
She shook her head, uncertain if she was denying the truth, or just certain that more with this man could be trouble. She touched the back of his hand. He hand a painter’s hands—long fingers, narrow palms, sensitive and tapering. She could imagine those hands on her—and how he’d leave her both satisfied and wrecked. He was heartbreaker, he was. She could see that in his reckless smile, in those blue eyes that seemed so guileless. He’d be the type of man who could sweetly lie and leave you just as fast as you could blink.
His mouth crooked. “Let me guess—not with guests? Damn, I should have booked another hotel.”
She grinned. “That’s the one advantage we have—we’re the only resort in fifty miles.” She pushed away from him. Michael stepped from the kitchen, carrying steaming plates. She gave him a nod. “Enjoy your hamburger. Michael, I’ll take mine in the office.”
Chapter Five
The next day, Dominic decided on a drive into town—but not on the back road. It took over an hour, but with the sun out and the air crisp, he didn’t mind. It didn’t help get his mind off Paris.
The town wasn’t much—a main street with a grocery store, a post office, two gas stations, a coffee shop that seemed too cute to be real and specialized in Swedish pancakes, and a lonesome church that looked in need of a new roof. At least he had signal here. He called Zach—two days away from his business wasn’t going to hurt anything, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this disconnected.
Zach’s voice came over the line, bright and loud. “Hey, buddy, how’s the big wild? And why are you calling?”
“Would you believe boredom?”
Zach laughed. “Good. You could use some of that. Met anyone?”
“I’m not here to meet anyone, Zach.”
“Yes, you are. Locals—remember. Real people. Get out there and mingle. It won’t kill you. That’s how you reconnect—you connect.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m beginning to think this was a mistake. Hey, what do you know about art?”
“Art?” Zach gave another laugh. “Should I ask?”
“Nope, probably not. But my cover is that I’m now an artist.”
Dominic was pretty sure he could hear the sputtering of Zach choking on his coffee—or whatever else he was drinking. “Let me guess,” Zach said. He cleared his throat. “There’s a girl.”
“Woman. Damn pretty. Got a face made for heartbreak and I’m not sure she wants to hook up with a starving artist.”
Zach laughed again. “This is perfect. Just what you need.”
“What?”
“Romance her, Dominic. Have a good time. Be yourself. You might find something reflected back in her eyes that you like. Now I’ve got to go. Don’t call again unless it’s an emergency!”
Zach hung up. Dominic shoved the phone back into his pocket. Great—mingle. Romance! He huffed out a breath. Like that was going to happen. Heading into the store, he checked the price of bread,
