Read The Last Time I Saw Paris for Free Online Page B

her fingers, splayed across the armrest. “I am so relieved you made it safely. Traveling is too dangerous right now for a woman alone.”
    “Americans are lining up to leave. She must get out and quickly,” Grey said.
    “Pardon?” Claire’s tone was sugary, her eyes hard.
    “Nazi armored units are pushing through France. There’s nothing left between them and Paris. Nothing. You can’t take on a woman like this, Laurent, not now.” Grey faced them. “I know a man who can get her on a ship tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” Laurent said doubtfully.
    “It must be tomorrow.”
    Claire looked back and forth between them. Who the hell is this bastard and why was Laurent listening to him? She kicked off her shoes and swung her feet up, tucking them beneath her knees and showing more skin. “I just arrived. I haven’t been anywhere yet. I’m certainly not leaving tomorrow.”
    Grey looked to Laurent for agreement. Laurent, however, was admiring her thigh. She leaned back into the chair cushions, body curving to reveal every feminine bend. She caught Laurent’s eyes, feigned shock to find him staring.
    “I am so surprised you decided to join me, ma chérie .” Laurent stroked her hand with a soft finger.
    “I couldn’t spend another day away. Are you only surprised? Not at all pleased?”
    Claire tilted toward Laurent, lips in a pout. He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her face and offered him a cheek. She shot a glance at Grey, baring her teeth in a smile.
    A few terse words in French to Laurent, then Grey looked back at Claire. “Good day to you, Mrs. Stone .” He slammed the door behind him.
    “I am pleased.” Laurent kissed her.
     
     
    A half hour later, Claire stretched languidly as she climbed out of the deep porcelain tub. Body dripping, she retrieved a soft towel from a hook placed at head height on the bathroom wall. She leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink as she dried herself, methodically scrubbing stray memories of the past few days from her skin and mind. Slipping on a thick robe, she stared into a full-length mirror. Not bad, even without her marabou-trimmed sheer silk robe.
    Laurent stared as she entered the salon. “You are even more ravishing than in my dreams.” He took her in his arms, his mouth probing hers.
    Claire felt her body respond in spite of her fatigue. She pressed against him, allowing the robe to slip open. He ran his hands over her waist and stroked her hips with his fingertips.
    “Forgive me.” Laurent pulled back from Claire. “I offered lunch and then I attack you. You must be hungry.”
    She could eat a horse. “A bit.” She shrugged her robe off one shoulder.
    They sat on a chaise lounge in front of the windows. Between them, a silver tray held a spread of cut fruit. A bottle of champagne chilled in a silver bucket on the parquet floor.
    “I’m afraid I can’t offer anything more extravagant. My grocer was ordered to report to his unit yesterday and . . .” Laurent popped the cork free with a crack and poured.
    Claire rearranged her robe and bit into a pear. A long swallow of champagne and she smiled. After the warm bath, the wine and food hit her system like a good bottle of scotch. A wave of goodwill rolled over her.
    “Who’s Grey?”
    “He’s an old friend.” Laurent smiled, his eyes turning back years. “We were in school together. At École des Beaux-Arts.”
    “But, he’s English,” Claire said.
    “I know.” Laurent nodded with a sigh. “He’s very English. But, please forgive his rudeness. It is the fighting, the German advance. Grey hears his own call to arms. He can be very passionate in his own way.” He paused as he refilled her glass. “He’s a good man, a good friend. But, I hope you didn’t come all this way to think about another man.”
    Claire took a sip of champagne and deposited the glass on a marble-topped table. She felt almost giddy. Paris. She slid across the chaise to Laurent, her robe slipped from her