Four Nights in Paris, Part 3

It had been a long day touring another three locations and writing up notes on each property. My associate had, at one point, managed to insult our agent and it took me quite some time to sort that out. Afterwards, I had ask he stop trying to speak French before they imprisoned or deported us. He meant well, but he didn’t always pick up on subtle hints. A hyperbole or two usually could make him understand.

I was enjoying my nightly drink—tonight’s poison of choice: bourbon—in the hotel bar again. The woman from the previous night must have been enjoying time off as a slender male took my order. He didn’t say much and seemed to prefer to keep busy rather than deal with other people. I guessed it was either his first job or one that wasn’t going to last long.

“You shouldn’t stare; you’ll make him self-conscious,” Lani said, sliding onto the bar stool next to mine. She was as radiant as the previous night, but seemed to be wearing the same dress, if I wasn’t mistaken. Lani reached out and tousled my blondish brown tresses, smiling like a small child with a new toy. “You have really soft hair.”

When she retracted her hand, I automatically moved to finger-comb my hair back into some semblance of neatness. It wasn’t often people touched my hair, but it bothered me to look the least bit bedraggled in public.

“It looked cute mussed up;” Lani pouted.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

She smiled brightly; “Oh, you know you’re happy to see me.”

“I am…surprised to see you,” I said carefully, taking another swallow of bourbon.

“A good surprise I hope.”

I turned to her and my lips turned up slightly. “Yes, a good surprise.”

“Buy me another drink?” She crossed her legs and cocked her head to the side, her eyes glinting in the dim light.

I supposed I had expected this to some extent as she had shown up again. At least she was more direct about the fact I was paying and not just ordering. Somehow that made it more acceptable. “What’s your poison?”

“Surprise me.”

I ordered her a margarita with a double shot of tequila; she seemed like she could handle it and I was determined to only buy her the one, even if the night was still young.

“Merci beaucoup,” she said to the bartender, flashing him a smile before turning back to me and taking a sip. “You’re not trying to get me drunk are you?” Lani cocked an eyebrow at me.

I chortled; “If I wanted to get you drunk, I would have ordered you shots.”

Her lips curled and she took another sip. “So why was seeing me a surprise?”

Her directness made me feel a little embarrassed. Although I had learned to read women fairly well in college, I didn’t know her, and it seemed wrong for me to have judged her. “I don’t know. It kind of seemed you were only interested in drinks and getting to the bedroom.”

She feigned insult, her free hand flying to her chest and her mouth agape. It might have been genuine, but she struck me as the kind who would slap a man and storm off for being truly insulted. “I have some self-respect, thank you.”

“I apologize for questioning your integrity,” I stated obligatorily.

“I mean, I never even mentioned a bedroom.”

It was true she hadn’t, but fun at night was very limited. Lani might have meant clubbing or some activity like that. Mentally, I berated myself for jumping to conclusions about her, but then I berated myself for allowing her to make me doubt my instincts. “How was your day?”

She frowned briefly at the subject change, then seemed to decide she was ok with it and said, “I spent the day at the Louvre. I still haven’t seen half the place yet, so I think I’ll return tomorrow again You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. I’ll warn you now—” she said, sitting up straighter and her face becoming serious, “—I don’t take well to people talking to me while I enjoy artwork.”

“I understand; I’m the same way with movies.” I leaned against the counter, resting on my elbow. “But I work tomorrow, so I will sadly need to decline your invitation.”

Lani pouted again. “I suppose I can understand that. I don’t see why you can’t take a day off to enjoy yourself. I mean, how often do you find yourself in Paris?”

Often enough, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I shrugged and apologized.

“It’s fine, I guess.” She turned to her drink and took a long draw. “How was your day?”

“Long, but I’m glad it’s almost over.”

“But the night is so young,” she said, her eyes wide and seeming to ask if I was serious.

“Yes, but I do have responsibilities. I can’t be all fun and games.”

“I’m sure even your father made time for some fun,” she teased, smirking.

I downed the last of my bourbon and looked at her. She confused me. For someone who seemed so simple, she had come for a second night. She was lively and flirty and perhaps a bit too charming, and yet she seemed sincere. I wanted to believe she wasn’t just looking for one fun night.