Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
After one of the best days William had spent in a long time, he’d lain awake ruminating on how their day flowed so naturally, and he counted the minutes to seeing Lizzy again.
The entire day was filled with laughter and color, even in the rain.
Her infectious joie de vivre was everything he remembered, and he discovered a million more things about her that made her all the more fascinating.
If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have surely lost his heart to her the minute she flung pottery clay at him, or when her lips surrounded the gelato, or when she conversed in flawless French and handed out kisses like they were candy to everyone she knew.
He was unmitigatedly crazier for her than he had been all those years ago—if that was even possible.
True to her word, on their way back to the hotel, they stopped in the Jardin des Tuilleries for gelato beside the Bassin Octogonal pool.
Each lap of her pink tongue along the melting tower of purple and green cream spellbound him.
From the fountain to the ducks, so many worthy distractions surrounded them, but none were worth discussing for fear she’d expound on any given topic, and the momentary, fleeting delight of her enjoyment of the cone would end.
He wanted to discuss their pottery expedition, but he’d wait until dinner to tell her how much fun he had despite wearing half of his so-called creation when the wheel went haywire.
“Looks like a huge rainstorm is imminent,” he finally said, so sure that she’d continue rescuing every escaping drip without comment.
“Good! I hope it pours,” another lick. “It’ll wash the clay off your clothes.”
“True.” Looking out at the lone, wooden toy sailboat in the pool, he reflected on how he’d felt that way for so long, but today, he didn’t.
“Don’t you like your gelato?”
“It’s good.”
“Mine is amazing!” Another lick. “You wanna try?”
“Hell no!” He vehemently shook his head. Lizzy was never a vanilla type of girl; that was one of the things he loved about her, but her choices today were insane.
“When I think of all the things out of your comfort zone that you experienced today, I’m shocked you still went for two scoops of boring vanilla.”
“That’s me. I’m just a vanilla or chocolate kinda guy.”
“C’mon, be daring, at least try the lavender flavor.” She held out the cone close enough for him to inhale the interesting bouquet of lavender and wasabi.
“No thanks. How’s the wasabi?” He grimaced.
“Se buon! My nose is on fire, but it is so tasty.”
He chuckled. “Your eyes are watering.”
“They’re tears of joy. Have a lick!”
“No.”
Again, she held the cone to him, goading, “Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’re crazy,” he said, followed by a swipe to his vanilla.
Her wicked laugh teased him. “C’mon!”
“Stop,” he laughed.
The first drop of rain landed on his forehead. “We should find shelter,” he said.
“You and your vanilla can go if you want. I’m good,” she replied shrugging, clearly lost in her Parisian moment.
He was happy to see that her sister’s texts earlier in the day didn’t get in the way of having a good time.
“I have looked forward to this gelato for years. A tornado can touch down, and I still wouldn’t leave. Best gelato on the planet,” she moaned.
She was the tornado, a force of nature, whipping up every suppressed emotion within him and challenging him to do things he never would since The Breakup.
He didn’t abandon her in fear of rain, but remained seated beside her, glancing out at the boat with its red sail billowing in the wind. “I’ll try the lavender.”
“Ha! I knew you would succumb to me. See, nothing has changed,” she grinned before taking a final long lick, then holding it out to him.
He hesitantly dipped his tongue into the cream.
“Seriously?” she laughed.
Heavier rain fell, and he gave the cone a good swipe. “Se buon,” he repeated, meaning it.
Unbothered by the rain, they alternated licks from the other’s cone as fast as they could before it washed away in the downpour. The wasabi was crazy intense, but he was glad he tried it because the smile that spread across her beautiful face seared his heart.
“I love sharing this with you,” she said.
“Ice cream in the rain?”
“All of it! The whole day. I’m so glad we took the time to get to know each other as ... friends ... and fellow creatives.”
Friends. “Only different, but sort of like old times.”
She smiled, eyes batting. “Those were ... yeah, the best times of my life.”
They held each other’s gaze, and damn if his heart didn’t do some funky beating in unspoken words and emotions. Her breath hitched, and she licked her upper lip. Yeah, he felt it, too. Electric. Inching forward, not for her cone, his sights set on her delectable mouth.
The sky opened in a torrent.
Flustered, but not by the pelting rain, he stood. Looking up, he held out his arms in submission. All he could do was give in to the moment and her breathtaking spirit. He tossed his vanishing vanilla in the trash.
Holding out his hand to her, he said, “May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?”
She tossed her cone, then slipped her hand into his.
“Absolument.” They slow danced, fast danced, pantomimed, and eventually chased each other around the pool, laughing and splashing in the rain until it started to lightning.
And to top off the day, dinner at La Clarence was romantically perfect right down to the magnificent pink dress she had worn to the Bingley wedding.
He couldn’t take the torment any longer. Breakfast was too many hours away! Throwing back the bed linen, he stormed out of his suite, nearly running down the corridor to her suite.
Once again, he stood at Lizzy’s door, opening and closing his fist before knocking.
Outside, the rain teemed down and lightning lit the sky, mimicking his racing pulse as he paced the empty hallway.
His heart ached, needing every day to be like today and to take her into his arms to feel complete.
But he needed more than physical intimacy with her.
He needed the emotional intimacy that came with life beside Lizzy.
It killed him that his orderly existence had been upended and sent into a death spiral.
He was a destructive usurper to his own life.
Her smile was the sledgehammer he wielded.
With the clock ticking on this Paris sojourn to self-discovery and true love, his window of opportunity was closing fast. The minute he was on the plane back to Manhattan, he needed to know where he stood before proclaiming “I do” to the wrong woman.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that Lizzy’s engagement ring was somewhere other than her finger, but he dared not ask where it was or tell her what he knew about the douchebag until he was sure of her feelings.
Although, based on the conversation with René, something was fishy about Lizzy and Wickham.
Today had not been the day to ask about—or discuss—The Breakup or The Beach.
Swallowing hard, he pushed his fears and old wounds aside. Attempting to summon his willDarcypower to tear down the remainder of his wall, he ran his hand through his hair, then knocked. He waited, heart slamming.
And waited.
“Lizzy?” he softly said, knocking again.
She didn’t answer. Giving up, he walked toward his suite, feeling disappointed yet relieved because amorous professions were far from his forte.
“William?” she whispered.
Turning abruptly, he faced her surreal presence standing at the open door.
The epitome of sexy intoxication, her chestnut hair fell to her shoulders in luscious waves.
She wore a black lace slip and a haphazardly donned satin robe covering only her back and arms. The sheer panes of mesh fabric in the slip lace offered a tantalizing glimpse of her full bosom and erect nipples.
She didn’t appear concerned that he could see all of her below the lace.
He seemed to float to her siren call of his name.
“I ... did I ... wake you?” he asked, tripping over his tongue, nearly panting.
“Yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”
Gazing down her beautiful body, he resisted saying, “Only on you,” for the second time when asked on this trip, but damn if he didn’t already need his ritual cold shower or the obvious.
“No. I was lying in bed thinking,” he stated. “I ... thank you for today. I had a great time.”
“Me, too.”
He swallowed. “I was also thinking about all the things I miss.”
“And you had to tell me at three in the morning?”
“That’s what I miss. I miss whispering your name and sharing in the middle of the night,” he confessed.
Batting her long lashes, she tenderly smiled. “That was always special to me.”
He continued in a breathy, anxious stream of consciousness.
“And I miss holding you close and the things we did in the moonlight. Man, we were incredible together, Lizzy. I miss ... feeling your lips against mine and your infectious laugh. I miss everything about you, and today, you brought me out of the darkness.”
She looked about to cry.
“Please don’t say these things, William.”
He rested his palm on her cheek, gaze softly holding hers. “Why? They’re all true.”
“They can’t be! You’re getting married to a wonderful girl soon, and I—”
“Stop it. After all these years apart from each other, you can’t deny what instantaneously reignited between us in the Hamptons.”
“I can deny it. I must.” She turned her face from his heated glare, lip quivering.
Battling the impulse to kiss it, he instead opened his heart, unable to stop the words from spilling out of his soul.
With passion and truth after years of being denied a voice, he said, “Lizzy, do you think I can’t feel your attraction to me?
This thing between us never died. It’s still through the roof, despite how you hurt me.
I long to hold you again. All I can think about is loving you, caressing you.
I want to hear you call my name in your rapture and take you to erotic heights that leave you trembling in my arms afterward.
Do you honestly think I want to revisit what nearly killed me but will kill me for sure if I don’t? ”
“Why did you come to Paris? You should have stayed away,” she cried.
He swept her into his arms. Kissing her deeply, he took her breath for his own, pouring all his love into the kiss so that nothing could be misunderstood. And she responded, kissing him back with equal fervor, just like he remembered. Their heat was undeniable.
“That’s why I came,” he breathed, panting. “I can’t ... unfeel you, and I don’t want to, ever again.”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “What would you have me say? Yeah, sure, let’s do it?”
“Certainly not like that.”
“William, neither of us are cheaters. I won’t do it.”
“Then, what happened on the beach?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked away.
“The beach—what we did in the Hamptons following the Hurst wedding. You had no qualms then about us cheating on the people we’re going to marry.”
“Whatever you think happened between us, didn’t.”
Releasing her from his embrace, he challenged, “You’re lying. You’re biting your lip, just as you did the night we made love on the beach.”
“Please, go back to your room. Getting it on with the foolish girl who broke your heart is not the answer to cold feet, nor should I be another victorious conquest in Paris. My hollow heart can’t take breaking yours or anyone else’s again. Can’t we just remain friends?”
“It’s not enough. I want more.”
“Is this about an itch to get laid tonight, or about stroking your ego, or is it about your feelings?”
“You know it’s about my feelings.”
“Do I? You’re different now and standing at my door with—” her eyes lowered to his groin—“an obvious aching need for immediate sexual satisfaction!”
“All the more proof that I haven’t changed. I still need you.”
“As enticing as you are, I’m undeterred. I don’t do one-night stands, and this is a business trip—nothing more. Whatever feelings you have need to be left in the past. You are getting married in six weeks. That’s that.”
He grinned. “We’ll see. You know, I wish we could turn back the clock. I’d be wiser and not let you go without a fight.”
“And I wish we could freeze time for a little while, but both are impossible. It’s just not meant for us to be, I guess.”
And there it was—her admission, a repeat of what they’d said to each other in the Hamptons. That magical moonlit night was not a figment of his vivid imagination.
“William, please stop this dogged pursuit for a one-night stand. You’re in love with someone else now,” she said, exasperated. “By your own principles, you should make love to her, not me.”
“Remember what you said in the car? Everything is an illusion—everything—except what we had. Your moral high ground is admittedly commendable, but perhaps you need to take a thirty-thousand-foot view.” Leaning into her ear, he whispered.
“Think logically about this. Ask yourself how I got here. Why would Caroline bring us together if not to have this conversation?” He took her hand in his, then kissed it. “Good night, Lizzy.”