All for You (Paris Nights #1)(29)

Dom met her eyes just a second and then focused again on his lioness. But the line of his lips was softer, a little vulnerable. “And, you know, he was barely out of his teens.”

Célie scowled. “I was in my teens.”

“Exactly. Still time for him to get worthy of you while you were growing up.”

Oh, for God’s sake. Men were so annoying. Célie went into the “hot” room, where all the burners were, from which she could still see Dom working on his sculpture and Jaime leaning against the counter on which the sculpture was posed, out of his way but still close.

“Did anything else happen just before he joined?” Dom asked, eating a bite of his own chocolate and then offering the other half of his bite to Jaime as a peace offering or an apology. Or just to get her to kiss his fingertips, as she did. For crying out loud, those two were so mushy.

“My brother got arrested for drug dealing,” Célie said bitterly. Yeah, it had been a banner year for her. First her stupid brother and then Joss, both gone. Her on her own.

“There you go,” Dom said. “It makes sense to me.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “Does it?”

Célie thumped her wooden spoon down in her melting bowl of chocolate, muttering about maybe just taking Joss’s and Dom’s heads and knocking them both together. Knock sense into two idiots in one go.

“Well …” Dom eyed his fiancée with cautious apology. Jaime was the only person in the world who could make Dom look cautious. “Yes.”

“Maybe I can see your point,” Jaime told Célie. “Maybe I could be tempted to knock some sense into somebody, in your shoes.”

“See?” Célie flung out her hands in self-justification and accidentally spattered chocolate off her spoon across the stove. She cursed and wiped it up. “Anybody could be driven to it, in these circumstances!”

“I could knock some sense into him,” Dom said hopefully.

Jaime put her hands on her hips and frowned at him.

“Except that I believe in a nonviolent approach to life,” Dom corrected hastily. “Definitely. I definitely believe in that.”

Célie banged pans in lieu of people’s heads.

***

Joss pulled out his little metal box of chocolates and studied the last one. Perfect and sweet and tucked up into the corner, just waiting for him.

Kind of the way he thought Célie would be, but okay. He should have known better than to underestimate her that way. Good for her.

It made him smile, to think of how happy she must be making these chocolates, and he resigned himself to it: Tahiti was out. Who ever heard of making top chocolates in the tropics? He’d have to get an apartment in Paris.

But just for a moment, before he got to work on the hunt, he stretched his arms out along the back of the bench, fascinated by this wide-openness of his body, this stretch of it that seemed to say to any possible sniper, Here, let me just paint a target on my chest to go with it. And yet there were no snipers. He could just lounge here, watching the passersby.

Time to start looking for work, too. It felt weird to have nothing to do today, no end to his leave in sight. The last time he’d been unemployed, he’d ended up joining the Legion.

Seemed like a better thing to do than turn into a loser.

But employment wasn’t urgent. He did have most of his salary for the past five years saved up. He’d always sought out the opportunities for greater certifications and advancement, done the corporal training and the sergeant’s training, so his base salary had increased commensurately, and he’d earned two and a half times that base whenever he was deployed. Which had been a lot. The Legion had a lot of hot spots to jump into, these days.

The Legion had covered lodging, uniform, and food, and didn’t allow recruits cars or even phones for that first contract. So there wasn’t a lot to spend money on. He’d never really seen the point of gambling it or drinking it all away.

He didn’t want to waste it now, after five years of economizing toward his and Célie’s future, but a day off wouldn’t kill him. Interestingly, he was pretty sure that nothing in this city could really kill him. Or, better yet, would even try. Oddly relaxing, that.


And he was almost giddily tempted by the idea of taking a day off. Of just wandering around this city, with no orders as to how he should spend his time, no constraints, no hostiles. It was Paris. It was incredible to be sitting on this green bench, watching the people pass, and not thinking bitter thoughts about Parisian wealth and privilege and the contrast with the banlieue but to be thinking, Hell, this is as much my city as anyone else’s. If Célie could make it hers, I can make it mine, too.

Paris. Right there, like his own personal world in an oyster.

He might not wander along the Seine in his explorations, though, because walking along that lovely and romantic stretch of the city might actually hurt in weird parts of his body, like the hand Célie wouldn’t be holding, and the heart she wouldn’t be eagerly welcoming, and his butt where her hand wouldn’t be slipping possessively into the back pocket of his jeans, like girlfriends did. There was a woman doing it in a couple walking past right now.

Célie would be possessive, if she decided to possess him. She’d do it in a funny way, mostly, teasingly minatory if he happened to glance at a nice ass passing by, but she’d very definitely make sure everyone, including him, knew he was hers.