All for You (Paris Nights #1)(30)

The fantasy of it returned so easily, and he grimaced wistfully, rubbing the bench.

“Hello,” a female voice said, and he looked around in surprise.

A woman with reddish hair stood a couple of meters away from him, kind of a big distance for a greeting, but maybe he looked dangerous.

Which he was, but not to women or children. Not even to men unless they were dangerous to him.

Except possibly that damn boss of Célie’s.

“Hi,” he said briefly so as not to encourage her, sitting up straight and dropping his arms from the back of the bench. It was true what he’d quite stupidly told Célie before, that he’d never had much trouble attracting women, but after five years in a rough, wild world of men, he’d lost even the most basic skills and now felt awkward about how to politely show a strange woman that he was unavailable.

“I’m Jaime Corey.” She held out her hand, coming toward him, kind of in an odd way, as if she knew that some men were best not approached suddenly and needed to see you weren’t carrying any weapons. “A friend of Célie’s.”

Oh. Joss shook her hand, intrigued now. Wow, she looked really different from the friends Célie had had before. More—together. Nice clothes but casual, not skintight, and her nails weren’t even polished, let alone two centimeters long and covered with patterns. It reminded him that the last time he’d really known Célie, all her friends had been teenagers whose main hope for the future had been catching some banlieue version of Prince Charming.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Did I see you yesterday?”

He’d been focused on that black-haired boss of Célie’s, as the person he might have to fight, and on Célie herself, but there might have been hair that color in his peripheral vision.

“In passing. I believe you were choosing not to fight my fiancé at the time.”

Her fiancé?

“Dominique Richard. You know, black hair? Scowling? Big?” She did a thing with her arms that was apparently supposed to indicate bulky muscles and was kind of cute on such a slim form. Joss found himself starting to smile, despite the man they were currently talking about.

“The two of you are engaged?” That completely changed Joss’s perception of the man’s relationship with Célie. He immediately wanted to ask if the man had ever cheated on Jaime with his employee, or maybe had a thing with that employee before he ended up with Jaime, but had the sense to bite both those questions back.

Jaime nodded. “Good choice, by the way. The choice not to fight.”

Self-control was an absolute necessity for any man in the Legion. Men of action, yes—men who could control that action. Always. In every situation. “I didn’t come here to ruin her life. She’s made a good one for herself.”

A smile broke out on Jaime’s face as if he’d said something she deeply approved of. “Tell me a little bit more about being in the Foreign Legion.” She actually sat down on the bench beside him.

Joss rubbed his thumb over his jeans, schooling himself not to let his eyebrows raise. “That fiancé of yours going to come out here looking for a fight if I do?”

Because that would be okay, right? If the man came looking for it out here, outside Célie’s place of work? Or could Richard still conceivably take it out on Célie if Joss broke his nose?


Also, would the two of them even be able to fight and it stop with nothing more than a broken nose? The man looked kind of hardwired to keep fighting even if he was at the bottom of a heap of enemies, and Joss was kind of hardwired that way, too.

“I’ll talk to him if he does,” Jaime said, shrugging.

Yeah, right. That was going to work, all right. Maybe she could try throwing her slim body between two freight trains next, as an encore. And Célie would be super pissed.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll stand,” Joss said, and did so, leaving her the bench.

Jaime smiled. “Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee?” She waved a hand to indicate the multiple terraces with café tables within sight of the great place.

Joss’s eyebrows drew slightly together. He searched her face. “You’re a friend of Célie’s,” he repeated. “And you’re engaged.”

Jaime’s blue eyes widened a fraction, and then she smiled and shook her head, standing. “I’m not hitting on you. I’m being nosy. And I, ah, work with a company with a very high interest in effectively managing security issues in countries in upheaval. It sounds as if you might have some experience with that.” She gestured with her head toward the nearest café. “So come on. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”





Chapter 12


“I like him,” Jaime said that afternoon around four thirty, having come back by the shop after her afternoon of meetings with undoubtedly more of the one percent of the world.

Dom, who’d only just gotten a chance to return to work on his sculpture for a bit, stared at his fiancée from his bent position over the lioness’s claws. “How do you know that?”

“I had coffee with him this morning.” Jaime shrugged.

Dom straightened slowly, his brow lowering. “You did … what?” His voice went deep into a growl.