Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (20 page)

“So, Sunday,” I said.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, though. Once you’re in London, it will be so easy. It’s a short flight between London and Dublin. We can spend most weekends together,” Liam said to reassure me. The knowledge that he was that invested in our relationship filled me with a good kind of fear.

“The tough part will be the time in between. We can talk on the phone and Skype, I suppose,” Liam continued.

How do you describe the feeling you get when the person looking at you wants you as much as you want them and not just in the sexual way? I felt giddy, I felt honored, I felt safe. I felt like the sexiest woman alive, I felt empowered!

While sipping our new beers, we chatted about what he needed to get done before leaving and when we’d be able to spend time together. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in staying with me at the hotel until I leave. I’d love to have you to myself as much as possible,” Liam asked.

“I would love to,” I said softly.

Pulling his loosened tie from around his neck, he stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket, which lay on the bench beside him. “I’ve been dreading this all afternoon. We haven’t talked about the future at all. It’s amazing how hard these kinds of conversations can be,” Liam admitted.

“Well, at first, I was just using you for sex, but, after you brought those two girls to the hotel, I knew you were the guy for me,” I replied, having seen the waiter approach our table. At first, Liam looked totally confused, and then, spotting the look on the waiter’s startled face, he started to laugh. After the waiter disappeared, we decided we couldn’t tell if he was offended or intrigued.

When the waiter returned soon to take our dinner order, we decided he was intrigued and managed to pick out something to eat in between fits of laughter. We were munching our way through dinner while happily chatting about all the benefits of moving back to the U.K. when a funny buzz started to work its way through the restaurant.

Looking around to see what was happening, Liam was the first to figure it out. “Look, it’s what’s-her-name… the actress from
Star Wars
. You know who I mean. She won a Golden Globe for her role in
The Black Swan
!”

“Natalie Portman? Where is she?” I asked, my head was spinning on my shoulders. “I loved her!”

“She’s seated at 7:00.” Liam covertly gestured.

“Is she with someone?” I asked.

“Yeah, she is. I just can’t see who. There are too many people in the way. Jaysus, some people are standing up and staring at them. You have to feel sorry for celebrities, really. They can’t go anywhere and have a moment’s peace,” Liam continued, all the while looking over his shoulder.

Bitterness reared its ugly head. “Well, if you ask me, it’s part of being a celebrity. If you are one, walk out the door and expect to be stared at. If you’re a celebrity and you want to be left alone, rent a private room. If you ask me, most of them have maniacal egos.” Liam looked at me oddly.

He opened his mouth to say something when a voice said, “Hello, Charlotte!”

“Oh crap!” I said out loud, and loudly. I looked up at the man standing beside our table, knowing from his voice that it was Des Bannerman. Of the eight million thoughts that raced through my head, the one that stood out was that his cheek appeared to have healed well.

“Hello,” I replied, not knowing what else I was supposed to say or do. I just sat there, staring at my plate, praying for mercy.

When I didn’t make a move or say a word, Liam stood up and extended his hand. “Hello, Liam Molloy. We met years ago at a football match in London. John Chapman arranged it,” I heard him say, seeing the two men shake hands in my peripheral vision.

“Des Bannerman, pleasure to meet you again,” Des said politely.

It really was surreal. I was, from the perspective of the people in the restaurant, a friend of Des Bannerman’s. I could hear whispering; people were wondering who Liam and I were. My insides had turned into a quivering mass; sweat was beading down my back. I hadn’t a single idea of what to do. I felt trapped. I offered a silent prayer that Des would have mercy and not have me arrested for violating the restraining order in front of Liam. I was so focused on my thoughts that I hadn’t realized I had gnawed my lips raw or that the conversation had continued. Not only had it continued, it had been directed at me.

“Charlotte,” Liam said gently, trying to gain my attention. His eyes zinged between Des and me.

“Oh, sorry! I was just… Well, yes?” I asked Des, rising to my feet as I spoke. We were now within earshot of each other.

“Let me remind you that I have a restaurant full of witnesses who will testify to the fact that I didn’t approach you, that you sought me out,” I whispered to him, all the while wearing a smile.

Charmingly, Des inquired, loud enough for Liam to hear, “Charlotte, I was wondering whether we’d have the pleasure of seeing you in Saint-Tropez in August.” He wore a full smile as he did his quirky lip-tugging thing.

How could someone so awful be so charming?

“I won’t be able to make it, unfortunately. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time, though. I spoke with Tiziana just this morning, and she was telling me all about it,” I said loud enough for Liam to hear. Much more quietly, I said, “Are you satisfied? I won’t be there, you’ve won.” Des gave me a concerned look.

“Well, I’m sure they’re disappointed. I’ll hope to see you in December, then,” said Des, no doubt warning me off from attending the wedding as well.

“Thank you for stopping by. I see Ms. Portman looking this way. Perhaps you’d like to rejoin her?” I had an edge to my voice.

“Yes, well, it was nice to meet you again, Liam. And, as always, a pleasure to see you, Charlotte. Enjoy your meal.” Des waved as he turned toward his table.

“Excuse me,” I said to Liam a few moments later. I fled to the bathroom at a dignified pace. Once safely inside the cubicle, I sat down and took inventory of my body. I was sweating profusely, devolving into a quivering mass again. Feeling absolutely confused, I sat until the fear left me and the sweat dried.

The most pressing thought on my mind was, “Why hadn’t I told Liam about this ridiculous situation?”

The moment of truth had arrived.

Leaving the cubicle, I used a wet paper towel to wipe myself down as I muttered, “I need a shower!” I tidied up what was left of my makeup, and, with shaking hands, I brushed out my hair before pinning it up with some hairclips from my purse. I skeptically surveyed myself and decided it would have to do.

With my hand on the door, I took in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, exhaled, and walked at a dignified pace back to the table. I saw faces swivel toward me. After I sat down at the table, Liam took one look at me and suggested we pay the bill. I surveyed him. In his eyes there was a hint of concern. “That would be really great,” I said quietly.

I didn’t know exactly what I was going to say, but, in that moment, I knew that I was deeply in love with Liam Molloy.

We walked to my apartment building hand in hand in silence. I dashed a few looks at him, wondering what his thoughts were. For the moment, he seemed content to look in windows, at people, the sidewalk—everywhere but at me. I couldn’t blame him. His brain must be firing a thousand questions. At this point, the obvious thing to do was to answer any questions he asked honestly.

“Would you like to pack a bag and come back to the hotel tonight? Or would you rather stay home?” Liam asked, once we were standing outside front my door.

“I’ll quickly pack an overnight bag and come back for more tomorrow. Okay?” I answered over-anxiously.

“Perfect,” he said quietly with a soft smile.

Within an hour we were sitting in his hotel room, and I was sipping water I’d taken from the mini-bar, lost in thought. Liam was on the phone to room service, ordering what he thought we’d need to make it through the evening.

“Would you mind if I had a shower?” I asked, deferring bravery.

“That’s fine, but there’s a fabulous tub in there. You might like to check it out,” he said calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened. Taking my hand, he led me to the cavernous bathroom.

“Wow, look at the size of this place. It’s huge. I could go swimming in here,” I exclaimed. Continuing more quietly, I added, “I really would love a bath.” I needed to hide and sort out my thoughts.

Liam started to fill the tub. “I think there’s some form of bubble bath here, if you’d like,” he said, pointing to the basket on the bathroom counter. I picked out a citrus-scented version and dribbled some in under the running water. Then he disappeared to the other room.

Once the tub was half-full, I shed my clothes and poked a toe into the water.
A little hot, perfect
! I submerged myself while Liam wandered around the hotel room, doing who knew what. My mind wandered down various paths but kept returning to wishing like hell that I’d taken everyone’s advice and told him at the beginning. Then it would have been funny and weird, not weird and bad.

True to their word, room service knocked at the door twenty minutes later. I heard muffled voices in the outer room and then the silence returned. I was contemplating my evacuation from the tub when the bathroom door opened.

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, Liam maneuvered the room service cart next to the tub. It was loaded with desserts, a bottle of sparkling water, two glasses, and a bottle of white wine. He left momentarily, returned in his birthday suit, and then stepped into the water. “Eat this,” he ordered, handing me a forkful of dense chocolate cake. It contained marvelous healing powers. “What do you think we ought to do before I leave?” he asked softly, licking the remnants of the last bite of chocolate cake from my lips.

“I’m pretty happy right here.” My response slid on the back of a lazy sigh.

***

A long while later, we lay in bed, limbs entwined. Liam’s hand was tangled in my hair, stroking my head. I looked up into his beautiful green eyes and said, “I love you.” I was fearless.

“I love you, too,” he replied.

It was as if we had said it a million times, it was so comfortable. I folded into him and fell into a peaceful sleep.

***

At work the next day, I immediately had a conference call with Marian, Kathleen, and Hillary. Quickly, I filled them in on meeting Des Bannerman outside the nightclub, including my accidentally scratching his cheek and finished with the prior night’s encounter.

“That was you? The tabloids in Britain were full of trash talk…
Brynn Attacks Des After Finding Him with a Prostitute
… You know, that kind of thing,” Marian filled me in.

“Don’t tell me stuff like that. It’s bad enough to know I did it! Did you see him on
The Tonight Show
?” I asked.

“Who watches
The Tonight Show
? I like the other fella, older guy. What’s his name?” Marian asked.

“Dallin Jones,” I answered.

“Yes, well, if we’re done discussing talk shows, what do you think he’s up to?” Hillary asked, sensibly.

“I have no idea. I can’t ask Tiziana to sort this out. I’m sure the last thing she needs is a day-by-day accounting of my restraining order violations. That and the fact that it puts her in an awkward situation.”

“Well, at least Liam was there. What did he do when Des Bannerman casually strolled over and started chatting you up?” Marian wondered.

“Well, it’s actually hard to describe, because I was busy trying not to throw up. Half of my brain was trying to figure out how to flee, and the other half was trying to figure out what Des was up to. Liam made small talk with him while I was paralyzed with fear. Then Des asked me if I was going to Saint-Tropez. I haven’t even told Liam about Saint-Tropez. After he went back to his table, I rushed to the bathroom and tried to regroup.” I tried to finish the narration on a humorous note.

“What did Liam do when you came back?” Hillary asked.

I described how gentle and kind he’d been. “He still hasn’t asked a single question. I tried to tell him, but I just wasn’t brave enough. What if he hates me for lying? If the shoe was on the other foot, I would have been asking questions the second we were alone.”

We’d been on the phone long enough that we all needed to get on with work. Everyone demanded that I call them the instant something happened.

***

Over the next few days, life took the pleasant pattern of waking up early enough to have a leisurely morning, dashing off to work with a phone call or two from Liam during the day, and then evenings spent at various restaurants throughout the city. The late evenings were passionate, romantic, and perfect.

Perfect except for the lingering issue of my relationship with Des Bannerman.

The summer heat was driving diners to sit at outdoor cafés. After wandering past many crowded nightspots looking for dinner, Liam and I decided on the Blue Water Grill. I was drinking a lovely combination of prosecco, lemon juice, and crème de cassis—a Prosecco Royale—while Liam sipped his favorite beer when the heat really turned up.

“Charlotte, I’m leaving in two days, and there’s something I would like to know.” He spoke calmly, adjusting the cocktail napkin as he spoke.

Sensing that the moment had arrived, I snatched up my own napkin and began torturing it. “Ask away!” I said with a lightness I was far from feeling.

“Charlotte, what was Des Bannerman talking about the other night? What’s happening in Saint-Tropez? Why would you both be there? And now that we’re talking about it, how do you know Des Bannerman?” He remained calm.

“Liam, can we go back to the hotel now?” I asked, shredding the napkin into a million pieces.

“Charlotte, I was hoping that you would tell me on your own. If you aren’t ready, that’s fine, but you don’t have to distract me by having sex with me. You could just say you aren’t ready to talk about it,” he answered, with a hint of humor in his voice.

“No, Liam. We need a computer for me to explain it to you. My laptop is at the hotel,” I explained.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he said a little stiffly.

Half an hour later, we were sitting at the desk in the hotel room. I was connected to the Internet and searched for “Des Bannerman Chamonix France December.” Several links to newspapers and tabloids popped up. I clicked on the
Daily Mail
website and slid the laptop toward him. He scrolled down the pictures on the right side of the screen, slowly looking at them and reading the captions. An eternity passed, and then he turned to look at me with his right hand covering his mouth. “That’s you?”