The Billionaire's Bedside Manner (11 page)

A
t nine the next morning, a soft caress at the shell of Bailey's ear stirred her from her dreams. Smiling, stretching and sighing, she rolled over and remembered where she was and with whom. In Paris with the most incredible man.

Mateo dotted a kiss on her nose, on her cheek.

“You were sleeping soundly.” His voice was deliciously husky the way it always was first thing in the morning, and she found herself sighing at her body's reaction to the desire evident in his hooded eyes and slanted smile. Coiling her arms around his neck, she brought his lips to hers while his hot palm trailed up her side. Within seconds her heartbeat was racing.

She couldn't remember the last of that cab ride last night. Couldn't remember how she'd arrived back in this suite. She did know, however, that this minute she felt amazingly snug, wonderfully safe. She remembered their agreement…today she was entirely, exclusively his. How she wanted to
pull the covers up over their heads and spend the next few hours in bed.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he murmured against her lips. “It's time to get up.”

Groaning, she dragged the back of her hand over her tired eyes.
Bossy again.
“What time is it?”

“Time to see Paris.”

A second passed when she could have smoothed her fingers over his muscled shoulder and drawn his mouth back to hers. But this was their only full day left in France. She couldn't pass that up, even for such a compelling reason.

With not nearly enough sleep, Bailey was slow to shower and dress. But the moment they were back on the Parisian streets, coats pulled up around their ears, she was bubbling with excitement.

They visited Notre Dame, the legendary home of the hunchback, then went on to an artist's paradise, Montmatre et Sacre Coeur, situated on a hill in the north of Paris. It boasted the famous Moulin Rouge at its base and the famed Sacre Coeur Basilica, with its inspirational equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, at its summit. She made sure Mateo took plenty of snapshots.

After changing for dinner back at their suite, they took the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower where they caught the last of the sunset. Gazing over the city's buildings and monuments draped in a coat of gold, Bailey tried to imprint her mind with every inch of the breathtaking panorama. Mateo circled his arm around her waist and handed his camera to a German tourist who ensured the moment was captured.

He thanked the man then asked her, “Are you hungry?”

“I'm starving.” They'd had a bagel on the run, but that was hours ago. “What do you have in mind?”

“A special treat.”

As they descended, Mateo revealed his biggest surprise of the day. He'd booked well in advance a table at The Jules Verne, one of Paris's most exclusive restaurants, situated on the tower's second floor.

They were shown to a table by a window facing north across the fountains and enjoyed a night of exquisite cuisine, the best of champagne, while surrounded by a glittering blanket of city lights.

When the waiter removed their dessert dishes, Mateo slid a hand across the white linen tablecloth. His fingers folded around hers.

“Did you enjoy the meal?”

“I enjoyed
everything.
”

He grinned, and the smile lit his eyes. His index finger had begun to toy with her bracelet's charms…the heart, the bear…. He looked down but then frowned and took a closer look.

“You ought to have that catch checked out. It's near worn through.”

Worried, she inspected the clasp then each of the charms to make certain none were missing. “Guess it should be worn. I don't take it off.” Bailey's stomach looped and knotted at the thought of losing it. “After so long, I wouldn't feel whole without this around my wrist.”

“We'll get a safety chain for it tomorrow.”

“I'll look after it when we get home.”

Mateo didn't look pleased. But it wasn't his place to insist.

He reached and took her hand again, angling her wrist to study the charms. “Have you added to it since your sixteenth?”

“It's never felt quite right. It'd have to be a really special charm.” She didn't own much, but this possession was sacred. Not that her father would understand that. Even now
he probably thought she was a day away from harming or losing it.

“What about you?” She asked, looking up from their twined hands; hers looked so small and pale compared to his. “Do you have any childhood mementos hidden away?”

Mateo's gaze grew distant and his brows knitted before he shook his head. “No. Nothing material.”

Bailey's heart went out to him. Given all his chattels back in Sydney, that answer made sense.

“But I do have something,” he said. “A memory I treasure.”

She sat straighter. “Memories are good.”

“The day Ernesto came back to the Chapelle for me. It was spring and everyone was playing outdoors. He called me over, beside that old oak and he said, ‘Mateo, if you'd like to be my son…'” His Adam's apple bobbed before he seemed to come back from that distant spot. Then he shrugged and gave an offhanded smile. “How's that. I've forgotten the rest.”

From the way his dark eyes glistened, she didn't think so. But she understood. Memories were the most valuable of all keepsakes. He was entitled to protect his. He'd certainly given her some amazing memories these past days to cherish.

Leaning closer, she confessed with all her heart, “I'll never forget our time here.”

When his gaze darkened more and his jaw jutted almost imperceptibly, Bailey sat back as a shadowy feeling slid through her. They'd shared so much. Seemed to have gotten so close. But was that open admission too much? Had she sounded too much the lovesick schoolgirl?

But then a smile swam up in his eyes and the tension seemed to fall from his shoulders. He lifted her hand, dropped a light kiss on the underside of her wrist and murmured against her skin, “I won't forget either.”

After dinner they strolled again, but the weather had turned even chillier and, while they'd been lucky so far, Bailey
smelled rain on the way. She tried her best but when she couldn't keep her teeth from chattering, Mateo stopped to turn and envelope her in his coat-clad arms.

“I'll take you back to the suite,” he said.

Her heart fell. “I don't want to go in yet.”

“We can always come back.”

Come back?
She searched his eyes. Was she reading him right? “You mean…to France?”

“And sooner than I usually plan.”

Bailey couldn't take a breath. It was a generous, wonderful offer but…should she read more into it? She supposed she ought to ask herself,
How much more did she want?
They'd been sleeping together, enjoying each other's company, but did she want a relationship,
if
that's what he was saying?

Her smile quavered at the corners as she tried to contain her whirling mix of emotions. As they headed for a cab stand, she smiled a jumpy smile and said, “I'd like that.”

M
ateo made love to Bailey that night feeling both content and never more conflicted. Caressing her silken curves as they played upon the sheets…kissing every sensual inch of her and only wishing there were more. He couldn't deny that he wanted to keep this woman in his life even if, with every passing hour, he felt himself treading farther into dangerous ground.

After the Emilio affair, it was safe to presume Bailey wasn't interested in exchanging vows and wedding bands. He'd invited her back to Paris and she'd agreed. Would she presume, too, that he would also invite her to live under his roof on a more permanent basis? In time, would she expect more? Deeper commitment?

Diamond rings?

Mateo slept on the problem and when they stepped out to bid the City of Light good morning, with Bailey looking so vibrant and fresh on his arm, he made a decision—one he
hoped she would be happy with. But now wasn't the time to discuss it.

He arranged for them to spend the morning on a cruise, absorbing the sights from a different point of view. They boarded near the Pont-Neuf Bridge.

“Its name literally means the new bridge,” Mateo said as they settled into window seats beneath a Perspex roof that allowed an unhindered view of the sights, including the many graceful arches of the stone bridge. “But this is the oldest bridge in Paris.”

Bailey narrowed her gaze on a distant point then tipped forward. “Look there.”

She pointed out a couple standing at the center of this side of the bridge in the midst of a passionate kiss. Before their lips parted, the man swept the woman up in his arms and twirled her around. They were both laughing, bursting with happiness.

Bailey melted back into her seat. “I bet he just proposed.”

Mateo's chest tightened at her words, at her tone. Shifting, he got comfortable again and explained, “The
Pont-Neuf
is rumored to be one of the most romantic places in the city.”

She laughed. “Is there anywhere in Paris that
isn't
romantic?”

He gave an honest reply. “Not this trip.”

All expression seemed to leech from her face before she blushed…her cheeks, her neck. From the look, she'd gone hot all over. That made him smile but also made him want to pull back. He really ought to rein it in. Although she knew his mind on the subject, he didn't want to confuse the issue. Companionship was good. A marriage proposal was not.

After a leisurely time enjoying the sights from the river, he helped her off the boat. Her posture and thoughtful look told him she wasn't looking forward to leaving this behind and
boarding that jet. But he had one more surprise before they left. One that would, hopefully, surpass all the others.

As they meandered along the avenue, she said, “Suppose we'd better get back to the suite and pack.”

He kept a straight face. “I need to duck in somewhere first.”

“Souvenir shopping?”

He twined her arm around his. “In a way.”

He hailed a passing cab. When they arrived at their destination, Bailey didn't seem able to speak. Her eyes merely sparkled, edged with moisture, as she clasped her hands under her chin.

“It didn't seem right that we leave without visiting here,” he said, stepping out from the cab.

“The Paris Opera,” she breathed.

“I have tickets, but the matinee starts soon.” He extended his hand to help her out. “Let's hurry.”

He escorted her toward a magnificent facade adorned with numerous towering rose-marble columns. The highest level was bookended by two large gilded statues. The interior luxury, including mosaic covered ceiling and multiple chandeliers, had been compared to the corridors in Versailles. When Bailey spotted the 98-foot high marble grand staircase—the one his own was based on—she gasped and held her throat. As he took her arm and escorted her up the flight, she looked over and beamed.

“I don't need a ball gown or glass slippers. No one could feel more like Cinderella than I do now.”

 

When they emerged from the theater, she was floating. She literally couldn't feel her feet descending those incredible grand stairs. The performance was a thoroughly beautiful ballet Bailey knew she would dream about for months.

As they made their way toward the exit, all those amazing
sparkling chandeliers lighting their way, Mateo checked his watch.

“We have a little time yet before we need to head off to the airport. What would you like to do?”

She remembered a mention of souvenirs earlier and piped up. “Buy a gift.”

“Who for?”

“I wanted to get Natalie something to thank her for taking me on then letting me have this week off. But then I thought she'd appreciate something for Reece far more.”

Chuckling, he wound her arm more securely around his. “You're right. She would.”

“Maybe some kind of stuffed toy. A Gallic Rooster.” Her step faltered at his unconvinced look. “It's this country's national animal, isn't it?”

“But Reece isn't a baby. He'd appreciate something more—” he thrust out his chest “—masculine.”

She slanted her head. Okay. “How about a football?”

“Too young.”

“Suggestion?”

“That we go to the experts.”

“And that would be?”

He quickened his step and propelled her along with him. “The oldest and largest toy store in Paris.”

 

Soon they arrived at Au Nain Bleu, the massive store that had been serving French children's play needs since the mid-nineteenth century. There were lots of stuffed floppy-eared rabbits. Bailey seemed especially taken with a pair of bunny slippers. But Mateo ushered her through to a spot where boys' toys ruled.

They looked at trucks, action figures, miniature drums. Bailey drifted toward a nearby girls' section while Mateo kept
searching. After a few more minutes, satisfied, he called and gestured toward a shelf.

Bailey hurried over from a jewelry stand and picked up the pack. “A builder's kit, suitable for eighteen months to three years,” she said. With a plastic hammer, automatic wrench, an “electric” drill that buzzed when you pressed a red button. “But Reece is only twelve months.”

“Believe me, he'll grow into it quickly.”

She quizzed Mateo's eyes and smiled.

“You would have liked this when you were young?”

“More than anything, I wanted to be a builder.”

“And you ended up becoming a doctor?”

“Ernesto wanted me to make the most of my grades.”

She smiled knowingly. “But there's still a part of you that wants to hammer and saw and create.”

He rolled that thought over and admitted, “I suppose there is.” Although he hadn't thought about it in decades. He straightened his shoulders. “Anyway, I'm sure you'll be a hit with Reece with this.”

At the counter, Mateo pulled out his wallet but Bailey held up a hand. “I have money enough for this.”

He wanted to argue but finally put his wallet away while she extracted some French currency. He hadn't known she'd exchanged any cash. But given her backpacker history, of course she'd be well up to speed on such things.

The lady behind the counter insisted on gift wrapping. Mateo was checking his watch again as they headed for the exit when a large well-dressed man materialized directly in front of them. With a stony expression, he studied Bailey who, looking uncertain, slid a foot back. Mateo wasn't uncertain. He was annoyed. They had a jet to catch.

Before Mateo had a chance to speak up, the man addressed Bailey in French.

“I am a security officer for the store. Please empty your pockets.”

Bailey clung to his arm. “What's he saying?”

Mateo stepped in front of Bailey and demanded of the officer, “What's this about?”

“I have reason to suspect your wife has something in her pocket for which she did not pay.”

Bailey's hushed voice came from behind. “Why is he upset, Mateo?”

He looked over his shoulder. “He thinks you've shoplifted.”

Her eyes rounded. “That's crazy.”

Yes. It was.

And yet he couldn't help but wonder why a security officer from a well reputed store should stop them if there was no basis to the accusation.

Stepping beside her again, Mateo assessed her knee-length coat. “He wants you to empty your pockets.”

“What on earth does he think I stole?”

“The quickest way to end this, Bailey, is show him the contents of your pockets.”

If she had nothing to hide, she would have nothing to fear and, doing his job or not, he would then demand an apology from this man. If, of course, the security guard was right…

As shoppers swirled around them and a toddler, trying a mini slide, squealed close by, Bailey reluctantly dragged something shiny from her right pocket then held out her hand, palm up. The officer preened his moustache before leaning in to take a better look. Mateo didn't need to. He knew what Bailey had hidden in her pocket.

The officer angled his head and frowned. “What is this?”

Sheepish, Bailey found Mateo's eyes. “You were right. The clasp broke when I was looking through a display. It fell in
with some necklaces. I put it in my pocket and was going to have it fixed, first thing, when we got home.”

Mateo let out a lungful of air. Her charm bracelet. She was lucky she hadn't lost it. He knew how much it meant to her. He should have
made
her listen.

Mateo explained the situation to the officer who accepted the story with an apology before allowing them to be on their way.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said as they walked out onto the pavement. “It could have slipped off without me knowing.” She cringed. “I hate to think what my father would say.”

“He wouldn't be happy.”

“I'm used to that. But you don't need to be upset.”

He didn't reply.

As they cabbed it back to the suite, Mateo mulled over the incident. What really bothered him was that for a moment he'd been prepared to think the worst of Bailey—again. But it had been a misunderstanding, something similar to when he'd jumped to conclusions the second she'd confirmed she'd taken that money from Mama. But that hiccup was long behind them. Bailey wasn't dishonest. Wasn't manipulative.

He stole a glance at her profile as she watched the Parisian streets flash by in her borrowed designer clothes, perhaps thinking of her visit to the Champs-Elysees, and confirmed she wasn't that type. She couldn't be.

He couldn't feel this deeply about someone who was nothing better than a fraud.

Or, more correctly, he couldn't make that mistake again.

 

They packed, checked out and boarded the jet with time to spare. Bailey felt as if she were grieving for a friend as she gazed out the window, bid goodbye to France and the jet
blasted off. She felt as if she were leaving home, leaving her family—Nichole and the children at the orphanage.

Mateo had said they would visit again, and she was over the moon about that. But now, more than before, she also needed to know what would happen to “them” when they arrived back in Australia.

As the jet climbed higher and clouds began to interfere with the view of the receding ground below, she considered hedging around the subject, trying to get an answer without sounding needy or obnoxious by asking directly. Because she hadn't the money to find her own place and wanted to pay that loan back as quickly as she could, she'd agreed to live at Mateo's home…his
mansion.

But as close as she believed they'd become—as close as she'd come to acknowledging feelings she'd been determined to stay away from less than three weeks ago—she had to know where they were in their…well, their
relationship.
She couldn't land in Sydney and simply walk through his front door as if she owned the place. She needed to know what the next step was, and the best way was to ask straight out.

She set her magazine aside. “You know, with the wage I'll make cleaning, I should have that loan paid back in a couple of weeks.”

He looked across, smiled. “That's great.”

When he looked back at his obstetrician periodical, she folded her hands firmly in her lap. Since that incident at the toy store, he'd seemed distracted. A silly part of her wondered if, for just a second, he might have believed the security buffoon's accusation. But she hadn't pilfered a thing in her life. He might have set out thinking she'd shammed his grandmother but surely, after the week they'd spent together, he knew her by now. She'd even begun to think that he might be falling a little in love with her. That left her feeling dizzy and, perhaps, even a bit hopeful.

She shook herself. This mooning wasn't getting her any closer to finding out what came next. If either of them truly
wanted
a next.

She drummed four fingertips on the magazine page. “I thought I should start shopping for a place to live before then.”

He froze then lowered the periodical and studied her eyes. “Do you want to find a place of your own?”

Bailey swallowed a fluttery breath. What kind of question was that? What kind of reply did she give? Honest, she supposed.

“Depends. Do you want me to?”

His gaze dropped to her hands and again she realized how naked she felt without that bracelet on her wrist. She was squirming a little when he announced, “I thought you might like to stay with me.”

Her entire body lit with a blush. She coughed out a laugh, shrugged, tried to find words while attempting to sort out if she really did want to “live with a man” so soon after her pseudo engagement catastrophe, even if that man was the uber attractive, thoroughly irresistible, Mateo Celeca.

Bowing her head, she let out a shuddery breath. This was a thousand times different from Italy. She and Mateo had a connection, something she wanted to pursue…if he did.