6 Chapter 6

Donning her robe, she went to the kitchenette and started a pot of coffee. Retrieving the bottle of cream from the compact refrigerator, she noticed the bakery box of éclairs she had picked up yesterday from the pâtisserie. Why not? A sugar rush would help clear away the morning fog and place her in the right frame of mind, alert and ready to tackle the day.

The creak of the front door hinges alerted her to a possible intruder. Dropping the pastry, she picked up a butcher knife.

"'Allo, chérie, it's just me."

Visibly relaxing, Allie returned the knife to the wood block. "Jules! You scared the bejeesus out of me! What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I missed you, baby." Jules came forward, a tall, attractive figure in a dark leather jacket and tight jeans. His sable hair fell just below the jacket collar, while the cool blue eyes assessed her with quiet admiration. "You look beautiful, mon amour. I like you this way."

She tightened the robe over her slim night gown. "You shouldn't be here. What if someone sees us together? We can't afford any slip-ups."

He splayed his hands. "Am I in exile? Ah, mon amour, there is nothing to worry about now. So, have you been busy while I was away?"

"I've managed." Opening a cabinet, she extracted two mugs and poured coffee in each. Then, retreating to her small cafe table, she sat down and lighted a cigarette.

"Yes, I see. Who is the young man you've seen fit to entertain?"

Allie frowned. "What are doing? Following me? Do you know how dangerous it is to be seen, and skulking around, no less?"

"Skulking. Ah, what a strange word." Jules moved to the table and took his mug, but refrained from taking a drink. "I do not skulk, Allie, I observe; and I don't care much that you entertain other men while I'm away."

"I don't entertain other men." Her anger building, Allie crushed out her cigarette after taking only two drags. "I'm only his tour guide. He's too young for me, and besides, he may be our next person of interest. He works for his father who owns a brokerage firm. It looks like the kid has enough money to throw around. So, he shouldn't mind throwing some our way."

"I like that you say 'our' instead of 'my.' Greed doesn't suit you, chérie."

His gaze focused on her face and she suddenly felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Jules possessed a handsome face, but any warmth stopped short of those classic Franco-Basque features. Both his eyes and smile could generate a cruel twist, despite any pretext of sensuality or even civility.

"I'm doing this all for us. You shouldn't have any doubts by now." Rising, Allie went to the antique mahogany wardrobe where she kept her dresses, skirts, blouses and slacks on hangers. She didn't possess a lot of clothes, but the ones she did buy had been chosen carefully as to fit and color, the price be damned. She particularly liked the designs of the newcomers to the fashion industry. They knew how to reshape and redefine the old tried and true, although the sleek lines of Chanel remained classic.

"I don't doubt you, chérie. My problem is with the men. You see, most have designs on you besides business. Ah, well, you must be quite aware of the effect you have on them. On me, too."

After she removed her robe, Jules came to her side, placed his hands on her arms, and turned her to face him. His gaze traveled to the cleft of her breasts, her flesh a honeyed nectar hue against the darker fabric. He brought his mouth down to hers, his kiss hard and persistent. His hands lifted the hem of her gown to expose her bare legs. Quickly, he caressed the inside of her thigh, making her shiver; but when a bold finger began to stroke her slit, Allie struggled to break free, digging her nails into his arm around her waist. Finally, able to pull away, she slapped him hard across the face.

"Leave me alone!" She backed along the foot of her bed. "You have no right to come in here and demand anything of me! Least of all sex!"

"You think that's all I want from you?" He simply laughed, a harsh, bitter laugh. "I can have sex every day, every night if I want it from the thousands of whores in this city! No, I don't want them, nor do I want you like this." Suddenly, an angry flush worked up his face, darkening those classic features. He drew a breath in and out through dilated nostrils, like a mad bull. "When we make this new score, we will celebrate, just you and I. Until then, go to the boy! Take him to bed and make love to him until he loves you so much he will give you everything and much more."

Allie had pulled the hem of her bedspread across her breasts, but now lowered the fabric a few inches. She tried to read him. His mood swings had frightened her at first, but she had learned to accept and understand them, for Jules simply couldn't operate like most men. He had never cultivated feelings of jealousy, only allowed those temperaments that concentrated on power and success, and those often times included rage, scorn and loathing.