A/N: Grrrr, so frustrating. I tried to upload this chapter ALL weekend, and wouldn't work. Sorry for the wait, enjoy!
Wiping away the last of her tears, Jubilee sighed. "We need to get our bearings now that we've rested."
"Well, we know its February 26, 1926." Logan gestured at the morning edition of the newspaper that had been delivered with breakfast. "Roughly eighty years in the past from our future, from what you tell me. Seein' as I can barely remember what happened last week; you'll have to refresh me on what ya know of the era."
"World history isn't exactly my area of study, so forgive me if I'm a little fuzzy. I know this is the period of time between the World Wars, and Europe is relatively prosperous. The Jazz age, I think they called it?" She pondered out loud. "Oodles of forward thinkers in art, music, and literature."
Logan was already crossing the room to answer the door when a knock interrupted their conversation. The concierge stood in the doorway, smiling beatifically with two young maids behind him. "I hope that you have found everything to your approval, Monsieur Hopkins. The girls were able to shop for enough clothing to hold you over until your trunks are found, or at least until you can do some shopping of your own."
The concierge snapped his fingers smartly and the maids carried in a heap of tissue-wrapped packages, placing them on a nearby settee. The maids giggled behind their hands, ogling a bare-chested Logan until Jubilee scowled darkly at them. Tipping them generously, Logan sent them on their way, trying to hide his grin at his partner's possessive glare as they fled the room.
Reaching to close the door, the concierge put his foot in the door to stop him. "The owner of L'Hotel Icarus, Madame Rousseau, was most distressed to hear of the young newlyweds' misfortune upon arriving in our fair city. Madame arranged a small reception before dinner this evening, to congratulate you on your marriage, if it pleases you." He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Madame is a bit of an eccentric, but she would be ever so happy if you would stop in for even a few minutes."
Before Logan had a chance to respond to the request, Jubilee rose from the bed. "Of course we will come to the reception. What a thoughtful gesture on Madame's part." She crossed the room, tying the belt of her robe more tightly as Logan moved to block the concierge's view of her. Stepping neatly around him, she smiled brightly at the concierge, earning a grunt of disapproval. "What time shall we come down?"
The concierge coughed and turned his head. "Madame will be so pleased! The reception begins at nine with cocktails, and then dinner. I'll make my leave so that you can get ready." And with a hasty bow, he exited the room almost as quickly as the maids had.
Jubilee turned to stick out her tongue at Logan. "No need to scare the poor man out of his wits."
He gave her his most innocent look. "This from the woman who sent two maids running with one look?"
Jubilee snorted and rushed over to rummage through the packages, letting out a girlish squeal and sending tissue paper flying.
"Awful fancy duds." Pulling out a crisply starched dress shirt, Logan held it against his frame to gauge its fit. "Kinda surprised you're goin along with the newlyweds bit. But I suppose we gotta play the part if we're staying in this sort of hotel."
Jubilee nodded in agreement, rummaging through the packages meant for her. "It's perfect because it's the last place they'll look. They don't expect us to have the cash to hole somewhere this posh." She grinned then, reminiscing. "Let's just say we've got a history of hanging out in less than reputable locales."
Logan grunted in her direction, wondering what the hell she meant by that.
"I suppose there's a few perks to the situation." He held up a frilly chemise and gave her a suggestive grin. Blushing, she snatched the scrap of silk out of his hand and headed towards the bathroom with her packages as he watched how her hips swayed beneath the robe.
Jubilee's voice echoed loudly from the bathroom as she changed. "I can tell from Gateway's memories that the boss man has been moving lots of cargo through those portals, some sort of industrial equipment."
Logan could hear every movement she made behind the door and debated whether it was a curse or a blessing to have such sensitive hearing. He could hear the rustling of her shirt as it fell to the ground, and the soft hiss of the silk stockings being slid on and then being attached to her garters. He forgot what they were talking about for a moment with the strong visualization. Cool it off, bub. No use getting all worked up when she's still trying to get used to the idea of us outside of an imaginary marriage.
Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to concentrate on the conversation as Jubilee continued from behind the door. "The way I see it, the boss man has to be making waves in the local economy at least. He'd need a place to store his cargo away from prying eyes, and he's probably hired muscle on this end for whatever plans he has."
"So we make nice with the natives?" He guessed as he worked his way into the monkey suit, thankful that Jubilee had known his exact measurements to give the concierge.
"Exactly." Her voice confirmed. "There's bound to be talk among investors, and maybe we can figure out where to look next. And since it's already late, it's not worth the trouble trying to get in somewhere without reservations."
The bathroom door opened just as he was trying to figure out which way to put on his tie. Whistling low in her direction he paused to enjoy the view. "I don't see how its possible a woman can look that damn good and be done dressing before I am."
Jubilee's lips twitched in amusement and she did a little spin to show off her new gown. Made of brushed ivory silk the hemline was much higher, coming to just below her knees. It was snug in the bust and fell in a straight line to her hips, its soft pleats swishing as she moved. She wore the same pearls as the night before, but her hair was parted to the side to fall loosely from her cloisonné combs.
"You clean up pretty good yourself." Jubilee admired how the snug black trousers fit, and the way the jacket strained against his muscular chest as he fiddled with his tie in front of the mirror.
His fingers felt clumsy as he tried not to stare at her from the corner of his eye, and finally she took pity and batted away his hands. At eye level with him in her pumps, she carefully tied a simple knotted bow. Jubilee could smell how the starch of his shirt and the cigars he had tucked in his pocket mingled, and couldn't help it as her fingertips lingered, hesitantly brushing against the skin of his neck as she straightened his collar. The simple touch was like a spark between them and he slowly smiled as he caught one of her hands and lifted it to his mouth, placing a whisper of a kiss at her wrist.
Logan could feel her pulse leap against his lips and she took a shaky breath, but she didn't step away. Instead she seemed caught in his gaze, unsure of what to do next.
"We…should go. If we mix with the high society crowd downstairs, it shouldn't be too difficult to discreetly ask about what sort of business ventures Fender Industries is involved in." She said it all in a rush, fighting the instinct to put some distance between them, but trying to distract them both from the chemistry between them. Yeah, right. It doesn't matter if it's just us, or a roomful of people, the sizzle will still be there.
Sensing that he had gained some ground, Logan grinned and placed her hand on his arm. "We'd best be on our way then, Madame Hopkins." She blinked at the teasing comment, reminded of their marital "status" and the need for her to play the part.
"Lead the way, Monsieur Hopkins."
As they stepped through the archway of the hotel dining room, Jubilee felt as though she was walking onto the set of an old movie, but in full color. She half expected Fred and Ginger to glide across the dance floor. The maitre de oozed charm as they stepped inside, and bowed in a practiced manner. "Madame Rousseau is waiting for you, if you will just follow me this way."
It was a full house for such a last-minute affair, but Parisians were well-known for the art of nosing out a party of any sort. The room was a model of the Art Deco style with sleek, darkly varnished woods that accented a lily and sunburst theme. Sunburst moldings adourned the deep green walls, and the lilies were found in everywhere from the Tiffany lamps to the silverware upon the tables. The lighting was just a bit dim, most likely to givce the room a romantic feel as the requisite but well-hidden orchestra played a jazzy foxtrot. Most of the guests were mingling and having cocktails and hor d'oevres near the bar, though a cloud of heavy cigar smoke trailed from behind French doors that lead into an adjoining room
Jewels and the elite of society sparkled alike, and a buzz started as they were led to the far end where a petite woman held court in the crowd like an aging Dowager queen. Madame Rousseau was a small woman dressed in a golden sheath gown with little adornment. Her silver hair was pulled back into a smooth chignon that was both simple and elegant, but her jewelry was quite whimsical. The earrings were fashioned as flowering vines that brushed her shoulders, and the necklace was crafted of emeralds and diamonds in the shape of a drooping lily. The quality of her attire spoke loudly of wealth, and though she appeared to be about sixty, she had a twinkle in her bright green eyes that was years younger.
"Bienvenue! Welcome! I am so glad you came!" Madame spoke in heavily accented English, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure as they approached. "How awful it must be to arrive under such circumstances."
Logan surprised Jubilee by stepping forward with a simple bow over Madame Rousseau's hand, thanking her in fluent French. She couldn't follow much of the conversation, but she could tell that Madame was tickled pink by his attention.
"Ah, je suis dèsolée. We should speak in a language that your wife can understand also. I do apologize for not including you in the conversation, Madame Hopkins. I was just congratulating your husband on finding such a beautiful bride. Your features are so exotic and lovely."
Jubilee blushed slightly, thanking her when a man in his late twenties stepped from behind the old lady, eying her as though she were a delicious pastry. "Madame Hopkins is obviously of Japanese descent. I remember well the delicate beauty of the geishas when last I visited your fair island."
The man who interupted was the slender, pretty boy type that Jubilee had never found attractive; the kind who spent more time on his slick blonde hair and perfectly tailored clothing than she ever would. She couldn't help but notice his weak grip as he quickly took her hand and raised it to his lips, leaving her with no option but to weather his attempt at charm. "I've never seen an Oriental with eyes of such a color before now…" He murmured, staring at her as though entranced.
Logan bristled beside her, although Jubilee wasn't sure if it was because of the man's veiled comparison of her to a high-class prostitute, or for daring to touch her. "I am of Chinese descent, actually. But my life is in America with my husband now." Jubilee corrected him, forcing a tight smile as she tried to tug her hand away from his lingering hold before Logan had an excuse to get physical.
Madame Rousseau seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, and she smiled adoringly at her companion as he handed her a fresh glass of champagne. "How silly of me, let me introduce you to my dear friend, Henri Puscard. Although I'm not sure why he puts up with this old woman's babbling."
"Dear friend"…riiiiight. Jubilee projected to Logan, who covered a smirk by taking a drink of his whiskey.
They parted ways with Madame and her boy toy to mingle with the other guests, working their way through the room over the next half hour. The women asked Jubilee about the new fashions in New York, and the men asked Logan about investments and business. Many of the guests spoke English, and those that did not Logan was able to talk to in French. It was soon obvious that no one had heard anything of Fender Industries, and they regrouped in a window nook to catch their breaths.
The nook was in a dark corner of the room so as not to detract from the dazzling view of the city lights. Jubilee watched the light snowflakes falling outside in the late February night and smiled sideways at her partner. "I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised that you speak French so well, it's commonly used by you Canucks."
"I don't know, darlin'. It just came natural, and it's turnin out to be pretty helpful." He casually wrapped an arm around her shoulder and winked. "Can't have them thinkin I'm some sort of low-class thug escorting the most beautiful lady in the room."
Laughter bubbled up from Jubilee. "Very smooth, Wolvie."
He squeezed her affectionately, and stared out at the brightly lit skyline. "You know, it is possible that the guy behind this was smart enough to use an alias for his company. Just ta keep us in the dark."
"I was beginning to consider that possibility, myself." She admitted with a sigh. "But we can still ask around to see if any unusual industrial investments have entered the market recently. Maybe we'll have more luck after dinner?"
"If nothing else, lips will be looser with all the champagne floatin' around this place." Logan replied dryly.
It was no surprise that they were seated at the table of honor with Madame Rousseau and Henri. There was also a pleasant British couple at their table, the Wilmingtons, to round out the seating arrangement. Ian Wilmington was a banker with Lloyd's of London in town for business, and he had brought his wife Ella, an aspiring writer, along for the trip. Ian seemed grateful to have a male presence other than Henri, glancing at the dandy with disdain. Jubilee was pleased to find that Ella possessed that dry wit that the British often did, in excess.
It was a quite the comedy of errors. Madame Rousseau was oblivious as Henri flirted shamelessly with Jubilee, and Henri was oblivious as Jubilee caustically rebuffed his advances. The conversation was peppered with barely concealed laughter on Ella's behalf, and increasingly pointed stares and growls from Logan. Mr. Wilmington just watched the entire circus in amusement, wondering how long before blood was shed.
"The cherry blossoms of Paris are the only ones who rival the beauty of the sakura blossoms of Kyoto, en printemps. You 'aven't lived until you've walked with your lover beneath the falling pink petals along the Seine." Henri said in what he must have thought to be a seductive voice.
"I wouldn't know, as I was born in China." Jubilee replied mildly, and then mumbled under her breath. "And sakura blossoms are cherry blossoms, you idiot…"
Ella choked on her champagne in laughter, and took pity on Jubilee. "You…erm, must tell me what sights you have seen in Paris so far. I've been here many times before, so I can tell you what spots you shouldn't miss."
Henri pounced on the opening before Jubilee could even reply. "Oui, I would be happy to personally give you on a tour of Paris if your 'usband is too busy with business matters."
She gritted her teeth, and smiled lovingly across the table at Logan who was talking with Ian about cigars. "We're in Paris specifically for our honeymoon, Monsieur Puscard." Logan stopped mid-sentence in distraction, staring at her with a his full attention. "I suspect my husband won't let me out of his sight for any reason."
"I doubt he'll let you out of the boudoir, much less his sight, Mrs. Hopkins." Ella said slyly, noticing the heat between the newly married couple.
Logan just smiled lazily across the table at Jubilee, and said nothing.
Henri huffed in an injured tone. "I only meant that I had heard the inquiries he has been making about Fender Industries tonight. I assumed he would be busy researching the investment."
Jubilee shared a meaninful look with Logan at that piece of news. After dinner was finished Ian insisted that he visit the smoking room. "You simply must try one of the Cubans that arrived that week, Logan. Worth every pence of the price." Logan hesitated, obviously not liking the idea of leaving her in Henri's company now that Madame had gone up to bed.
Jubilee just waved him off, and sent him a quick thought. Don't worry about me, I can handle his type with my eyes closed.
Logan chuckled under his breath as he walked away. Never for a moment thought otherwise, darlin'. Doesn't mean I won't worry anyways.
I need to find out more about the law firm anyways. I'll get the info and then send him on his way. She reassured him, winking as he glanced over his shoulder at her.
Just be careful. Men like that don't have any problem playin dirty. He warned her, his gaze serious.
Neither do I. She flippantly replied.