Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

…

Chapter 6

Light rapping on my door dragged me from another round of crazy dreams, none of which I could have described. Disoriented, I called out, "Come in."

Elise walked in wearing a fuzzy blue robe looking a little nervous. "Stephanie, I am sorry to wake you so early. Ranger is here."

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. "Ranger? What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock."

Her announcement jolted me wide awake. "Seven?" He must've caught an earlier flight than we'd hoped and probably rushed straight here from the airport. The thought gave me warm fuzzies somewhere near my heart. And then it hit me that he was here.

Scrambling out of bed, I ran my fingers through my hair and stopped short at what I felt. It was a big tangled mass of curls and snarls. Not to mention that I had morning breath. My saving grace was the shower I'd had last night. At least he was used to seeing me like this or I would have panicked. Then I realized he wasn't used to seeing me this way anymore. Now I was nervous again.

I shrugged into a cardigan, since I didn't have a robe, and said, "Can you tell him I'll be right there? I need the bathroom."

"Certainly."

Elise left the room and I hurried into the small bathroom to quickly use the toilet, brush my teeth, and splash cold water on my face to wake it up. When I was done, I went out to the living room, holding my breath as I turned toward the front door.

There he stood in all his muscled glory. Jean Philippe and Elise were in front of him and his eyes tracked me over their heads. His hair was even shorter than it had been the last time I saw him, cut close to his scalp in a military style. Half a day's beard growth on his face told me he hadn't stopped for anything once he'd landed in Paris. He wore normal clothes: a white t-shirt, blue jeans with a dark brown leather belt, and navy running shoes. No black Rangeman clothes, no military uniform. He was as edible as always, but his expression was like nothing I'd ever seen on him. There was no smile, not even his standard blank look, only pain and awe intermingled across his handsome features.

His dark brown eyes ate up every square inch of me from head to foot. My mind raced with so many thoughts I couldn't zero in on a single one. My chest hurt and I suddenly felt like I was breathing through cotton. I finally found my voice, even if it was hoarse, and said the first coherent thought that popped into my head. "You're here earlier than I expected."

There was no amusement or twitch of the lips. His eyes burned their way up from somewhere around my knees to lock with mine. "I could come back later."

"No way."

I thought I detected a slight twitch of his lips, but his eyes remained unbearably intense and he took a hesitant step forward. Jean Philippe and Elise parted like the Red Sea. I thought he'd come to me but he stopped after that one step. We stood, neither moving, simply watching each other.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elise look between the two of us and then she said, "We'll go make coffee. Please, make yourself at home, Monsieur Mañoso." She and Jean Philippe left the room, but my eyes were too busy gorging themselves on Ranger to really pay much attention.

We stared at each other, rooted to where we stood. His eyes were expressive, full of all the emotions raging inside. I'd never seen him so transparent before. It was as if he felt too raw to make an effort to conceal anything.

When he spoke, he sounded more controlled than he looked. "It's you." I understood his unspoken fear of finding something completely different than he hoped. I knew I would've felt the same way.

"Are you disappointed?" I asked.

In answer, he quickly closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around my waist in a fierce hug, clinging to me, lifting my feet off the ground. His arms were so tight, I could hardly breathe. He held me firm against his chest and I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. His breathing was not as controlled as I was sure he wanted it to be, and I detected a very faint tremble in his muscles as his heart pounded under his ribcage, practically bruising mine in the process. The power of his response nearly sent me into a breakdown.

"No," he said in a thick voice, lowering me to the floor and shifting his hands. He put one to the back of my head, pressing it to his shoulder. His other arm circled my waist and contracted, holding me captive against his body like he wanted to draw me inside his skin.

I buried my face in his neck and held onto his waist. I breathed in his scent and my senses practically screeched to a halt. He smelled good, but different than before. After a minute, I pulled my head back and looked him in the eye. "No Bvlgari?"

He stared at me for a moment and swallowed. "Not after you were gone…" His voice faded away and he looked up at the ceiling for a moment, still as stone. His lips were a taut line and he swallowed a few times before he slowly stepped back, breaking the contact, and lowered shuttered eyes to mine. "Your hair is shorter."

The distance was more than physical and I felt a quick flash of hurt at the wall he'd erected, but this unfamiliar territory had us both at a disadvantage and I decided he probably needed time to adjust to everything. I could understand that and be patient. A little. Or at least I could try.

So, instead of overreacting, I nodded and asked, "Is it okay?"

In answer, he reached up and lightly teased the messy curls with his fingertips. "Beautiful." He didn't smile or lower the shield in his eyes, but I could tell he meant it. I desperately wanted to grab him, to make him look at me the way he used to, but I'd never been a whiner, never begged for a man's attention. I wasn't going to start now.

Instead, I called on all of my restraint and rolled my eyes to lighten the mood. "Liar. My hair's a mess."

He studied my face and I knew he knew how I felt, what I was thinking, but he didn't give. Whatever resolve he'd set in his mind, he was sticking to it. He slipped his hands into his pockets, "I've never once complained."

No, he hadn't. Ever. I blinked away the sudden moisture in my eyes and took a deep breath in through my nose, releasing it before speaking. "So, Washington D.C., huh?"

He practically shut down at my question. It wasn't just his eyes that were veiled, but his face, as well. It made him look angry, but I didn't think that was it. The old, stony-faced expression was back. The one he'd always used with other people, not me.

I shook my head slightly. "Sorry, I'm just … at a loss." All I could do was be honest at this point.

"Don't, apologize. We'll talk about it." The 'just not now' was implied. His eyes drifted over my face, still locked down, but with an edge of concern. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

I looked away. I didn't want polite comments or conversation. I wanted him to be happy to see me. The 'throw me up against the nearest wall and make me scream his name' kind of happy. His current behavior confused me and my feelings were hurt.

Just then, Elise came back into the living room with the coffee. "Do not mind me, I am leaving again." She set the tray down on the coffee table and rushed back out.

He watched me for several seconds before speaking. "I borrowed a boat from a friend. Thought you'd enjoy a tour of the city from the Seine." He left unsaid that he'd then have me in a controlled environment where he could assess the threat to my security. Maybe he knew he didn't have to say it. I knew the drill.

"It sounds great. I haven't had a chance to see the city."

"How soon can you be ready?"

"Not too long." I motioned behind me down the hallway. "I need to change and do something with my hair, but I'll hurry. Have some coffee." He looked at the serving tray and then sat on the couch and poured himself a cup.

I went to the little guest room first to change into a pair of jeans shorts, a sapphire blue tank, and the beige sandals I'd had with me at the hostel. After closer inspection last night, I'd realized they were Gucci. My hair was a different story. Conditioning it last night had helped, but my restless night of sleep had done a number on it. Ten minutes of sighing, swearing, and eventually just wetting my hair down, resulted in a miracle: soft, glossy curls falling gently over my head to frame my face.

A swipe of lip balm and two coats of mascara later and I was ready to go. I went to the bedroom and packed my clothes into a small suitcase Elise had gifted me. When I was sure I had everything, I took my suitcase to the living room and set it by the door. Ranger stood, but I held up a finger and went to kitchen. "Ranger and I are going to head out," I said when the couple turned to face me.

"Do you want breakfast? I have it ready for you, Elise said. Jean Philippe stood beside the small counter with a strange smile on his face, not quite happy and not sad.

I eyed the tray and grabbed a croissant and slathered some butter and jam on it. I think I ate it in two bites and grabbed a few sections of orange, popping one into my mouth before giving her a sheepish smile. "Guess I was hungrier than I thought."

Elise smiled at me with a twinkle in her eye and handed me a napkin. "You have some butter on your cheek." I took the square of cloth and began wiping at my face. Her hands settled on my upper arms and squeezed lightly. I felt a twinge of sadness that our time was over and glanced at both of them. Elise read my look and shook her head with a wave of her hand. "Go. You need time together." Then she took the napkin from me.

We hugged tightly and she whispered something in French. I didn't need a translator to know she was telling me she'd miss me. It made tears prick behind my eyelids. When I turned to leave, she called my name gently and I looked back at her. "Give him time to process."

Jean Philippe also hugged me and said. "Love is strongest in times of trouble."

Ranger's presence filled the small kitchen and we looked over to him standing just inside the doorway. "Madame and Monsieur Beaumont," he began, "we'd like to take you out to dinner tonight. If you're free."

I was surprised, both at his formal tone and the suggestion of dinner.

"Please, you need no formality with us. Jean Philippe." Ranger nodded. "Yes, we would love to have dinner with you," Jean Philippe said.

"We'll pick you up. Does 6:30 work?" Ranger asked.

"Yes, perfect. We will be ready."

"We'll be going to Appréciez"

Elise's eyes widened slightly. "Thank you. We have never eaten there before."

He smiled. "I know the owners and would like to treat you for taking such good care of Stephanie." Ranger in formal, polite mode was a little different. Then again, a lot of things about Ranger were different right now.

They smiled and Elise clasped her hands in front of her. "It was our pleasure." The couple followed us to the front door and closed it softly behind us with a small wave.

"So," I asked when we got outside, "a boat?"

He nodded.

"But not alone."

"Correct." We walked down the street side by side, not touching. I had to clench my hands to keep from reaching out to grab his hand. Strange how some habits were so ingrained it was nearly a physical fight to resist them.

Turned out the 'boat' was one of the most luxurious houseboats I'd ever seen. It was long and actually quite large. When Ranger first told me he'd borrowed his friend's boat for the day, I'd had to resist wrinkling my nose in distaste. All I could picture was a dirty, dusty boat with nets and fishing equipment lying around, the stale scent of worms and dead fish, and a smoky boat motor. The beautiful, obviously expensive, watercraft we boarded was impeccable and clean, very clean. Just another way for him to broaden my horizons.

The interior and the deck were all a medium stained, gleaming wood. There were deck chairs and a table with an umbrella, and a mini bar that looked to be well stocked. The ceiling inside wasn't high, but it wasn't so low that we couldn't stand comfortably. In the living space were several plush couches and the walls were actually floor to ceiling windows with blinds that could be lowered. Ranger walked over and rapped on one of the windows with his knuckle, then turned to me with his 'almost smile' in place. "Bullet proof glass." I resisted rolling my eyes and explored further.

There was a large bedroom with a very comfortable looking bed low to the floor in the center of the room. Ranger dropped my suitcase, which I'd forgotten in my flustered state, by the door and showed me the bathroom. Inside the surprisingly large room was a shower large enough for two people as well as a large circular tub. Pretty impressive to have either of those on a boat, let alone both.

Throughout the tour, I had to resist the urge to grind my teeth in frustration at the distance he kept between us. Instead, I kept my focus on the details of the rooms and gestured around the kitchen when we reached it. "We don't have to cook, do we?"

"Meals will be provided."

I nodded and then remembered about dinner tonight. "Ranger, I know you're super security conscious right now, but I have nothing to wear to dinner tonight. From Elise's reaction, I'm guessing this restaurant is expensive."

He gave me a smile that didn't quite warm his eyes. I wanted to kiss him to see if it would affect him, but he wasn't making a move toward me and I felt shy, almost rejected by him in a way. What if he didn't want me anymore? I wouldn't even let myself contemplate that he may have moved on. The way things felt right now, it was as if we were back in the 'pre-relationship' days of when we'd first met.

"I've taken care of it."

"Don't tell me Ella made her way here and you've been hiding her." I cast a quick glance around.

The genuine smile I received for my comment nearly made me weak with relief. I'd take any type of happy handed to me today, whether in small doses or not. "No. But my business partner has a wife who loves to shop. She picked up some things for you yesterday after I called him."

"How do you know all of these people? Business partner? What kind of business do you do here? Why am I just now finding this stuff out?" I wasn't sure if I should be offended or excited that he had so many friends in Paris. "And are there French Merry Men?"

He tipped his head back and laughed. The sound washed over my senses and my tension began to ease away. I saw that his did, as well. When he looked back at me, he looked more like my Ranger. "You didn't know because I'd planned to bring you here one day, after we were … settled. I wanted to show you."

I nodded, determined to avoid the reason why that trip never happened. And to keep him relaxed for as long as possible. I could breathe around this Ranger. The other one made every muscle in my body tight and achy … and not in the good way.

He continued and said, "My business partner and I own a security company here that's a lot like Rangeman. I've spent a lot of time here. Appréciez is one of my favorite restaurants, five stars. A few years ago the owners fell onto hard times and I offered to be a silent partner and back the restaurant for them. It's turned out to be a profitable venture for me."

My mouth dropped open, showing my shock. "You own a French security company and a five star French restaurant?"

"Co-own, but yes." He took a step toward me and lifted my jaw with his knuckle, effectively closing my mouth, and withdrew his hand. His light touch was brief, but he stayed in close proximity, making me a bit breathless. "Did I satisfy your curiosity?

There were so many more important things I wanted him to satisfy right then, I had to remind myself what his actual question was before I spoke again.

"Almost. What about the French Merry Men?"

He smiled a little. "There are men working at the security company here who are like the guys back home. You would no doubt call them French Merry Men. Same rules apply, though: not to their faces. They wouldn't appreciate it."

I shook my head slightly with a crooked smile and motioned around us. "Okay, so this boat is your business partner's." He nodded and I continued. "And Chaz is your employee." I received another short nod. "What is the company called? Not Rangeman…"

"Sécurité de Hilliard." I'd been right at breakfast with Jean Philippe yesterday. The female population was not ready for a French-speaking Ranger. I thought the synapses in my brain shorted out just from him speaking a name. He hadn't even spoken a complete sentence and I was already drooling.

"How about the city tour?"

I nodded yes to him and followed him up a short flight of wooden steps and through a sleek door in the glass wall.

He led me out onto the deck and the boat pulled away from the dock. We glided down the river, the boat captained by an unknown person. I'd place high bets that it was a French Merry Man, though.

As we went along, I studied Ranger more than the city sights. His eyes were weary and there were more lines at the corners, as if he'd aged five years in the past ten months. It made me sad that it had been on my account.

Buildings and landmarks floated by, but I barely gave them a passing glance. I appreciated the history, but my thoughts were occupied by Ranger. He pointed out the Eiffel Tower, La Conciergerie, the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, and various other landmarks whose names I didn't recognize, giving me a little information at times when I looked confused. I made the appropriate noises of appreciation, but my heart wasn't in it.

We sat, had coffee, and watched Paris float by. It was almost like a dream. Maybe more like a nightmare. Here I was in Paris. With Ranger. And we were sitting in lounge chairs on the deck of a house boat, taking a romantic cruise down the Seine. But wait, it wasn't romantic. That sinister and scary feeling was back. Time had turned dark for me, an enemy I couldn't see that seemed to be destroying my life one life event at a time.

I looked at Ranger, who stared out ahead of us toward the water, and wondered what all had changed for the millionth time since I first saw him in the Beaumonts' living room. Was he merely on edge and in super security mode or had the absence hardened his resolve against relationships? Maybe he was living it high as a bachelor in Washington D.C. and didn't want the strain of a relationship back in his life. I didn't know because the damn man wouldn't talk. The thought of the latter two made my stomach twist painfully.

A man, whom Ranger called Arnaud, materialized from the cabin and laid out an early lunch on the table near the end of the deck. He was every bit as Merry Manly as all the others I'd known in my life, but shorter than most at a couple of inches taller than me with dark auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion that somehow didn't look unattractive on him. His presence made me wonder how many were on the boat.

I flicked my glance to Ranger and, true to his observant nature, he leaned close to whisper, "I'm not taking any chances, now or ever." He was so close I could smell his new scent, but I still couldn't place it. Had he picked it out, asked Ella to buy a different one, or had someone else picked it out for him? An ache deep enough to affect my breathing exploded in my chest. God, everything was so screwed up.

He leaned back and returned to his meal, so I dug in, pretending that everything was fine and normal. At least I had food to distract me. It helped, somewhat. There was cracked crab, roasted asparagus, sliced fruit, fresh vegetables with a spicy, no doubt low-calorie dip, and a superb croissant-like pastry for dessert with dark chocolate inside. When I asked what it was, Ranger told me it was called pan au chocolat. The combination of buttery bread with slightly bitter, lightly sweet chocolate was incredible. I happily ate up every bite, needing the fortitude from the sugar to settle my nerves.

Ranger spoke to Arnaud and another man, this one very tall and pale blonde with a deep tan. He was all business and all muscle. He appeared now and then to speak to Ranger from almost the moment lunch was served. They always spoke in French, which made me feel left out, especially since that might have been the point. Each time Ranger spoke the language, his deep voice forming the words like a caress over his tongue, I stared at him, remembering the way his tongue caressed my skin. At one point, he stopped with an abrupt turn and stared at me so intently, it felt like a physical touch.

Interesting that the desire appeared to be there, just no action. My confusion and frustration levels were higher than ever, but I didn't want to have it out with him in front of his men so turned my head to watch the scenery float by instead.

After lunch, he sat in one of the loungers again and I joined him, leaving one seat between us. I decided if there was going to be a gap between us it might as well be physical, too. After fighting my emotions and base reactions all day, it took only a nanosecond for me to lose my patience with him altogether. I pushed myself up from the seat and walked past him over to the rail at the bow, leaning over it on my elbows. I looked down at the sloshing and churning waters splitting apart to pass on either side for a few minutes before he came to stand beside me in silence, waiting.

Part of me wanted to fly at him, beat on his chest, or punch him outright, but I knew it wouldn't help. First, it would hurt — me, not him. Second, nothing could make him do something he didn't want to do, so there was no point attacking him. That thought sent my temper boiling. Damn it, why had he even come? He could have sent someone else to babysit me and figure out how to get me home. The logical part of my brain lost out to the irrational, hurt part and I spoke before I realized it.

"What is your deal?" My voice was quiet and I turned to face him with my hands on my hips and eyes narrowed.