Meet Me in Venice by Elizabeth Adler Page B

she could tell from his accent he was American.
    “Bonsoir, m’sieur,”
they replied. Daria nudged her meaningfully. “Smile at him,” she whispered, just as their food arrived.
    “Pardon me,” the stranger said, “I don’t mean to intrude, but I don’t know what to order here, and what you’re eating looks awfully good. Can you tell me what it is?”
    Since it was quite obviously steak and fries, Preshy slid him an amused sideways look. She swept her long coppery blond curls flirtatiously back over her shoulder, thinking what a stroke of luck she was wearing her good little black dress.
    “Hi, I’m Bennett James,” the handsome stranger said. “I’m in Paris on business.”
    “Where are you from?” Preshy asked.
    “Shanghai.” He frowned. “It’s a long way.”
    “Shanghai?” she said, surprised. “I have a cousin there. I’ve never met her but her name is Lily Song.”
    Bennett James shrugged. “Shanghai’s a big city,” he said, unsmiling, and Preshy felt foolish for even supposing he might know her cousin.
    “And your name is?”
    “Precious Rafferty.” She blushed as she said it and she added quickly, “But when I was nine I cut I down to Preshy.”
    “I don’t blame you,” he said and they all laughed. Then Preshy introduced Daria, who said she definitely recommended the
steak frites
if it was comfort food he was after, so he ordered that and a bottle of red wine and they got to talking about Boston and Paris. They only talked a little bit about Shanghai though, because Bennett said he was on “vacation” tonight in the loveliest city in the world. But he did say that he ran an export business that was becoming too big for him to handle and he needed to recruit new management to help him out.
    He sipped his wine and his eyes locked with Preshy’s again, and again there was that electric jolt of attraction.
    She felt Daria’s elbow in her ribs and slid her a sideways glance. There was a grin on Daria’s face as she said, “Sorry, my darling, but I’m running late. I promised Tom faithfully I’d be back at the hotel by nine.”
    She gathered up her bag and her pale-blue gold-buttoned blazer—Daria would be preppie to the end—and slid out from the banquette.
    “You’re leaving me alone with him,” Preshy whispered, as Daria bent to kiss her goodbye.
    “You betcha,” Daria whispered back.
    Bennett James got to his feet. “So nice to have met you, Daria,”he said, giving her his long intense blue look and holding her hand in both his.
    She nodded and said, “Enjoy the rest of your stay in Paris,” then with a wave she strode away through the now crowded tables.
    Preshy felt the hot flush of panic up her spine; she was alone with a man she had only just met and whom she fancied strongly. Was she just going to say goodbye politely, as Daria had done, leaving him with her number, only to hover anxiously by the phone for the next week hoping he would call? Or was she going to go with this hot flow that urged her toward him and very possibly into his bed? It was crazy; after all, she wasn’t a promiscuous woman, and anyway she hardly knew him.
    She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet them. In the silence it was as though he had touched her.
    Finally he said, “Have you ever taken the sightseeing boat on the river Seine?”
    She shook her head. “Only tourists do that.”
    He grinned. “Then be a tourist with me. We could see Paris by night from the river. Could anything be more beautiful?”
    He reached out and took her hand. His was smooth-skinned, warm and lightly tanned. A hint of dark hair peeked from his shirt cuff with the expensive gold and enamel cuff links and a simple gold watch. Those electric signals seemed to surge to Preshy’s very toes.
    “I’ll do it,” she breathed.
    “Good!” He signaled the waiter for the check, brushing away her protests and insisting on paying hers and Daria’s too.
    “I’m just glad I met you,” he said, giving her that