opening act's creating quite a sensation."
He laid a hand over hers. "The response has been great." He shifted his
gaze from Marianne to Emma. "Everything's been great."
Marianne sipped her wine, measuring him. If she had been into religious
art, she would have painted him as John the Apostle. He had that
dreamy, dedicated look. Or skipping a few centuries, Hamlet. The young
prince shadowed by tragedy. She smiled as the waiter served the fresh
drinks. Then again, she could have dipped back only a few years and
used him as a model for the young Brian McAvoy. She wondered if Emma
saw the resemblance.
"Where to from here?" she asked.
"Nice." Drew stretched out his legs. "But I'm not in any hurry to leave
Paris." He glanced toward the street where cars and bicycles whizzed by
with careless disregard for life and limb. "What's it like to live
herb?"
"Noisy. Exciting." She laughed. "Wonderful. I have this little
apartment right over a bakery. There is nothing, believe me nothing,
that smells like a French bakery first thing in the morning."
They spent an hour loitering over their drinks before Drew leaned over
to kiss Emma. "Look, I've got to get to rehearsal and I know you want
to talk. I'll see you tonight. You too, Marianne."
"I'm looking forward to it." She, along with half the women around the
cafe, watched him walk away. "I believe he's the most beautiful man
I've ever seen."
"He is, isn't he?" She leaned over to grip Marianne's hands. "You do
like him, don't you?"
"What's not to like? He's gorgeous, talented, smart, funny." She
grinned. "Maybe he'll dump you for me."
"I'd really hate to have to murder my best friend, but
"I figure I'm safe. He doesn't look at anyone but you. Why, I don't
know; just because you've got those incredible cheekbones and big blue
eyes, a yard of blond hair and no hips. Some guys have no taste."
She leaned back. "You look ridiculously happy."
"I am." She took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of wine and
flowers. Of Paris. "I think I'm in love with him."
"No kidding? I'd never have guessed." With a laugh she patted
Emma's cheeks. "Pal, it's all over your face. If I were to paint you
right now, I'd call it Infatuated. What does your dad think of him?"
Emma picked up her cold coffee and sipped. "He has a lot of respect for
Drew's talent both as a musician and as a songwriter."
"I meant what does he think of Drew as the man his daughter's in love
with."
"I don't know. We haven't talked about it."
Marianne's brows disappeared under her sharply cut bangs. "You
mean you haven't told him that you're involved?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't know exactly." Emma shoved the coffee aside. "I guess I just
want to keep it to myself. I want it to belong to me for a while. He
still thinks of me as a child."