The Liberation of Alice Love(6)
Author: Abby McDonald

He stuck out a hand and introduced himself: “Nathan Forrest.”

“Alice”—she shook his hand firmly—“Alice Love.”

“Good to meet you.”

“So…How do you know Stefan?” Alice asked, curious. He didn’t strike her as the hedge-fund type, but perhaps there was a Rolex lurking under those sleeves and a mansion in Holland Park waiting at night.

Nathan hesitated. “It’s actually kind of an embarrassing story.”

“Really?” Now it was Alice’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You have to tell me, with a buildup like that.” When he made a face, she laughed. “You should have just lied, said you met through work or something.”

“We did, kind of,” Nathan explained, leaning back against the wall. “It was one of those corporate parties, a couple of years ago. I was trying to impress a potential client, this Russian oil guy, and for some reason, he was determined to set me up with his daughter.”

“Lucky you.”

“Nothing lucky about it.” Nathan shook his head at the memory. “She was eighteen, and way more interested in flirting with the bartender than hanging out with me. So the party goes on, I notice the kid’s gone, and when I go looking, I find her stumbling out of a supply closet with not just the one guy but a busboy too!”

“Ouch.” Alice watched him, charmed by the note of self-deprecation in his voice.

“Wait, it gets better,” Nathan told her, with a rueful grin. “The guys make a hasty exit, leaving me to try and get her dress zipped—when who should show up?”

“Daddy dearest?”

“Yup.” Nathan grimaced: “I was this close to getting ‘disappeared’ to Siberia by his hulking bodyguards when Stefan appears from nowhere with a bottle of twenty-year scotch. We manage to get the man so drunk—he doesn’t even remember, come morning.”

“That’s Stefan,” Alice said, laughing. “You can always rely on him in a crisis.”

“The man should join the UN,” Nathan agreed. “What about you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “Are you an artiste like Flora?”

“Oh, no.” Alice shook her head quickly. “I’m a lawyer. I never really had the creative spark.”

“No? Some lawyers are the most creative bastards I know, at least when it comes to their billing,” he added with a grin.

 “I wish. I just stick to contracts,” she explained. “I like the order of them, the structure. Everything has to be precise, or the whole thing falls apart.” She stopped, realizing how boring she must sound, but Nathan was nodding.

“It’s all in the details. Still, aren’t you tempted to slip some small print in sometimes?” he asked, “You know, ‘I the undersigned do pledge my soul to Satan…’”

Alice widened her eyes in mock outrage. “Mr. Forrest! Are you implying I’m ever less than scrupulously professional?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Love.” Nathan dipped his head in polite contrition. “I’m sure you’re the model of good business and decorum.”

They laughed.

“It has crossed my mind sometimes,” Alice confided. “Not to bargain their souls away—my boss takes care of that—but to slip something in. Move a decimal point, maybe, just to see if anyone notices. Most of the time, I wonder if I’m the only one reading the things.”

“A whole decimal point?” Nathan shook his head. “You rebel, you.”

“That’s me,” Alice agreed wryly. “I’m living life on the edge.”

There was another pause, but this time Alice thought she better not linger. “I should…” She pointed vaguely farther into the house.

“Oh, sure.” Nathan gave an easy smile. “I’ll send out a search party if you don’t make it back in, what, an hour?”

“Right.” Alice smiled. “I’ll see you out there, I’m sure.”

She turned but had only taken a few steps further down the hall when he called to her. “Wait, Alice.”

She looked back. Nathan was still there, framed by the afternoon light streaming through the far door.

“I was thinking…” He paused, as if assessing her. Then he reached some decision and asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Alice stared, taken aback.

Coming closer, Nathan gave her a mischievous smile. “I’m pretty much ready to leave, so I thought, maybe you’d like to come.”

“Come where?” Alice was still confused.

He shrugged. “Dinner, drinks… I know a great hotel in Paris, if you’re in the mood for a trip.”

“Paris?” Alice laughed, humoring him.

“Sure, cute little place, in the Fifth Arrondissement.” Nathan played along. “We could stare meaningfully at art and have blazing fights in restaurants.”

“Over red wine and macaroons?”

“I’m more a pain au chocolate man myself, but sure, whatever you want.” He grinned, skin crinkling warmly at the edge of his eyes. For a moment, Alice let herself be amused, but then she realized…

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“I never lie about pastries.”

 “I mean, Paris?”

Nathan just nodded, utterly at ease. “Why not?” He began to hum, an old Cole Porter song. “I love Paris in the summer, when it sizzles…”

Alice wanted to just laugh it off as an outlandish joke, but he was still watching her, something new in his eyes. A note of challenge.

The proposition suddenly became clear.

“I…I don’t even know you,” she said slowly, surprised to feel a faint thrill.

“What’s to know?” Nathan waited, casual. As if he did this all the time. “It’s what, a two-hour trip on Eurostar? Plenty of time. I’ll start at the beginning, if you want: the toilet-training years. Or, we can skip ahead, to first grade. Miss Kellan, if I remember right…”

Alice smiled, despite herself. “That’s OK,” she stopped him. “I get the picture.”

“So what’s the holdup?” Nathan began to back away, beckoning. “We should say our good-byes before your sister starts that croquet game. She was saying something about pink sashes for team uniforms…”

He really meant it.

Alice’s mouth dropped open as she finally realized the truth. For all his joking and easy charm, this man really meant for them to leave for some foreign tryst together. Now. She felt herself blush, aware of his presence in an entirely different way. The smile that had been so casual took on new meaning; the friendly banter between them was suddenly loaded and reckless. Alice was suddenly self-conscious in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while, a delicious sense of possibility shivering down her spine. For a brief, tantalizing moment, she imagined it just as he suggested: the charming little hotel, the romantic restaurant, strolling arm in arm down the Champs-Élysées…