It All Began in Monte Carlo (25 page)

“Mac.” Her voice was a whisper that even Allie and Pru, all agog, could not hear. “I only ever want to be with you. I love you.”

Relieved, he said, “I'll call from Paris.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me, just call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And I love you. Remember that.”

“I will.”

She closed her phone.

Allie folded her arms tighter over her chest. “So, okay. Two things. Are you back with Mac? And what's Ron doing here?”

“Yes, I am. I was just going to tell you when he called. And Ron came to Monte Carlo too, to help Mac get back with me. Now they're both going to Paris to investigate the jewel robbery.”

Allie sighed, “And I thought I'd left him at home looking after the dog. I might have guessed he'd find trouble.”

Pru slumped on the edge of the bed. “Be still my heart,” she cried, clasping a hand to her breast. “I'm living in a romance novel.”

They all laughed, then Allie said she was so happy for Sunny, so happy for Mac and what the hell had they been thinking anyway to ever be away from each other. She gave Sunny a hug and Pru got up and did the same, and then they all cried a bit and Allie suggested opening a bottle of champagne.

“Let's go out to celebrate,” Pru said, surprising them. They agreed and quickly looked each other over deciding whether they needed to change.

Allie was wearing Levi's rolled over spiky ankle boots, a white tee and a furry vest that looked as though it had been removed from a fake Mongolian lamb in the sixties. Allie was into vintage and the rock-and-roll era was her favorite. The shaggy grayish-white strands of “fur” tangled with her fall of long straight blond hair, which she
clipped hastily back without so much as a thought to how she might look.

Sunny was all in black: leggings, a long V-necked sweater dress and the famous black boots; not the UGGs, but those almost-Christmas-present ones. Her makeup had worn off and her hair still had a sexy tangled look. She ran her fingers through it, uncaring. All she felt was great.

Pru was wearing a sweater too, one Allie had found for her. Hyacinth blue with an empire waist, tight under her breasts then looser over the bits that were still what Pru termed “a nuisance.” Since Pru had fallen for the unknown Eddie Johanssen she was determined more than ever to rid herself of that “nuisance.” There was nothing like a man to make you want to look good, even though Pru knew she had a long way to go. Still, her red Chanel shoes looked terrific with the new black pants that did not squash her thighs and somehow made her look slimmer. Allie had given her one of her own lipsticks, Yves Saint Laurent's Nude Blush, which Pru had told Allie was the only bit of her that was going to be seen in the nude for a long time. After seeing Eddie even in that weird state, she was wishing it would not be quite so long.

Holding Tesoro on the lead, waiting for the elevator, Pru said to them, “Something very strange happened to me tonight.”

“To
you
?” Allie was astonished.

“Well, not exactly to
me,
but that gorgeous Swedish man. Eduardo Johanssen.”

Sunny glared guiltily at Pru, who went on, “I've seen him before, getting in and out of the elevator, in the foyer, that kind of thing, and I mean the man
is gorgeous.
Do you think you can be in love with a man you've never even met? Or at least not
really
met?”

The elevator came and they stepped into it.

“Pru, for heaven's sake stop gabbling and tell us what exactly you mean, ‘in love' and ‘something strange,' ” Allie said.

“I'll tell you later,” Pru muttered, aware of the other couple in the elevator.

“Thank heaven too that we're not going to that hotel bar,” Allie said as they walked through the foyer, though Pru did cast a longing glance in that direction, thinking perhaps Eddie might have gone there. They dropped the dog off to be walked by the bellman.

It was impossible for Allie Ray not to be recognized. They had only to walk under that famous art nouveau glass canopy when the Casino doors opened magically, a table was found, champagne presented. Sometimes being a celebrity was okay, Allie said, smiling her thanks, though Pru thought anyone who acted less like a celebrity than Allie did not exist. Her friend was straight-ahead, unpretentious and anxious to keep her privacy, which was the reason Pru had been so angry when she had caught that bitch Kitty Ratte snapping pictures of Allie on her cell phone.

Pru stared at Sunny as they sat scrunched tightly together on a small banquette. “You look wonderful tonight,” she said, sincerely.

“You have that ‘glow.' ” Allie smiled.

“
What
glow? What do you
mean
?” Pru asked, then blushed when they just smiled at her. “Ooh, oh, sorry, I didn't realize . . . oh hell, Sunny, lucky you.”

“Your turn will come,” Sunny said, holding Pru's hand tightly. “You're already looking different.”

“And tomorrow you'll be a blonde,” Allie added encouragingly.

It was true, Pru did look different. Her face was less round and her bosom was now contained in the snug sweater that did more for her shape than those God-awful baggy caftans ever had. “If you've got it, flaunt it,” was Allie's new motto for Pru, and while not actually
flaunting
her breasts, at least now Pru acknowledged their existence

“Does anyone ever drink anything but champagne in Monte Carlo?” Pru asked. Champagne had not featured largely in her previous life; the odd glass at weddings, occasions like that, but never just for the sheer pleasure of it. She ran a hand through her limp
brown hair wondering what she would feel like tomorrow when she was a blonde.

Sunny answered. “They drink Cosmos in the summer. In St. Tropez. Or at least I did.”

“So what happened with the handsome stranger?”

Pru said, “I was in the elevator alone tonight when it stopped at the lobby.”

Allie held up a hand. “Excuse me, but what exactly were you doing alone in the elevator?”

“I was just so darn hungry,” Pru said defensively.

Allie put her face in her hands and groaned.

“I was only going to see if I could get a little cheese, a
tiny
slice of baguette. I needed the taste . . . I mean, Allie, I wasn't just friggin' hungry . . .”

Allie lifted her head and stared hard at Pru. “You
never
curse,” she said. “So you must have
really
wanted it.”

“Believe me, I was hungry.”

“I know the feeling.” Sunny was sympathetic. “Trust me, I've eaten bags of M&M's when all else seemed to fail. Somehow they slide right down, just that little crunch first and then you feel you've eaten nothing. Cheese is so much healthier. See, you've learned, Pru.”

“So what about Eddie Johanssen?” Allie took Pru's hand encouragingly.

“Well, here's the strange thing. This beautiful man, you know how he looks, so handsome, so man of the world, so in charge . . . Well, let me tell you tonight he was not. Eddie Johanssen
staggered
into that elevator. I had to put out my hands to stop him falling all over me.” Pru paused while they waited eagerly for what she would say next. “His pants were unzipped,” she said.

Allie groaned. “And why were you looking down there anyway?”

“Ooh, you know it was just one of those passing glances, I mean the guy almost fell on me. Also his sweater was on backward.
And
he slurred his words. In fact he could hardly stand up straight. And when I asked if he needed help he simply said thank you. He couldn't even focus. I don't think he even saw my face or knew who I was. I pushed the button for the ninth floor for him and he stumbled out. I watched him stagger down the corridor to his room.”

“And then what did you do?”

“Then I went back down in the elevator and got my cheese and crackers.”

“Both!” Allie said, mad at her now.

But Sunny was thinking of Eddie, not of cheese and crackers. Darling Eddie; her savior, her mentor; a man with whom she had half-fallen in love, and who she believed had fallen for her too. It was a “what-might-have-been” situation, and she had not yet even called him, not even left a message, apologized, thanked him, said goodbye-and-she-would-never-forget-him. She had just simply left. Selfish bitch that she was, how could she have been so cruel?
So
cruel Eddie went off and got drunk and all because of her.

“Eddie and I know each other,” Sunny said in a small voice.

They turned to look at her.

“What do you mean ‘know'?” Allie said.

“I was in love with him, a little bit, just for a few days . . .”

Allie groaned. “Sunny, are you telling us he was the other man?”

“I met him on the flight to Paris, he let me cry on his shoulder, he wouldn't let me stay in Paris because of the snow, it was Christmas and I was all alone and so was he. He booked me into the hotel in Monte Carlo, and then . . .”

“And then what happened?” Allie held out her hand, palm out to stop Sunny from answering. “No, no, it's better I don't know so I don't have to lie to Mac.”

“But you
don't
have to lie, I mean nothing happened . . . Well nothing more than a kiss. Between friends, of course.”

“Of course.” Allie glared at her. “Why the fuck didn't you tell me all this earlier, Sunny? I thought you were dying of love for Mac.”

“I was. I
am.
Nothing happened.”

“You
kissed
Eddie Johanssen,” Pru said, in a voice that was half a sigh. “Oh my God, you
kissed
Eddie Johanssen . . .”

“Just between friends,” Sunny said firmly. Then, more honestly, “It could have been the beginning of something but then Mac arrived . . .”

“Mac came to
find
you,” Allie reminded her.

Pru said, “Oh God, I remember the scene in the bar. Mac walked in and you walked over to him without a backward glance. It was almost as if there was a sign over your heads saying, ‘We are lovers.' And you left Eddie sitting at the bar without so much as a backward glance. And then Kitte Ratte moved in on him. I
saw
her.”

“Poor bastard,” Allie said, realizing just how badly Sunny had behaved.

“I'm so sorry,” Sunny said. “I couldn't help it. Eddie is kind, he's gentle, I was all alone, lost . . .”

“
And
he's sexy as hell,” Pru said. They turned to stare at her and she added quickly, “At least he looks that way.”

“Are
you
in love with Eddie too?” Allie asked, throwing her hands in the air.

Sunny said quickly, “
I
am definitely not in love with him. I mean, I could have been . . . but now I'm not.”

“And I don't even know him,” Pru said virtuously, smoothing down her hyacinth-blue sweater. “It's not possible, is it, to be in love with a man you have never actually spoken to?”

“Not unless you're a fan of a movie actor,” Allie said. She knew all about crazed fans.

“So anyway, Sunny, what happened with Mac?” Pru hastily changed the subject.

Sunny shrugged, half-smiling as she remembered. “We just fell into each other's arms, the way we always do,” she said dreamily. “Throwing our clothes off on the way. Making love with a man you really love is different, Pru. It's more than just the sex,
wonderful
sex, God I could just eat him up; but it's about that special chemistry, the
bond that brings you together, the things that don't need to be said, the holding each other, my leg over him, his arm around me. And afterward . . .”

“Afterward . . .” Pru whispered. In her few married years she had never felt any of what Sunny had just described; had never had the sheer joy of lovemaking, never been held like that . . .
afterward
. . . “How wonderful,” she said, wistfully, longing for that afterward.

“So, now what are you going to do about Eddie?” Allie asked.

Sunny took out her BlackBerry. “I'm going to call him right now. See if he's okay. And then I'm going to meet him, explain everything . . . You know. And thank him for just being the man he is. A strong man and a good friend in time of need.”

“Lucky you,” Pru said softly.

There was no reply to Eddie's cell phone. It was late now. Sunny would have to try him again tomorrow.

The woman injured in the jewel heist had refused to come to the
préfecture.
She had told them everything she knew, now she wanted to forget. But when Mac called her personally and asked if she would speak with him, because she knew his TV show she agreed to meet at Deux Magots, a café on boulevard St. Germain. Her name was Danielle Soris.

Mac waited alone at a table on the covered patio. It was very cold though the sun shone brightly from an azure-blue sky, gilding Paris in eternal beauty despite the eternal traffic. Danielle had only agreed to speak to Mac alone so Ron went and sat a couple of tables away, perusing a copy of the
International Herald Tribune
and wishing Allie were with him.

An old hand by now at all things French, Ron ordered hot chocolate to warm himself up, something Allie would never have allowed him to do. Allie kept him in shape, saying now they had worked things out she wanted him around for a lot more years, and he'd better let her worry about his cholesterol. He was enjoying the hot chocolate immensely. A guilty pleasure.

He looked up from his newspaper, caught Mac's eye and winked. Lifting his cup for Mac to see what hot chocolate in France was all about, he said, “Real melted chocolate. Real cream. Real heaven.”

Mac ordered a double espresso. He had not slept, he was worried about Sunny.

He threw the coffee down his throat and ordered another. Ms. Soris was late; she was supposed to be there at three and it was already three-twenty. Traffic? Or a change of mind? He thought of Yvonne Elman and hoped it was traffic. Ms. Soris was their only real witness and even that was in doubt. He needed to know what else she had seen, perhaps only subliminally, besides the masked figure who'd dealt her a blow that could have been fatal.