I'd Rather Be In Paris by Misty Evans Page A

keep her diabetes in check. She's only sixty-three years old, but you'd think she was eighty."
    Lawson tossed the last of his coffee into his mouth and swallowed it. “'Two peas in a pod', she used to say."
    He left his stool to grab the plate of croissants and the coffeepot. After bringing both back to the bar, he set the plate down and refilled Zara's cup along with his own before straddling his barstool again. “You're right about the coffee. It's pretty damned good."
    The seriousness of the moment was gone. Zara took one of the sweet pastries drizzled with glaze and bit into it, letting him change the direction of the conversation at his own pace. She knew it wasn't always an easy thing to talk about your family. Wiping her lips with her napkin, she said, “How many siblings do you have?"
    "Two sisters, another brother besides David."
    "Four siblings. What was that like growing up?"
    Lawson grinned. “Tiring. Being the oldest I had to run after the younger ones all the time. They were always getting into something they shouldn't have been and fighting with each other. Drove me crazy."
    "Good experience for raising your own kids."
    Lawson shook his head. “Nah. I've done my parenting gig for this lifetime."
    "You don't want to have kids?"
    "No."
    "Never?"
    He shook his head and took a bite out of a croissant. “Never."
    At the height of her parents’ fighting, she'd vowed never to have kids either. She'd been eight. In later years, however, when she saw her mother and father holding hands at a fundraiser or drinking coffee on the veranda of their condo, she reconsidered her decision. But only briefly in those moments when her parents appeared at peace with each other after so many years. Deep inside her, she'd always believed it was her fault they'd fought the way they had. Even as an adult, she still believed it.
    Lawson drained his cup again and stood. “I'm going to jump in the shower and try to catch some sleep before I meet with our source."
    Zara pushed her plate back. She had a few things to do before she tailed him. “Okay,” she said in her most complacent voice as she slid off her own barstool. “I'll put this outside for maid service."
    "Don't let me chase you off. Finish your breakfast."
    She stacked Lawson's plate on top of hers. “I'm done."
    "You should get some sleep too.” He took the plates out of her hands, set them on the cart and turned back to her. “This time use the bed though, okay?"
    She gave him a ha-ha smile and picked up the coffee cups. “You've got no sense of adventure, Clint."
    His smile held a hint of warmth. “I love adventure. The only thing sleeping in the tub gets you is a sore neck. That's not adventure.” Moving toward the bathroom, he stripped off his shirt and threw it on the nearby loveseat. Zara's pulse jumped. “Go get some rest, spook."
    Rest, right. Setting the cups on the cart, she let her eyes move over his back as he walked away from her. Wide shoulders, defined muscles, and the indent of his back where his gun was still secured, all perfect. She watched until he disappeared behind the bathroom door, and then she stared at the door for another minute. When the sound of the shower slipped under the crack in the door, she pulled out her cell phone and started typing a text message.
    The bathroom door cracked open and Lawson's head popped out. “Be sure to lock your side of the door."
    Zara jumped, dropping the phone into the cups and plates. She shuffled them in a futile attempt to look busy. Then she checked herself. “You mean the door between our rooms?"
    Lawson nodded, and she said, “Why?"
    "For a security consultant, you suck.” Humor flashed in his eyes.
    " Security, right.” Zara gave him a thumbs up. “But what if you want to visit and I have the door locked?"
    "It won't stop me."
    Zara called up the dumb-blonde persona again. “It won't?"
    "No. In fact, it won't really stop anyone, but it will slow them down long enough for you to reach your