A Paris Melody

Crossroads

"Oh, shit." The shapely brunette giggled, watching her fruity drink slowly spread across the polished wooden surface of the bar.

"Buy you another one?" Jill McDonald had spotted the girl from across the room, easily matching her long dark hair, eye-popping figure, and pouting, sensual features to the photograph she'd been studying all week. Even in a busy beachfront bar in tropical Martinique, it was hard to miss a girl like Meredith Weeks.

"Oh, right! I'll take another Sleepy Sunset. Or a Tropical Passion? Maybe I should try Sex On The Beach instead!" Meredith giggled naughtily as she read the exotic names chalked up above the bar.

"We'll each have a glass of Granny's Lemonade." Jill's voice was crisp and firm, more like a teacher assigning homework than a silly tourist looking to get loaded. The bartender obeyed at once.

"Huh?" Meredith blinked and tried to steady herself. Jill's take-charge manner cut through the deep fog of too many drinks. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you from America, like me?"

"Just arrived from Paris," Jill murmured, sipping her lemonade. "I'm originally from Canada."

Meredith made a face. "I know all about Paris," she pouted. "Everything costs too much, and everyone treats you like dirt. Supposed to be full of art and culture, but it's all a big rip-off!"

"Paris can be like that," Jill acknowledged. "Living on your own is tough. But that's true everywhere, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" That got Meredith talking. Before long she was spilling her life story, from the time she quarreled with her mother and left school. Jill knew most of the background already, having met Meredith's mother Mabel in Paris. All she had to do was listen.

"So after I got kicked ouf of Italy, Gunner and me went to Paris. He said he knew loads of fashion photographers. It was a gas! But big boobs just aren't happening this year. There weren't any modeling jobs, so we came down here. The other night we met this other guy, a fancy jewel collector. He's got a partner, some big billionaire. He says me and Gunner could make a ton of money."

"Oh, dear." Jill knew she was on to something. "By any chance do you remember the jewel collector's name?"

"Don't remember." Meredith shook her head, clearly a little woozy. "Supposed to meet his partner tonight. Just me. Gunner set it up."

"I see." Jill frowned, because Marc wouldn't like it if she took a big risk. But if her no-good uncle was in Martinique, she had to see him. And in the meantime, there was poor Meredith.

"Gunner doesn't love me," Meredith said sadly. Her mood had changed, all the drinks catching up with her. With her head down and her tears falling she suddenly seemed little more than a child. "You know what's really crazy? Sometimes I miss my mother.

"Let's get out of here." Jill's heart ached for the girl. It was clear that Meredith wanted to go home. Yet even with Jill's arm around her the inebriated girl could barely make it to the ladies' bathroom. As soon as they were away from prying eyes Jill steered her out the back door. A car was waiting, and Meredith sank into unconsciousness the moment Jill set her down in the back seat. Her purse spilled open and Jill glimpsed a photograph. An old beach house, peeling yellow paint. Was this the meeting place?

"You're a natural at this kind of work!" Nicolette LaValle and Christina Martel were both impressed with Jill. The two sophisticated older women had volunteered to help her locate Meredith and send her back to Mabel safe and sound. Yet now that the mission was accomplished and the three women were celebrating over dinner and drinks, Jill felt let down.

"Meredith was supposed to meet someone tonight," she remarked. Best to keep things casual. "What if I took her place?"

"Oh, no." Dark-eyed Nicole laughed. "That is so not happening."

"It would be very risky," Christina confirmed. The tall, blond woman sipped from a glass of expensive champagne.

"But why?" Jill scowled, gulping half the champagne in her glass. "If the two of you came along, I wouldn't be alone. I could find out who's behind my uncle's disappearance, and maybe even find the stolen jewels. I'd play Meredith, but I'd keep my eyes open. And if there was trouble, you could be my backup."

"If there was trouble, you could be dead," Christina said bluntly. "Finish your champagne, Jill. Meredith is safe. The mission is accomplished. It's time to celebrate." The tall and athletic security expert clearly meant business. Christina smiled, but her intense blue eyes were like lasers. After a brief standoff, Jill caved.

"Buvons! A toast to that!" Laughing, Nicole refilled their glasses. "Mission accomplished, ladies. Time to celebrate!"

Jill awoke the next morning in a foul mood. The morning sun seemed far too bright, and every sound was twice as loud. Nicole was still snoring in her underwear on the couch in the front room. The vivacious little Frenchwoman had crashed in Jill's suite rather than going back to her own room when the evening's celebration was over. Christina was probably out running. She started every morning with a strenuous workout. Jill sensed she was at a crossroads. Gazing down at her sleeping guest, she wondered if Nicole would notice if she slipped out for a while.