Vegas Miracle Read Online Free Page B

and sat back for landing knowing the whole "no baby" thing would eventually make its way back to the floor for discussion.  But Ryan was bound and determined to not screw up some poor kid with his shitty parenting.  It just wasn't an option and Grace would have to deal with it.

 
    Chapter Four
     
    The sun baked the few bodies still lazing by the salt-water pool as Ryan strolled by headed for the cabana-encased lounge.  Admiring the various female forms scattered between him and his destination, Ryan caught a few eyes and nodded.  He was no slouch and has dressed carefully in hopes of blending in and not seeming like the obvious American in this group of sophisticated tourists.  His cream linen shorts and soft blue silk shirt fluttered in the breeze as he stepped into the gloom under the striped canvas tent.
    He took a seat at the bar and glanced around, which was full at four p.m. in Nice.  The sun was at its hottest and the interior here pleasantly cool.
    "Monsieur?"  The drop dead, model gorgeous woman standing behind the bar put a napkin in front of him.
    "Ah, yeah.  I’ll take a glass of Mortimer if you have it."  It was his favorite French beer, a frothy lager made from peat smoked whiskey malt.  The woman raised an admiring eyebrow and pulled a tap to fill his glass which he raised to her before taking a sip.  "Cheers."
    Noting her eyes as they flickered over his shoulders then to the subtle silver colored band on his left hand, he set the glass down and smiled at her.
    "I was told Henri Christophe was here."
    "Oui," she jerked her chin to a spot behind him.  Ryan turned his head and was struck by the sight of the man he’d been studying from photos bent over the shoulders of a famous movie star, his hands working her neck as she let out little yips of pleasure and pain.  Ryan reddened.  Jesus, it sounded like the woman was having an orgasm.
    He finished his beer, put enough Euros on the bar to satisfy any bartender and stood.  The dark skinned young man looked up as if sensing his presence and his face broke into a wide grin.  Ryan grinned back as he made his way over to him.  The movie star stood, took in Ryan’s tall, blond, athletic form then turned and planted a kiss on Henri’s full lips.
    "Darling, so lucky," she glanced over at Ryan who waited, hands in pockets.
    "Oh please, he’s here to hire me or something, make me move to the godforsaken American desert, I don’t know."  Henri patted the woman’s ass as she strolled away and Ryan caught the lilt of South American in the man’s speech. But before he could introduce himself, a small body launched itself out of the shadows and into Henri’s arms.  The young man laughed and planted kisses all over the little girl’s face.  The little-girl version of the man he’d come to hire clambered up and down her father’s torso and he flipped her around, upside down, then up onto his shoulders before kissing both of her knees and turning to Ryan.
    "So sorry, I don’t see my darling Renee much.  She's about to leave me again, going to back her her maman , eh my love."  He pulled the girl down and set her on the floor where she promptly stared at Ryan then held out a small hand.
    "I'm Renee Christophe.  Please to have meeting to you."
    Henri patted her head.  Kids made him nervous, always had.
    "Lovely, my dear. The English nanny has come in handy after all."
    Ryan took her hand.
    "I'm Ryan Sullivan.  I'm here to see if your Papa will open a restaurant for me."  He looked up and caught Henri’s eye.  The man’s dark chocolate stare was intense.  Ryan took a step back, uncomfortable with the sudden rush of blood that flooded his face.
    Henri turned his attention to his daughter once more.
    "Allez-y maintenant. Votre maman est en attente. J’taime."
    Ryan recognized the formal French used by non-native speakers and he stepped aside as the bikini-clad girl bolted down the steps.  Turning back, he was surprised to see the man’s