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Date Posted: 23:41:26 09/29/01 Sat
Author: Leigh
Subject: Holiday Chapter 19
In reply to: Leigh 's message, "Holiday" on 07:12:46 09/27/01 Thu

~

Nikita leaned forward. She propped her chin on top of her laced fingers and smiled lazily. "This has been a great evening," she sighed.

The corners of Michael's eyes crinkled as he returned her smile. His gaze shifted lower, lingering on her mouth. His eyes darkened and he shifted his gaze back up. "You enjoyed tonight?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then turned and looked out at the lighted skyline of the city. "It's been a long time since I've done this," she said quietly. "Too long."

"And why is that?"

Her lips quirked into another small smile. "Just busy."

Michael nodded slowly, his eyes understanding. "It's easy to get lost in work, especially when you love what you do."

Nikita met his gaze. "What about you? We've talked mostly about me this evening, I'd love to know more about you and your life."

"There's not much too tell," Michael replied, reaching for his glass and taking a sip. Nikita waited silently. "Apart from the galleries, there is only my sister and her family that I care about and that's pretty much it."

"She's co-owner of the galleries, right? I remember seeing that in your file."

"That's right. Her name's Monique."

Nikita smiled at the sound of affection in his voice. "Is she younger than you?"

"Yes."

After several seconds, Nikita gave a small laugh. "I've always had this idea in my head that Frenchmen are very talkative and animated. But you're not at all like that."

This earned her a genuine smile from Michael. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you," he said.

"Not at all," Nikita answered. "It's just one of those childhood stereotypes that stick in your head."

"If it makes you feel better, you're not exactly the way I expected American women to be."

Nikita's smile widened into a grin. "Oh? What were you expecting?"

Michael leaned back and raised one hand, waving it in circles in the air. His accent was much more pronounced when he spoke. "Oh, I don't know. I've heard that you American women are impatient and bossy and…"

Nikita gasped, aghast, and then when she saw the teasing smile in his eyes she began to laugh. "We're not that bad."

Michael leaned forward and reached across the table for her hand. His fingers held hers. "No," he said, looking into her eyes. "You're not bad at all."

Nikita's breath caught at the intensity of his gaze and the sensual touch of his hand upon hers. An ache bloomed deep in her loins and spiraled upward.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Wordlessly, she rose and Michael led her out to the dance floor.

~

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