“For an old friend, I can arrange that.”
“Oh, good.” Eve replaced the receiver slowly. It would be a lunch the count would remember the rest of his life.
They met at Lasserre. The discussion on wines was brief. Eve listened to Maurier’s boring discourse impatiently, and then interrupted. “I’m in love with you, Alfred.”
The count stopped dead in the middle of a sentence. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I’m in love with you.”
He took a sip of wine. “A vintage year.” He patted Eve’s hand and smiled. “All good friends should love one another.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of love, Alfred.”
And the count looked into Eve’s eyes and knew exactly what kind of love she was talking about. It made him decidedly nervous. This girl was twenty-one years old, and he was past middle age, a happily married man. He simply could not understand what got into young girls these days. He felt uneasy sitting across from her, listening to what she was saying, and he felt even uneasier because she was probably the most beautiful, desirable young woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a beige pleated skirt and a soft green sweater that revealed the outline of a full, rich bosom. She was not wearing a brassiere, and he could see the thrust of her nipples. He looked at her innocent young face, and he was at a loss for words. “You—you don’t even know me.”
“I’ve dreamed about you from the time I was a little girl. I imagined a man in shining armor who was tall and handsome and—”
“I’m afraid my armor’s a little rusty. I—”
“Please don’t make fun of me,” Eve begged. “When I saw you at dinner last night, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I haven’t been able to think of anything else. I haven’t slept. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind for a moment.” Which was almost true.
“I—I don’t know what to say to you, Eve. I am a happily married man. I—”
“Oh, I can’t tell you how I envy your wife! She’s the luckiest woman in the world. I wonder if she realizes that, Alfred.”
“Of course she does. I tell her all the time.” He smiled nervously, and wondered how to change the subject.
“Does she really appreciate you? Does she know how sensitive you are? Does she worry about your happiness? I would.”
The count was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re a beautiful young woman,” he said. “And one day you’re going to find your knight in shining, unrusted armor, and then—”
“I’ve found him and I want to go to bed with him.”
He looked around, afraid that someone might have overheard. “Eve! Please!”
She leaned forward. “That’s all I ask. The memory will last me for the rest of my life.”
The count said firmly, “This is impossible. You are placing me in a most embarrassing position. Young women should not go around propositioning strangers.”
Slowly, Eve’s eyes filled with tears. “Is that what you think of me? That I go around—I’ve known only one man in my life. We were engaged to be married.” She did not bother to brush the tears away. “He was kind and loving and gentle. He was killed in a mountain-climbing accident. I saw it happen. It was awful.”
Count Maurier put his hand over hers. “I am so sorry.”
“You remind me so much of him. When I saw you, it was as though Bill had returned to me. If you would give me just one hour, I would never bother you again. You’d never even have to see me again. Please, Alfred!”
The count looked at Eve for a long time, weighing his decision.
After all, he was French.
They spent the afternoon in a small hotel on Rue Sainte-Anne. In all his experience before his marriage, Count Maurier had never bedded anyone like Eve. She was a hurricane, a nym-phet, a devil. She knew too much. By the end of the afternoon, Count Maurier was completely exhausted.
As they were getting dressed, Eve said, “When will I see you again, darling?”