Mona Lisa's Room: Paris...Pandemonium...Passion

Imagine going through a difficult divorce. A divorce that prompts you to do some things you've always dreamed of--things for yourself, like having lazic surgery to ditch the glasses, changing your hair color or getting a tattoo. And taking a trip to Pairs to visit museums and sketch scenes of the city.

As an art teacher, you've always dreamed of seeing the Mona Lisa. So on your second day in Paris, you head for the Louvre. While there you unwittingly foil a bombing attempt by a terrorist INTERPOL believes dead. Your sketch identifies him and he's out for revenge. Suddenly your dream trip turns into pandemonium and you're put under the protection of a younger French government agent.

Of course there's more than one terrorist in this gang and they keep coming after you. Meanwhile your protector gets under your skin and the degree of the passion heats up. You might end up in a scene like this...

“What is it?” Alyson peered up and down the street.

“Don’t look. Smile at me. Talk and act normal.” Niko wrapped his arm around her waist and nudged her up the street.

“But…” Did he see someone? Did he see Dembri?

“I’m going to kiss you so I have an excuse to look behind us.”

“Oh no. No, I don’t think so. Look, I’ve put up with your constant touching, but I’ll not be kissed on a public street.”

“Don’t be self-conscious. In Paris, we kiss in public. It’s the Parisian way.”

“For heaven’s sake! Make it quick then.” She shook her arms to relax them because she was anything but relaxed. She was about to be kissed for the first time in years. Did she remember how? Stop being silly. Kissing is simple. Two pair of lips touch. Kiss done. With her head tilted back, she whispered, “Okay, I’m ready.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Niko’s lips. He encircled her in his arms and stepped in so their thighs touched. Her stomach fluttered. Her breathing hitched. He lowered his head. “Hang on, Aly.” With his dark brown eyes open, he placed his lips on hers and pulled her body against his. She kept her eyes open, too, figuring it would lessen the kiss’ effects.

Niko kissed her, gentle sips at first, soft and sensual. Someone made a moaning noise, and she feared it might have been her. My God what a pair of lips! Her toes curled in her new Pradas. She wrapped her hands around the lapels of his jacket. Then his lips locked on hers and with his tongue invading her mouth, he turned her to look over her shoulder, all the while wreaking havoc on her system.

This was the first time she’d been in a man’s arms in years. The first time she had tongue from a guy since college and said guy was more interested in looking behind her for some hoodlum than in the kiss. Just her damn luck.

When Niko ended the mind-blowing kiss, he pulled her closer, if that were possible, and whispered in her ear. “We’re being followed. Hold my hand and run.”

Run? Melting came to mind, but running? How could she run when he kissed her until the bones in her legs turned to jelly? Plus, she was wearing new high heels, for heaven’s sake. His arms squeezed her for an instant. “Now.”

He grabbed her hand, and they took off. They dodged throngs of pedestrians and at one point, Niko hurtled over a poodle, its protective owner shouting in French outrage, calling him a fool. “Fou! Fou! Mon chien, mon chien!”

Alyson had done her fair share of running, especially after her break up with Chaz, the stranger she was married to all those years. Running was a stress reliever; so were the StairMaster and martial arts. Still, those activities were done in sneakers or barefooted, not high heels. Stilettos, no less. Oh, and the thong. Let’s not forget the damn thong chafing her in places she didn’t want to think about. She’d kill Gwen when she got home.

“Faster, Aly!”

“You put me in three-inch heels and expect me to run fast? You bossy Frenchman with a foot fetish.” She stumbled, and he caught her.

“Typical woman. Kiss her once and she figures she has the right to bitch at you.” Niko’s head turned, evidently scanning the area as they ran.

She tried jerking her arm free of his ironclad grasp. “So help me, God, if that terrorist doesn’t kill you, I will.”

He pulled her around two uniformed nannies pushing toddlers in strollers. “Promises. Promises.”

“Yeah, well look how nice my hips sway now, nutso, running in these damned heels.”

 

Niko quickly glanced up and down the wide tree-lined street and evidently seeing a slight break in traffic, ordered, “To the other side. Now.” They bolted across the four-lane boulevard and its well-manicured median. Two motorbikes rumbled past, nearly hitting them. Horns blared as several Renaults and Smart Cars barreled down the street. Niko shoved her out of the way and she fell, her hands and knees scraping on the asphalt. Brakes screeched and there was a dull thud behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder just as Niko rolled across the hood of a silver car. He never broke stride. “Run, dammit!”

She struggled to get up, her heel caught in the hem of her skirt. Niko set her on her feet again. A delivery truck swerved toward them as if to run them down. In a blur of movement, Niko drew his weapon. He dove and rolled clear of the truck’s path, shooting the driver between the eyes. Glass shattered. Passersby screamed. The truck jumped the curb, striking a tree. Sounds of metal crunching and a tree branch cracking obliterated, for a few horrible seconds, the pedestrians’ reactions.

Still on the move, Niko barked orders at the observers. A man nodded and reached for his cell phone. “Quick. In here. While we’re hidden by the truck.” Niko wrapped his hand around her arm and tugged.

Alyson trembled, the back of her hand covering her mouth and her eyes glued to the man slumped over the steering wheel of the truck not five feet away. Blood flowed from his forehead. Her stomach twisted. She was going to be sick. Niko’s grip on her arm tightened. “Move it, Aly. We’re still being followed.”

MONA LISA'S ROOM won the HOLT Medallion Award of Excellence for Best Romantic Suspense and Best Book by  a Virginia author.

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MEET MY HEROINE AND HERO -- by Vonnie Davis

Alyson Moore is a high school art teacher, recently divorced from her out-of-the-closet husband. She's been beaten down by life. Thanks to her ex-husband's lack of interest and his coldness toward her, Alyson doubts her femininity. Baggy clothes and flip-flops are her usual attire.

At her sister's insistence, she's reinventing herself. Surgery to correct her astigmatism, thus ending the need for glasses. Her hair's been lightened a few shades. And she now sports a butterfly tatoo on her upper thigh.  Her final step is a trip to Paris for her fortieth birthday so she can study the Mona Lisa and make some decisions about her future.

While in the Salon Carre, where the Mona Lisa hangs in the Louvre, she unwittingly foils a terrorist's bombing attempt. Because she can ID the terrorist, she is put in the potective custody of Niko Reynard.

Niko has a reputation of being ruthless at his job. With his family, he's the demanding, yet protective younger brother. With Alyson, he’s not sure who to be. What he does know is he has to keep her safe from The Red Hand, the same terrorist group who tortured and killed is fiancé Hae Won.

 

To help keep her safe, he wants her to dress like Parisian women, which means wearing high heels. The following scene takes place in a shoe boutique.

 

Niko perched on the stool at Alyson’s feet, opened the first box and deftly flicked back the tissue paper on a pair of black kidskin pumps with skinny gold looking heels. “It’s rumored Da Vinci invented the high heel.” He removed her Birckenstocks and placed her bare foot on his thigh. Warmth from his muscled leg flowed up hers, causing her foot to give an involuntary wiggle.

His gaze lifted to hers and locked. Slowly he slid his hand from her heel up her leg to cup her calf. Thank God she shaved her legs that morning. “Stop.” The rawness of her voice surprised her. His touch made her very aware of her body, and her body was very aware of him. She couldn’t count the years since she was touched in such a manner—if ever.

Still, it was nice to know she could respond to a man’s touch. Thanks to her ex-husband’s avoidance, she thought herself sexually dead, certainly sexually unappealing.

“High heels do wonders for a woman’s figure, Aly. They make the legs look long and shapely, lift the bottom and make the hips sway.” His hands moved in a descriptive manner while he talked. “They make a woman look sexy and confident. Men’s eyes naturally pivot to a woman in stilettos.” Niko shrugged. “We can’t help it. We are men, after all. Weakened by women.”

Alyson stared at him. Men made weak by women? She’d never heard such talk, especially from a male, a very virile male if looks meant anything. He was gorgeous, arrogant as all get out, but gorgeous just the same.

Niko slipped the shoes onto her feet, stood and extended his hand. “Stand. See how you like the feel.” His gaze focused on hers again and for a second or two, when she looked into his eyes, her world stopped.

She vetoed the four-inch stilettos Niko favored in five painful, toe-pinching steps. Good Lord, a girl could get nosebleeds in those things.

Ten minutes later, Alyson wobbled in front of the cashier ready to pay for the black kidskin three-inch Pradas she wore. As soon as she saw the bow at the back of the heel, she fell in love with the shoes. Gwen called her a “bow freak.” When Niko reached for his wallet, she elbowed him. “Look, as long as they take Visa, I’ll pay for my own shoes.”

“Please, allow me.”

“Absolutely not. I planned on having an expensive birthday meal at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant tomorrow. With all that’s happened today, that plan is ruined, too. So I’m rationalizing since I won’t be paying for my birthday meal, I can pay this ungodly amount for the shoes.”

Niko placed his hand over hers. “I don’t mind. Let me treat you since I goaded you into buying them.”

“Really, that’s not necessary. Even my husband…er…ex-husband never bought me things. I’ve always paid my own way.”

He leaned an elbow on the glass counter and looked at her. “You’re kidding me. He never bought you little surprises? Little treats? A woman like you should be spoiled, treasured—” his voice lowered as he slowly trailed a finger up her arm  “—loved often and well.” Merciful heavens, he was trying to seduce her in a shoe store. Gwen would squeal in delight when she told her about this.

“Down, buster. American women are different than French women. We’re not so easily seduced by glib words or smooth moves.”

His eyebrow arched and his demeanor turned insolent. “You think I’m trying to seduce you?”

Typical male. He touched her almost nonstop since they stepped into Minelli’s. Now that she called him on it, he wanted to deny everything. “I think you’re toying with me, seeing if you can make an old, lonely American woman quiver at your feet.”

“First of all, you’re not old. Second, if you’re lonely, that’s your fault. Third, if I wanted to make you quiver—” he leaned in, his lips against her ear  “—I damn well could.” 

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THE STRANGE DREAMS OF A WRITER --

I'm working on a book set in Paris, one of
my favorite cities. When one hears the word, Paris, one thinks of beauty, art galleries, stunning architecture, museums and, of course, romance.

Calvin first took me to Paris five years ago. He wanted to introduce me to the city he adored and where he lived for a year, writing at sidewalk cafes. There I discovered a different culture, a different way of thinking and, frankly, I fell in love.

My novel, Mona Lisa's Room, is a selfish endeavor, for in writing it I get to revisit all the places I so enjoyed. The story begins with my heroine standing in front of the Mona Lisa in the Louvre. There she unwittingly foils a terrorist's bombing attempt. She is put into protective custody with Niko as her reluctant guardian. Sparks fly as soon as they meet, but they're certainly not sparks of attraction--or are they?

Niko is a native Parisian, devoted to his job in the counter-terrorism unit. He'd rather be in the thick of things than guarding her. He is arrogant and opinionated, not only with my heroine, but with me. Yes, my character bosses me around. Not when I'm awake, mind you, but when I'm asleep. He invades my dreams in that know-it-all, demanding way he has.

I suppose a bit of explanation is necessary or you'll think me mad. The first dream invasion happened the night after writing a scene outside a famed bookstore in Paris, Shakespeare and Company. I'd made it a romantic scene between the two of them. But in my dream, Niko and Alyson played the scene out for me not once, but three times until Niko yelled, "Now do you see why this scene won't work?" I crawled out of bed and powered up my laptop. I was not pleased. Still I had to admit the scene was better his way. Drats!

Then, last Thursday night while I was sleeping, Niko stormed into a room and slammed the door. The sound woke me and, bleary-eyed, I looked around our bedroom. What was that noise? Nothing seemed amiss so I rolled over and went back to sleep. Bamm! went the door again. This time Niko looked at me with his one eye-brow cocked as if to say, "Are you getting this, woman?" Frankly I wasn't. I snuggled against Calvin and was almost asleep when Niko whispered, "Don't go there. You know I'll slam the door again. Pay attention!"

I flopped onto my back, muttering, "If I could get my hands on you, you little rat-fink, I'd choke you. What is it you want to show me?"

Then he played it out. He stormed into an interrogation room and slammed the door (I wanted to tell him I already HAD that part). Sitting in a chair, her hands tied behind her back and wearing a blindfold, was my heroine. Then the vision faded...

That's all? That's all you're going to give me? Why is Alyson tied up? Why are you so angry? Are you angry with her or her situation? You woke me up for this???

I had to write four scenes to set up the door slamming scene, finally writing it yesterday. I can hardly wait to see what else Niko has in store for me. What about you writers? Do your characters invade your dreams? Tell me I'm not the only weird one out there!! Please!!!