"I guess. I'm not sure." She snatched her hands away and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Please, Guy, don't do this. My vacation is over, and tomorrow I have to go home."
"Wouldn't you rather stay here with us?"
"Sure I would. There are lots of things I'd rather do. But I have a life in Canada. I can't just turn my back and forget about it."
"But I thought you told me that you have no close family in Toronto," Carlos said, frowning.
"I don't. Not since my grandmother died a few months ago. I don't even live there anymore. Grandma's house was too large for one person, and Toronto is expensive, so I moved to a small town on the outskirts."
"What about your parents?"
"My mom died when I was a baby, and the only other family I have, apart from a few cousins scattered around the country, is my Dad. But he's remarried and living out west."
"In other words, you're free to come and go as you wish?" Guy said, looking a tad happier.
"Not really. I'm hoping to have a job waiting for me in the business loans department of a bank when I get back. I have student loans to repay. And I still have several months left on my apartment lease. I can't just pick up and run. I have commitments."
"None of which are real problems," Guy said firmly. "Merely small annoyances."
Trish laughed and shook her head. "You guys are nuts. It all sounds very nice and wonderful, but not very practical. We've only known one another a few weeks. I can't just come barging into your lives, upsetting things. It wouldn't be right."
"You wouldn't be upsetting a thing," Carlos said. "Yes, Guy and I are bisexual. We are committed to one another, so we don't seek the favors or the company of other men. But both of us have always known the day would come when a very special woman would enter our lives. Guy believes that woman is you."
"And whatever Guy wants, Guy gets? What about you? The two of you already have a life together. Don't you have a say in this?"
"Of course I do. Guy and I share everything. If I didn't like you, or I thought the three of us would not be compatible living together, I would have said so."
"And that would have been the end of it?"
"No. I doubt Guy would have given up easily. He would have wanted to work something out. As it is, I agree with him one hundred percent."
Trish looked from Carlos to Guy and back to Carlos, wondering if she'd somehow slipped into a third dimension and gotten herself caught up in a strange and wonderful dream. People never got exactly what they wanted. At least, she never had. "I like you both very much." She hesitated. "If I'm honest, it's gone way beyond simple liking. And I have to admit the idea of living with the two of you here in Paris sounds like the stuff dreams are made of. But it's like I said, I have commitments and responsibilities back home."
"So there are a few problems that would need to be sorted out," Guy said. "But every problem has a solution."
Trish gave a humorless laugh. "You think?" She picked up a knife and began peeling a cucumber, only to give up a moment later and put down the knife. "It all sounds wonderful. And, I admit, very tempting. But we really know nothing about one another."
"What do you need to know?" Carlos asked. "Guy and I are both thirty-five years of age, and we're solid, upstanding citizens. We own this apartment, and our company, which we started some years ago, now owns a chain of small luxury hotels and several vacation properties. In other words, we're financially secure, and neither of us has a criminal record that I'm aware of. Oh, yes…" He grinned. "And we both adore pets and children."
"In that order?"
"Not necessarily. Anything else you wish to know?"
"Nothing I can think of offhand." Trish smiled as she picked up a small heap of vegetable peelings and dropped them in the trash. "I don't know what to say or even think. I feel like I'm dreaming or under the influence of a mind-altering drug." She frowned as she looked from one man to the other. "Now I'm being ridiculous. You didn't…I mean you wouldn't. Would you?"
Carlos laughed. "No, of course not. We operate a perfectly respectable and legitimate business, not a white-slave ring."
Guy slipped a finger under Trish's chin and moved her head slightly so they were again facing one another. "This may sound silly, like a page from a romance novel, but the moment our eyes met, I knew you were that one special woman. The one I'd been waiting so long to meet."
Trish knew exactly what Guy meant because it had been that way for her, too. Just one look and, yes, for her the earth had moved. And meeting Carlos had given her world yet another severe jolt. If there were only one of them…but there were two. Two men she was crazy in love with. She had no idea whether or not a ménage worked on a long-term basis. The important thing was that she liked the idea, and she wanted to give it a try.
Of course, if she had even a single grain of common sense, she'd say she needed time to think. But if she did that, chances were she'd lose her nerve and chicken out. She'd return to her old life, pick up the threads, and pretend the past three weeks had never happened. She might even make a half-assed success of such a life. She might meet some guy and have a couple of kids. But would she be happy? Feel fulfilled? Or would she spend the rest of her life kicking herself for not having had the courage to follow her heart and do something that seemed so right?
"Can I have a little time to think about it?"
"Of course." Guy took a bottle of red wine from the rack, removed the cork and half-filled three glasses.
Trish turned to Carlos. "And you're quite sure you're okay about this?"
Carlos turned away from the pasta, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth. "Yes, yes, and yes. It's what I want, too. If you want some time alone to think about it…"
"No. That won't be necessary."
After they were finished dinner, Carlos suggested going to a new club he'd heard about on la rue Royale. "One of my clients told me about it," he said. "It sounds rather interesting."
"Interesting, how?" Guy asked.
"He said it looks an old nightspot from fifty years ago and attracts the more mature crowd. In other words, we might actually enjoy ourselves."
La Boite reminded Trish of nightclubs she'd seen in black-and-white movies. So much so, she wouldn't have been even slightly surprised to see Spencer Tracy or Cary Grant sitting at one of the tiny tables, or to find Edith Piaf as the featured soloist with the three-piece band.
In keeping with the style of the club and also what Guy said had once been French tradition, there was a female soloist, and she did sing a couple of Piaf's songs, along with other slow, romantic ballads, some of which were old standards known the world over, and some Trish hadn't heard before.
After the drinks arrived, Trish gave herself up to the magic of the moment, the music and first dancing with Guy, then with Carlos.
"Guy is right about you," Carlos whispered in her ear as he guided her around the postage stamp-sized dance floor. "What makes you so special is that you're completely unselfish. You don't seem to understand if you decide to share our lives you will be enriching them, not upsetting them or interfering with them, or any of the other things you seem to be concerned about."