A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,115

people. Some places Keeley recognised – the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame – and others she didn’t – street cafés, a man playing an accordion. It was minimalist, but it was a small area down here. A front door, a hallway and this staircase that wobbled quite a bit with every step she took.

She reached the top and Ethan turned to look at her.

‘I will put her into bed,’ he whispered. ‘The lounge is through there.’ He indicated a closed door just in front of her.

‘Are you sure you don’t need any help?’ she asked him.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long. Please, sit down, relax.’ He turned then, manoeuvring into another room on what was a pretty tiny landing area.

Keeley put her hand on the door handle and opened. With the very first crack of opening, Bo-Bo came barrelling through, barking and whining and nearly knocking Keeley sideways in his attempt to get out. The dog made for the room Ethan and Jeanne had gone into and Keeley stepped on into the living area.

It was small but perfectly formed. Wooden floorboards again, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf against one wall containing all manner of items. There were many books, then piles of magazines, toy cars, board games, Rubik’s cube style puzzles, empty wine bottles with burned down candles poking out of them, others that looked like they contained copper strings of lights. Some people might describe it as cluttered, but to Keeley it looked like all of the places she had been with Ethan during their time together. It was acutely him.

She moved to the window – only a few steps and she was there – and looked out over the street below. Even with the window closed against the cold she could still hear the subtle jazz and see those lights on the balconies.

‘Jeanne’s bedroom has a view of the courtyard garden,’ Ethan said.

Keeley hadn’t heard him enter the room and she swung round, knocking something on the floor with her boot. ‘Oh, sorry, I think I…’

‘It is OK,’ Ethan said, crossing the room in two paces and bending over. ‘It is Bo-Bo’s water and food bowl. I will move them.’ He picked up the bowls she hadn’t seen and strode another two paces and through a small arch in the wall into what Keeley could see was the tiniest of kitchens.

He came out again, standing under the arch, looking a little unsure of himself. ‘You would like hot chocolate?’

‘If it isn’t any trouble,’ Keeley answered. ‘The person who invited me has fallen asleep and the dog who was supposed to be pleased to see me couldn’t wait to shoot past me.’ She smiled.

‘The dog is trying to wake Jeanne up,’ Ethan replied. ‘Licking her face like she is an ice cream.’

Keeley stepped towards him. ‘Let me help.’

‘It is OK,’ Ethan said. ‘The kitchen… it is… petite.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Keeley said. ‘I would like to see it.’

Ethan smiled. ‘There is only about a metre to regard.’

‘Aren’t the very best things supposed to come in small packages?’ The second the sentence left her lips she blushed.

His smile widened then, a look of pure sexy mischief dancing in his eyes. ‘Ah, Keeley,’ he breathed. ‘But, sometimes, also what you see is not always what you get.’

Now her blush was turning bonfire hot and she wondered whether she could stand next to him in a confined kitchen space without wondering exactly what the true dimensions of his package was…

Ethan laughed then. ‘Come.’ He beckoned. ‘I will show you what the French stockpile in their cupboards.’

Fifty-Three

Ethan wanted to impress her. It was stupid, wasn’t it? To want to impress someone he had learned put more weight on feelings and comfort than she did on the size of someone’s living space or whether they had top-of-the-range kitchen appliances. Yet still he wanted her to like the place he lived the way he liked it. There was a reason it was small. There was a reason he hadn’t moved to a different part of Paris, somewhere considered more affluent. This was who he was. This was all he needed.

He had made hot chocolate and then he had lit the wood burner. It was the tiniest of fires against one bare brick wall, so close to the sofa that if you stuck your feet out too far you might catch your toes on the front of it. But it didn’t need to be of a size to adequately heat the living room. And it was warm now, perhaps