Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,119

a little?” He held up his thumb and forefinger.

“A smidge, maybe. Is there anything smaller than that?”

“A drop,” he suggested.

“That sounds about right,” I said. I pushed a plate of sweet bread and a jar of Nutella at him. “Brioche?”

“Thanks,” he said.

I glanced away as he slathered the inside of a circular bun with the chocolate-hazelnut spread. I remembered the feel of those hands on my bare back as we danced. Lines had been crossed in Paris—there was no question—but I couldn’t let that interfere with right now.

“Jason, about Paris—” I began, but he shook his head.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Yes, we do,” I said. “I need to be clear that we’re operating in a professional capacity only right now.”

He glanced up from his plate. “Because?” he prompted. He looked as if he was assessing my every word. I didn’t want to debate it, so I tried to explain it in my most pragmatic here’s-a-PowerPoint-of-why-we-shouldn’t-be-together voice.

“I’m a planner,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. This was clearly not news. I continued, “You were obviously not a part of my plan when I came to Europe, and things got confused after Jean Claude, and lines were crossed when we kissed, and I handled it badly, as I do with disruptions in my plans.”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and then he laughed long and hard. “Is that what I was? A disruption in your plan?”

I met his gaze. I thought about Marcellino and how perfect he was and how much I wanted to be the young woman I once was when I was with him, before I had this truckload of grief weighing me down, and I said, “Yes.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, you think Marcellino is the key to finding yourself again, don’t you?”

“He’s more the key than the other two were.”

“Because he owns a castle?”

“Do you really think I’m that shallow, Knightley?”

“It’s a castle, Martin,” he said. “I’d be disappointed in you if you weren’t that shallow.”

A sparrow flew onto the veranda and hopped sideways toward Jason, keeping its bright eyes on him as if it knew Jason was the keeper of the bread. It had a brown back and a white breast. It looked similar to the sparrows back home, but the brown was a ruddier shade, almost rust. Absently, Jason broke off a bit of crust and tossed it in the air. The sparrow leaped for it, catching it in its beak before it flew off.

“I’m not here because he has a castle,” I said. I felt the need to emphasize this point.

“I know,” he conceded. “So he’s available?”

“Apparently.”

“No crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“And you’re positive he’s not gay?”

“I’m sure.”

He looked at me in alarm. “How sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He relaxed a little and bit into his brioche, and I watched him eat with gusto. There was a manly man knuckle-dragger quality to Jason Knightley that I had to admit I found attractive. He wasn’t a quitter, and when he went after something, he went all in. It made him good at his career.

“I do have some news from the office,” he said once he’d finished his bun and washed it down with more coffee.

I felt my chest get tight. “Aidan?”

“Is fine,” he said. “Don’t worry. If there was any news, I’d have told you first thing. I won’t ever hold back from you.”

“Thank you.”

“No, this news is about the Quarter Thief,” he said.

I sat up straight. “Did they catch the person?”

“Yes, but only because he let them,” he said.

“Who was it?” I demanded.

“Gary Welch,” he said. He paused while I placed the name. I blinked.

“The security guard?” I asked. “The one who had a quadruple bypass last year?”

“That’s the one,” he said.

“Why? How?”

“Apparently during his retirement party, which happened while we were in Paris, he cut out a quarter of his cake, lifted it up, and dumped it on top of Michelle’s head.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh my god. But why?”

“Apparently, last year Michelle took it upon herself to cut his recovery time by a quarter,” he said. “She went to his doctors, and even though they recommended another month of recuperation, she insisted that Gary come back after three months, or she was going to put a letter in his file that she assured him would impact the supervisory position he had applied for within the company.”

“She’s evil,” I said.

“Yes, well, when it all came out, Aidan fired her,” Jason said.

“What? I thought she was untouchable.”

“Apparently this was the last straw. Aidan stormed the office of the VP who she’s