Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,73
my robe pocket to check the time. There were about a million texts from my sister and dad. Oh boy. They’d have to wait. I’d overslept. It was already eleven in the morning, and Jean Claude was arriving at seven that evening. I’d been a charity case when he saw me yesterday, so tonight I was absolutely determined to wow him.
“When is this dinner with Severin supposed to happen?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night.”
“I take it we’re going together?” I asked.
“We’re doing this now?” he asked. “I haven’t even finished my coffee.”
“Yes, now. I have other things to do today,” I said.
“Like what? It’s my first time in Paris. I thought we could hang out.”
“Sorry, you’re on your own,” I said. “In fact, you need to find your own place to stay.”
“Am I cramping your style, Martin?” he asked. He wagged his eyebrows at me, but I refused to play.
I bit into my pastry. The flaky, buttery heaven momentarily distracted me from the man in my space. I closed my eyes and savored the way the pastry melted in my mouth as the cinnamon burst on my tongue and the plump, chewy raisins added just the right amount of gooey sweetness.
“Ahem.” Jason cleared his throat. “I don’t want to interrupt your amorous moment with your pain aux raisins, but about tomorrow night’s dinner, I won’t go if it’s a problem for you.”
I opened my eyes. I saw him watching me and self-consciously licked the excess sugar off my lips. Jason hissed out a breath. Then he frowned.
“Aren’t you supposed to have your hair pulled back and be wearing a suit with your collar buttoned up to here?” He put his hand at his throat. “This tousled-hair thing you’ve got going . . .” He paused and waved his hands in my direction. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
His discomfort made me laugh, and I intentionally tossed my hair over my shoulder, enjoying being the one of us who was at ease for a change. I sipped my coffee, glancing at him over the rim. It hit me then that I could see what our office mates saw in him. He was handsome, in a rebellious way, and he was always smiling. As far as I knew, he never lost his temper or had tantrums, unlike so many of the men we worked with, and he paid attention to the people around him.
He knew everyone’s name, what they liked to eat or drink, what their hobbies were, if they were married or had kids. I’d always thought he was just manipulating everyone into doing what he wanted by pretending to be nice, but now I wondered if perhaps he was, quite simply, a nice guy.
“I don’t see why having you join me would be a problem. In fact, since I don’t know when I’ll be returning to the ACC and you’ve already connected with Eleanor, this would be a great opportunity for you to meet Severin and line you up to take over the account.”
“Last night you seemed to think I had ulterior motives,” Jason said.
“Upon reflection, I might have been a bit out of order,” I said. “I’m sorry about that. The control freak in me is struggling with letting work go. I think this is a good opportunity for you to build a rapport with Severin, since you’ll be taking over the account.”
Jason’s eyes went wide. “You’re really not coming back.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“All right. Should we do some prep now so we can wow Severin with our ideas?”
I glanced at my phone. “I have a couple of hours free that I can spend going over my proposal so you’re caught up.”
“Great,” he agreed. “And I can just tell you what I’ve been thinking, since I don’t have a fancy PowerPoint or anything even written down.”
“Fine,” I said. I finished my pastry and picked up my coffee. “I need to take a shower before we start. I can’t think until after coffee and a shower.”
“Reasonable,” he said. “What about this afternoon? Want to hit a museum or, even better, tour the catacombs?”
“I can’t,” I said. “I have plans.”
“Another date?”
“None of your business.”
“Aw, come on,” he wheedled. “You can tell me.”
“No.”
“What was his name again? Pierre?” he said.
“If you can’t remember, why do you want to know?”
“In case you go missing again, I’ll know his name if I have to track you down.”
“I have my phone again,” I said. “I’ll be all right.”