Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,79
was a design of Jean Claude’s. I was incredibly touched that he had gifted it to me.
“It is beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Mon chou, what a night we are going to have.”
“How nice. And where exactly is that night going to be, and when will it be ending?”
I turned to look over my right shoulder to find Jason standing behind me with his arms crossed over his chest, his finger holding his place in his book.
“Go away,” I said. “Shoo.”
“Is this man bothering you, mon chou?” Jean Claude asked.
“No, he’s fine,” I said. I didn’t want to start an unnecessary scuffle. “Jean Claude Bisset, this is a coworker of mine, Jason Knightley. He’s here because our business meeting in Italy was moved to here tomorrow.”
Jean Claude’s wary expression cleared, and he held out his hand to Jason. “Ah, a coworker. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Jason hesitated for just a fraction of a second, long enough for me to contemplate kicking him, and then took Jean Claude’s hand in a firm handshake.
“You too,” he said. He didn’t sound like he meant it. “Chelsea’s got a big meeting tomorrow, super important, so you might want to make sure she’s home by midnight.”
I turned so my back was to Jean Claude, and through gritted teeth, I growled, “Shut up.”
Jason gave me an innocent look. Then he shrugged and said, “You kids have fun. I’ll just be here enjoying my wine all by myself.”
He heaved a sigh that was so forlorn, I felt as if I were abandoning a puppy in the middle of the twelve-lane roundabout that circled the Arc de Triomphe. I shook it off. What had gotten into him?
“Good night, Jason,” I said firmly. I took the arm Jean Claude offered, noting for the first time how beautiful his suit was. It was immaculately cut and hung on him as if it was bespoke, which it undoubtedly was.
As Jean Claude led me to a waiting car, a sleek black sedan with a driver standing at the rear and holding the door open, he leaned close and asked, “Should we invite your friend to come along?”
“No!” I said. Seeing his surprise, I realized I might have been too sharp and said, “I’m sure Jason would much rather prepare for tomorrow’s meeting.”
A slow smile spread across Jean Claude’s lips. “Excellent, because I really didn’t want to share you.”
He helped me into the car and slid in beside me. The driver shut the door and walked around the car to the driver’s seat. There was a bucket of champagne waiting, and Jean Claude lifted the bottle to uncork it. I was grateful, hoping it would take the edge off my nerves. As the lights of Paris swooped by, I caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower all lit up, and I felt the magic of the city slip in under my skin, making me hyperaware of everything around me, in particular the man beside me.
He smelled of an exotic cologne, not overpowering, just hovering over his person. I had to press closer to breathe it in, and I could smell the subtle notes of bergamot and musk. It suited him, being masculine but not overbearing. He wore no tie with his suit, and his shirt collar fell open to reveal the strong column of his throat.
He poured two glasses, handed me one, and said, “Une nuit inoubliable.”
The words sounded delightful, but I didn’t know what they meant, so I held back my glass and looked at him in question.
“An unforgettable night,” he said. Then he touched his glass to mine and moved so that his arm looped through mine, and we drank with our arms entwined. It was ridiculously romantic.
The champagne was delicious as it fizzed against the roof of my mouth, waking up my taste buds and making my lips pucker with its tart sweetness. Jean Claude took this as an invitation to kiss me, and I welcomed it.
His mouth slid gently against mine as if not wanting to smear my rosy lips. I wore a kissable lipstick, but I didn’t tell him this, preferring to ease into this new level of intimacy, like cooking a dish by turning up the heat in tiny degrees.
When he leaned in to kiss me again, the car came to a slow stop, interrupting his progress. Jean Claude looked regretful, but I was surprised to find that I wasn’t. In fact, I felt a bit relieved. Despite being happy to see Jean Claude again, I