Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,91
told me that I’d feel this way sharing a cab with Knightley in Paris, I’d have thought they were mental. I’d have imagined that any ride with Knightley would be spent with me timing my jump and roll for when the cab slowed down enough that I could escape him. I smiled.
All too soon, the taxi stopped, and we were climbing out again. The neighborhood was quiet. There were no crowds, only a small shop front with its awning still out and a handful of customers sitting at narrow tables inside.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“Le Chocolat de Lucille. I was told it is the only place in Paris to get chocolat chaud à l’ancienne,” he said.
“Old-style hot chocolate?” I asked. “Yes, please.”
Jason grinned and walked me into the tiny café. We chose a small table by the window, and then he went to the counter and ordered two hot chocolates. I watched the dark-haired woman, who looked to be in her twenties, take his order and flirt with him. Jason seemed completely oblivious to the batted lashes and come-hither smile.
Okay, so that was charming, although it shouldn’t matter to me whether he noticed her or not, since we weren’t dating. We’d shared a kiss. He was still Knightley, and I was still Martin—i.e., oil and water or fire and gas. Either way, not good. It was just that our lips now knew the shape and taste of each other . . . intimately. These things happened. True, they’d never happened to me before, but I had it on good authority—Annabelle—that they did happen to some people sometimes.
Jason returned with a tray. On it sat two mugs of the thickest, richest-looking hot chocolate I had ever seen. There were also two more plates, each with a pink and a green macaron on it. I glanced up at Jason in delight.
“I don’t want this to go to your head,” I said. “But right now, holding that tray, you are the most perfect man who ever drew breath.”
He laughed and rested the tray on the table, unloading the mugs and plates. “I’ll try not to let it swell up my ego, especially since I have the sneaking suspicion that any man carrying a tray of hot chocolate and rose and pistachio macarons would be considered worthy.”
“It would certainly weigh in their favor,” I agreed. I wrapped my hands around my mug and let the warmth seep into my cold fingers.
I watched as Jason tucked his spoon into the artistically shaped, fresh whipped cream covered in chocolate curls. He managed to get a little of the hot chocolate on his spoon as well. When he tasted it, he closed his eyes as if savoring every nuance of flavor. I had the thought that he would make love like that—he would relish every bit of it.
Oof! My face got hot, and my body temperature spiked at the mental image. This was bad. I should not be having lewd thoughts about a colleague. For that matter, I shouldn’t have kissed a coworker. Michelle in HR would have a conniption if she found out.
No fraternizing among employees was a rule she relished enforcing. The thought made me panic just a little. We were in Paris, I rationalized; it was an accident. Yeah, my lips accidently fell on his. Happened all the time. Ugh.
I needed to build some boundaries and fast. I tried to remember all the things Knightley did that drove me nuts. At the moment, I couldn’t think of one. Damn it!
Overheated, I let go of my mug and shrugged off his jacket, taking care to drape it over the back of my chair. When I glanced up, he was watching me with an intense look. He pointed to my mug.
“You have to try this. It’s . . . Well, it ain’t your grandma’s powdered hot chocolate—that’s for damn sure.”
I picked up my spoon. I noted that the hot chocolate visible beneath the dollop of whipped cream was a glossy shade of dark brown. I tucked my spoon in, and it was almost like diving into a dark chocolate mousse. I scooped up some chocolate and whipped cream and a couple of chocolate curls.
When I brought it to my lips, I could feel Jason staring at my mouth. It made me self-conscious, and I kept my gaze down so I wouldn’t get rattled and drop hot chocolate all over my white dress. I closed my mouth over my spoon and abruptly forgot to be self-conscious