“Fuck! Xav!” With a twist, she hopped down from Nigel’s arms. “We’ll take you to the station.
“Bloody hell, Marseille, here we come!” Nigel cheered.
“Marseille?” January asked.
Throughout the week, Nigel had given much thought to what they might do after she finished her film. He thought maybe a jaunt to the Mediterranean Sea might be what she needed to unwind when she returned for Lenny. With this reprieve now, Nigel decided to show her his impulsive side.
“We’re going. After we get Xavier to the train station.”
“You’re crazy! What about Lenny?”
“Mum, can you let yourself into my place and take the bunny for a couple of nights?” Nigel had to kiss January again just to make sure that this scene unfolding was real.
“A couple or a few?” Lawrence balked. “What the devil is going on here with your son, Clarissa?”
“Your son is off to Marseille with a movie star,” she told him. “I think that’s what’s happening.”
“That’s my boy…and I’m proud of him. A movie star!” Clarissa poked her husband in the arm to remind him of his manners as he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I mean…let’s go get that bunny.”
# # #
Seeing Xavier off to Paris wasn’t accomplished without drama. After he returned that gorgeous convertible to the rental agency, Xavier had to pull January aside and make her promise that she was leaving for Los Angeles in a week. She had no intentions of breaking her contract, but Xavier seemed doubtful. After all, one dick move in Hollywood could be her demise. Fans were forgiving, but studio executives reviewing the bottom line wouldn’t take lightly to a star who didn’t show up for the first day of filming.
Xavier left her with that warning, his promise to call her every day and a kiss on each cheek.
Of course, she was sad that she wouldn’t see her best friend for at least three months, but she couldn’t deny herself a few more days with Nigel. As they returned to his car, arm-in-arm, January looked up at him. “Are we really going to Marseille?”
“After I buy some clothes, considering I didn’t have the chance to pack,” he chuckled. “We’ve got your suitcases with us. And plenty of them.”
“You know…if we were lesbians of the same size, you could just borrow my clothes...”
He stopped their stroll in the sunshine, laughing so hard that he couldn’t even kiss her as he brought her lips to his. “January, I’m so happy you stayed.”
“Me, too.” It was only seven days, but she felt she really needed this time to be able to make a sound decision about the state of her affairs. “Now, let’s get moving. My boy needs some clothes for vacation!”
First, they made a stop at Lacoste, where Nigel usually shopped. He didn’t even have to try things on—the sales associate already knew his size and fit. With a selection of shirts, pants and shorts, he made his way to the cashier and dropped some serious charges on his credit card. Even though it was summer, he tossed in one of the designer’s iconic alligator windbreakers, thinking that January might get cold on a midnight walk on the beach.
Once he finished—and walked out of the store with four large shopping bags—they found a bistro for lunch and dined al fresco. January had her salad and Pellegrino, but Nigel noticed that she coveted his croque madame. He sliced into his sandwich and held a forkful of the toasted bread, gooey cheese and ham out for her tasting, which she greedily accepted.
As she dabbed her napkin to the egg dripping down her mouth, she groaned. “It’s been so long since I’ve tasted such decadence.”
“It’s peasant food,” he told her. “And Mum makes a great one, just for future information.”
“Your mother can cook anything,” she said. “I think I gained ten pounds this week, indulging in her recipes.”
If she had gained weight, Nigel didn’t notice. “I’d love to see her put a restaurant on the property,” he said. “We’ve got the buildings, and she’s got the skills.”
“She certainly does. I think that’s a fantastic idea.”
“I’m finding the right moment to talk to Dad,” he explained. “It would add work for him at the manor house, but I’d love to see her visit that dream. And I think she will.”
“Well, she’s a marvelous hostess, and with the right chef, she could see her recipes come to life.”
“I’m working on it…” He reached across the table to take her hands. “But right now, we need a plan.”
“I thought you were being spontaneous today.”
“I am, but we do need a place to stay,” he reminded her. “Think you can find us a hotel on our way to Marseille? Preferably, before we arrive.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, she nodded. “Oh, I can do that.”
She phoned her old buddy who was head concierge at the Plaza Athénée where Etienne made his temporary home. Certainly, he’d have connections. In minutes, she booked their accommodations, and by that time, Nigel had finished his lunch.
“You did not just get us a room during high season,” Nigel said with a mouthful of food. January had a way of making him forget his manners sometimes, but oddly, it didn’t really matter. “Impossible.”
That wink, even without her trademark lashes, nearly brought Nigel to his knees on the cobblestone sidewalk. “I sure did, and five stars nonetheless.” January knew who to call in times of need.
“I trust you,” he said. “And I can’t believe you’re still here.”
“Nigel…” Her face twisted, and her eyes closed as she pondered the thought of leaving. “This week changed my life. And maybe I’m on the rebound, but I don’t think so. I think fate has a way of telling you what’s bad for you before pointing out the good that life still has to offer.”
“I think we both have baggage to rid,” he said thoughtfully. “And I’m glad we have some extra time together—to give us a chance to figure this out.”
“You’re so rational…”
“One of us has to be,” he said. “And you’ve got a lot on your plate right now. I want this, but I also want it to be right—for both of us.”
Although she knew that he was only protecting his own heart, January felt as if she had to prove herself to him. Wild attraction led to reckless abandon. Now, they had to assure each other of their commitment to developing this burgeoning bond between them beyond a few days.
He stood up, but he held on to her hand. “Come on. The beach is calling us.”
Rather than taking the main highway, which would have shuttled them straight to Marseille in an hour, Nigel meandered the backroads of the Alpilles mountain range, a national park that cut through Provence. Nature literally surrounded them with olive and almond trees and wild lavender which looked nothing like the well-manicured farms in Avignon.
Occasionally, they stopped in the towns along the route to take a photo or to indulge in a kiss. She just hadn’t imagined the landscape beyond the agricultural accents for which the region was known. What impressed her most were the barren areas where ancient rocks rose from the hillside like fine sculptures created and curated by the elements.
This outing also reinforced Nigel’s love of nature. He knew the trees and the birds. He even admitted that at one time, he wanted to pursue a career in botany, but his father convinced him that Politics, Philosophy and Economics was a much more practical choice.
Those stops added a couple of hours to their journey, and by the time they made it to the coastal city of Marseille, evening had almost arrived.
“Um, are you sure we have the right address?” Nigel asked as they pulled up to the grand façade of Hôtel Dieu.
The entire complex was set around a courtyard offset by winding staircases that crawled up the hill. Surrounded by a fence of stone pillars accentuated by wrought iron spikes and scrolls, the pristine hotel sat behind a landscape of palm trees and lush shrubbery. With its arched windows and wide terraces jutting from the higher rooms, the ancient building exuded modern
luxury.
Gazing up at the main entrance, Nigel covered his eyes with his hand to shield them from the late-afternoon sun. “Okay, January. What’s the real address?”
“Um…this is it…” she said as she scrolled through her phone. “The website says it was a hospital for eight hundred years before it was bought and renovated.”
“A hospital?”
Essentially the name given to French infirmaries during the Middle Ages, Hôtel Dieu literally translated to “God’s Hotel.” Nigel had, indeed, thought they’d died and gone to Heaven.
The car behind him honked its horn, waiting for him to move. Slowly, he pulled on through. Suddenly, those intricate arches seemed like eyes all over the building, with the ghosts of the past peering down upon them.
“Yes, that’s what I read. But right now, I need to text Monsieur Gilbert, the head concierge, who insists upon meeting us with the bell captain.”
“Meet us…where?”
“At the front of the hotel to give us the keys. They’ll take everything up to the presidential suite. We’re already checked in. They have my credit card. A friend of mine in Paris set it all up. We’re all good.”
January just rambled as if this were any other quick beach trip, but Nigel found all the pomp and circumstance daunting. And then he realized, he was traveling with a Hollywood star. Of course, she’d select the best hotel in town, and the staff would cater to her every whim.
Not that Nigel didn’t have his own preference for fine hotels, but he never booked the presidential suite. January’s sense of decadence astounded him. Now, he wondered how she’d roughed it for a week at his parents’ place.
However, Nigel’s trepidation didn’t slide past January. As he parked beneath the portico, she took his hand. “I’m actually really a cheapskate,” she admitted. “If you saw my apartment in Paris, you’d laugh. It’s tiny, and it’s filled with flea market finds. But hotels were limited at this time of the year, and I thought I’d splurge for some fun.”
“So, this…this really isn’t your cup of tea?” he asked.
“Oh, I love indulgence just as much as the next celebrity,” she said. “But I usually blow my money on clothes…and toys. Right now, I’m feeling a little like Eloise at the Plaza, so just enjoy this with me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Well, then, I—”
The tap on the window interrupted their conversation.
“Oh, that must be Monsieur Gilbert! I gave him the make and model of your car.”
“Lucky I travel in luxury, or we’d look silly right now, pulling up in a SMART car.”
January snickered. “Etienne drove a SMART when I first started dating him.”
“Yes. And we all know how that turned out.”
Now, it was time to turn on the old celebrity charm, and she jumped out of the car and extended her hand to receive a kiss from the portly concierge. With his thinning black hair slicked back in perfect comb-strokes, Gilbert was an older gentleman, and his star-struck, beady blue eyes locked on January. She hadn’t even dressed for the day, wearing her jeans and a summer tunic. After all, she thought she’d just be riding the train back to Paris—not checking into swanky accommodations on the Mediterranean.
They exchanged pleasantries, and Gilbert introduced the personal butler he’d assigned to their room. She couldn’t help but notice that he mumbled when he spoke. He also seemed to have a nervous habit of straightening his tie. Certainly, at this hotel, they catered to celebrities. She knew she couldn’t possibly be the biggest star he’d ever met. Perhaps he knew of her background, and his dirty thoughts aroused him.
January politely declined Gilbert’s offer to personally escort them to the room. She was sure the butler could show them the amenities. Meanwhile, Nigel just stood around like he didn’t know what to do. Amusement played in his smile, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets with a shrug. Seeing January play the celebrity card was actually a bit of fun.
As she linked her arm through his, she pulled him close. “What?”
“Well, I’ve never been to a five-star hotel with a major Hollywood actress before.”
She winked at him as she tugged him along to follow behind the bellmen and the butler. “Let’s go play!”
Inside, the history of the hotel played out in its architectural layers from years of renovations. Traces of Baroque arches and domed ceilings with ornate embellishments of Rococo details peeped through the contemporary renovations. All seemed to blend seamlessly within the halls.
The presidential suite resembled a Mediterranean villa in its own right. The décor was a mix of timeless luxury and cozy beach cottage, accentuated in shades of white, blue and lavender. Shimmering chandeliers hung overhead, illuminating colorful refractions from the strong southern sun.
Set above what locals called the Old Port, the property boasted views of the harbor, which was one of the oldest trading posts in Europe. Once the focal point for commerce in the South of France, the area now played home to the rich, who docked their massive yachts and played hard at the marina. Hôtel Dieu catered to the affluent sect.
Room after room, they followed along with the butler detailing the luxuries at their fingertips—food, alcohol, massages, spa treatments and more. However, after the bellmen dropped their luggage in the master suite, January stopped them short of unpacking.
“We can get that.” Meanwhile, her eyes roamed to the open door to the bathroom. The immense room of dark wood and tile boasted an enormous clawfoot tub that would easily fit them both. She wanted everyone to leave. Now.
And then Nigel tapped her leg. “Do you see this? A walk-in closet in a hotel room?” Like a little boy, he ran inside and screamed. “I can fit my entire new wardrobe in here!”
Peeping around the doorframe as Nigel did a few quick pull-ups on the hanging rod, January said, “We could fuck in here.”
“Oh, yes, we could.”
“And did you see that bathtub?” she asked. “I think we need some frozen drinks, then we’ll shoo the butler and get busy.”
“Um, I believe this is where I’m taking control. I had another idea for this evening.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she acquiesced. Even in spontaneity, he’d done some planning. “Well, Dommy, I cannot deny you…”
They made their way out to the terrace, which was an extension of the living room. Enclosed by a wall of arches, the massive patio afforded them views of the town and Notre-Dame Basilica high up on in the hills. The comfortable chairs and couches invited long hours of lounging, but Nigel had other designs.
They both jumped with a bit of a start as the butler opened the French doors and cleared his throat. “Monsieur, Madame…” he attended them with a stern nod.
“Oh, I’m still a Mademoiselle,” January said, trying to get a reaction. Her efforts proved useless with the older gentleman.
“May I get you anything this evening? Perhaps a drink before dinner?”
“Actually, we’ll be going out for now,” Nigel stepped in. “Perhaps, we could just have the car pulled round?”
January took a step back to look at him, but she planned to go along with anything his heart desired.
“As you wish, Monsieur.”
As the terrace door closed, January brushed her cheek against his chest. “As you wish…Dommy…”
“One day, you’ll call me Maestro.” His chin rested on the top of her head as he sighed. “Are you tired yet?”
“Not in the least.”
“Good. Let’s go have a little fun.”
“What are you up to now?”
“Just follow me…”
Those words held so much more power for January than Nigel realized. At that moment, she would have traipsed along behind him to the ends of the earth. Before they made their way out the door, though, Nigel dug through his shopping bags until he found his jacket.
“It’s hot outside,” she insisted.
&
nbsp; “It is right now…”
Nigel maintained his sense of mystery throughout their drive, steering through the curves and down the hills as if he’d been down those roads a million times. Admittedly, January had no clue where the hell he was taking her, which only heightened the thrill of this unexpected trip.
When they pulled into a nearly empty parking lot, his intentions became clear with the view of the horizon. It was late in the day, and the tourists had abandoned the beach. In Nigel’s mind, this was prime time for a romantic stroll.
As he opened her door, he offered January his hand and slung his jacket over his shoulder.
The beauty of the backdrop hovered in the near distance, but January could only look into his eyes, while her mind whirled with the thought of how wonderful it was to be wooed.
The salty Mediterranean wind whipped against her black hair, which Nigel tucked to the side as he stepped up to kiss her on the neck. “Oh, Nigel, this is perfect. Thank you.”
“No, January…” he whispered. “Thank you for staying.”
However, he didn’t kiss her yet. Baiting her anticipation, Nigel saved the thrill for the sand. As they kicked off their shoes, they both began to run in the soft white sand toward the crystal blue evening tides, splashing and laughing until he caught her again.
While she turned, his arms tightened around her. Her fingers scratched over the stubble on his chin. But for a group of locals engaging in an evening volleyball tournament, they were alone.
“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” January told him. “But we could be sitting in your kitchen at the cottage, drinking tea, and I’d still be giddy.”
“You have completely turned my world upside down. But I can’t say that upsets me at all. I can’t remember a time when I’ve had so much fun—or felt so free.” When he stopped, he continued to hold her gaze. “Or a time that I’ve been so open with anyone. You make life easy.”
“So do you. With you, I feel like myself again.”
Tickling his fingers over her lips, he said, “You should never have to be anything but January—for anyone. If they can’t accept you just as you are, then they’re not worth your time.”
SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit) Page 29