Flawless (A Love, California Series Novel, Book 1)

by Jan Moran

  “Do you expect the credit crisis in America to affect your business in Europe?”

  He nodded slowly. “In recessionary times, we must be especially proactive to protect our assets. The luxury and Asian markets are trending up, but losses in America could offset gains.”

  Verena took a sip of coffee, swallowed hard and looked up, meeting his direct gaze. “We are looking for a lender, monsieur. A bank, a company, a private individual.”

  “The smart money everywhere is pulling back, preparing to weather a storm. Unfortunately, our portfolio has companies in similar situations to yours. At this time, we must focus on our commitment to them.”

  She understood. At least he was honest with her.

  “You have a fine company,” he added, his voice kind. “I wish we could help you, but we are already fully committed to those in our portfolio. Once this storm blows past, we might speak again, I hope.”

  “I hope so, too.” She inclined her head in appreciation. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “We have entered a difficult era. You must do what you can to save your company.” He walked her to the door, where they exchanged kisses on the cheek again. “Please give my regards to your grandmother,” he added with a cordial smile.

  “I will, merci.” Blinking back her disappointment, Verena left the office building and walked out onto the bustling boulevards of Paris.

  Eschewing the taxi line, she walked for a long time, past fragrant perfumeries, decadent chocolate shops, fashionable boutiques, and throngs of tourists. Her chest clenched with frustration, her mind racing, she strode on, navigating the cobblestone sidewalks that threatened her high heels.

  I have to make the deal with Herringbone, she realized, turning over her dilemma. Which means I have to go back to Derrick.

  She had a grave sense of portent. Mia believed in that sort of thing—kismet, karma, intuition—but Verena had always laughed at her and told her that she’d been living in California too long.

  She stepped from the curb, but the blare of a car horn startled her. She felt a firm hand on her arm, tugging her back from the street. “Good Lord,” she exclaimed as a car whizzed by, barely missing her, the rush of air against her hair. She caught her breath and turned to thank the stranger. But when she did, there was no one around her.

  No one at all.

  Verena stood rooted to the ground in shock. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that she might have died.

  When Verena entered the Majestic, she heard someone call her name.

  Lance was walking toward her. “Bonjour,” he said, kissing her on each cheek. He lingered with his face close to hers. “You look gorgeous in black lace. Join me for a cocktail?” He motioned to a small table in the lounge.

  As they strolled through the foyer, Verena paused to admire a stunning white floral bouquet in the center of the entryway. “I just love lilies and peonies,” she said, inhaling the sweet floral scents. “What a beautiful arrangement.”

  When they entered the lounge, Lance said, “How did your meeting go?”

  The meeting had been such a disappointment. “Mia had high hopes, but unfortunately, Rose Beauté can’t help us either. I’ll have to tell Mia right away.”

  Lance gazed into her eyes. “Sit with me and relax. Besides, Mia and the girls aren’t back yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  Lance grinned. “I arranged a car for them.”

  “You didn’t need to do that,” Verena said sharply.

  “Verena, the manager is a friend of mine. It’s a hotel car. It’s okay.” He motioned to a waiter. “Rough day?”

  “The man I met with was kind enough, but....” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged. She was resigned to do what she must, as Henri had advised. She’d call Derrick when she returned.

  “Here, try this, it’s an apéritif.” He handed her a small, stemmed glass.

  She sniffed the fine bouquet, and let it flow over her tongue. “Tastes like walnuts.”

  “You have a good palate,” he said. He motioned to the table, where several plates rested. “We’ve been experimenting in the kitchen. Here, try this,” he said, handing her a toast point spread with something that smelled delicious.

  The savory treat melted in her mouth, and she realized she was starving. She rarely ate much before important meetings, and today had been no exception. “This is marvelous, what is it?”

  He laughed. “A little of this, a little of that. Mushrooms, herbs, cheeses, infused oils. The real work begins tomorrow. You should come to the chef’s event, the food will be incredible.”

  “I wish I could,” she said. “But I fly home tomorrow.” As she said it, she gazed into his eyes and realized how disappointed she was to leave him. No, not him, she corrected herself. Paris. It’s Paris and its magical spell, that’s all.

  He gazed at her over the rim of his glass. “At least join me for dinner.”

  “I’d like that, but I’d promised Mia and the girls that we’d have dinner tonight.”

  A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Will everyone eat crab?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then I know just the place for us. Excuse me.”

  Verena watched him cross the room to speak to someone at the front desk. Lance wore black jeans and a black cotton turtleneck shirt with the sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular forearms. A light grey scarf was casually draped around his neck. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was French. He was a chameleon, blending in with his surroundings, yet standing out among men. Verena took another sip, and stretched tension from her neck.

  “It’s all set,” he said as he sat down beside her, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “You’ll love this place, it’s a legend, and very hard to get into.”

  Verena studied him for a moment, observing the joyous expression on his face. “You love food, don’t you?”

  “Good food,” he said, nodding. “Food is a primal urge, but good food is an art form. It might be the best garlic mashed potatoes you’ve ever had, or a duck confit so sublime it melts in your mouth. It doesn’t matter if food is simple or elegant, as long as the ingredients are fresh and natural, and the dish is well prepared. That’s artistry.”

  Verena saw passion ignite in his eyes. “It’s wonderful to see someone who loves their work.”

  “It’s not just work, it’s my life. I like to take care of people. When people leave my restaurant, I want them to feel pampered, to sense the passion that went into each dish, and to appreciate the creativity. Most of all, I want them to say ‘that was a damned fine meal.’”

  “That’s how I feel about my work, too,” Verena said. “I want every one of our guests to feel pampered and cherished when they visit our salon, or when they use any of our products. It’s a ritual of self-love that people should do every day.”

  “We share the same philosophy, the same dedication to excellence.” He casually rested his hand over Verena’s fingers.

  The small motion sent a surge of energy coursing through her. What just happened? The touch of his hand against hers set off sparks in her soul. Is this why people call Paris the city of love?

  “I’m glad we ran into one another again here,” he said softly.

  “So am I,” she said, finally feeling like smiling again.

  “When we return home, why don’t we actually plan to meet, instead of leaving it to chance?”

  “Chance has worked well for us.”

  “But it’s…chancy.” He grinned, and his amber eyes held her gaze.

  “Oh, that was too obvious,” she said, laughing, and then stopped. What am I doing? “Lance, I really enjoy your company, but I made a commitment to Derrick.”

  He furrowed his brow and seemed to be choosing his words with care. “How well do you know Derrick? I mean, do you trust him with your life? Your business?”

  What an odd thing to ask. Now it was her turn to weigh her words. “Well enough, and yes, I
trust him. Look, I didn’t mean to lead you on.” She’d have to call Derrick about the financing; the thought of him now depressed her.

  “You’re not. We’re just two friends in Paris tonight.” His grin returned, and he caressed her hand, trailing his fingers along hers. “But I want you to know that I care about you. Last night was just the beginning, Verena.”

  “We’re two good friends in Paris, how’s that?” As soon as she spoke, regret flooded her. The words hung in the air, dividing them.

  “We’ll see,” he said with confidence, rising to her challenge.

  Behind them there was a commotion in the lobby as Mia and the twins walked in. Anika and Bella were wearing the new clothes they had bought yesterday, and they both had their hair styled differently.

  With a start, Verena noticed they were attracting the attention of several young men in the lobby. The girls were maturing; they were on the cusp of womanhood. They’re like lovely young swans, and I must protect them. The weight of her responsibilities bore down upon her again.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” Lance asked.

  “I just realized they’re almost grown. Sometimes I don’t notice; I get so overwhelmed with business.”

  He looked directly into her eyes. “You’re doing a fine job with them, and I know you’ll continue to do so, but you deserve a life, too. A good life.”

  She stroked his hand. He understood. “Then let’s enjoy the evening.”

  Mia spotted them in the lounge. “Why, there you are,” she said, starting toward them.

  Verena quickly slid her hand away from Lance’s, but she knew Mia had seen them.

  “We had such a wonderful day,” Mia said, beaming. “Lance, thank you for arranging the car for us. What a difference it made. I couldn’t have managed these two energetic girls without it.”

  “I’m glad I could help,” Lance said. “The day isn’t over yet. I’ve booked a special restaurant for dinner. Nothing fancy,” he added, nodding toward the twins. “But good, fresh food in a great atmosphere.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Mia said. “Girls, let’s go. We’ll freshen up, and meet you downstairs.” When Bella started to protest, Mia shot her a firm look.

  “Eight o’clock—early for Paris, but probably better for the twins,” he said.

  “We’ll see you then,” Mia said, excusing herself to take the girls upstairs to their room.

  “I should change, too,” Verena said, glancing down at her black lace dress.

  “You look exquisite, but you’ll be more comfortable in casual clothes tonight,” Lance said.

  She rose, and as she did, Lance stood and gave her kisses on her cheeks, followed by a third, lingering one. “I mean it, you deserve a wonderful life,” he whispered into her ear. “And someone who’ll be good to you.”

  Energy surged between them, and Verena’s nerves tingled. “I’ll see you soon,” she murmured. As she turned away from him, her face grew warm, but this time, her coloring wasn’t from embarrassment, but from a feeling that was infinitely finer. And as she walked away from him, she was glad he couldn’t see the delight on her face.

  I’ll think about Derrick later, she resolved. After all, this was Paris.

  13

  “Bon appétit,” the waiter said as he delivered an enormous platter of steamed crab to the table. The scent of fresh seafood and homemade bread filled the air, and laughter bubbled around them.

  Verena laughed as she watched Anika and Bella, their eyes widening with delight. She loved having her family together in Europe, just as Mia had always dreamed.

  Sitting beside Mia, she saw her grandmother slip her hand into her pocket to caress a monogrammed handkerchief. She’d seen her do this a couple of times on their trip, but she couldn’t remember Mia ever carrying one of her husband’s handkerchiefs before. Or did it belong to someone else? Verena tried to see the monogram, but Mia slipped it back into her pocket.

  “I’ll tie your bibs,” Lance said, chuckling as he helped the girls put on bright blue fabric bibs with the words ‘Le Crabe Marteau’ emblazoned across the front. “And now for you, mademoiselle,” he said to Verena.

  “Oh, no,” she said, holding up her hands.

  “What? Are you too proper for a bib?”

  “I’m not,” Mia said, turning a coy smile on Lance. “You can help me. It’s so nice having a man around. Especially you.”

  “It’s an honor, madame,” he said, and tied Mia’s bib around her neck with a flourish.

  Other diners in the restaurant wore the cloth bibs, too. Fishing nets and lures hung from the walls, along with a chalkboard that featured the specials of the day. Old wooden tables were covered with butcher paper, and the waiter had left a heavy wooden mallet to crack the fresh steamed crabs.

  Verena was glad that Lance had chosen such a delightful restaurant. Everyone was having fun. The meeting today had been disappointing; if Henri couldn’t help them, then the economy was definitely in trouble. But that’s for tomorrow to think about. She gazed happily around the table, determined to enjoy the brief time she had in Paris.

  “Now, you’re the only one left,” Lance said to Verena, standing with hands on his hips.

  “Oh, all right, get on with it. But you’ll never see me with a bib in Beverly Hills.” She shot him a warning look.

  “Come on, don’t be a snob,” he said, as the twins looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  Verena lifted her wavy blond hair to let him tie her bib. As he did, he brushed his fingers discreetly across the back of her neck, and she thrilled to his touch. Her skin grew warm, and she noticed Mia watching her.

  “You look happy, Verena,” Mia said. “Look at us all, what fun we’re having.” She squeezed Verena’s hand. “I’m so glad you came with us to Paris.”

  “Now that you’re all tied up, let me explain this meal to you,” Lance said, sitting next to Verena. He picked up a wooden mallet. “We’ll use this to beat the crab into submission.”

  Bella’s eyes widened. “It’s not alive is it?” She poked one of the orange-red crabs on the thick cutting board in front of her.

  “Watch out,” Lance cried. “They’ll pinch you.”

  Anika and Bella screamed, and then fell against one another, giggling.

  Regaining her composure, Anika said, “I’m trying to become a vegetarian.”

  “I respect that,” Lance said, looking concerned. “I can speak to the kitchen, have them make something for you.”

  Anika eyed the crab and licked her lips.

  “It’s really no trouble,” Lance said. “A smart chef always accommodates dietary preferences.”

  “I’ll resume my diet tomorrow,” Anika said, a shy smile lighting her face.

  Verena observed Lance with the twins. He was good with them, and they liked him. Better than they like Derrick. Mia was watching their interaction, too.

  “Let me show you how it’s done.” Lance took the mallet to the steamed crabs and began to crack them with gusto.

  Verena picked up a bowl of red potatoes with herbs. “These smell delicious.” She served Mia, the girls, and Lance.

  “We have a nice Chardonnay, too,” Lance added. “Mia, would you care for wine?”

  “Of course, my dear.” Mia’s face lit with pleasure. After he poured a small amount into her glass, she swirled it to aerate the bouquet, and then lifted the wine to her nose and inhaled. “Quite nice.” She sipped, savoring the taste on her tongue before swallowing. “A very good choice, Lance.” She nodded her approval.

  “Just a simple wine to go with this hearty fare.” He poured more into Mia’s glass, and then matched the pour into Verena’s glass.

  Verena glanced at the label. “Not that simple.” Her eyes met his.

  “You know your wines.” Lance looked at her with admiration.

  Verena could feel the electricity between them. “My grandmother taught me,” she said, turning to Mia to conceal the intensity that surged through her. “In fact, I bel
ieve you began your instruction when you brought me here the first time.”

  “But you were our age then, Verena,” Anika said, darting a look at Bella.

  “So, can we have wine, too?” Bella asked.

  “When in Rome…” Lance said. “Or in this case, Paris.”

  “Now, you two know you’re not crazy about wine,” Verena said.

  Mia smiled at the younger girls. “Your sister is right. We’ll develop your palate later.”

  Lance passed cracked crab around, and soon everyone was eating and exclaiming over the food.

  Verena looked around the table, a rush of joy filling her heart. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is a perfect evening.

  As they ate, Lance asked, “What are your plans in Switzerland?”

  Mia said, “We’ll stay with my sister Lara in Vevey, a quaint little village on the banks of Lake Geneva where we were born. We’ll tour with Lara and her daughter, drive around Fribourg, sample cheese in Gruyères, and wine in the Valais. We’ll take a tram into the Alps, too. So much lovely country to explore. There’s never enough time, though.”

  Anika and Bella looked at Mia with excitement. Everything was a new experience for the girls, and Verena was glad they were enjoying the trip.

  After they finished the meal, Mia said, “It’s still early by Paris time. Verena, why don’t you and Lance leave us at the hotel and go out for a nightcap?”

  Verena hesitated. “But I have to get ready for my flight tomorrow.”

  Mia waved her hand, dismissing her granddaughter’s protest. “Paris is magical at night. You shouldn’t miss it. You can sleep on the plane.”

  Lance grinned and touched Verena’s hand. “She’s right. How often do we find ourselves in Paris?”

  After Verena and Lance left Mia and the twins at the hotel, they strolled along Rue la Pérouse in the cool evening air, the magnificent Arc de Triomphe looming ahead in the center of an impressive roundabout, which yawned into the grand Avenue des Champs-Élysées.