It was exhausting but oh-so-rewarding by the time the meeting ended.
“Are you staying in Bordeaux tonight or heading back to La Rochelle?” Michel asked as they gathered their notes together.
“Staying. I have to recover from our meeting so I don’t have heart failure on the train,” Delphine responded.
Michel’s hearty laugh filled the room. “Excellent. Have dinner with Bernice and me this evening. There’s a new restaurant we’ve been wanting to check out, and Bernice would love to get out of cooking . . . And I’m sure she’ll get you to spill more details about that wishing fountain story.”
Delphine’s laugh fell flat, knowing Michel’s comment about his wife’s prying skills was true. “I would love to spend the evening with you both. What time and where shall we meet?”
“How about I send a company car to pick you up about seven o’clock?” Michel suggested.
With the details agreed upon, Delphine returned to her hotel on foot. She needed the walk and fresh air to allow the full impact of the meeting to sink in. While her book plot was stronger, there were still elements that bothered her. She just wished she could figure out how to fix them. She pulled out her cell phone and tapped on the button for her parent’s home. It rang a few times before going to voicemail.
“Bonjour, Maman. I just finished a meeting with Michel and wanted to tell you all about it. He loved Candessa and Felix, but I’m still struggling with—” She stumbled to a stop, her throat clogging up, remembering that Maman wasn’t going to hear the message because the voices and names confused her too much, so only Papa checked voicemail now. She swallowed past the thick lump, then pushed out her next few words. “I’m sorry, Papa. Force of habit, I suppose. I hope you and Maman are well. Call me when you can. Love you.”
She ended the call, using all her will to force back the scald of tears.
She held it together just long enough to make it to the elevator before the first sob escaped. She bit her lip hard, trying to think of anything else until she reached the safety of her hotel room, where all the emotions took over.
She hated this horrible disease and how it ripped her Maman out of her life.
CHAPTER SIX
Monday, September 25th
JEAN-PAUL RUBBED HIS FOREHEAD, trying to keep his patience with Angelique St. Germain as she continued to go over her vision for Simply Bella in excruciating detail, firmly putting their meeting ten minutes over schedule. He was rather annoyed that Mr. St. Germain had delegated the meeting to his daughter without informing him. As much as he adored his long-time friend, he was frustrated that the attempts to pair them together had now moved from social events into his business affairs. It was immensely difficult to keep his cool.
When she finally finished her spiel, he simply smiled because he certainly didn’t want to say anything to add to the length of their meeting.
“Très bien. That sums up the meeting,” he said. He stood and moved to the other side of the desk from where she sat in her fashionable suit with an inappropriately short skirt, avoiding the hurt look in her eyes. There was a slight kick in the gut for being less than a friend should be, but he’d just have to make it up to her later. “I’ll have my secretary call when the next version is ready to be approved before going live.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together as she processed the quick ending of their meeting. “But there’s still more for us to discuss.”
“I’m sorry, Angelique. I thought I was meeting with your father, so I scheduled our normal time block. I didn’t realize we’d need an extended appointment. We can reschedule to continue the conversation, but my next appointment is waiting.”
He opened the office door, hoping to usher her out. Instead she sauntered across the room, stopping just short of the door. When he extended his hand, she took it, then leaned up on her toes to leave lingering bise kisses on each of his cheeks before slightly stepping back. The strong scent of her jasmine perfume wafted around him like a dense cloud, causing his eyes to water as he resisted the urge to sneeze.
“Merci beaucoup, Jean-Paul. I look forward to seeing the designs soon.” Her ruby red lips spread into a coy smile before she pivoted and sashayed out of the office.
“Monsieur Chassériau. Your next appointment is here,” his secretary said, motioning to the couch in the waiting area.
Jean-Paul turned to greet Delphine. “I’m sorry about the wait.”
“It’s fine, I was able to jot down some notes while I waited.” As she passed Helena’s desk, she pulled out a few tissues and handed them to him, then gestured to her cheek.
He groaned, ushering her into his office before closing the door. He invited her to sit down, but stopped at a small mirror on the shelves before he joined her. And there it was, red lipstick smeared on not one, but both of his cheeks. It took some work, but he finally got both messes cleaned up. Or at least he hoped he did. The burning sensation that reddened his cheeks from the embarrassing display wasn’t helping.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, returning to his desk.
“No problem. Is she a new client?” Delphine inquired, looking relaxed and all too composed compared to the jumbled mess he was at the moment.
“No, our families are close, and we grew up seeing each other a few times each year. Our fathers have worked together for as long as I can remember. I usually meet with her father, but it seems she might be the new company liaison.”
“Hmm,” Delphine murmured, twisting her hands together before tucking them at her sides, as if trying to hold something in.
He folded his arms and leaned forward onto his desk. “You should just say whatever is on your mind.”
She shook her head. “That never goes very well.”
Her comment made him laugh, and he relaxed for the first time since Angelique left. He sank back into his chair, his full attention on her. “No, truly, go ahead.”
She twisted her hands together again. “Well,” she started. “It’s just that as an author, I spend a lot of time studying people, their personalities, reactions to others and situations. But what I observe can be wrong too because it’s taken out of context rather than seeing the full picture.”
“I’ve known Angelique my entire life, but we have only recently spent more than a week or two together. When we were children, I spent more time with her brothers.”
“Have you ever asked her out for a date?” She gasped, then flushed a delicate pink. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a personal question. You don’t have to answer it,” she said, waving her hand as if it could erase that part of their conversation.
He couldn’t help but feel pleased by her reaction to asking personal questions. He suppressed a smile and shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t mind. And no, I haven’t. Her family has invited me to several social functions since I moved to La Rochelle, but it’s purely platonic.”
Delphine tilted her head in consideration. “Are you sure she doesn’t consider them dates? She’s obviously interested in you. Considering what you said and assuming you have been a bit stand-offish, like you were at the door just now, I’d say she’s set you in her sights.”
He rubbed his hand across his face, taking in the confirmation of his speculation about Angelique’s hopes for their relationship.
“Does that surprise you?” Delphine asked.
“No, it worries me. I had a feeling she might be angling for us to pair up, but I was hoping if I kept things strictly friendly, the efforts would cool off. So what you’re saying is, my strategy is having the opposite effect?”
Delphine shrugged. “That would be my guess, from what I just observed. And that bothers you. Interesting.”
He wasn’t sure he liked how she said that last word. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged again. He didn’t think he liked it when she did that either. “It’s just generally assumed that men prefer women like Angelique. She’s all that Vanity Fair says beauty is—gorgeous platinum blonde hair with a sun-kisse
d tan. She’s into fashion, keeps up with the trends, and has a to-die-for body.”
He mulled over what she said. “That’s all true, if you buy into what the media portrays to be beautiful and desirable. There are certainly both men and women who get caught up in what others think in that realm, but I believe there’s a greater number of people who look for just the opposite.”
“They look for someone ugly?” she asked, her lips turning up at one corner.
“No.” He paused, trying to figure out how to say the words without sounding too cheesy. “My Papa taught us to look for a heart that blends with ours. It didn’t matter if belongs to a friend, a co-worker, or a love interest. When you search their hearts, you find a friend for life. While I know others may not use that phrasing to define their search, I do think it’s basically what they are searching for.”
“Kindred spirits,” Delphine said, as if letting the words soak in.
“Yes, that’s one way you could say it.”
“Anne of Green Gables,” she mumbled, then started digging through her bag. She pulled out a familiar notebook and pen and started writing.
“Are you in brainstorming mode again?” he asked, amused by her reaction.
She shushed him and continued to write a few more sentences, then quickly scanned them before closing her notebook. When her attention returned to him, he was struck by how bright and alive her light brown eyes were.
“Sometimes something strikes me and I have to jot it down before it disappears,” she apologized. “So no Angelique?”
“Non, not for me.”
Her smile warmed, and their eyes held for a moment without any additional words passing between them. She flushed a charming pink color again and ducked her head, her curls tumbling forward to partially cover her face.
“Perhaps we can chat about your website now?” he suggested.
Delphine pulled her chair closer to his desk, and he turned the monitor to face her. He opened a digital folder to show her samples of logos and website layouts he mocked up. She oohed and hmmed as she viewed the samples, but in the end, she was very decisive about the designs she liked best. She filled out information so he could incorporate all her social media, newsletter, and other links on the website.
His secretary buzzed the line to let him know his next appointment had arrived. Their meeting was over all too soon. Before he opened the door for Delphine to leave, he paused. “The Musée d’Art is having a special Classic Hollywood display this week. I was thinking about going to see it Wednesday evening. Would you be interested in joining me?”
“It sounds like fun, but I have a deadline I need to hit by Wednesday evening,” she said.
“Of course, that’s fine. No problem,” he said, trying to cover up his disappointment and the awkwardness of being turned down. He reached out to turn the doorknob when Delphine placed her hand over his. He stilled, turning to meet her sincere eyes.
“But I could go Thursday,” she prompted.
A whoosh of air escaped his lungs. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. “Thursday is fantastique. Seven o’clock? We could go to the exhibit, then get dessert afterward.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” she said, a beautiful smile brightening her eyes.
He signaled for a short break to his secretary after Delphine left. He closed his office door and leaned back against it. He did it. He asked one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met out on an official date. He placed his hand over his heart. It thrummed with excitement because, so far, it recognized a friend for life . . . and possibly something even more precious.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday, September 28th
DELPHINE RUBBED HER DAMP PALMS on the sides of her jeans, then tried to open the tube of mascara again. Darn the lotion she just put on! She loved the cherry-vanilla scent, but it was seriously bad timing when it came to putting on makeup. She twisted as hard as she could. The cap not only gave way, but it came all the way out of the tube, smearing mascara across her hand. Gah! She quickly set the tube and wand aside to wash her hands before the black mess stained her skin.
Okay, Delphine, you can do this, she thought while drying her hands. It’s just a date. With Jean-Paul. Who was also not only scrumptious to look at, but nothing like the slew of one-dimensional men she’d previously dated who had nothing to talk about besides the latest contenders for the World Cup and upcoming wine tours.
She picked the mascara back up and applied a smooth coating to each set of eyelashes. She finished her primping by swiping on some berry colored lip gloss. Then she gathered her hair into a loose ponytail and pulled out a few tendrils to curl around her face. Braiding the ponytail and twisting it around the base, she created a cute messy bun to complete the look. She stepped back to check her appearance.
Cute dark jeans. Check. Black fitted shirt layered with her favorite lacy charcoal gray cardigan. Check. Makeup and hair. Check, check.
She added some money, apartment keys, phone, and lip gloss into a wristlet and checked her hair one last time to make sure she was all ready. She glanced toward the clock, but a knock sounded at the door.
He’s here! She pressed her hand to her abdomen to quiet the anticipation fluttering around while Hugo raced to the door, bark, bark, barking to defend them from intruders. She sent a silent plea to the heavens that this evening would go well.
She scooped up the wriggly Hugo, then opened the door. She was captivated once again by Jean-Paul’s blue eyes and the sparkle of anticipation that she saw reflected there.
“Bonjour, Jean-Paul,” she greeted him. “Please come in.”
“You look très belle,” he said, stepping into her apartment. He brought his arm from behind his back and presented a beautiful bouquet of white daisies, yellow roses, and sunflowers. “I saw these, and they reminded me of how happy you look when you’re writing.”
“That’s the most wonderful compliment. Merci,” she replied, putting Hugo down to accept the gift. She leaned up on her toes and placed a bise kiss on his cheek. The light fresh scent of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his skin, sent a flush through her. She pulled back and tripped over Hugo as he paced between them. Jean-Paul quickly grabbed her elbow to steady her, bringing them quite close together. Kissably close, she thought as a warm rush of tingles spread through her. “Um, I’ll put these in a vase. It will just take a minute.”
She left him to wander around her tiny living room while she quickly pulled a vase out of the cupboard, filled it with water, and added the flowers. She took a deep breath, hoping to cool the flurry of emotions tangling about inside before she brought the arrangement back out into the living room and placed it on her desk.
“I assume this is where all the magic happens,” Jean-Paul said, indicating the desk.
“Well, I mostly do my monthly bills here,” she admitted. “I like to move around when I work, so I have several writing nooks in the apartment.”
He turned in a circle, taking in the areas of her living space that he could see. “Do you have a spot you prefer?”
“Mmm‒oui,” she murmured, motioning toward the other side of the room. “One of my favorites is the overstuffed chair and ottoman over by the window. I enjoy the natural sunlight in the afternoon.”
“Jobs like ours can sometimes mean being chained to a stuffy office. I try to plan a few afternoons each week to do design work away from the office, usually somewhere outside. A spot like this is a nice option, too. I’ve been reading your books, by the way.”
“You have?” she asked, surprised by his admission. Should she ask the question every author dreaded? She bit her lip, then plunged ahead. “What did you think?”
Her hands twisted and clenched together as she waited for his answer. It was never fun to hear a friend say he enjoyed your book, but have you read so-and-so’s because it was amazing. Or that they couldn’t get into it. Or to have a friend go total fan crazy about your characters to the point that it took over every singl
e conversation. There didn’t seem to ever be a happy middle ground. Especially when all she wanted to hear was that he liked her writing.
Jean-Paul picked up the funky rock paperweight on her desk and fiddled with it. “First, I have to admit that I’ve tried other sci-fi books my friends have recommended, but could never get into them.”
Oh no, here it came. Their first official date may end before it even got a chance to begin.
“But I started with your twist on the Alice in Wonderland fairy tale. The way you weaved the story to make the sci-fi elements as real as everyday life pulled me in. I finished the book impressed with your talent to create scenes that portray the magic in your imagination.”
Handsome guy + understanding of the creative brain = girl’s mind totally blown.
Definitely a good kick-off to their evening.
That was the beginning of a conversation that flowed smoothly as they walked toward the Musée d’Art. The evening rays from the sun cast a beautiful orangey-yellow glow against the old buildings. The breeze held an underlying coolness that was just on the edge of comfortable versus chilly. As they walked, their arms occasionally bumped into each other, bring their hands within holding distance. Delphine’s breath caught, wondering if he might take the initiative and take her hand in his. Unfortunately, they arrived at the Musée too soon to find out.
She was surprised by the number of attendees who filled the halls. She had no idea it would be such a popular exhibit. She turned her attention back to Jean-Paul, who was adorable as he studied the exhibit map.
“I think if we start here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map, “we can view the formal Hollywood star portraits, then cut through this exhibit here and end with the movie posters. What do you think?”
She nodded her agreement. Happy tingles cascaded through her when he placed his hand on her lower back. His guidance as they weaved through the crowd made her feel protected and safe, nestled near his side as they moved from picture to picture. As they perused the formal portrait gallery, she could tell from the way Jean-Paul tilted his head from side-to-side that he saw something more than simply photos of movie stars hanging on the wall.
Once Upon a Wish (Destined for Love: Europe) Page 4