“What is it you’re looking for, Jean-Paul?”
His eyebrows crunched together. “I’m not sure I can explain it very well, but I’ll try. You’ve used a digital camera before, right?”
She lifted her phone up and lightly laughed, embarrassed to admit the simplicity of her photography skills. “If you count this one, then yes.”
“Oui,” Jean-Paul said, nodding. “That is what most of our society considers photography now. Point, shoot, upload it to your favorite photo editor, add some filters, then share it with your friends via social media.”
“That pretty much sums up my abilities,” she said, flirtatiously linking her arm with his as they navigated around a small group. She bit her lip, wondering if she was too bold, but her fears melted away when he put his hand over hers where it rested in the crook of his arm. Walking together, being beside one another, felt so natural, comfortable, like they had been doing it forever. She may enjoy the drama and adventure of writing for teenagers, but at this moment, she definitely preferred the magic and butterflies that came with an intriguing romance.
“These portraits were taken before the digital era. When photographers spent months or even years learning how to combine the mechanical functions of their camera with various filters and balancing light and shadows to create something unique, a signature style. Some photographers used more creativity in the dark room to over or under expose their photographs to achieve the final touches. It was an era when photography truly was an art form.” He pointed to two different portraits and explained in terms she could understand what the differences were. Once she grasped the photographic concepts, she was able to pick out unique elements here and there to discuss.
He stopped abruptly near the entrance to the next exhibit. The set up of the room made a bottleneck with a long line of people backed up and overflowing into the halls.
“Perhaps we’ll skip this one,” Jean-Paul suggested. “If it clears out, we can always return later.”
She agreed, and they navigated around the crush in the middle exhibit and went directly to the movie posters, where they contrasted the design elements between portrait photography to classic movie posters, then again the classic movie posters to modern poster designs.
“This has been fascinating, Jean-Paul. I’ve discovered a whole new appreciation for photography,” she admitted.
“I’m glad you came. It was nice to share it with someone willing to put up with my artistic side,” he said, leading them back out into the lobby area where it was much less crowded.
“Would you like to—,” she started, but was cut off when someone called her name from across the lobby. They both turned and found a group of two men and a woman coming toward them.
“Pablo, Henrik, and Viv,” Delphine said, laughing with delight. “How are you?”
“We thought that was you,” Pablo responded, wrapping her up in a big hug and placing loud smacking kisses on her cheeks before he nudged her on to their other friends for more of the same.
“It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, sweetheart. Who’s your chap, eh?” Henrik inquired, lifting his brows up and down multiple times.
Delphine stepped back and took her date’s arm. “Jean-Paul, I’d like to introduce you to a group of the craziest writers I know. Pablo Bonadio, Henrik Safford, and Viv Zapata,” she said, going right down the row. Jean-Paul greeted each with a hand shake.
“So what do you write?” he asked.
“Steampunk and dragons for kids,” Pablo replied.
“Biographies and historical nonfiction for me,” Henrik said with a nod.
Viv just smiled, all sassy with a hand propped on her hip. “I specialize in romances,” Viv said while Pablo and Henrik chuckled. Delphine knew the act well, especially since most people who met female writers assumed they wrote romance. “Except one of my lovers tends to end up dead while the other is on the run from a certain homicide detective.”
“Gruesome novels, they are. Don’t know why so many people snatch the nasty things up,” Henrik lamented, shaking his head. “People need to fill their brains with more substance.”
“You just say that because you wish you had thought up Rebecca Jones first,” Viv responded.
“Don’t we all?” Pablo replied.
“But what would we do with Rebecca?” Delphine responded. “I’d send her into space, Pablo would have her riding mechanical dragons, and Henrik would write her memoir. No, I think Rebecca can only be Rebecca as Viv’s creation.”
“Too true, Del. Too true,” Henrik responded with a wry smile.
“And this is why we miss you. When are you coming to Spain to visit?” Pablo asked.
“Spain? I thought you were in Paris,” Delphine said.
“Henrik and I moved to Spain when he was offered a contract for an absurdly rich man’s biography. The interviews will take place in Madrid. We just popped up to visit Viv for the week on holiday,” Pablo said.
“Well, I’m glad you did. It has been too long since we last saw each other. What was it, two years ago at the Expo in Germany?”
Viv draped her arm across Henrik’s shoulder. “What I remember is dragging you with us to the discothèque.”
Delphine giggled nervously. “What I remember is you and Henrik busting some serious moves on the dance floor, while Pablo and I stayed safely tucked away in a booth and had our own little brainstorming session.”
Henrik clapped his hands together, bouncing up and down. “Ooh! Let’s do it again!”
Delphine shook her head from side to side. “I have a book deadline coming up.”
“Pish posh. That excuse doesn’t work on us, dear.” Viv batted her long lashes and focused her attention on Jean-Paul. “Do you enjoy dancing?”
“I’ve been to my fair share of discothèques. In fact, the White Rabbit here in La Rochelle has an incredible DJ with a good mix of hip hop and electro dance mixes. Plus Friday and Saturday nights, ladies get in free.”
“Would you seriously go?” Delphine asked Jean-Paul skeptically.
“If you were my date, absolutely,” he replied without hesitation.
Henrik nudged Pablo with his elbow. “She’s a goner,” he pseudo-whispered, and Pablo nodded in agreement.
“Just give in, Del. There’s no way you’ll get out of it now,” Viv teased.
“Okay, fine,” Delphine said, throwing up her hands in defeat. “But I really do have a deadline, so I can’t go until Friday.”
“Excellent. I’ll call to reserve a table,” Viv said. “Shall we meet for dinner at nine-thirty?”
“I’ll take care of the dinner reservations and text you all the details,” Delphine said, feeling the need to take charge of something.
“Marvelous,” Henrik replied. “We’ll see you next week.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
JEAN-PAUL SMILED as Delphine was caught up in a flurry of bise kisses from her friends before they were once again alone.
She turned to him and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “Did that really just happen?”
She looked so cute and flustered by the turn of events. “It definitely did.” He took her hand and twirled her in an impromptu circle. “And I can’t wait to get you out on the dance floor.”
A squeak escaped her lips as she stumbled over her feet. He pulled her into an embrace to help her catch her balance. There they were, in a repeat position of earlier in the evening, only this time felt more intimate. Heat rushed through him as he held her, her wide eyes glimmering up at him, revealing that she was just as affected by their nearness as he was.
“D-d-don’t blame me when I crush your toes,” she said, a slight smile curving her lips upward.
“If there are more happy accidents like this one, then it will be worth it.” He winked before stepping back. “Shall we go?”
When she nodded, he threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow, amazed again how just that simple touch made him happy. They left the lights of the Musée for the
dimness of the evening and came to an abrupt halt on the marble steps when they were met by yet another acquaintance.
“Oh, Jean-Paul, mon chéri. How wonderful to run into you,” Angelique said as she and her crew of wealthy friends ascended the steps. They all wore various versions of skimpy black dresses, although Angelique’s was the most risqué of them all, with a plunging neckline that went almost to her navel. Her long blonde hair was artfully arranged to cascade over one shoulder, drawing attention from her neck down to her cleavage.
She plastered herself up against him to kiss his cheek, leaving behind a strong mixture of her jasmine perfume and wine. He grasped her elbows to steady the giggly Angelique before taking a step to the side, making sure to keep Delphine beside him. “Delphine, this is my friend, Angelique. She is also the daughter of my client, Monsieur St. Germain of the Simply Bella clothing boutiques.”
“Of course,” Delphine said. “I recognize you from Simply Bella’s spring/summer show at fashion week in Paris. I love the new vintage-twist collection.”
Angelique’s gaze roamed from head to toe, giving Delphine a quick once-over before giggling some more and extending a wobbly hand. “So nice to meet a friend of Jean-Paul’s. My family and I have monopolized so much of his time, it’s nice to know he’s expanding into some other . . . social circles.”
Delphine stiffened beside him as she quickly shook Angelique’s hand. He felt the need to move on sooner rather than later. “We just finished with the exhibit. I’m sure you and your friends will find it quite fascinating. We don’t want to keep you out in the chilly air,” he said, intending to say good evening.
“Yes, come on already,” one of her friends whined, pulling at Angelique’s arm and upsetting her balance.
“Whoopsie.” Angelique grabbed onto him as she found her footing again. Her face tipped up toward his, her smile slightly tipsy too. “It’s too bad you’re not alone so you could join us for a more entertaining tour. But no matter, I’ll see you Sunday for the family dinner.” She finally released his arm and gave a little wave. “Au revoir, Daphne,” she said.
He nodded farewell to her friends, then ushered Delphine away. The silence between them was thick until they were well out of ear shot.
“I’m sorry, Angelique normally isn’t like that,” he began, but Delphine cut him off.
“Did you see the way she looked at me? Like I was chopped meat to be thrown to the dogs. Well, let me tell you what, little miss not-so-charming, I’m prime rib. No, I’m even better than prime rib, whatever cut of meat that is. Spoiled little brat,” she murmured under her breath before pivoting to face him. “And did I say anything? No. I just stood there with a million let-me-kick-your-butt-to-the-curb comments running through my head, because she’s not my client. Oh no, thank the heavens for that.” Delphine sucked in a deep breath, almost growling as she said, “Expanding your social circles, my butt.”
He tried to hold it in, but a sputtering laugh escaped. He even tried to cover it up by faking a cough, but once one laugh escaped, another quickly followed. It didn’t help that Delphine put her hand on her hip and one foot was tapping, up and down, like a disapproving school teacher.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked. “Because I can go back and send Angelique over so you can enjoy the remainder of the evening together.”
“Don’t be cruel. Truly, I think she was a bit sloshed,” he said. He put his hand on her shoulder, doing his best to suck back the laughter, but his shoulders betrayed him by shaking with mirth. “Did you really attend fashion week?”
“No, a few of my friends attend each year and I heard about Simply Bella’s new line from them. Plus, hello, YouTube recaps everything.” She reached up, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. “She did it again. She’s determined to mark you for her own.”
Jean-Paul dug in his pocket and pulled out a tissue, then handed it to her. She swiped at his cheek a few more times. He breathed in the tangy fruit scent of her lotion and briefly closed his eyes. He wished for the scent to sink into his memory, knowing that whenever he encountered it in the future, he’d be reminded of this evening and all of the connections and feelings that were building between them.
“I think I got the worst of it,” she said, her voice softer. Her eyes met his, looking contrite and serious. “I’m sorry about what I said. When I get mad, I tend to rant without thinking first.”
He captured her hand, playing with her delicate fingers. “I understand. Besides, I agree. You’re definitely prime rib worthy.”
Her face flushed a deep pink. “I can’t believe I said that. I need a verbal editor before I speak.”
He chuckled. “I rather like the unedited version of you.” He kept her hand in his as they continued walking again. “Are you still up for dessert?”
She gently squeezed his hand. “A café sounds wonderful.”
The tables were mostly full at Chez Marguerite, but they were able to snag a spot in a secluded corner. Their conversation was as rich as the crème brûlée they shared, the topics running through their shared enjoyment of various sciences. One moment they discussed satellites and discoveries in the universe, then the next talked about polar bears and their habitat. Delphine shared an experience she had while on tour the previous summer in Norway.
“Having the opportunity to be in Norway for work, there was no way I was going to pass up a side trip to Svalbard. The hiking expedition to see the polar bears was mind-bending. They are so beautiful and majestic on television and in print, but neither of those can compare to observing them in their natural habitats. That trip is definitely up in my top five explorations.”
“What was your favorite trip?” he asked.
“Ugh, that’s such a hard one.” She paused, tapping her finger on her chin. “Okay, I’ll give you my top five, but I’m not ranking them.”
He leaned forward, ready to hear more about her adventures.
“The polar bears in Norway, so that’s one,” she said, ticking it off on her fingers. “Did you know there’s a petrified forest in Arizona?”
Delphine pulled out her phone. As she tapped her way to find an album, the blonde curls that framed her face fell forward. The dim lighting in the room glinted off her hair, making them look like buttery vanilla. He wished he could reach out and touch them to see if they were as soft as they looked. Thankfully, she turned the phone around and pulled his thoughts back to the moment. The photos of the Petrified Forest prompted a discussion of its unique ecological system.
“Have you been to Pompeii?” he asked.
She shivered. “No, just the thought of seeing all those people frozen in ash like that, it’s a little more than I can handle. I may love science, but I have a light stomach when it comes to terrible things like that.”
Mental notation #27: Don’t invite Delphine to scary movie marathons. As much as he’d enjoy her burying her head in his shoulder during the freaky parts, being the reason she might end up with nightmares wasn’t a good dating strategy.
“Let’s see, number three would be attending a space shuttle launch at Kennedy Space Center in Florida. My father splurged and took our family on that trip. Touring the space center museums, then watching the launch from the viewing island closest to the launch pad was awe-inspiring.”
“Astronomy was one of my favorite subjects in school, but I’ve always wanted to see a space shuttle,” he admitted.
“The experience is a million times better in person. I’ve had friends attend satellite launches since then and they say even those smaller launches are amazing. Have you ever thought about planning a trip to Florida to see the Atlantis space shuttle? They have it on display there now.”
“It’s on my bucket list,” he said, then turned the conversation back to her list. “So I’m waiting for number four and five.”
“Well, they are both right here in our home country.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “Paris is one of them.”
“Paris is a wonderful cit
y with lots of history, but for me, it’s too busy. No, number four is the Loire Valley. I love the river, the castles, the arched bridges, the gardens, the villages . . . Honestly, I could go on and on. I feel like Cinderella whenever I go there,” she said, a dreamy tone to her voice.
“Stuck in an attic and forced to be a maid?” he joked.
“No, silly,” she said, swatting at his hand. “It inspires a feeling of happily ever after. Have you been there?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t, but your description of it certainly intrigues me.”
Her cheeks flushed with a pretty pink tinge. “We should plan a trip the Loire Valley sometime. I would love to show you my favorite spots.”
“That’s a trip I would very much enjoy.” He smiled, definitely liking how their conversation turned to talking about future plans to share together.
Delphine propped her elbow on the table, tucking her chin into the palm of her hand. “That brings us to number five, which is right here. La Rochelle.”
“Really? But you already live here. Does that count?”
“Who says you can’t live in the one place you would choose over anywhere else?” She covered a yawn, then straightened in her seat.
It was past midnight. Time to get the princess home before she wilted. “How about you tell me more about it as I walk you home?”
The night air was brisk and Delphine shivered when they stepped out of the café. He loved the way she threaded her arm through his and leaned close as they walked, their bodies brushing against each other and sparking plenty of warmth between them. Delphine continued their conversation, talking about her time in Switzerland and how she dreamed of returning to La Rochelle and how the towers were her symbol of home. They talked more about places they’d like to visit both in France and abroad until they arrived at her front door.
Once Upon a Wish (Destined for Love: Europe) Page 5