by Kris Jayne
"The water and sodas were to be half price in the reception area as long as we met our wine and liquor minimums, which we did." Micky pointed to the surplus charge.
"At that reception, the total was below 2,000 euros," Claude Berault, the hotel banquet manager, countered.
"The contract is for a total minimum across all events—averaging two thousand euros—but each event doesn't have to meet that minimum. We went well over that the next evening. I have the contract right here." Micky bent down to pull the contract from her bag.
As she straightened, she saw a tall, elegantly dressed man sitting on a bench just outside the restaurant entrance. A tall vase of flowers partially blocked his profile, but in a glimpse, he looked familiar. Micky blinked. It couldn't be him. How could he ever have taken the time off work? She missed Nick, but she'd never been prone to hallucinations.
"Madamemoiselle Llewellyn, I have the contract here," Claude rejoined. Micky turned back to him and shook the phantom image from her head. Claude pointed to the section of the contract referring to the food and beverage prices and minimum orders. Micky flipped through his copy and handed it back.
"That's not the final contract. We changed that clause. Here's a copy of the final signed version." She turned to the back page and pointed. "Here you see the signature from your manager and our purchasing department. The soft drinks were to be half price."
"Oh, yes, yes, I see. That isn't standard." The Frenchman frowned.
"Perhaps," Micky replied, smiling and glaring all at once. "But it is our agreement."
"Of course, I'll have the bill adjusted."
"Wonderful. You can make those adjustments, add in the final charges for today and tomorrow morning, and then send me the final tomorrow afternoon."
It was the one crimp in their plans for the next afternoon. She and Taryn would need to go over the final bill again at some point—particularly since there had been a contractual discrepancy. The pair went back and forth on a few more items, including the delivery of six executive gifts in the form of sleek Chopard rollerball pens.
"They should be placed in their rooms tonight with turndown service," Micky explained.
"This has been arranged. Pas de problème," the man finished in French.
With final agreement, she shook Claude's hand, and he left for his next appointment. Micky stayed at the table, finishing her coffee and checking email on her phone.
"That looked intense, but you seem to have gotten your way, which is hardly surprising. Maybe you missed your calling. You could have been an attorney."
Micky jerked her head up and around so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. She hadn't been dreaming. Nick was in Paris. He strode toward her, taking her hands and lifting her out of her seat before she could find her speech.
"I thought that was you. I saw a man sitting over on that bench, and he carried himself like you. I thought I was going crazy." Micky wound her arms around his neck, and they drew together into a tight embrace. Delicious. His scent of vanilla, sandalwood, and spice smelled like home.
She kissed the side of his neck, resisting the urge to taste him there. Micky could spend a lifetime with her face buried in the crook of his shoulder if she didn't need to kiss him so badly. Nick pulled her away from him just enough to snatch her closer again and seize on her mouth.
The noise of the lunch crowd faded to a distant buzz around her. Nick's hands swept up her back to her hair. Micky heard a faint laughter next to her and suddenly became conscious of her surroundings again. Stepping back, but staying in Nick's arms, she saw an older woman seated at the next table give her a wink. Micky turned back to Nick, embarrassed.
"I suppose I shouldn't get arrested for indecency my first day here. That's liable to happen if we don't stop," Nick mused.
"Sit for a minute. I don't have to be back over just yet," Micky explained. "What are you doing here?"
"I finally couldn't stand thinking about your being here enjoying Paris without me. So, I handed off some of my work and managed to take a few days."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"Do you?"
"Usually." Micky grinned. They still held hands. She squeezed his fingers in her palm. "I'll admit this one has its upside."
"And what's that?"
"Just that you're here, and we get to explore the city together." Micky swallowed hard, mentally shutting off the tears that inexplicably threatened her composure. "I can't believe you came."
"You know I couldn't let you run around the most romantic city in the world by yourself, beautiful. The last thing I need is some suave Frenchman stealing you away from me."
Micky lapsed into silence. She willed herself not to dissolve into a pool of emotion. Her hazel eyes met his bright green ones through a watery glaze. He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. His touch filled her with sensations of comfort and expectation. No Frenchman stood a chance.
"How did you even know I was here? I mean, here in the restaurant, now?" Even as Micky asked the question, the obvious answer dawned on her. Nick laughed. "I'm going to kick Taryn. Switching meetings and keeping this a secret. I can't believe it."
"Don't hurt her. She was an excellent partner in crime."
"She did her job well. I'm totally floored. I wish I didn't still have some work to do this afternoon, and we're going out for a celebration dinner tonight with the team. You don't mind tagging along for at least part of the evening do you? I can't bail on the entire night."
"I don't want to interfere with what you've got going on. You do what you need to do. I can hang out and have a coffee while you finish up, and then I'm yours to do whatever you need me to do tonight. We can have dinner with just the two of us tomorrow or the next day. No worries."
"Whatever I need you to do, huh? I'll have to think of something," Micky considered, standing up and moving closer to Nick, leaning over. "Or at least think of a way to give you a proper thank you."
"That sounds very promising. You should find time to do that this afternoon."
"I don't think that'll be conducive to productivity, Nicholas," Micky admonished.
"Maybe I'm a little more interested in being a distraction that I let on." Nick grinned. Micky rolled her eyes with a sigh.
"This sucks, but I have to go," she said.
"I'll be right here. Just text me when you're done."
One more quick kiss, and Micky had to be on the move again. Leaving him felt like leaving part of herself behind.
Applause rolled forward from the audience followed by the rippling murmur of the crowd—taxi arrangements, dinner plans, and sighs of relief from the staff, especially Micky and Taryn. Micky stood stage side, shaking the hands of the executives and accepting their compliments on how well the two-day event had gone.
Over the shoulder of the company's chief technology officer, Micky could see Taryn high-fiving the production crew on the stand at the back of the room. She delivered a few more back slaps and efforts to extend credit for the event to all of the people involved before winding her way to the back.
On her way, she spotted Tony Harcourt, the co-worker from the Chicago office through whom she'd met Eric. Micky saw him a few times in their workroom, but they hadn't spoken about anything other than work. The evening's plan included everyone hitting the town together to celebrate wrapping the show.
Tony caught Micky's eye over the shoulder of a short, stocky man in a suit that Micky didn't recognize. Micky watched him put out his right hand for a handshake and do a swim move to make any football player proud. Tony headed her way. Micky ran her fingers through her hair and forced a smile in Tony's direction.
"Hey, Micky. You going out with everybody later? We should catch up." A shift in the exiting crowd pushed him closer to her. Micky stepped backward.
"I have some friends in town, but I don't know what we have planned. I'll be at the team dinner though," Micky explaine
d.
"Perfect. I can't wait to see you tonight then." Tony's eyebrows raised.
Micky kept the frozen smile on her face, her blood pressure rising. Even though she didn't blame him for Eric's behavior, Tony had never told her that Eric had a wife. She examined Tony's expensive suit and easy way with partners and customers. Charm city. Typical sales guy. It wasn't his fault, but his laissez-faire silence on Eric's marital status didn't recommend his character. The idea of a personal pow-wow with Tony spawned a tension headache that crept up from her clenched jaw.
A flash of motion redirected her attention. Taryn waved at her wildly from the audio control center at the back of the room. Escaping posed much less threat to her career than cursing out the head of sales operations.
"Sorry, Tony. I need to take care of a minor emergency before it becomes major. We'll talk at dinner." Micky walked past him as he sent a response trailing after her.
Dodging business suits, Micky exhaled loudly when she reached Taryn.
"What's up?" Micky asked.
"Nothing. Everything went off brilliantly. The event company is directing everyone out and has plans for teardown. I have the admins packing up the things we need. We're done. I just figured you didn't want to stand there and talk to Tony. That guy is so creepy."
"Thank you! I'm this close to breaking into 'Wind Beneath My Wings' from Beaches," Micky said, hugging her friend.
"Let's get out of here."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"Taryn knows how to plan a celebration. That's for sure," Nick noted.
"It's her gift," Micky answered. She tipped her head against the high-backed booth, twirling the stem of a champagne glass in her fingers. The low, red lights of the bar played on her shining brown curls. He'd never seen her so relaxed. The end of the project did wonders for her mood.
"You look happy," he commented.
"I am ecstatic," she said, grinning.
A small group of the event organizers including Taryn and Micky, their boss Ben, and a handful of others clustered around a group of reserved tables at the high-rise hotel bar down the street from the Palais des Congrès. The minute Nick stepped off the elevator, he encountered a sweeping view of the city and stylish Europeans downing cocktails. Happy hour might be an American concept, but the international crowd adopted it well.
Every time Nick considered how far he'd come in his life, he squeezed his eyes shut, half expecting that when he reopened them, he'd be back in the small east Dallas house where he grew up. Instead, he popped his eyes open this time and Paris stretching down to the Eiffel Tower, which now sparkled every hour on the hour.
"Are you getting sleepy? It's well past bedtime in Dallas." Micky watched him with concern.
"No. I'm wide awake. Sometimes I can't believe where I am. I do a double take."
"I know. It's unbelievable." She rubbed his knee and squeezed it, sending shockwaves up his thigh. "Have I told you how glad I am that your here? When I saw you in the lobby, I thought I was dreaming. It's nice to have someone to share all this with."
Nick hoped the crimson bar light would hide his blush. He thought of why he was supposed to be in Paris and the information his boss expected him to get. None of that mattered to him anymore. However he got here, Nick knew this is where he belonged. Still, guilt nagged at him.
"You have Taryn," he pointed out.
"That's not the same thing. Besides, she has Jeff. If it weren't for you, I'd be the weirdest third wheel ever on their romantic Parisian getaway. Being with you is the perfect cover for my singleness."
"Like a beard." Nick laughed, thinking of what the role he almost played in Vivienne's life. Micky narrowed her amber eyes.
"Kind of. Not exactly. I'm fairly certain that I'm straight," she advised.
"I may ask for proof of that later," Nick joked. Micky laughed.
"Hmm. We'll have to see about that. I owe you a more private thank you. For now, sorry, but I need to squeeze out and go to the restroom." Micky scooted out of their booth.
"Sure. Do you want anything? I may order some appetizers."
"Sounds good. Surprise me. I do think I'm ready to switch to something besides the company champagne. A martini?"
"Slightly dirty. I'm on it."
He flagged down a waiter and ordered some small plates and a couple of drinks. He noticed Taryn and Jeff dancing to the jazz that filtered through the noise of the crowd. There was no dance floor—just a spot in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, thirty four floors above the city, where they could sway to the music. That's what a fiancée should look like, Nick thought. Utterly in love.
A few minutes later, Micky came back around the corner, only to be waylaid by one of her co-workers. The sharp-dressed man reached out as she passed his table and touched Micky's arm. As she turned, Nick could see tension seeping back into her shoulders. Who was this guy? Nick didn't want to cause a scene. Even though the cocktails might lead you to believe otherwise, she was still on the job. However, the guy had a drunken veil over his eyes and a nasty smirk.
Nick thought that smile begged to be wiped off his face. He stood up and walked over to the other table.
"Our food should be here in a minute, Micky." Nick draped his arm over her shoulders and flicked his gaze over the other man. "I haven't met you yet."
"No, we haven't met. I'm Tony Harcourt. I've worked with Micky for a few years now. We've had some good times." Nick gritted his teeth, and the guy laughed. "Not like that. Not me anyway. She used to date my friend, Eric. He misses her a bunch—let me tell you. Take her back in a heartbeat now that he's divorced."
Nick watched Micky's face fall. Eric had to be the asshole she dated before. He'd been married. Micky didn't have to tell him. Nick knew that Micky couldn't have known her boyfriend had a wife. It did explain why she was so suspicious of him when they met and how angry she got when she'd thought he was engaged. Nick looked at the other people seated at the table. They were deep in another conversation, and with the noise of the bar, they likely didn't hear what the guy said.
"I didn't know that that he had a wife, though, did I, Tony? Someone introduced him to me as single. Who was that?" Micky tapped her chin in faux contemplation. "Oh, yeah, that was you. So, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut."
Tony smirked again. "He still talks about you all the time, you know. But I guess he's been replaced. Lucky you. I've heard some very interesting stories."
Micky shot the guy daggers, but said nothing. Nick pasted a smile on his face and took a step toward Tony.
"Unless you want to be telling a very interesting story about picking yourself up off a barroom floor in Paris, I'd keep your voice down and change the topic. Micky's personal life is none of your concern. Do you like sexual harassment suits? Micky didn't get a chance to mention that I'm an attorney did she?"
Micky grabbed Nick by the elbow. "I'm sure Tony realizes that he's overstepped. Maybe you should take a breather, Tony. Get a glass of water or some coffee."
"Fine. Look. You know I didn't mean anything. I'm just joking around with you," Tony said, meekly.
Joking? The guy was an ass. He almost said as much, but Micky pulled him away. They got back to their table, and she collapsed into the booth. The stricken look on her face angered him. How dare this guy bring up some sad chapter in her personal life at a work function and in front of her new boyfriend. Nick's brain halted at the thought of it, but that's what he was becoming. Her boyfriend. He sat down next to her and put his arm back around her shoulders.
"That guy needs to learn his drink limits. He's got a big mouth," Nick said, gently rubbing her shoulder.
"I…This is so embarrassing. I met Eric through Tony when he was visiting from Chicago. I didn't know he was married. I swear. Not until I got this horrible phone call from his wife. I broke up with him right away. I am not that kind of woman. I would never do anything like that. Although I guess I did." The words poured out of her in fits.
"I know you're not that kind
of person. I get it. Look at me, Micky." She turned her teary eyes on him. "Nothing that idiot says makes even the slightest bit of difference to me."
"We were planning a trip to Europe when I found out. I had rented a villa in Italy and everything. Now he's on the verge of ruining another trip for me."
"What's ruined? Nothing. We've all had relationships fall apart. Hell, I almost married my mistake," he said. The corners of Micky's mouth turned up into a sheepish smile.
"That would have been difficult for me to do since he already had a wife."
"One thing Tony said was totally right." Nick stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I am a lucky guy. Beautiful woman. Beautiful city. And it appears we're about to have beautiful food and a couple of very pricey drinks."
Nick gave her a peck on the cheek and leaned back to take in the view. The waiter arrived, and Micky picked up her drink.
"Let's toast," she said. Nick grabbed his scotch.
"What do you want to toast?"
"New beginnings," she said, lifting her glass.
"To new beginnings."
Nick clinked her glass in full support of moving on and focusing on the future.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The couples went their separate ways after the work farewell. Taryn and Jeff wanted a walk along the river. Micky couldn't get enough of seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, so she and Nick walked toward it.
The weather had turned cold and damp into the evening. Micky huddled with Nick, crossing the Champs-Elysées to another broad avenue leading up to Trocadero—the broad expanse of museums arranged facing the tower across the river. Micky enjoyed stretching her legs after the long day and unpleasant dinner. As posh as the restaurant had been, she decided her favorite Paris was outside with the bustling people and changing air.
Crossing the street behind Trocadero, the Eiffel Tower came into view between the buildings. Even before the lights danced every hour, the glow of the iron structure sent twinkling lights through the moist night air and beckoned to romantic souls.