by Kris Jayne
"Point taken."
"Tomorrow, we can do our own thing if you want. I wouldn't mind relaxing, maybe go through a local market and do some wandering."
"That would be perfect."
Nick took Micky's hand in his and escorted her to the children's gift store—filled with games, puzzles, figurines, and sundry knick knacks. Alice and Natalie would love all of it. Micky pulled away and went to a display with elaborate art sets.
"Do they draw? I would have loved this when I was a kid," she exclaimed.
"They do. Alice has started writing in her private diary with fancy pens. Maybe something like this." Nick held up a set of colored pens.
"Or this. It's a set that teaches you how to do calligraphy. It might be too advanced for Natalie. You could get her a charcoal pencil set."
"Or I could get them both one of each. My sister will be happier if I don't start a gift war."
"You men love spoiling the little girls in your lives." Micky grinned.
"I spoil all the women in my life whenever I can. Tomorrow, I'll have to see what I can come up with for you."
"You're here with me. That's already pretty fantastic." Micky put the calligraphy set back on the display and held Nick's hand again. He pulled her closer and captured her mouth lightly with his. He didn't want their public display of affection to get more snickers and shouts. In the soft lighting of the store, her eyes turned golden amber. The softness of her expression flooded him with warmth. He wanted her, but he also just wanted to feel her body against his and smell her hair and the subtle scent of her mango body lotion.
"We better get moving. I want to stop and get some of those stuffed Eiffel Towers we saw in the souvenir shop, and we can't afford to be late. Taryn will not be happy. But tomorrow is all about us."
"Deal."
Micky stood on her tiptoes and gave him the lightest, sweetest kiss to ever knock a man sideways.
Chapter Forty
Unlike the day before, when the sun came up over the city, Micky and Nick threw the blankets over their heads and hid for another decadent hour. It took all the effort they could muster, but eventually, the thrill of another day in Paris prodded them to drag themselves out of bed.
Taryn and Jeff had another strict agenda of museums and landmarks to visit. Well, Taryn did. Jeff indulged her and followed along. Micky wanted a more leisurely day, which suited Nick fine.
"Let's explore the neighborhood." Micky suggested.
They walked all around the left bank neighborhoods, ambling through the Sunday morning market at Raspail and Luxembourg Gardens before circling back through the area around the Sorbonne to the botanical gardens. Hours on their feet put them in search of a comfortable spot for lunch on the Ile Saint-Louis—the tiny island in the middle of the Seine.
Throughout the pleasant morning, Nick tried to ignore the repeated buzzing of his phone. Now stretching his tired legs out and enjoying an espresso after lunch, he felt it vibrate again and pulled it from the inside pocket of his coat. It was Bob Stratford. There was no point in answering. He knew what Bob wanted. Nick didn't have an update and wouldn't have an update.
"Someone's trying to get ahold of you. Maybe you should answer it," Micky said as the phone buzzed again in his hand. "Who is it?"
Nick didn't have it in him to lie. "My boss."
"Then, you should definitely answer it. It's fine. I don't mind."
The buzzing had stopped, but an alert came up that Bob had left him a voicemail.
"Nope. I'm on vacation. I'll answer him later. Besides, I have to run to the bathroom." Nick dropped his phone on the table. He gave Micky a peck on the cheek before turning toward the back of the restaurant to find the toilettes.
The minute he returned to the dining room, he knew something was wrong. Micky's face was impassive, but he knew that meant she was angry. Nick reached the table and sat down.
"Can you explain why your boss is sending you a text that says, 'Any news on Azur?'" she asked. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she awaited his response.
Nick paused. The text had popped up on his locked screen. Of course, Micky would see those four words as a betrayal. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
He breathed deeply and tried again. "Let's go back to the hotel and talk about this." It would be easier to explain if he weren't teetering nervously on a tiny café chair. Plus, in private, she could yell and be mad, but then he could explain. He could make her understand that he had no intention of digging any more confidential information out of her.
"I'm not leaving this table until I get an answer," Micky demanded, her hazel eyes narrowed.
"We have a client who is interested in acquiring your company," he began.
She cut him off. "Is that why you're here? To get 'news' to help your client?" She flashed angry air quotation marks with her fingers.
"No. That's most definitely not why I'm here."
"So then, again, why would your boss send you this text?"
"That's what my boss is hoping to get from my being here."
"And why would he think that?" Micky's words were clipped and came to a snapping halt.
"I didn't know when I started dating you that this client was interested in your company. Things just fell out that way. With the announcement that Azur was partnering with Midsummer, the client was worried that this would drive up the price or introduce a rival bid. My partner wanted me to get more information. But that's not why I'm here. I wanted to come to see you. It's just with this request that I got the time off."
"How do they even know that I work for Azur?"
"I mentioned that I had a friend at the company."
"A friend you could drill for information. Is that what you were doing? All those times you asked about what was going on with me at work." Micky's shoulders fell and she closed her eyes for a moment. Her voice dropped to a rage-filled whisper. "Would you really fuck me just to get ahead at work?"
"No, no! God, Micky, that's not what happened. It's just a coincidence that I met you, and we started dating and then this client told us he wanted to evaluate your company as an acquisition target. When I met you, my only intention was to be with you. Really be with you."
"So, you're telling me you never thought you'd kill two birds with one stone and get dirt out of me while getting a little action."
Nick watched as tears began to fill her eyes. He grabbed her hands." I'm not going to lie to you. You said a couple of things that I mentioned to my client, but it was no different than if I'd heard relevant information from anywhere else. I didn't intend to pump you for information."
She rolled her eyes. "No. You pumped me for something else."
With that, she stood and strode out of the restaurant, leaving Nick to throw a bundle of euros on the table before coming after her. Out in the cool air, the rush of people kept Nick two steps behind Micky until they got to the crosswalk at the end of the block. Nick touched Micky's arm, which she snatched away. The light turned green, and he followed her in silence across the street. Micky stormed on and then whirled around to face him. They stepped to the side as a gaggle of people pushed past them.
"I cannot believe you used me like this." Tears poured down her cheeks.
"I didn't. I didn't use you. I knew when I came here that I wouldn't ask you anything about work. Have I asked you anything? Hell, I paid for my own ticket, and I took vacation. I'm not here because of the firm. I'm here for you."
"Jesus. You actually think that's true. Don't you see? It doesn't matter if you ask me anything. You're still using our relationship or whatever this is to you. You're letting your boss think that you can get information out of me so that you can still look good and get ahead. Why else is he asking you what you've found out?"
"That's not why I came," Nick said, closing the distance between them and gripping her heavy wool coat at the shoulders.
"It doesn't have to be," Micky said. She pushed against his chest to separate them. "I need you to leave me alone.
Go back to the hotel or do whatever. I need to not look at you."
Nick dropped his hands and was left alone on the sidewalk not knowing what he would do if she left him for good.
Micky started toward the hotel and then stopped. She was in Paris. She wasn't going to let another shitty guy drive her indoors. The tears kept falling, and Micky kept walking faster and faster. The stark winter beauty of the Tuileries passed in a blur until she reached a busy roadway with the Seine in her sights. Crossing the road, Micky hustled and found herself on a bridge that took her to the left bank and toward the neighborhood near their hotel.
Her surroundings came into focus. She'd wandered onto the Pont des Arts, the bridge in Paris famously covered in love locks. Couples from all over the world came here to affix a padlock with their names on it to signal their love to the world. Perfect. She'd heard the city was going to cut them all down because it was becoming an unsightly mess. She supposed nothing lasted forever regardless of your intentions. You think you've locked something in and poof. Someone comes by with a bolt cutter and snaps your love in two.
Nick didn't have to use the "L" word. What game was he playing with her? All of this over a business deal?
On some level, Nick must have meant what he said. He must have some genuine feelings for her. She hadn't been that wrong again. Had she?
Micky groaned, startling a man walking by her. He said something to her in French, but in her state of mind, she couldn't make it out. He gave her a classic French shrug and kept walking. On the other side of the bridge, a row of tents with items for sale ran parallel to the river. Ignoring the persistent ringing and pinging of her phone, she turned right and surveyed the books, art, and cheap souvenirs. A woman bumped into her, and Micky clutched her purse. The last thing she needed was to get robbed. Emotionally, she already had been. Could she file a police report for a broken heart? Maybe she could in France.
Micky continued her meandering across the street and past the turnoff for her hotel until she reached the broad Boulevard Saint-Germain. The historic café Les Deux Magots stood on the corner, but she decided to find a different spot to have a coffee and regroup.
Soon after sitting inside a café down the block, her phone vibrated. This time, instead of seeing Nick's name on the screen, she saw her mother's. Micky ran her finger down the side of her phone and thought about tapping the red on-screen button to send the call to voicemail, but didn't.
"Mom, hi," Micky said, keeping her voice low so she didn't become the obnoxious American on her phone.
"Hi, honey, I thought I'd call to see how your week went. Are you enjoying Paris?"
Micky swallowed to the keep the lump in her throat from taking root. She would not cry while living her dream of sitting with a coffee at a Parisian café.
"The event went off without any serious snafus. And, Paris is wonderful, Mom. We went to the Louvre today."
"You and Taryn?"
"Yeah, and her fiancé and Nick. I told you about Nick. He surprised me by coming to France."
"Really? That's quite a dashing maneuver. You might hang on to him, dear."
"I might not."
"Did you have a fight?"
"That doesn't even begin to cover it," Micky said, then told her mother an abbreviated version of what had happened.
"I know it's upsetting, but he flew all that way to see you. That has to count for something. You can't begrudge a man his ambition. Drive is what makes men useful."
"He lied to me, Mom," Micky snapped, exasperated.
"He's a man, sweetie. As far as lies go, trust me, it could be much worse. The way you've talked about him, he sounded like quite a catch. Let him make it up to you," her mother advised. "The best part of a relationship is when they try to right a wrong."
Micky had suspected a talk with her mother would head this direction. Her mother didn't put much stock in men for their honesty or loyalty—only for their attention to her.
"This isn't helping, mother."
"I'm sorry, honey. I think what he did was terrible. And you have every right to be upset, but you know, it doesn't mean that he doesn't really care about you. Isn't that good news?"
"It would be if it were true. Look, I really need to go, okay? I'll call you when I get back to Dallas."
After hanging up with her mother, Micky saw the numerous notifications from Nick. Calling her and texting her a dozen apologies didn't change her mood. Then, she noticed she'd also gotten a text from Taryn, who wanted to know where they wanted to go for dinner. Micky threw her face into her palm. She'd have to tell her friend eventually. Having to relay yet another sad tale made Micky furious with Nick all over again. She could feel her friend's inevitable pity already nipping at her.
Rather than address then question of dinner, Micky texted to ask where they were and suggested they meet back at the hotel. She had no idea where Nick had gone, but a dinner with him was out of the question. For the first time in a week, she wished she were home. At home, she could pick up Chinese takeout and hide in her house. The hotel had no room service. France took delight in forcing its visitors out of their hotels. All Micky wanted to do was avoid the cruelty of socialization.
A quick exchange of texts helped them decide to meet in the hotel lobby in an hour. Taryn and Jeff still assumed she and Nick were together. Taryn would let them know they were down for a threesome in an hour.
Chapter Forty-One
Nick spotted Micky the minute she stepped into the hotel lobby and hustled to catch her.
"I figured if I waited here long enough, you'd be back." He scrutinized her face, searching for a clue that would unleash her forgiveness.
"Good bet."
"I just want to talk. Please," he begged.
"Not here," she said, pulling him toward the elevator.
They rode up to their floor in silence. Nick ran through every possible thing he could say to her. He could feel her heart slamming shut on him. If he didn't make an impact on her now, he might never see her again once they got home. Nick swiped his key to open the door and gestured for Micky to enter first. She thrust her shoulders back as if preparing herself for battle.
"Have a seat," he said, planting himself on the bed.
"I'll stand, thanks."
Nick noted the defiant lift in her chin and laughed to himself. This wasn't going to be easy, mainly because he might keep getting distracted by how sexy she looked when she was angry. She'd been angry a lot since they'd met. It had mostly been his fault. Now, he needed to set everything straight so, hopefully, they'd just be left with their undeniable attraction.
"I made a mistake," he began. Micky said nothing. "When my client brought the Azur deal to me, I should never have gotten you mixed up in that. I never should have asked you any questions or used anything I learned from you as your…friend, lover, boyfriend to get a leg up at work. And believe or not, I knew that before this trip. I'm not here for work. I'm here for you. I swear."
Micky rolled her eyes heavenward. "Your boss doesn't seem to know that. Does he know that you're sleeping with your inside informant."
"That's not what you are to me."
"What exactly did you learn from me, by the way? I don't think I ever told you anything except how much this event was kicking our asses. You did all of this, and you've got nothing."
Nick sighed. "Not exactly. I saw one thing. At the restaurant when I ran into you and Taryn, I saw a file on your computer. It said, 'Midsummer Announcement.' I took a picture of it. I'm not proud of that, but—"
"Fuck. Are you kidding me? That was my private business. My business' private business. If it got out that I let something like that leak, I could get fired, Nick."
Nick jumped up from the bed. "I didn't show anyone what I saw. I only pushed my client to move faster and reminded him that there were other companies looking to either invest in or acquire your company. I would never have implicated you."
"So, you never mentioned Midsummer?"
"I never exclusiv
ely mentioned Midsummer. I mentioned a list of possible suitors. I'd already heard of Midsummer, so it's not like anyone could think that the first time I got the idea was from you." Nick spoke furiously, knowing that this was one point he couldn't let Micky misunderstand. She took her job seriously. She'd been very careful about what she'd said to him, but still, just their being together meant that he'd gotten information that he shouldn't have. Nick suddenly felt nauseated.
"It doesn't matter! You used me, Nick. Didn't that matter to you at all when you allegedly care about me oh, so very much?" Micky screamed. She bit hard on her trembling lip. He watched her struggling not to cry and recognized the signs of wounded pride.
"I do care about you. All I want to do is to show you how much I care about you."
He stepped toward her and took her face in his hands. Nick descended on her mouth like a thirsty man drinking from a spring.
If she'd resisted at all, he would have pulled back. Instead, her mouth opened to his, and he tentatively probed her tongue with his own, waiting for her reaction. Nick's attentions drew a soft moan from her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until he felt the tension drain from her limbs. Her body softened as parts of him hardened. He swept his hands down her back to cup the roundness of her ass in his palms. Nick lost his breath and his mind in the kiss, until he felt Micky stiffen again and pull away.
Micky staggered backward, twisting out of Nick's arms. She couldn't afford to lose herself in this man. He could have taken everything from her—her job, her heart, and any trust in men she could ever muster again. Even Eric left her with the cold comfort of her career.
"You can't tell me that you don't feel that. That is real." Arousal glowed in his eyes. Micky flushed and brought her hands to her eyes to shield herself from that look.
"You think because we're good together in bed I should believe that you have feelings for me? Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not that naïve," Micky said, regaining her breath.