by Nora James
“Let’s go back together,” she offered, unable to bear the thought of being away from him right now. She couldn’t possibly concentrate in class anyway, not when all she wanted was to lean her head against Paul’s shoulder and listen to the beat of his heart. No, she wasn’t spending the morning with Madame Delapaix.
“I’m allowed to miss two lessons and I’ve only skipped one so far. Well, half of one really when I got thrown out for the great crime of whispering a sentence.”
“I remember that”. He smiled cheekily. “You are a very naughty student.”
She chuckled as they made their way out of the Cordon d’Or. “Can I help with that?” she asked. The flowers looked so heavy, although Paul showed no sign of struggling and she couldn’t help but think of the power in that lean, muscular body of his.
“Non, it’s fine thank you. A gentleman would never make a lady carry something this heavy, especially not her own flowers. Nor would a peasant Frenchman like me.” He grinned at her. “Besides, it’s an awkward shape. It would be too difficult to share the load.”
“Well I’ll have to lighten it a little this way, then.” She plucked a madeleine out of the arrangement and bit into it, sighing with delight.
Paul watched with obvious amusement. “At least I know I can give you the pleasure of my food.”
Elise burst into laughter. She was certain there were many more incredible sensations he could give her if she’d let him. And she wanted to experience them now, oh how she wanted to! But she’d be going home in just a few weeks and she probably wouldn’t have enough money to come back to France for a very long time. Could she deal with a brief relationship that would be over in a flash? Or would it hurt too much? She wasn’t sure. It was a sobering thought and she wrestled with it for a moment.
“Is everything OK?” asked Paul as they walked back towards the Café des Amoureux, along the banks of the river Seine.
Elise realised he must have felt the change in her mood. “I’m fine.”
“Fine but not as happy as a few minutes ago. I think you might be telling yourself there’s not much time left.”
She was amazed at how perceptive he was. Steve had never been like that. She’d had to repeat things over and over and even then he barely listened, too focused on himself to really care.
She forced a smile. “Can you read everyone’s mind or is it just mine?”
“If I could read everyone’s I’d be quite a bit richer. I’d make some great business decisions, maybe even sell a few State secrets.” He stopped and turned to Elise. “If there’s one thing I’m terrible at, it’s reading minds. It’s just that I was thinking the same. I wish we had more time ahead of us.”
They walked in silence, Elise wanting to hold Paul’s hand but it was taken by the floral arrangement. She felt comfortable with him even without talking and she hoped that he did, too. After a while, she asked about his little girl. “Tell me about your daughter.”
His face lit up with the love of a doting father. “Christine is five. She’s beautiful and smart and modest. Just like me, really.” He laughed. “She’s very good at drawing. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Elise put her hand on his arm and let it rest there for a second, feeling his warmth, enjoying his closeness. She was glad Paul was opening up to her. It felt so special.
“I could never hurt her. I couldn’t introduce a woman to Christine as my girlfriend unless it was someone I could trust in every way, someone who was going to stay. She’s already lost a mother.”
“I understand. I’d do the same. I think it’s lovely the way you care so strongly about Christine.” She felt a twinge of disappointment but it was true, she understood perfectly.
He nodded his approval. “Do you like children?” he asked.
“I love children. I wish I had one or two of my own. It didn’t work out with my ex.” But she hoped in her heart that it wasn’t too late.
“Didn’t work out with, uh, the man who was telling you he loved you on the phone? He was very loud, you know. Is he your ex?”
She rubbed her nose, a little embarrassed that Paul had heard that. “Yes, Steve. We were married but we’ve been divorced for over a year and separated a year before that. He has quite a few problems, including money problems, and thinks I’m the solution. He says he loves me whenever he needs more cash.”
Paul grunted. “I can relate to that. Nicole is much the same. She drinks and gambles. It was hell. Do you still love Steve?”
“Love Steve?” She shook her head so hard she thought she heard her neck click. “No! I haven’t for a very long time. And he doesn’t love me either. I’m sure of it. He just keeps trying to use me.” She noticed Paul was biting his lip. “You believe me, don’t you?”
He let out a long breath that told of his relief. “I do. I believe you.” He smiled and she could tell from the kindness and joy in his eyes that he really did.
They reached the Café des Amoureux and Paul carried the bouquet up to Elise’s apartment for her. He stopped in front of her door, placing the flowers on the wooden floor.
“Well, here we are,” he said. He clasped his hands awkwardly before finding a spot for them on his hips and Elise thought he might be wondering what to do next.
“Thank you so much, Paul, for these gorgeous, gorgeous flowers and the cakes, and more than anything your beautiful message. All the trouble you went to… No one’s ever done anything this romantic for me.”
His eyes widened. “Really? You deserve so much more!”
She smiled, truly grateful, and they both shuffled their feet around a little.
“I’ll get back to work, then,” he said finally, although he failed to move an inch.
“Yes, I’d better let you go. They must be waiting for you.”
“Actually Julie is replacing me. She told me to take all the time I needed.”
“She’s so nice, isn’t she?”
He nodded. “Shall I put it inside for you?” he asked, looking away.
She gasped, her mouth gaping. “I beg your pardon?” she managed after a while, unable to hide her shock. “Put it inside?” That was simply way too forward, even making allowance for the fact that Paul was French and everything that entailed.
Paul pointed to the floral arrangement. “The roses, inside your apartment.”
“The roses, of course!” She felt the heat in her cheeks and turned away to hide that she was blushing, but Paul, chuckling, put his hand on her shoulder and soon they were laughing together.
“You think we are all sex maniacs in France, huh?”
She shrugged, giggling albeit still a little embarrassed, and opened the door.
He found the best place for the gigantic bouquet—her dining table—and the small polished top disappeared beneath the foliage.
“You are right,” he said, adjusting the flowers so they sat in the centre. “We are sex maniacs, but we are refined ones.”
He slowly moved over to her, gently held her chin with the tip of his fingers and his soft lips found hers. His kiss was deeper than before and the ache of desire it sent through her body was the sweetest torture she’d ever experienced.
She kissed him back slowly, tenderly, and hoped the moment would never end.
Chapter 20
Paul gently pulled Elise’s door shut and rested against the wall for an instant, trying to regain his composure before going back to work. His heart was still pounding against his chest and all he could think about was Elise’s body—with the usual consequences that had for a man.
He breathed in, trying to distance himself from the out-of-this-world experience he’d just had. He purposely thought of mundane matters: what would need doing next at the café at this time of the day, what steps he should take to grow the business, whether he ought to order new supplies. None of it worked. Even visualising Madame Delapaix had minimal effect on his body, so strong was his desire for Elise.
It was a shame he was too far from home or he
would have taken an icy cold shower. He climbed down the first few steps, a hand firmly pressed against his groin. He could understand that Elise didn’t want to take things any further. After all, she’d be going home soon and Paul could offer her nothing more than a fling. How could he blame her for wanting a real relationship? Still, he couldn’t help feeling that they kept dancing around each other when all they had to do was take each other by the hand and dance together.
Suddenly Elise’s door opened again and she poked out her head.
“Paul? I forgot something.”
He raced back up and the thought crossed his mind that she might have changed hers. He didn’t dare hope that, though, and simply tried not to think. He stood close to her, so close he could smell that intoxicating mix of Elise’s skin and perfume that was his Nirvana.
All of a sudden he felt a hand grab his shirt and tug at it and he found himself back in her apartment, the door shut on the rest of the world. There was something strong and fiery in Elise’s eyes now that aroused him even more.
“I forgot what a wise woman once said to me,” she whispered.
“What’s that?” he asked, ever so grateful to the woman for her wisdom.
“Too much reasoning and you’ll let life pass you by.”
Elise’s hands caressed his neck, his chest, and then they ventured down to his hips. He shuddered. The urge in him was maddening. He wanted her, needed her now like he’d never needed a woman before, but he had to be certain that this was right for her.
“Are you sure, Elise? You said it yourself, you’ll be gone soon.”
His chest tightened as he repeated the words. Yes, she’d be gone far too soon. How he would cope with it, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wasn’t looking forward to it.
She blinked, her long eyelashes sweeping the top of her cheeks. “You don’t want this?”
He let out a cry. How could she think that? He felt like he was about to self-combust. And although he tried his best not to contemplate her departure, or picture how broken it would leave him, even one day, hell even ten minutes with Elise would be worth the pain of separation. It would be worth all the pain in the world.
He ran his fingers down her shoulders and let his hands come to rest in the small of her back. “I want you more than you can imagine.”
She lifted her mouth towards his and he took her offering, kissing her with fervour. His hands wandered down her dress. Sighing with pleasure he felt her soft, rounded breasts. He tried to undo her buttons but there were so many of them, tiny, slippery rebellious little things that refused to leave their lace buttonholes. Why did women buy the most impractical clothes? For a moment he thought of tearing it off her, ripping it to shreds to reveal her beauty.
“Here,” she said, slipping the frock over her head like a jumper. “Those buttons are impossible. I always have trouble with them.”
He gasped at the sight of her in her underwear, her creamy skin, her shapely legs and curves to die for. She was beautiful, even more than he’d imagined. She was perfect in every way, from the imperceptible shadow of a vein that pulsated on her temple to the feather-like scar on her thigh. He loved everything, every bit of her and wanted to kiss her everywhere over and over.
He took a step forward to do just that and his phone rang. It was probably a supplier calling to organise a delivery of groceries, or the winery—yes, he’d placed an order the other day. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want anyone or anything to spoil this moment. He searched his back pocket for the offending mobile phone, turned it off without even looking at the number, and slid it onto the bedside cabinet.
“Sorry about that.”
She smiled and her eyes invited him to more delights. He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying its silkiness, and then lifted her up in his arms and placed her on the bed.
She laughed. “I feel like a princess.”
“You are. The most beautiful princess to ever walk the Earth.”
He was grateful that she’d closed the curtains. They were in their own special cocoon of love, their very own place, and if the world outside crumbled it wouldn’t matter right now. This moment was about Elise and him.
He took off his shirt, rolled it into a ball and threw it on the floor. And then jumped when he heard the loud knock on the door. He looked at Elise. She shook her head, eyes wide with surprise. For an instant he held his breath, hoping the person on the other side of the door would go away. Elise propped herself up on her elbows.
Another knock, frantic now, and Michel’s voice broke the silence as he called out to them. “Paul? Paul? Vite!”
Paul jumped to his feet, scooping his shirt off the floor, and opened the door a crack. Michel stood there with red cheeks, beads of sweat on his brow and panic written all over his face.
“What’s wrong?” Elise came to the door after slipping on her dress.
“Madame Brouard!” said Michel, out of breath. “Une crise cardiaque!”
Elise’s eyes widened. “Cardiac? A heart problem?”
The three of them shot down the stairs, Paul leading the way. He turned to Elise and mouthed the words “I’m sorry.”
It was the worst possible timing for him and Elise, although a few minutes later might have been even more embarrassing. But people didn’t time heart attacks and all that really mattered right now was Julie. He hoped to God she was going to be all right.
He berated himself for not being there, though. The few minutes it would take him to get downstairs and come to her aid might cost her her life. He’d trained in first aid when he’d become a father, and had done a couple of refresher courses, but he knew that no one else had in the café. In fact, Michel had made fun of him about it, telling him he’d turned into a mother hen. Paul wondered how his co-worker felt now.
He raced through the café, Elise by his side. As he glanced at her he saw the compassion in her eyes and felt thankful she was there. He turned around and chubby Michel, red and gasping for air, pointed to the kitchen door. Paul flung it open with such force it hit the wall behind it and he had to press his hand against it to stop it from bouncing all the way back and hitting him in the face.
He flinched at the sight of Julie on the kitchen floor. It made him nauseous to see her lying there spread-eagle as white as a sheet with half her body under the table.
Pépette was just as pale and stood glued to the wall, in apparent shock. “Elle vient de tomber!”
“She only just fell,” said Paul, translating for Elise’s benefit, and also to tell himself that he might not be too late.
He quickly kneeled and gasped with horror when he saw the pool of blood under her head. He examined her as best he could and found a cut to her temple. She must have banged it when she fell.
“She’s got a cut to the head. We need to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Someone get a clean tea towel from the cupboard under the sink.”
He checked for a pulse, but if there was one it was so faint he couldn’t feel it. He wanted to scream. He felt his heart racing in his chest. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow it! He glanced at Elise who approached with the tea towel. Just seeing her calmed him enough. He could carry on now. He took a deep breath and imagined a switch in his mind, one that turned him into an emotionless robot, and saw himself flicking it.
Elise held the cloth to Julie’s cut and Paul started CPR, manually pumping Julie’s heart to keep her alive. He counted out loud as he pressed her chest, not just to keep track of what he was doing, but to stop his mind from wandering to the terrible future that might lie ahead for Julie.
“Have you called an ambulance, Michel?” Elise asked. “L’ambulance?” she said in her best French accent.
“Oui, oui,” answered Michel, nodding and checking his watch.
A siren sounded and within moments Paul felt a confident hand on his back. He turned to see a man in a fluorescent vest, bending down to look at Julie with a quiet smile on his face. The man took over from Paul and wi
th the help of another ambulance officer Julie was raced out on a stretcher. Paul and Elise followed close behind.
Paul reached for Elise’s hand and squeezed it gently as the men prepared to slide Julie into the back of the ambulance. He was so grateful for her help and the very fact that she was there in such a difficult moment that he wrapped his arm around her and drew her near. As he kissed her on the forehead, a kiss of comfort and hope, he heard a familiar chuckle.
He looked up and saw that Julie had regained consciousness.
“It took me nearly dying for the two of you to sort out your problems,” she managed, her voice croaky.
“Julie!” Elise exclaimed. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”
“So am I,” said Paul. “You have no idea. You are not allowed to do that to us. It’s forbidden, do you understand? We all nearly had a heart attack too.”
Julie smiled and tried to say something but she must have been too weak, and in any event the ambulance workers shushed her and she had to keep her peace.
“Can we go with her?” Elise watched the officer strap Julie in for the ride.
He must have understood English because he answered, albeit in French. “Seulement la famille, Madame.”
“Only family,” said Paul, in case Elise hadn’t grasped the answer. He and Julie were as close as any family members could be, closer than many blood relatives ever were, but that didn’t count. It didn’t seem fair. He groaned as he rubbed the painful knot that had formed between his shoulders.
One man jumped out of the back of the ambulance and gave Paul the thumbs up. “Well done. She’s stabilising nicely. You saved her life.”
It was such a relief that Paul let out his breath. Julie might not be completely out of the woods yet—he wasn’t naïve enough to think it was all over—but it was a big step in the right direction. He just hoped that he wasn’t the cause of her heart attack in the first place. Maybe she couldn’t cope with the demands of a busy café anymore. Maybe if he’d been working and she’d been resting she wouldn’t be heading off to hospital today. He bit his lip as if gnawing at it could destroy the guilt that he felt.