Pampered in Paris (Passport to Love)
1. Anne
Chapter 1
Anne
It’s difficult to believe that I’m in Paris, let alone that I’ve been here for a week, attending a pastry conference with Violet Barlow, the head pastry chef and my boss at Sprinkles Bakery I feel tongue-tied.
“ Tu veux que je t'achète une nouvelle patisserie? ” His deep voice rolls over me and makes me feel like a teenager with a crush. I can’t think of a reply.
“I’m sorry, do you speak English by chance?” I finally say as I take the pastry from his hands. I’ll throw it away nearby. He smiles at me and his eyes seem to sparkle.
“Yes, I speak English. I’ll start over.” He reaches his hand out, and I shake it. “My name is Alexandre, and I’m sincerely sorry for bumping into you. I wasn’t paying attention. I’d like to buy you a new pastry to apologize.” His accent makes his w’s sound breathy and his r’s throatier.
“I’m Anne, and that’s okay. You don’t have to do that. It was an accident.”
His eyes remind me of Vincent van Gogh artwork. They’re a dark blue, with almost a dash of purple, like the irises van Gogh painted. “How about lunch then?”
“I actually have a tour scheduled in a bit.” I bite my bottom lip out of habit. I know I shouldn’t go out with a guy I’ve just met, but at the same time this trip is all about new experiences.
And what’s a better Parisian experience than a date with a cute French guy?
“How about dinner then? I won’t take no for an answer. I’m the head chef at a place over in the Latin Quarter. My restaurant is called Le Petit Poisson . I’ll give you a meal on the house.” He pulls out his phone and pulls up the address to show me.
I feel as though I’m being pulled in different directions, but I decide to take the leap. Besides, it’s only dinner. It’s a public spot with no attachments afterwards.
“I suppose I need to eat dinner at some point.” I take my phone out and copy the address into my notes app. “I can be there at seven tonight.”
“ Parfait !” he exclaims as he takes one of my hands in his and gently kisses it. “Until tonight then, mon chérie .” And then he leaves.
If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. The heat from my cheeks travels south as I watch him stroll away. If I thought his face was attractive, watching him leave is even better. All I’ll be able to think about today is his ass in those jeans.
There is no way I’ll be able to focus during my tour of the Musée d’Orsay later.
French is truly the language of lovers.
Alexandre
I had to leave immediately before I made even more of an embarrassment of myself. I grit my teeth as I shake my head. I didn’t even get her full name. I only have her first name: Anne. She’s the chestnut-haired goddess wrapped in a sunflower dress.
I bumped into her when I was trying to read the different names of shops on my hunt to find the place my friend sent me to grab him something for the restaurant. She looked adorably Parisienne with her tote bag full of flowers and an espresso in one hand. I wanted to kiss her cheeks and greet her properly, but when I spoke to her in French, her eyes widened, and I knew she wasn’t following. I wanted to linger, to chat with her, but I’m on a time constraint. Thus, I cut things short after she agreed to come to the restaurant.
I need to meet Fran?ois at the restaurant soon. I finally find the shop he sent me to, purchase the tiny fish he needs, and head back. I accidentally get off at the wrong metro stop. My head is full of thoughts of Anne.
Why is she in Paris?
How long will she be here?
Will I get to kiss her strawberry red lips?
Too many racing thoughts and not enough clarity right now. I walk into the restaurant and let the sounds of clanking silverware, servers chatting, and other cooks yelling in the background envelop me. This is my happy place.
Fran?ois comes out from the back, letting the swinging door to the kitchen muffle the noise.
“You’re finally back!” he shouts as he takes the wrapped fish out of my hands and claps my shoulder. Since I turned 34 in February, I’ve now known him for ten years. Unbelievable.
“My apologies. I ran into someone on the way to the shop.” I start to head to the back. I grab my chef’s coat off the hook, put it on, and start to button it up.
“Was it another cook? Or perhaps one of your ex-lovers? A new tourist babe to woo?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me as I roll my eyes. Fran?ois is happily married to the love of his life. Nonetheless, he relishes in poking fun at my dating life, or lack thereof.
“No.” I let the single syllable drawl out. “It’s no one you know.” I find my set of knives and make my way to one of the prep stations. I want to clear my head.
Fran?ois starts to ask questions but gets pulled back to the front of house by one of the hosts. I release a long sigh and let my shoulders slump. I’m not in the mood to deal with Fran?ois and his many questions, prodding into my love life.
I glance at the clock. Anne will be here in a few hours. I start to cut and dice up some onions for tonight’s main dish. I want to make sure she leaves satisfied and, ideally, in the mood for an actual date.
Now to try to avoid nosey Fran?ois for a bit.