Chapter Ten
I was still a mess from that kiss the next morning.
What had come over me? I certainly wanted to do it in the moment.
But the idea had perhaps struck me so fast that I’d not fully considered the consequences.
Now there was work to do, and I had already missed a day of it.
So I dressed sensibly in gray, braided and pinned up my hair, and then went to face Benoit on the most professional terms. Because that was the thing.
I hadn’t just kissed someone; I kissed a colleague.
Unlike any other kiss I’d ever shared, I couldn’t run away and hide from the awkwardness.
The hall was empty, and I went down, walking back through the scene of our crime in the stairwell.
I held my breath as I passed it. My heart fluttered, though that had to be because I’d been moving so quickly.
I was merely winded. I wasn’t palpitating over the thought of kissing that man.
Or anguishing at the thought of never getting to do it again.
Irregular heartbeats, excessive sweat, shortness of breath. Benoit Levin was becoming a physical ailment in my life.
There was only one logical conclusion: I needed to end whatever this little flirtation was before it went any further. If I didn’t, it could derail my whole life. I needed to tell him as soon as we had a moment alone. Before he could flirt or look at me with those blue eyes.
Benoit and Apolline were sitting in the hotel dining room by a window with a view of the promenade.
They had coffee, but hadn’t ordered yet.
He was dressed smartly in a lightweight navy blue suit.
This time, he had it paired with a blue shirt and a blue cravat that I liked.
That I’d started cataloguing his garments only strengthened my case for keeping our hands to ourselves.
I was relieved as always to have Apolline there as a buffer.
“Bonjour,” I said cheerfully, drawing their attention from the menus.
“Bonjour,” Benoit said. His eyes met mine with a curiosity that I promptly looked away from.
“Bonjour,” Apolline said.
I sat and situated myself, carefully keeping my head turned away from Benoit. He went back to his menu, I assumed from what I saw in my periphery.
“Apolline, have you been in touch with anyone from the paper?” I pretended to be deeply curious in the goings on back at the office.
But Apolline shook her head. It had been a silly question, asked because I had been silly and needed to say or think of anything besides kissing. I looked at my menu.
Apolline said, “What time are your machines coming?”
“They should be here anytime now.” Benoit put his menu down. “I told the concierge to send them up.”
“What machines?”
“I’ve borrowed a typewriter for each of us.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought as far ahead as finding a typewriter. I never imagined he’d take care of it for me. I had been so worried about kissing him and so self-absorbed that I hadn’t even thought to ask. My brain was being sabotaged by desirous chemicals of my body’s own making.
“We can’t exactly work without them.”
“No. We can’t.”
“Do you have typing to do?” He asked with an amused quirk of his brow.
“I do.”
He nodded and smiled, as if everything were right in the world. “I figured you would.”
The thoughtful bastard. Kissing me senseless and then helping me with work. I needed to end this. That kiss needed to be forgotten and never spoken of again. Making it clear that kissing had been a mistake would alleviate all of my messy, unprofessional thoughts.
Mercifully, the server came and took our orders, which were simple. Coffee, baguette, and fruit all around. Benoit ordered a side of bacon. And Apolline asked for a glass of orange juice. The server departed; Apolline and Benoit opened and began reading the day’s papers.
“I am done with Le Matin , if you haven’t seen it yet,” she said.
“Oh, yes. Merci.” I took the paper and read the front page with the deepest focus, not wanting to look at Benoit or send any other signals to him besides disinterest. I squinted a little as I read, exuding the need for no interruptions.
I didn’t even look away from my reading when the server returned with breakfast.
The melon and berries were sweet and the coffee dark and rich.
I ate and perused the paper. The news reports from China, a double suicide in Saint-Quentin-sur-Isère, and the morning editorial.
Nothing about Louise Montmorency or Antoine de Larminet in the gossip columns.
Or Charlotte Deveraux. It would be nice to know what was happening with her.
She’d been so upset that morning she left Paris.
Then Antoine, when he came looking for her, had seemed just as anguished. What a mess.
Antoine de Larminet—now there was a man with a typewriter.
Charlotte was dizzy with excitement and affection over it.
It had truly been a thoughtful and perfect gift.
Now that someone had been so thoughtful with me, I felt even worse for Charlotte.
No one had it easy. Nadine told me that she’d been running out of money, which surprised me.
I hadn’t known or even considered that. Another case in which I failed to see past myself.
Outside the window, the beach was sparsely populated at that early hour, except for a few intrepid shell collectors and families with young children to entertain. And the morning sun danced between the marching clouds and across the water, making the waves flash like coins.
“Well, I believe I’m off. I have a few pictures I want to try to get.” Apolline had finished her breakfast and was gathering her things. She was always thinking about the light, which worked best with her camera equipment only during certain times of day.
“Of course,” Benoit said, standing for Apolline. “We’ll see you at lunch?”
“Oui. à bient?t.”
She’d hardly gone when I panicked and stood as well. I wasn’t ready to be alone with him yet. “I should go too, to clear a place for the typewriter on my table.”
“Okay.” But he put a hand on my arm to stop me from leaving. “How are you this morning, darling?”
“I’m fine.”
“You seem tense.”
Why was I always so transparent to him? I needed to get this over with. I sat back down, and he did the same.
“Listen,” I said, steeling myself. “I’ll make this brief. What happened last night: it can’t happen again.”
He sank into his chair. “What if I disagree?”
“What? You can’t.” I huffed. “We made a mistake.”
“So you don’t care about my feelings?”
“Don’t make it sound so harsh. I can only care so much when you could be sabotaging me for a job. I can’t compete with you properly if we’re…”
“If we’re what?”
“You know.” If I said it, I might try and do it again.
“Never?”
“Well…” Never? That’s what I’d meant, but was that what I really wanted? I was losing my nerve. “I want us to get through this trip and work well together.”
His brow furrowed as he considered this—no doubt seeing the room for possibility that I’d left in there for him. I liked him. I just couldn’t let myself get carried away. And I certainly couldn’t let him get carried away. Who knew where that would lead? He was far too dangerous.
“I think you must admit that this is going well.”
“What is going well?”
“Us.”
“Working together.”
His smile faltered slightly, like he really was disappointed. “Of course, working together—”
“Well, working together is going better than I had expected.” I could admit that much. He’d been a star coworker the whole time. “But there can’t be anything else besides professionalism between us.”
He narrowed his eyes and pursed his clever, perfect mouth. “I have a counteroffer.”
“A what?”
“A counteroffer.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.” Was he really going to argue?
“No. It isn’t. It’s feelings. Messy ones. And an attraction that is very real. Palpable.” The words rolled off his tongue.
“So?”
“So, my proposition is that we do the exact opposite. That we indulge in some more kissing. Much more if it goes well and we are so inclined.”
I gasped at his brazenness. “Well, I am not inclined.”
“Your behavior yesterday suggested very strongly otherwise.”
“It did not.”
“It did.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean it has to become…” I waved both hands at once like I was conducting a symphony. “Something grand.”
“It doesn’t have to be something grand.” His eyes roved over me like he was considering where to bite first.
“Then what would it be, exactly?”
“It would be two people, away from their everyday lives, in a new place together, seeing what happens.”
I am not proud to admit that his offer was quite tempting.
I’d grown rather comfortable with his presence over the past few days, and he was not in any way an unappealing person.
Very well shaped and appealing, in fact.
Symmetrical. Strong. Slightly rugged and yet refined.
Difficult to resist in a particularly manly way.
But indulging myself in what sounded a lot like a casual vacation affair was not the way to get him out of my mind.
It would be quite the opposite. It would kill my brain, hinder my output, and therefore surely endanger my career and chances of beating him for the promotion.
And I was in a precarious position at work.
There was also the issue of my never having gone to bed with a man before. If I forgot to mention that, it’s because I never really gave much thought to going to bed with any man ever. Obviously it wasn’t that important to me. But I was thinking about it now. Very much.
This too had to be a warning sign. This man had scrambled my brain. I could not let him scramble it any longer.
Before I could continue my protest, a bellhop arrived at the table. “Monsieur, mademoiselle, excusez-moi. Your delivery has arrived. We are taking the machines upstairs right now.”
“Merci,” Benoit said.
I stood, grateful to have a reason to pause this conversation.