Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next morning was a blur of slight hangover blues and saying goodbye to all my guests. As promised, Roman drove me to the train station, and when he pulled the bus into the curb, he jumped down to get my suitcase from the back.
I grabbed the microphone and turned to the July group one last time. “Okay, everyone, this is where I bow out. Thank you for a wonderful tour; you’re the best group I’ve ever had.” I said that to all my groups, but they probably knew that.
They said a collective goodbye and waved. I hung up the microphone, and with my brain seesawing between what the hell I was doing, and what I should have been doing, I climbed down the steps.
Roman shut the luggage door panel and turned to me with my suitcase in his hand.
We watched each other in one of those dorky moments where neither party seemed to know what to say.
But Mr. Perfect fixed it when he wrapped me in a bear hug, and said, “I’m proud of you. It takes some guts to do what you are doing. Trust me, though, it will be worth it.”
The butterflies in my stomach took flight, soaring on an upwind powered by his faith in me. When I finally stood back, I was feeling all light-headed. “I hope so.”
He winked. “I know so. Now, go get some French bootie action.”
I snorted an unflattering guffaw. “You’ve spent way too much time with your sisters.”
He puffed out his lips. “Don’t I know it. And don’t forget to ring me; I want to hear all about it. I mean . . . to make sure you’re safe.”
I thumped him in his arm. “See? I knew it.”
He rolled my suitcase forward. “You are stalling. Go, quick, or you will miss your train. Arrivederci , Daisy.”
“Bye, Roman.”
Dragging my case behind me, I pictured him staring at my nonexistent bottom. But when I glanced over my shoulder, with my giddy smile all prepared to meet his, he was gone, and the bus door was closed. A flash of emotion whipped through me like a dose of salts, and for some inexplicable reason, I was hurt that he wasn’t there.
Jesus, Daisy. Get a grip.
By midday, I was traveling at 185 miles per hour on the Thalys high-speed train. The cabin was unnaturally silent. No incessant chatter. No hum of the bus’s engine. No probing questions from Roman. The only sound was my brain repeating the same question over and over.
What the hell am I doing?
I gazed out the window, watching the miles whiz by in a kaleidoscope of colors and analyzing my intentions with Pierre until I’d exhausted every possible brain cell.
My thoughts swung from being totally off my tree to being a normal single woman with a healthy sex drive. The issue, it seemed, was that for the first time in my life, I had a plan. I usually didn’t plan anything. Hell, I didn’t even plan what I’d have for dinner each night, which was why I kept a healthy supply of baked beans in my cupboard.
By the time the rolling plains out the window morphed into urban sprawl, I had reached the root of my turmoil.
What if I arrive at Pierre’s doorstep and he really does reject me?
I’d never been rejected by a man before, but there was an obvious reason behind that . . . I’d never instigated the pursuit. My attempted kiss with Roman didn’t count, even though he’d said he liked it. I was drunk and had probably looked scary as all fuck, pouting my lips at him like a giant goldfish. And I would’ve reeked of alcohol. So yeah, I wasn’t counting that one. William didn’t count either. Nothing with him counted anymore.
Roman’s words raced through my mind. Why do you waste your energy on that dipshit? You seriously need to move on. You need a mind-blowing fuck.
That was exactly what I needed, and Pierre and his lovely soft hands would be perfect to launch me out of my troubling past and set the pace for my future.
My phone buzzed, and thinking it was Roman checking up on me, I smiled as I tugged it from my bag. Fuck.
My smile obliterated the second I saw the number.
Mother!
It rang over and over, each one more shrill than the one before.
My mind raced through a thousand avenues, trying to work out how she’d found my contact details. But I had nothing. I’d been careful.
It stopped ringing, and the silence pierced my ears like ice picks.
I glanced around at the people sharing the train cabin with me. They were lost in their own world, consumed by the sounds filtered into their brains by tiny earbuds and oblivious to the horror that was strangling my brain.
It rang again, and the phone tumbled from my fingers. Scrambling to pick it up, I jabbed at the red X, cutting off the sound.
With trembling fingers, I turned it off.
Placing my face in my hands, I leaned forward and stared at my skinny knees until my heart rate returned to normal.
How the hell did she find me?
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream.
Instead, clutching my bag, I went to the restroom and washed my face. The last nineteen days had been a rollercoaster. I’d felt more emotions than I’d felt in the last three years. After drying the water off my face, I clutched at the basin. Dread in my eyes mirrored the brick lodged deep in my belly, thick and heavy.
I needed Zali’s wisdom to get through this one.
Returning to my seat, I reluctantly turned on my cell and quickly tapped a text to Zali.
The fucking bitch has found me
Your mother? Fuck, babe. How?
Yep, and I don’t know
Is she there???
Hell no. I’d die if she was
No, you wouldn’t. I told you to punch her in the face next time you saw her
I smiled at the memory of the two of us playing out that scenario on one of our pissy nights on the cruise. We’d wrestled each other to the floor and had been giggling so hard I’d thought I’d pee myself. God, I missed Zali.
So it was a phone call
My shoulders sagged.
Yeah.
You didn’t answer, did you?
Hell no
Good. Don’t give her the satisfaction!
I won’t
That’s your game plan. Ignore the calls. She’ll give up
I hope so
I didn’t have the same confidence Zali did. Mother was relentless when she wanted something. I’d seen her disgustingly desperate pursuit of men. She was like a black widow spider; half of them had no idea what had happened until it was over.
Right, now that we got that shit out of the way, how’s that sexy driver of yours?
I smiled as I pictured Roman in those faded jeans. How could one man make denim look so sexy?
He’s good
Good!!! He’s not a choc-chip muffin. I need more than goo d
I chuckled.
Actually he’s not so good. I’ve figured out he’s still in love with his ex, Caterina. She cheated on him with a married man yet he hasn’t got over her
Poor baby. Sounds like he needs someone to save him. Hint, hint!!!
Very funny. He’s too busy trying to save me
Oohhhh, do tell
For the next ten or so minutes, I told Zali all about Roman and his ex and how he’d reacted to my questioning. Then I told her why I was returning to Paris.
HOLY FUCK, BABE. SO FUCKING EXCITED FOR YOU
OMG, calm down, sista
NO I WON’T FUCKING CALM DOWN. THIS IS THE BEST NEWS I’VE HEARD SINCE BULK PACKS OF DIAPERS WENT ON SALE AT WALMART
Zali always made me feel better.
Thanks, babe
Right, I wanna hear all about it. I mean, everything from the size of his COCK to how many ORGASMS you have
I burst out laughing.
OKAY!!!!
Don’t you okay me. I mean it. I’m dying of boredom and you’re my only salvation. Do it for Zali
Dramatic!
Absa-fucking-lootly
Smiling, I tapped out another text.
I’ll message you when I get to London. Love you
Luv ya too. Remember, it’s all about you, so make sure you cum first. Gotta go. Bye
I burst out laughing.
Bye
I turned my phone off and shoved it back into my bag.
By the time the train pulled into the station, my mind was a tornado of swirling thoughts that were impossible to grab. It was an effort just to put one foot in front of the other.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when I strolled onto Avenue de Saint-Gwendolyn, tugging my case behind me. All the little restaurants were bustling with life and with each one I approached, a hopeful ma?tre d’ tried to tempt me with menu choices or a free glass of champagne. Each time I politely declined and stepped closer to the pale blue Vespa parked against the streetlamp.
My heart thundered and my mouth was so dry, I imagined I was an intrepid explorer, crossing the desert—the desert of uncertainty!
Twenty or so feet from his cafe, the door to Chateau de Vin et d'antiquités opened, and four women trotted out on heels that were so high it was a wonder they didn’t get nosebleeds.
I paused, watching them like a stunned rabbit. All the women were meticulously dressed. Their clothing, their shoes, their bags, their hairstyles—everything about them screamed wealth. One more lady exited the restaurant and as she joined the foursome, Pierre also stepped from the doorway.
He spoke to them with his usual flamboyant animation and whatever he said had the ladies giggling. He blew them air kisses and as they strolled away, balancing precariously on stilettos that defied gravity, I was on the verge of turning around and scurrying away.
But destiny was awakened, and Pierre turned toward me. Our eyes met and I just about melted as his flicker of recognition turned to an expression of desire. I remained still, as did he. Everything around me vanished into obscurity as I admired my view. Pierre’s gaze was intense, his jawline utterly masculine, his lips utterly kissable.
He was six and a half feet of suave sexuality.
The small smile that curled at the sides of Pierre’s mouth grew wider and he gave a slight nod.
I did the same. It was a silent communication between us that said a whole lot more.
Pierre nodded again, then he turned and disappeared through the door of his café.
I swallowed the nerves threatening to topple me over and forced my feet to move. With each step, my heart thumped louder. When I stepped over the threshold, my vision took a moment to adjust to the dimmed lights. But when they did, my reward was spectacular.
Pierre stood in the middle of the empty café, halfway between me and the door to the kitchen. He had two glasses of champagne and had undone the top two buttons of his shirt.
All of that was marvelous, but two other aspects of my sexy Frenchman truly captured me: the look on his face was one of pure desire, and the bulge in his pants left no mistake as to who he desired.
The butterflies in my stomach swirled around as the air between us bristled with anticipation. He stepped forward, and I was certain he could’ve heard my beating heart.
“ Bonjour, Daisy. Je suis tellement heureuse de vous voir .”
He handed me one of the glasses. “I’m happy to see you too, Pierre.”
His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. “I didn’t think you’d return to me.”
I swallowed, hard. “I contemplated never coming back.”
He smiled a knowing smile. “I’m glad you changed your mind.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. There was no hesitation this time—I met his kiss with as much want as he offered. This kiss was very different from our first. Our lips molded together, firm, intentional, loaded with anticipation.
It was the type of kiss every woman dreamed about.
His lips were soft yet assertive. He tasted sweet and smelled of manly spices. When his hand touched my waist and he eased our bodies together, the heat of his flesh enveloped me in a warm caress.
Pierre was a passionate man. Everything he did was done with obsessive perfection. I’d witnessed it often over the years, from the way he ensured his patrons were well taken care of to the magnificent meals he prepared.
But now, with our lips together and our bodies touching, I was in the front row, experiencing a whole new facet to Pierre’s passion.
We pulled back from each other, and his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Our eyes met and the sexual tension twinkling in his chocolate pools had my knees quivering. I rolled my bottom lip through my teeth and waited for his next move.
A tinkling bell shattered the erotic bubble that’d swathed me, and I turned to three women strolling through the café door. I turned back to Pierre, and the distress on his face was laughable.
He blinked a few times and seemed to crumble. “ Excusez-moi , un moment .”
I nodded and stepped back.
Pierre greeted the newcomers with over-the-top flamboyance, making it obvious they were regulars. In fact, their greeting was so intimate, they could be related to Pierre. They all had similar facial features, and the elderly woman looked to be the mother of the other two ladies.
As I remained standing, sipping on my champagne, Pierre led them to a table and pulled out a chair for each lady to sit. After a brief discussion, he turned from them and headed back to me.
To my surprise, he reached for my hand. “ Je m'excuse. S'il vous pla?t, mon beau , can you stay? I will prepare your favorite dish.”
How could I say no to those pleading eyes?
Besides, in my lust-fueled mission to get from Brussels to Paris, I’d completely forgotten to eat.
Pierre led me to my favorite table by the window and pulled out a chair, and when I sat, he draped a white napkin over my lap. After leaving my side, he returned moments later with those two letters and my book. “You read and enjoy your champagne.” He leaned forward to whisper, “We will be together again soon.”
A flush rolled up my neck as he turned his attention back to his customers .
The next couple of hours rolled along like a scene from a quaint movie. Pierre made a show of treating all his patrons, including me, like royalty. It seemed the other ladies enjoyed his company as much as I did. I was, however, treated to extra attention, as Pierre frequently leaned forward to whisper something sweet in my ear.
By the time the threesome paid for their account and rose from their chairs, it was nearly six o’clock and I’d resigned myself to the fact that my intentions for coming to Pierre would no longer be fulfilled. He would need to prepare for the dinner session, and that left little time for us.
Us! I couldn’t believe I was even thinking like that. Pierre and I weren’t an us.
After a flurry of air kisses Pierre led the women out the front door. The second they left, Pierre shut the door and flipped the sign to closed.
I blinked at him.
Did he do that for me?
Was he prepared to lose income for time with me?
And, more importantly, was I willing to let him?
When he turned to me, I knew my answer.
Desire blazed in his eyes. “I apologize for the interruption.”
“Pierre, there’s no need to?—”
He strode to me, vanquishing all words from my mind.
“I have called in Raphael. He will be the chef tonight. He will be here soon enough.”
When he cupped my face in his hands and captured my eyes with his gaze, all my worries about being rejected evaporated. “Daisy, mon beau . Let me make it up to you. Please tell me you can stay longer.”
Resisting the temptation to tell him I had nothing to do for eleven days, I nodded.
“Then it is settled. You will come to my apartment?—”