Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I have a confession to make,” Michel said close to her ear as the lights dimmed for the previews. “I’ve never been to a movie theater.”
“What?” Emma spun in her seat to stare at him. “Never? Not even once?”
She added Never been to the movies to the list of their outrageous incompatibility. Filthy rich, Lives in another country, and Has a bodyguard were the other items on the list. Never had Peruvian food and Has a hard body didn’t make the list for obvious reasons. Since she couldn’t gather enough evidence on their last date, she’d had to come on another date with him. Hopefully, this would be their last.
The fact that Michel had a bodyguard because he was from an “influential family” made her succumb to the temptation to google him. But the only Michel Chevaliers she found—who were alive—were older, white-haired men. None of them from Rouleme. She wasn’t too surprised to find nothing on her Michel, though. If his father was so overprotective that he needed a bodyguard, it didn’t make sense for him to risk exposure with an online presence.
Speaking of bodyguards… she turned and waved at Sophie two rows behind them. The badass bodyguard gave her a regal nod of acknowledgment. They barely had time to say hello before taking their seats, but Emma already liked her. She wouldn’t play high-stakes poker with the woman, but Sophie Bellevue had kind eyes.
“Never, ever.” Michel closed the three inches of space between them with a soft kiss and leaned back with a lazy grin.
“Do you not like movies?” She swept her tongue across her still-tingling lips.
“No, I quite enjoy them.” He reached over and grabbed some of her popcorn. “When I have time to watch a movie, I usually do so in our… home theater.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” she quipped, and mentally added Has a home theater to the list. “I bet you don’t have movie theater popcorn at your house.”
“No, we don’t.” He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Did you say this isn’t real butter?”
“Nope.” She munched on some popcorn saturated with fake butter. “It’s some sort of mysterious butter-like substance. Kind of icky but oh so delicious.”
“I’ve been missing out.” With a broad grin, he nabbed another oily handful from her popcorn bucket. There was no doubt he was from a different world, but she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed enthralled by hers.
“You know it.” Smiling back at him, she offered him some of her blue raspberry slushie.
Emma watched mesmerized as he leaned close and took the straw between his lips. It was indecent how sexy he made everything look. Or she might just be hyper horny for him. She definitely did not recognize this side of herself.
“That’s quite interesting.” He coughed into his fist and smoothed his expression to hide his utter disgust at the syrupy drink.
“Nah, it’s gross.” She giggled at the relief on his face. “But it’s a nostalgia thing. Even though my taste buds have outgrown it, I still get slushies whenever I come to the theater because it made me so happy when I was a kid.”
“Gross or not, I like things that make you happy,” he murmured before turning his gaze to the screen.
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. God, the things he says. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She had to compile a bulletproof list of why they were incompatible so she could return to the matseon circuit as soon as possible. Every day she spent dating this man meant more time for the Crones to sully Auntie Soo’s reputation. Her godmother didn’t deserve that, and Emma couldn’t afford to lose any clients to their smear campaign.
She shook her head. There was nothing she could do about that right now. She might as well enjoy the movie as well as her date. She saw no reason not to have fun while compiling her incompatibility list.
Emma sighed and leaned back in her seat. She loved watching previews. They were the best morsels of a movie stitched together to hook you in mere minutes. Unfortunately, she didn’t catch a single one, because she couldn’t take her eyes off Michel, the lights of the silver screen playing across his handsome face.
But she pulled herself together—unwilling to waste the fortune it cost to watch a movie—and laid her head on Michel’s shoulder to make herself stop ogling him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close to him. With a happy sigh, she turned her attention to the feature film. A space opera with major Jane Austen vibes. It was excellent.
They took their time getting out of their seats and filing out of the theater. As they stepped out into the night, Emma realized she had to cross out Never been to the movies from her list. This was going to be harder than she thought.
“So how did you like your first time at the movies?” She linked her arm through his.
“Other than the sticky floors?” he deadpanned.
She bumped him with her shoulder. “Haha.”
“It was fantastic.” With a broad smile, he tugged her closer to his side as they made their way to her car. “The company might have had something to do with it.”
“Careful with the compliments.” She ducked her head to hide her blush. “I might get used to it.”
“I see no problem with that,” he said, dropping a kiss on her temple.
She stiffened, because she saw major problems with getting used to his warmth and affection. But he might be someone who opened up easily to other people—someone who wasn’t afraid to let people into his life. She bet he was this sweet and charming to everyone around him. She shouldn’t take things so seriously. It didn’t mean anything.
“So what else haven’t you done?” she asked with an overly bright smile.
“There’s so much…” His shrug looked a little lonely.
“Like?” she softly prompted.
“Like… I’ve never run a marathon before.”
She gave him the side-eye. “No, I mean stuff that normal people do.”
“Normal people do run marathons.” Michel returned her side-eye.
“Now you’re just talking nonsense.” She scrunched her lips to the side as she considered the options. “Have you ever gone bowling?”
“No, I haven’t.” He didn’t sound quite appalled.
“Fine. Putting on stinky shoes worn by the masses was more torture than leisure for me, too.” They arrived at her car, and she pressed her key to unlock it.
“May I drive?” Michel asked with a touch of eagerness.
“You’ve never driven before?” Her mouth fell open.
“Of course I’ve driven before.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I just don’t get to do it very often.”
“What’s not very often ?” She squinted at him and added Doesn’t get to drive very often to the list. Living in LA, she had to drive every day.
“It’s been a couple of years,” he mumbled, picking invisible lint off his slacks. “Perhaps several years.”
“I feel for you”—several years was a long time—“but I also love my car.”
“I assure you I’m an excellent driver.” Milk-chocolate puppy-dog eyes implored her.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sophie said sternly from behind Michel.
“You could follow us in my car.” His lips quirked. “I promise I won’t try to lose you.”
“Oh, you could try.” His bodyguard arched an eyebrow. She was so badass that Emma wanted to squeal.
“Emma?” The puppy-dog eyes returned full force.
“Okay, okay,” she grumbled, but had to laugh at the look of boyish delight on Michel’s face. “Where do you want to go?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” He sounded incredibly excited about the prospect of having no destination in mind.
“I know.” If driving was a special treat for Michel, then Emma would show him one of the best drives in Los Angeles. “We’ll head to Mulholland Drive.”
“Mulholland Drive?” he asked, opening the passenger-side door for her. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky I’m a local.” She winked at him before sliding into her seat. She was so excited to share the experience with him that she almost forgot to add Never been to Mulholland Drive to the list.
“Indeed I am.” He flashed her a grin that made her heart trip.
While Michel rounded the front of her car to get into the driver’s seat, she pulled up the directions on her cell. She rolled down the window and shared it with Sophie. With one last bemused look at Michel—which he studiously avoided—his bodyguard went to retrieve his car parked a few spaces away.
“Shall we?” he asked after adjusting the seat and the mirrors to fit his much taller frame.
“Sure.” She wasn’t anywhere close to sure. “I’ll be your navigator.”
Michel backed out of the parking spot in a smooth arc and maneuvered her car out into the street. She guided him through a few turns until they were headed in the right direction. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning. While he drove a bit on the fast side, it was with enough confidence that Emma soon relaxed her death grip on her armrest. If he wasn’t so well mannered, he would be sticking his head out the window and whooping up a storm.
“I hope you’re not regretting this.” He glanced at her, then quickly turned his gaze back to the road.
“Not at all.” Emma couldn’t stop smiling back at him. “You really are an excellent driver.”
“Thank you.” He reached for her hand and gently squeezed it. “We make a good team.”
“We do,” she murmured, squeezing his hand back. “Have you visited LA before?”
“Yes, on a few occasions.” He peered at the directions on her cell phone, which she’d stuck on the magnetic mount on her dashboard.
“We still have a few miles to go before our exit.” She hadn’t forgotten about her navigator duties. “Did you do much sightseeing when you were last here?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He shrugged. “I came here for… business, so there wasn’t much time for anything else.”
“I had a feeling that might be the case.” She snuck a peek at Michel’s profile but quickly turned away before she lost her train of thought. He was much too gorgeous for her to stare at him and talk at the same time. “Let’s do the LA version of ‘What haven’t you done before?’”
“As sad as it sounds, I don’t even know what I’ve been missing out on.” His low chuckle made goose bumps prickle across her arms. “Why don’t you tell me some of your favorite things to do in Los Angeles, and I’ll tell you whether I’ve done them or not.”
Michel looked at the rearview mirror and frowned. Emma turned to look outside the rear window and said, “She’s two cars behind us. Oh, she’s making a lane change… Damn, did she just cut that car off? And… she’s right behind us now.”
“That’s Sophie for you.” He shook his head but couldn’t keep the fond smile off his face.
Not for the first time, Emma noticed that their rapport didn’t seem purely professional. “You guys seem close.”
“We are,” he said. “We grew up together.”
She wasn’t exactly jealous. Emma felt… envious that Sophie had known Michel for so much longer than she had—so much longer than she would ever know him. She doggedly pushed the thought away.
“Okay. Back to things to do in LA.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her seat belt. “Have you ever been to the Griffith Observatory?”
“No, I haven’t,” he said without hesitation.
She tapped her chin with her index finger. “How about the Hollywood Bowl?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“No? Hmm. Let’s see.” She pursed her lips. This was almost too easy. She might have to bind the list into a book at this rate. “You must’ve been to the beach.”
“I’ve been to the French Riviera, which is known for their pristine beaches.” He paused. “But I haven’t actually been to the beach in the traditional sense.”
“What’s the traditional way to go to the beach?” Her eyebrows drew together.
“Probably to walk on the sand. Maybe even go in the water?”
“Wait.” She put her hand on his arm. “I was actually talking about LA beaches. Are you telling me you’ve never been to a single beach?”
“Like I said, not in the traditional sense.” He sounded aggravatingly nonchalant about never having experienced the joy of going to the beach. “I believe I’ve had drinks or perhaps even dined at beachside restaurants or residences.”
“There’s only one way to go to the beach,” she nearly shouted. “To actually go to the beach.”
“Then, no. I’ve never been.” He glanced at the navigation. “We get off at the next exit?”
“Yes, sorry. In half a mile.” Emma sighed. “I don’t know if I want to play this game anymore.”
“Why not?” Checking that Sophie was right behind them, Michel exited the freeway with some harrowing lane changes.
“I don’t know.” She should be happy she got further confirmation that they’d led completely different lives. But Michel seemed to have missed out on so many of life’s simple pleasures that her heart ached a little. “I think it’s safe to assume that you haven’t tried anything I’ve done in LA.”
“Well, isn’t that a good thing? We have so much to experience together for the first time. People who’ve led similar lives with similar experiences miss out on the thrill of discovering new things together—experiencing each other’s firsts together.” He sent a meaningful glance her way as they turned onto Mulholland Drive.
She’d never thought of it that way. That a shared experience could be more memorable. That a different background could sometimes be a good thing. Unwilling to concede the point, she mumbled, “Hmm.”
After a stretch of silence, Michel asked hesitantly, “May I ask why… why you want a perfect-on-paper husband? Why common background and data-based compatibility are so important to you?”
“I don’t want what happened to my parents to happen to me.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but her voice shook a little. “They fell in love and got married even though they were incompatible in many ways. When they fell out of love, their marriage just… crumbled. They became strangers to each other.”
“But there are people—”
“I know some people find love and happily ever after. But not everyone.” She sighed and looked unseeingly out her window. “I’m just not willing to take that risk with my heart. I don’t need a broken heart to set me back from achieving my dreams.”
Michel’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, then relaxed as he exhaled a long breath. “And what dreams are those?”
“I want to open up a culinary school.” She smiled, glad to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “I can’t take many clients, because I can only teach one-on-one lessons in my home kitchen. But if I lease a commercial kitchen space and start a culinary school, then I could take so many more students. Touch so many more lives.”
“You really love what you do, don’t you?” His voice sounded faraway, as though he was deep in thought.
“Yes, I really do.” If she meant that, she should try harder to prove their incompatibility. She should be impatient to return to her arranged first dates so she could ensure that she could open her culinary school as soon as possible. But even that reminder wasn’t enough to fire up the necessary urgency.
“I’m sure I’ve done things that you haven’t tried.” Michel spoke up suddenly with boyish excitement. “Not specific to Los Angeles, of course.”
“Like what?” Her ears and curiosity perked up.
He seemed distracted by the winding road for a moment. “Have you ever done archery?”
“Archery?” He had her there, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. “I dressed up as Legolas for Halloween when I was in eighth grade. Does that count?”
“Legolas?”
“Oh God.” She grabbed her forehead. “Please don’t tell me you haven’t read and/or watched The Lord of the Rings .”
“Okay. I won’t tell you.” He smirked. “But we’re talking about things you haven’t done, remember?”
“Fine, I haven’t done archery before.” This wasn’t as fun when he was the one pointing out the things she’d missed out on.
“How about horseback riding? Wait.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Is there anywhere to go horseback riding in Los Angeles?”
“Of course there is.” She had a friend who grew up in a house in Rolling Hills with an actual stable. “There’s a city about twenty miles south of LA that has a famous bridle trail.”
“And?”
“And what?” she stalled, but he pressured her with his silence. “Okay, okay. I haven’t gone horseback riding either. Wait! I rode on a pony when I was in preschool. I don’t remember it very well, but there’s a picture of me riding one, with a cowboy hat and everything. That counts, right?”
“Hmm.” He pretended to consider her question. “Did the pony move at any point you were on it?”
“As a matter of fact, it did,” she said triumphantly. “The handler walked the pony in a little circle around the playground.”
“All right. Let’s say that counts.” He shot her a playful grin.
“There’s no let’s say about it.” She crossed her arms. She didn’t know why she was adamantly arguing something that proved they had something in common. “That totally counts.”
“But I do think you would enjoy a real ride.” Before she could think of a smart-ass response, Michel inhaled sharply. “Mon Dieu. This is stunning.”
Too busy winning the argument, Emma hadn’t noticed the view outside. When she looked out the window, she remembered exactly why she loved this drive so much. The dark, winding roads took them higher up into the hills, and the city spread out below them like a silky black blanket with a million pinpricks of starlight in them.
“It is, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Absolutely stunning,” he repeated, his expression soft with wonder.
He slowed the car to a crawl to keep the city lights in sight longer. She bit her bottom lip and dragged her teeth over the tender flesh. God, he was so sweet.
“There’s a lookout point.” She sounded like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. “Turn into that parking lot.”
Michel parked the car and killed the lights, bringing the sparkling city below into sharp relief. The dimly lit lot was dotted with cars here and there, but it wasn’t crowded being a weeknight. Still gripping the steering wheel, he leaned toward the windshield to get a better look. “I never knew that Los Angeles was so beautiful.”
“It’s an amazing place.” She smiled fondly. “Once you look past the superficial glamour, there is so much beauty to be discovered.”
They sat in companionable silence as they took in the view. He might be onto something about experiencing each other’s firsts together—how it was a good thing. Sharing his first time on Mulholland Drive made the experience feel brand new to her as well. Not only that, this experience was now theirs —a newly forged common ground. The beginnings of somewhere that they could both put down their roots.
Whoa . What was she even thinking? No one was putting their roots down anywhere. But she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to shake him. Why did he have to come into her life right now? Why did he have to make everything so complicated? Why did he have to be so wonderful?
“Sophie’s parked a few spots away,” she said to remind herself that they weren’t alone—to dislodge the contentment cocooning her.
Michel nodded at his bodyguard, and she nodded back, then turned her attention to the view. They weren’t strictly alone, but Sophie was pointedly giving them privacy. Dang it . Emma worried her bottom lip as her pulse quickened with anticipation. Kissing Michel was exciting and frankly addicting, but she had to focus on gathering evidence so she could stop seeing him. An ache burrowed into her chest at the thought.
“Is it hard?” she blurted. “Being from your family.”
“It could be challenging at times, but every family has their issues.” Her question wasn’t well thought out, but Michel seemed to understand her meaning. “I don’t want to claim that my life is more difficult than anyone else’s.”
“I don’t know.” She studied his face in the muted glow of the city lights below. “It seems like you missed out on so many experiences. Simple things that give… regular people moments of joy. But I can see that those experiences wouldn’t be simple for you. I mean, you can’t even leave your hotel room without your bodyguard. It must be suffocating at times.”
“At times,” he murmured, looking out at the view. “But most times, I’m grateful for the opportunities I have. Being in my family means my life is governed by more restrictions than most, but I also have experienced things that I otherwise would never have.”
“Do you ever wish that things were different?” she said in a near whisper. Why was she asking him this? Was she the one who wished that they weren’t so different? “Do you ever wish you had a ‘normal’ life?”
“No, I don’t wish for a different life.” He finally turned to face her, and she met his eyes. “I sometimes envy the freedom others enjoy, but those moments are fleeting. I’m grateful for my life and look forward to doing my part to make a difference in the world.”
“I want to make a difference in the world, too. A culinary instructor probably won’t make as big an impact as an international relations expert”—she waved his protest away—“but I want to do my part to help people find happiness. In my own way.”
“That’s an admirable goal.” The intensity of his gaze made her hold her breath. “And I know you will be amazing at it.”
The sincerity of his words brought tears to her eyes, and all she could do was nod. How could being with someone so different from her feel so easy… so right? Emma sat up with a start. No, not right .
“It’s too dark now, but during the day, you can see the Hollywood Bowl and the Griffith Observatory just up those stairs.” She swept her hand across the view, shaking off her disquiet. “We could’ve checked three things off your list all in one shot.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He captured her hand from the air and linked their fingers together. “We’ll take our time and enjoy every one of them together.”
“But time is the one thing we don’t have.” Emma wished she could snatch the words back as soon as they left her mouth.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.” Michel lifted their hands and kissed the backs of hers, soft and lingering. “Emma…”
What could he mean? Her heart pounded against her rib cage like it was trying to burst free and run away into the night. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to know. Before her conscience could tell her what a liar she was, Emma closed the distance between them and kissed Michel until she couldn’t think about anything at all.