Cognac & Couture (The Passport Series Book 2) (20 page)

DEEP IN THOUGHT
over my job
offer from Aksel Pedersen, I didn’t realize I had a phone message until I had
been home for a few hours.

“
Hi, Kathy. It’s Mom. When you get this message, can you
give me a call? Thanks, honey. I hope you’re out having fun
.”

Looking quickly at the time, I saw that it was 2:00 in the
afternoon in Seattle. I lay
back against the cushions of the couch
and let the phone ring then scoffed when I got her voicemail.

“
Hello! This is Terry Ehlers. Please leave a message, and
I will return your call as soon as possible
.”

I let her know I’d be up another hour or so.

My mother
still lived in
the bungalow I grew up in in Seattle’s Ravenna Park neighborhood, an older
section of the city with small houses on small lots. It had always seemed cozy;
perfect for the two of us. Thinking of my mother caused my mind to wonder about
old friends, and what life would have been like had I stayed… And, of course, about
Mikkel. Before I went too far down a tragic path, the phone rang.

“Hi, Mom.”

Initially, our conversation meandered through the happenings
in our lives. She enthusiastically praised me for the runway show; I had emailed
her a video. She knew about the photo shoot in Bali, but I let her know it
would be in the December issue of
Forbes;
she sounded so excited to show
it to her friends and co-workers. I was about to tell her about Sébastien when
she excitedly announced, “Honey, I’m getting married!”

I bolted upright. “What? To whom? I didn’t know you were
dating anyone. When?”

Peals of laughter echoed over the phone. “Mr. Harper. I’m
marrying John Harper. It’s been a couple years since Sarah, Mrs. H., passed
away. Anyway, we ran into each other at the grocery store in University Village
last spring.”

I was stunned. “Mr. Harper? Really?” I sat stunned, trying
to think of what to say and how I felt.

She gave me all of about thirty seconds to reflect before
asking, “Kathy, what do you think?” Her voice quavered. She was nervous.

“Sorry. You just caught me by surprise. Congratulations. I’m
really happy for you. Tell him that I think he’s one very lucky man.”

She sighed in relief. “Do you want to tell him yourself?
He’s sitting here.”

Er, no! I have no idea what to say to a man I haven’t
talked to in years!
Instead, I enthusiastically agreed, “I’d be delighted
to.” I tried to put my best foot forward and welcomed him to the family,
assuring him I was excited for the both of them.

Once back on the line, I asked her about a wedding date.

“We haven’t set one. I wanted to talk to you about your
schedule.”

“Well, I can make pretty much anything work. But why not in
the summer, when you don’t have to worry about the weather?”

There was a long stretch of silence while I waited for her
to say something. “I’m not sure I really care about the weather. Honestly,
Kathy, when you have the chance to marry the person you love, who cares about
the weather?”

Her gentle words crept into my heart, and I immediately
understood that, rain or shine, she was right. “Very true. Once you’ve narrowed
down some dates, let me know. I’m sure I can make anything work.”

“Thanks, Kath.”

“Wow! You’re
getting married,” I said, still wrapping
my brain around it all. While she talked, I said, “Uh-huh.” It took me a moment
to realize she was saying goodbye. “Sorry, still absorbing it all.”

“It’s good, though, right?”

“Of course it is, Mom,” I reassured her, wanting her to be
happy.

Weddings. Mr. Harper. Sébastien. Mikkel. L’Oréal. Aksel
Pedersen. Flytning Værktøj. All of these swirled around inside my head, and I
knew it was going to be a sleepless night.

I leaned back in my chair and dialed
Sébastien’s number.

“Allô, chérie,” he said in a low
smooth voice.

All of a sudden, I was nervous.
“Hello!” I hardly recognized my breathy voice.

“I only have a moment. Client
meeting. I sent you an email about dinner this evening. Are you available?”

Disappointed I wouldn’t get to
talk to him for very long, I delivered an overly perky, “Go! I’ll check email
and respond.”

He blew a kiss into the phone and
said goodbye. I checked
and saw
his
email.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subj: Two
ideas for Tonight

Ma Chère,

I hope your
day is superb. Mine is quite busy, but time is bound to pass slowly, since I
miss you. I hope you are available this evening. If so, what do you think of
either of these options?

We could be
tourists together. How about dinner on Le Bateau le Calife? I’ve heard it is
one of the better sightseeing dinner boats. If you know of another, please let
me know.

My second
idea, also superb, if I may say so, Les Lundis de Fulgurances! Have you heard
of this? One Monday night of each month, the second in command at one of the
world’s top restaurants creates their own cuisine for fifty guests in Paris.
Dinner is held at Les Combustibles.

I have made
reservations at both. However, if you prefer something else, I am yours to
guide.

À plus tard!

Sébastien

Impressed with both ideas, I did a little bit of poking
around on the computer before responding.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subj: Re: Two
ideas for Tonight

I love your
suggestions! I did a little research on both and have to admit that I am
intrigued with the idea of being a tourist in Paris. The pictures of Le Bateau
le Calife speak to me. Small, intimate, and I love the old boat. Do you know if
the tide will allow the boat to pull out of dock?

Perhaps Les
Lundis de Fulgurances next month?

I can be out
of here by 6:00 pm.

K—

I tried—really hard, actually—to focus on the financials for
Urban Decay, but my attention span was pathetic. Between possible dinner plans
and the need to respond to Aksel, I was unsettled. My eyes kept flicking to my
email. I did a little happy dance in my chair when an answer from Sébastien
arrived.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subj: Re: Two
ideas for Tonight

K? Your name
is too beautiful to be replaced by a letter.

Kathleen, le
Bateau le Calife will sail tonight! The captain himself promised! We need to be
at Les Pont des Arts at 8:00.

Did you look
at the menu? The food promises to be quite memorable. Not a slice of pizza or
hot dog to be found!

I can meet you
at your place at 7:00 and then we can take a taxi. Does that work?

I look forward
to Les Lundis de Fulgurances next month! I will find out who the visiting chef
will be.

Sébastien

***

At 8:00, we found
ourselves seated at the only table at the bow of the boat. Out of the corner of
my eye, I saw Sébastien give the young man who had seated us a wink.

I playfully batted my eyes at him and smiled coyly once we
were alone. “Did you arrange this?”

“I asked for the best table. Of course, they assured me that
all seats were the best. Perhaps, when I mentioned that I would like to reserve
the whole boat for a New Year’s party, our luck changed.”

It was sexy as sin to be the object of his desire; his admission
was seductive and charming. That he wanted to do something special for me
caused my heart to leap around in my chest. I dropped my eyes briefly to my lap
before looking back up at him. “Are you really going to reserve the boat?”

His eyebrows drew tightly together before answering, “Of
course! I am a man of my word.” He cast his glance about, inspecting le Calife.
“For the last three years, Chantal and I have hosted New Year’s Eve parties
together. It has become our tradition. It is a way for us to be together but
with our own circle of friends.”

“Sounds like a fabulous compromise.” I was touched at the
thought of them coming up with a solution that would let them spend time
together in such a fun way. He appeared to read my thoughts. “What do you do
for the holidays? Go to Seattle? Does your family come here?”

“Until Charlotte and Tiziana got married, the five of us always
went on adventures together. Now, with our husbands, in-laws, and
soon-to-be-children, things have changed. Will continue to change. This year,
Tiziana is organizing some kind of ‘child friendly’ adventure. Possibly Rome.
How about you?”

“Not so glamorous, I’m afraid. Chantal and I go to my
parents for Christmas then return in time to celebrate New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m not so sure I would say what we do is glamorous. And
since they are my family, we mostly do the same thing.”

Out of the blue, he asked, “Chérie, may I ask what inspired
your weekend in London?”

Shit.
I didn’t want to lie or be evasive. I just
needed more time to think before I talked to him. I decided to go with a
partial truth and hoped that he would forgive me in the future when I confessed
the whole actuality. “I really wanted some time alone with Charlotte before the
baby arrived.” Then I told him about Liam’s plea for help decorating the
nursery, which made him laugh. Carefully, I changed the subject. “
What did you do this weekend?”

“Chantal and I went to dinner on
Friday.
A terrible café in Montmartre.
Then, on Saturday, we drove to Amiens to visit
my parents.”

“That sounds very nice.” I gave a
distracted answer, mesmerized by the pattern he traced in the palm of my hand.

The sommelier arrived, and the three of us agreed upon a
bottle of wine. A few minutes later, with our filled wine glasses in hand,
Sébastien proposed a toast. “To Paris, through the eyes of tourists and
lovers.”

I leaned across the small table, and he met me halfway for a
kiss before I took a sip of wine and hummed my approval. “This is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it!”

***

Dinner was a
masterpiece of sensory delights. The dark water of the Seine twinkled with boat
lights as we sipped wine and watched the sights unfold. As we sampled
foie gras and a warm cheese plate,
the façade of
the Louvre slid into view, beautifully up-lit
. As
the dishes were whisked away, the Obelisk at Place de la Concorde appeared. The
3,200-year-old obelisk from the Temple of Luxor, a gift from the
Viceroy of Egypt in 1829, stood proudly in the darkness. I mentioned
how much more
majestic the obelisk appeared at night, when traffic wasn’t whizzing all around
it, and immediately received a sardonic look. “Most cities look lovelier at
night, or at least to me. I’m a sucker for the dramatic.”

He agreed. “It would seem that way, chérie. Lighting,
fashion, friends. Hobbies. Romance.”

I hadn’t seen myself that way. Honestly, I thought I had
always flown under the radar, lived a normal, quiet kind of life. But seeing my
life through his eyes, through my friends’ eyes, I was beginning to realize
that I had been making bold choices for a long time.

The Jardin de Tuileries
peacefully stole attention from the waiters as they served the next course.
Never tiring of the Parisian skyline, guests and crew exhaled a collective gasp
of delight when the converted barge turned a bend in the river and the Eiffel
Tower stood proudly in the night sky. The boat lingered at the river’s edge,
allowing passengers to take photographs. On the return trip, the
Avenue
des Champs-Élysées was
a sight to behold while hot
chocolate cream puffs and rich chocolate cake were devoured.

Almost two hours exactly from the moment we boarded, the
Bateau le Calife reached her berth. Our night had been utterly perfect.
Amazingly romantic. I scooped up my toffee-colored cashmere pashmina and draped
it around my shoulders. Before leaving our cozy nook, I pressed a gentle kiss
to Sébastien’s mouth and thanked him. “I really, really enjoyed this. It was
wonderful being a tourist in Paris with you. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips more firmly against mine. “It was
wonderful.”

Happy, I melded into the current of departing passengers and
exited the boat to a line of taxis. Within twenty minutes, we were relaxing in
my apartment, sitting side by side on the couch, taking in the dismantled
space. “I think it’s time to do something truly different. I think I found
inspiration at Hotel Cambon,” I said with conviction as I relaxed against him.
I reminded him of the mood and colors of the lobby and bar.

“Sounds chic, peaceful,” he said, before a devilish twinkle
stole into his eyes. “I prefer to think of our dinner on the rooftop when I
think of Hotel Cambon, which was anything but calm. I would say it was quite
the opposite. Rather stimulating. But, I suppose that would prove challenging
to decorate around.”

“That it was, and yes it would,” I said before giving him a
leisurely kiss.

Suddenly I remembered I wanted to
tell him my mother’s news. “Sorry to change the subject—mood—but I just found
out yesterday that my mother is getting married.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That is
wonderful news, but I must confess I didn’t realize she was single. When is the
wedding?”

He paused, and I realized he was
wondering about my father. I answered, “They haven’t picked one. I told the
girls, and, of course, they want to go. They met her whenever she visited me in
England and really like her. I hope she’ll feel like she can say no, if she
wants something low-key. They’ll understand. Honestly, I have no idea what her
dream wedding is. I just want it to be perfect for her.”

Sébastien murmured with his lips
resting against my hair, “What was the first one like?”

There were some ways he and I had
a fairly good understanding of each other, but in others, we knew nothing. I
took a deep breath and embraced the perfect opportunity to explain my mother’s
single status and my unconventional entrance into the world. While I talked, he
held my hand and leaned back, so he could see me better, despite the fact that
I kept averting my eyes. “
My free-spirited mother, at the ripe old age
of twenty-one, picked up a guy in one of the most popular pick-up bars in
Seattle. She took him home and, nine months later, had me.”
When I finished, I looked at him hesitantly, not wanting
him to think badly of my mother.

When he said, “I always thought
Americans were so uptight,” I burst out laughing.

“I suppose some are, but not my
mother.”

“Or you, I think,” he said as he pulled me close. “Now, let
me see what I can do to further inspire you, for the sake of both you and your
apartment.”

“Please. I can use all the help I can get.” I leaned into
him and slid my hand behind his head, offering my lips to him.

By the time he left, I was dazed, rumpled, and delightfully
achy. Promises made with hands and lips left me fulfilled
and
wanting
more. It was a delightful place to linger, between sated and unsated.

I was surprised when the phone rang as I was getting ready
for bed. “Don’t pick up, chérie. I just wanted to tell you how much more
beautiful Paris is, now that I have met you. Goodnight.”