French kiss (18 page)

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in with chickpeas, carrots, and pumpkin -- and the spicy-smoky meatballs were mouthwatering. She and Pierre, famished from their full day, dug in with gusto.

"I wish Tyler liked this kind of food," Holly mused aloud between bites of couscous.

"Who is this Tyler?" Pierre asked casually, reaching for his water glass.

Oh, no.
Holly's stomach tightened as a coldness washed over her. Although Tyler had flitted in and out of her thoughts all day, Holly hadn't ever brought him up in conversation. It wasn't like Holly had gone out of her
way
to avoid talking about her boyfriend with Pierre; it just hadn't felt necessary. And since Holly hadn't been gabbing to Alexa about Tyler, either, she was sure her friend hadn't mentioned him to her cousins.

So, for all Pierre St. Laurent knew, Holly Jacobson was absolutely and completely single. And for some bizarre reason Holly wasn't yet able to articulate, she didn't
want
him thinking otherwise.

Grateful for the darkness of the restaurant, Holly glanced down and twisted the napkin in her lap. "Tyler? I -- um -- well, he's ... nobody," she whispered, feeling her gut wrench at the lie. "Nobody important."
Only my boyfriend of a full year.
She lifted her burning face to see that Pierre was studying her, his blue eyes bright with intrigue.

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"Ah, oui?"
he murmured, giving her a slow smile. "More secrets from the mysterious woman?"

Holly shook her head, sighing. Between Wimbledon and Tyler and Alexa and Pierre, she was sick of all the secrets she had to keep track of. But then, as Pierre moved his plate aside and slid his hand across the table toward her, Holly wondered if Pierre found her secretiveness ... kind of hot.

Confirming her suspicions, Pierre took her hand in his, and then slowly, ever so slowly, traced one finger up and down Holly's open palm.

Holly closed her eyes, shivers of pleasure rippling through her body. She didn't want Pierre to stop touching her. When she opened her eyes again, her breath caught as she met his gaze.
Okay,
Holly realized.
Maybe he
does
see me as more than a friend.
And maybe Alexa
had
been right that morning when she'd said that Holly was crushing on Pierre. Holly couldn't ignore it anymore: The attraction between her and Pierre was mutual palpable.

In the weirdest way, Holly realized that she was only able to flirt with Pierre ...
because
of Tyler. Holly had never before considered that ironic bonus of having a boyfriend: It gave her a new self-assurance that allowed her to loosen up around guys she might normally feel intimidated by. Why did life have to work that way?

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Suddenly, with Pierre holding her hand, but Tyler on her mind, Holly felt as if she were on a crazy seesaw -- literally caught between two boys. Caught between the familiar and the new, between Oakridge and Paris, between a guy who'd recently rejected her advances and a guy who -- if Holly was totally honest with herself -- made her feel like the sexiest girl alive.

Did she have to choose?

As if he intended to make up her mind for her, Pierre leaned across the small table, coming so dangerously close that, had Holly leaned in, their lips would have surely met. '"Oily," he murmured, his frustratingly kissable mouth mere inches from hers. This felt ten times more intimate than that moment in the Tuileries. "Perhaps you have not noticed this, but I think that you are ...
merveilleuse."

"You do?" Holly whispered back, her eyes widening. "I mean, I am?"
Merveilleuse.
If some guy had called Holly "marvelous" in English, she'd want to giggle. But, in French, and in Pierre's low, passionate voice, the word sent the blood straight to Holly's face. "Um, you're not so bad yourself," she began haltingly, already mortified, but then was cut off by a faint ringing sound.

At first, Holly assumed the noise was only in her spinning head. In the next second, she realized that it was coming from her Vans tote under the table. It was her cell phone.

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"Pierre -- sorry," she stammered, reluctantly pulling her hand out from under his and reaching down for her bag. "Give me one second?"

Every other time Holly's phone had rung on this trip, she'd immediately thought it was Tyler. But now, Holly was so overcome by the scents of foreign spices and so absorbed in her exchange with Pierre that she didn't even stop to wonder who might be calling -- she just wanted the person on the other end to go away.

I'll check who it is, and then turn off the phone,
she decided.

Holly lifted her T-Mobile out of her bag and glanced down at the caller ID.

As her heart froze, she wondered if, in some crazy way, speaking his name out loud had summoned him from across the ocean.

Because this time, it
was
Tyler.

181

chapter te n

Truth and Consequences

"And then what happened?" Alexa asked Holly eagerly, examining an orange corduroy handbag before placing it back on the shelf. "He leaned over the couscous and ...
what?"

"You know," Holly stalled, fiddling with an actually -pretty-cute mint-green clutch. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said no more.

It was Thursday afternoon; after sleeping in and eating a leisurely lunch at their favorite comer café on the place des Vosges, Alexa and Holly were browsing in Raphi's tiny-but-trendy boutique, Frou-Frou. Because Alexa had been rambling on nonstop about her dreamy day with the painter, Holly had only just described
her
day with Pierre -- except she was trying to downplay the dreaminess. Plus, Holly had now

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arrived at Tyler's phone call, and she really didn't want to get into that. In part because Holly
still
hadn't fessed up to Alexa about Tyler.

But mostly because she didn't want to start crying in the middle of Frou-Frou.

Last night, in Ali Baba, Holly had stared in horror at Tyler's name as it flashed on her cell screen until, panicked and conflicted, she'd switched the phone off without answering -- as she'd planned to do, anyway. But by then, the charged moment between her and Pierre had passed, and though Pierre tried to engage her in conversation, Holly had been distracted and jittery, obsessively wondering if Tyler had left a voice mail. Soon, Pierre gave up on his attempts, so they finished the meal and walked back to the apartment in awkward silence. After they'd bid each other a terse good night outside the guest room, Holly turned her cell phone back on only to see that there were
no
new messages.

Which meant that she'd passed up her big chance to finally talk to Tyler -- and maybe salvage what was left of their relationship.

But do I even want to?
Holly agonized, clutching the purse and avoiding Alexa's gaze. Even though Tyler's missed call nagged at her like crazy, the thought of Pierre still made Holly jelly-kneed. By the time she'd

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gotten up that morning, he had already left for his classes at the Sorbonne, so there hadn't been a chance to resolve their awkwardness from the night before. And since Holly had to catch an eight o'clock train out of Gare du Nord that very night, she wondered if she might have to leave Paris without ever saying good-bye to Pierre at all. At this thought, Holly let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

''No, I
don't
know, but let me guess," Alexa spoke up, bringing Holly back to the present and the bright, pink-and-black boutique. "Pierre kissed you, and you liked it, and now you're all freaked because of Tyler and --"

"He didn't
kiss
me," Holly hissed, warmth flooding her cheeks. She glanced around the crowded store to see if anyone had overheard. She wanted to kill Alexa -- first for hitting so close to the mark, and second for filling Holly's head with vivid images of actually kissing Pierre: his full lips against hers, her hands buried in his thick curls -- so different from Tyler's silken waves their breaths meeting....
What
would
it be like to French-kiss a French boy?
Holly wondered, unable to suppress the naughty thought. She was sure her face was even darker than the slouchy burgundy tote Alexa was now turning in her hands.

Alexa shot Holly a knowing look and opened

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her mouth to say something about Tyler, Holly guessed -- but then, to Holly's great relief, Raphaëlle came hurrying over from the back of the store, curls flying and dark eyes shining. Raphi had greeted Alexa and Holly briefly when they'd first come into the shop, but then she'd had to tend to some customers.

"My girls!" Raphi exclaimed in English, looping one arm around Alexa's waist and the other around Holly's. "A million apologies for abandoning you. Did you find anything you like?"

"Okay, fabulous much?" Alexa cooed, fingering the fabric of Raphi's empire-waist blue dress, which her cousin wore over a long-sleeved black shirt, striped tights, and combat boots. Alexa felt plain by comparison in her white wrap top and red peasant skirt (yes, the unthinkable had occurred Alexa St. Laurent was repeating outfits).

"Raphi, I
need
you," Alexa added, suddenly remembering what she'd wanted to ask her cousin ever since yesterday's not-so-successful shopping venture.
"S'il te plaît,
find me a purse I can take on my date with Xavier Pascal --
and
tell me where I can get some fun vintage-y stuff?" She widened her blue eyes at her cousin, whose own eyes had grown enormous.

"So you're definitely seeing him tonight?" Raphi asked in a stage whisper, giving Alexa's waist a fast

185

squeeze and releasing Holly -- who, Alexa noticed, was now totally spacing out. "Oh,
c'est
cool, Alexa!"

"C'est
very cool," Alexa affirmed breathlessly, brimming with excitement -- and nerves. Every time Alexa thought about her impending night with Xavier, her belly performed a series of backflips. No wonder she'd only been able to take two bites of her
salade niçoise
at lunch. Alexa had never been so anxious about seeing a guy before -- though, to give herself some credit, she wasn't exactly used to dating a bona fide celebrity.

Over lunch with Holly, Alexa had also been uncharacteristically nervous about calling Xavier. Whenever she'd been single back in Oakridge, Alexa had phoned, IM'ed, and e-mailed boys she was interested in without hesitation. But this time, sitting at the outdoor café, she'd had to embarrassingly hold Holly's
hand
while punching the numbers into her friend's cell (in the past, Alexa had always done the hand-holding for Holly)
and
had lost all powers of speech as soon as she heard Xavier's low, throaty voice in her ear. Thankfully, she hadn't had to say much; Xavier took charge right away.

"French-American girl," he'd murmured teasingly in French. "I knew I'd hear from you. I'll pick you up with my Vespa around seven tonight, and we'll see where the evening takes us,
non?"

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Oui, oui.

"Let me see what I have for you in my storeroom downstairs," Raphi was saying. She winked at Alexa and headed off again. "And for you, too, Holly," she added over her shoulder, smiling mischievously. "In case you also have a date tonight."

Holly gulped, wondering if Raphi might be hinting at something with Pierre. Could it be? Holly brushed the idea -- and her wild surge of hope aside, and shot Raphi a weak smile. "No date for me," she replied. "Not unless it's with the conductor of the Eurostar train."

Chuckling, Raphi hurried away, and then Holly felt herself attacked from the side by Alexa, who flung her arms around Holly and practically knocked her over into a display of fringed leather satchels. Alexa may have looked delicate, but her hugs often had the force of gale winds.

"I keep blocking out the fact that you're
leaving
tonight!" Alexa cried, clinging to her friend. "What am I going to do without you?" She was missing Holly already.

"Uh, I think you'll have enough to keep you busy, Vespa Girl." Holly giggled while a woman in an expensive-looking houndstooth trench coat frowned at their loudness from across the store. "You so don't need me," Holly added, returning Alexa's hug.

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Actually, Holly wasn't sure resilient Alexa had really needed her in the first place, but Holly had had too much fun in Paris to really mind.

"Don't go yet, Hoi," Alexa declared, pulling back and regarding Holly seriously. "My flight back isn't until Sunday, and we haven't even gone out dancing at Les Bains
or
Favela Chic, and -- oh, my God -- don't you want to see Versailles?" Needless to say,
Alexa
didn't want to see Versailles for the umpteenth time, but she figured that classic tourist option might pique Holly's interest.

Holly felt a pang of sadness, wishing there was some way she could prolong her stay. "Alexa, you know I have to be at that meet tomorrow," she explained, setting down the green clutch on the shelf. "But," she added, nudging Alexa in the side. "Promise to call me first thing in the morning to fill me in on your scandalous date?"

Holly had to admit that the Xavier situation intrigued her -- and not only because it gave her a mental break from her
own
boy dilemmas. She'd been curious ever since last night, when she'd come into the guest room, cell phone in shaky hand, only to have Alexa jump on her, squealing incoherently about a camera, a kiss, and a phone number. Holly had realized, as Alexa finally sat down and spilled the yummy details, that her friend
hadn't
spent her afternoon