Kissed in Paris (15 page)

“What happened to her?”

Julien stood and headed toward the bathroom. “I think I have answered enough questions for one night.” With that, he closed the bathroom door and left me alone on the bed, wondering what could’ve possibly happened to that woman which was worse than what had already happened to me.

I finished my sandwich while Julien took a shower, and as I stood to throw the wrapping in the trash, something on the desk caught my eye.

Julien’s cell phone.

I glanced over to the bathroom door, and still hearing the shower running, I picked up his phone. I didn’t know what exactly I was looking for, but I needed to know more. More about who he worked for, the painting that he claimed was only a “distraction,” and why on earth he’d risk his job for a woman he’d just met.

Scrolling through his phone, I quickly located his text messages, then clicked on the most recent one. It had come in the night before from a contact named G.D.

My breath caught in my throat as a picture, not a message, loaded onto his tiny cell phone screen.

It was a picture of me.

The same one the cops had shown to the hotel manager earlier that morning at the Plaza Athénée Hotel.

Underneath the photo was a message that read:

La femme s’appelle Chloe Turner. Si tu veux trouver le tableau, empêche cette femme de parler aux flics.
C’est urgent.

I had to write this down. I couldn’t remember enough French to understand the entire message. I yanked the desk drawer open in search of a pen and paper, but didn’t find anything. Just then, the shower stream switched off from inside the bathroom. Julien would be opening that door any second now.

Lunging across the bed to reach the night stand, I opened the drawer and found a pen next to a pad of paper. Underneath the
Hôtel Splendid
heading, I scribbled the text message down, tore the piece of paper off the pad, folded it up and pushed it into my bra. I hurried back across the room, fiddled with Julien’s phone to bring it back to the main screen, then returned it to its exact spot on the desk.

Just when I made it onto the bed, Julien emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. His dark brown hair was all wet and messy, and his lips curved upward into that disarming grin I’d already seen a few times that day, revealing the dimple in his right cheek.

“That was a nice shower, was it not?” he said as he used another towel to dry off his ears.

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, trying
not
to look below his face at his rock-hard abs or his tan, muscular shoulders. I rubbed my hand over my chest and felt the folded piece of paper hiding in there, then smiled back at Julien. “It was the best shower I’ve had in a long time.”

Nine

The sound of the door clicking shut jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find Julien dressed in his clothes from the day before, a preoccupied look passing over his features.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled. “Like a rock.”

“Is this what you are like when you share a bed with a man?”

“Excuse me?”

“When your fiancé takes you to bed, do you go to sleep immediately?” Julien whipped open the drapes, letting in a stream of bright light.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position and squinted as my eyes adjusted. “What are you implying? That I’m frigid?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just wondering.”

I stood up in a huff.

“Do you live together?” Julien asked. “You and your fiancé?”

“Yes, of course we do. Why are you drilling me? I just woke up.”

“Is he able to please you?”

My jaw dropped. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“What is the problem?”

“I just met you yesterday—that’s the problem. If you think I’m going to discuss my sex life with you, you’re crazy.”

Julien shrugged and stifled a smirk. “Don’t get so upset. I am just curious. I know that when people move in together, sometimes the romance goes away.”

“Have you ever lived with anyone?” I asked him.

 “No.”

“Well, if you must know, things can get less exciting once you’ve lived with someone for a while. Not that I’m saying that’s the case with me and my fiancé, but for many couples, yes, that can happen. Of course you can still come up with ways to spice things up.”

He lifted a brow. “Such as?”

I ducked into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. “Use your imagination.”

Julien popped his head around the corner and caught my eye in the mirror. “I have a very vivid imagination.”

 “Yes, you proved that to me during your little nude beach stunt on the Newlywed Tour Bus from hell yesterday. So charming,” I muttered as I looked at my flushed cheeks in the mirror and closed the door on Julien’s laughter. “What time is it?” I called through the door.

“It is nine-thirty. I have just returned from the train station.”

“Why did you let me sleep so late? Can we get a train out of here soon?”

 “Actually, there is a problem.”

I whipped the bathroom door back open again. “What kind of problem?”

Julien ran his hand through his hair. “There is a
grève
.”

“What’s a
grève
?”

“What is the word in English?” Julien sat down on the edge of the bed, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “A strike?”

“A strike?”

“Yes. That is the word. All of the transportation workers are having a strike today. There are no trains.”

“What do you mean, there are no trains? How can this be possible?”

“It is quite normal in France. There are
grèves
all the time.”

“We have to leave though. We can’t waste any more time. What about renting a car?”

“Not possible. They are on strike too. All the businesses relating to transportation are on strike. We are stuck.”

I stared at Julien in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. “Why are you acting so calm?”

“You think I am happy about this? What can I do though? It is not as though I am in control of the transportation situation in France,” he snapped.

“But there has to be something we can do! Is there
any
way we can get to Lyon today?” I stood up and paced back and forth next to the window.

“I have left a message for someone who may be able to pick us up and take us to Lyon. We will wait for a call back. If that does not work, the strike will only last for one day. We can take the train to Lyon first thing tomorrow morning. Claude has a girlfriend he stays with, so he will be there for at least a couple of days.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Just like you were
sure
we would catch him in Giverny, and then in Annecy? I’m starting to think you’re not the best undercover agent after all. I mean, why can’t one of your fellow agents come and get us? How is it possible that we’re stuck here?”

“I told you, I have left a message for the one person who is able to take us to Lyon, but the details of my job, of my connections are to be kept confidential. And if you want to insult my job abilities, that is fine. But I’d like to know, do you have a better plan?”

“No, but still. This is insane. What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

The tense look in Julien’s eyes faded as they combed their way down my body. “I could come up with a few ideas.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stalked over to the window. “Oh my God. This cannot be happening to me.”

Julien stood from the bed and grabbed his phone off the desk. “You American women—so uptight. Come, I take you to breakfast, and we can discuss ways to lighten you up.” Julien eyed the red dress lying over the back of the chair. “First, we need to get you some new clothes.”

“In case you’re forgetting, I don’t have any money on me,” I told him, my insides cringing at the thought of wearing those scuffed-up black heels and that awful red dress for another second.

“I will take you shopping. It will be fun.”

I scrunched up my forehead. “Shopping? Fun? No man thinks shopping is fun.”

“You mean no
American
man thinks shopping is fun. You forget, I am French. We are a very different breed. There are great shops in Annecy. Get dressed. It’s time for a real French breakfast.”

“If you think I’m going to run around eating and shopping in some obscure town in the French Alps with a man I barely know, acting like everything is okay when my wedding is in five days, you’re insane! I’m going to find a way out of this city, with or without you.”

Julien arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How?”

I stared at him blankly. Clearly I had no plan. And my stomach was growling something fierce.

“Fine. I’ll come with you. But only because I’m starving and I don’t see any point in sitting in this hotel room by myself.”

After a quick shower, I tucked the piece of paper with the text message written on it back inside my bra, making a mental note to be sure to translate it as soon as possible.

My two choices in apparel were either the skimpy red dress or the pajamas, and with either option, I would be sporting my three-inch black heels. As much as that damn dress made me think of Claude and what I may or may not have done with him two nights prior, I decided to wear it. I simply could not bring myself to walk around outside in pajama pants and high heels. After I finished in the bathroom, I found Julien lounging on the bed, flipping channels on the TV.

He lifted his eyes from the screen, his chocolate brown gaze landing on my chest.

“What are you staring at?” I snapped, hoping he didn’t notice the flush spreading up my neck.

Julien’s gaze flicked up to my face. “I am just thinking that for all of his flaws, Claude has good taste in women’s clothing. No?”

Men
.

“I need to call my fiancé before we leave,” I said, taking a seat next to Julien on the bed and slipping on my heels.

“Did you not just speak with him yesterday? He thinks you are working, no?”

I peered down at my watch. Julien had a point. Paul
would
think I was working right now, and it was only three-thirty in the morning there. Waking him up in the middle of the night had never been a good idea, so maybe I should wait until he was up for the day.

The tightness in my stomach dissipated the slightest bit. I could talk to him later. No need to make the situation worse than it already was.

“Okay, I’ll wait. Let’s go.”

Julien smiled at me, revealing his big dimple. “
On y va
.”

***

Julien ushered me through the front door of the hotel, and as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and took in the view of the crystal blue lake surrounded by tree-covered mountains, I forgot about my feet hurting, about the miniscule red dress I was wearing, about Paul, about our checking account, about how much Julien was grating on my nerves, about everything.