Kissed in Paris (44 page)

She kept the gun pressed to my head as she walked us both forward into the street so that we were now clearly visible to Ralph and his girlfriend, but as my eyes frantically darted from side to side, I couldn’t find Julien.

Oh, God.
Where is he?

Marie peeled the barrel of the gun off my forehead and pointed it straight ahead at Ralph’s tiny girlfriend.

“Marie, what the fuck are you doing?” Ralph shouted, his deep voice booming through the alley.

I plastered my arms and hands at my sides, trying to calm the trembling, trying to tell myself that this would all work out. But with Marie’s arm squeezing my neck so tightly I could barely breathe, and Julien nowhere in sight, panic overtook me.

“Just shut up!” Marie screeched at him, making me jump. “If either of you move an inch, I’ll shoot both of you, and I’ll shoot her.”

“Who the fuck is she?” Ralph barked, clearly not fazed that his lunatic sister was pointing a gun at them.

“Don’t you remember? Julien’s little American girlfriend? Which reminds me. Julien!” she called out, her voice shaky and wild. “Where did you go, Julien? I just saw you a minute ago. If you come out now, your precious little
Américaine
won’t get hurt.”

Julien!

But when Julien didn’t appear, Marie walked forward, taking me with her, until the barrel of the gun was just a few feet away from Sara’s nose. The look in Sara’s cool blue eyes morphed from panic to complete dread.

Marie’s frantic, desperate voice shrieked in my ear again as she waved the gun toward Ralph. “You dirty bastard of a brother. I know you’re planning on leaving me here and never coming back. And after everything I’ve done for you, the least you could’ve done is cut me some of the money you’re going to make off this painting. You know I have nothing.
Nothing
!”

“Marie, just put the gun down,” Ralph said in a steady voice, his fists still clenched at his sides.

Just as I noticed Ralph’s eyes give a sudden flicker, their focus changing from Marie’s face to something just past her head, Marie tightened her grip around my neck. She squeezed and squeezed, making me gasp for air. The last thing I saw as blackness closed in around me and air refused to seep into my heaving lungs was Sara’s tiny face contorted in fear. But then, as my body went limp, Sara’s face disappeared, and I crumpled to the ground in a sea of black.

A loud bang startled me awake. I rolled my head to the side as a violent cough rocked through my chest, and there was Julien, just a few feet away from me, wrestling the gun from Marie’s hands.

When he managed to steal it from her death grip, she smacked his arm, causing the gun to fly from his hands in my direction. I pushed myself up off the rough cobblestones that were jabbing into my back and coughed again, my neck and lungs screaming in pain. I blinked my eyes and peeked up to find Ralph shoving the painting in the back seat of the car and Sara climbing into the passenger side.

Lunging forward, I grabbed the gun off the ground, stumbled to my feet, then ran toward the car. Just as Ralph and his girlfriend slammed their car doors shut and the engine revved up, I raced to the side of the car, aimed the gun at the front tire and shot.

The force of the gunshot propelled me backward, but I quickly gained my bearings, aimed at the back tire, and let another shot rip through the quiet alley.

And just as Ralph’s eyes turned to fire and he lunged out of the car toward me, a piercing siren stopped him in his tracks. Two police cars barreled down either side of the street, blocking us in.

I dropped the gun and jumped backward as it clattered to the ground. Julien had pinned Marie’s arms behind her back, and she finally stopped struggling as she watched the police officers jump out of their cars.

Before I had a chance to process what was happening, a familiar face appeared amidst the uniformed officers running toward us. It was Guillaume—Julien’s secret agent brother.

“Fuck,” Ralph muttered under his breath as Guillaume slammed him against the car and cuffed his wrists behind his back.

Another officer rounded the car and cuffed the girlfriend, and a third took Marie from Julien’s grasp and arrested her too.

I shook my head, still trying to digest what had just gone down when Julien appeared in front of me, his huge brown eyes full of concern. He took my face in both of his hands. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

“How did you know how to use the gun?” he asked, a look of pure astonishment washing over his face.

A grin slid over my lips. “I asked my dad to teach me when I was a teenager . . .
just in case
something ever happened when I was home alone with the girls.”

His eyes lit up as they poured into mine. “Chloe, you are incredible.”

My cheeks flushed from the feel of his strong hands on my skin . . .  my heart overflowing with warmth from the way he looked at me as if he’d never felt this way for anyone in his entire life.

Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, his kiss a violent burst of passion and desire, his hands weaving through my hair, his firm arms wrapping me up and holding me tight.

I relaxed into his kiss, my brain unable to think any thoughts as his masculine, sexy scent engulfed me.

After our lips had parted and I’d caught my breath, I looked deep into Julien’s eyes. “So what now?”

He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me in even tighter, his mouth meeting the skin on my neck and trailing down to my collarbone, making me forget all about my aching neck and my short breath.

“I am thinking I will take you to a nice dinner to celebrate, and then we will stay in Annecy for the night. I will book us a room at the Splendid Hôtel. How does that sound?”

I laughed as I ran my fingers through his soft, chestnut hair. “Splendid.”

But as Julien’s curious hands continued roaming over the curves in my back and only stopping once they reached my hips, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Maybe we should just skip dinner . . . I’m not that hungry after all.”

He laughed a deep, throaty laugh and kissed me again on the cheek as we watched two of the policemen unload his family painting from Ralph’s car and haul the criminals off to jail where I hoped they stayed for a long, long time.

Guillaume appeared by our side, patted Julien on the shoulder, then raised a brow in my direction. “I see you have decided to return to France already.”

A full-blown laugh bubbled from my lips, my nerves finally releasing.

“It was Chloe who knew where to find the painting,” Julien said, his face beaming with pride.

Guillaume’s curious gaze landed on me once more. “My older brother has finally met his match. And let me tell you Miss Turner, there is no more loyal man than Julien. I promise you that.”

“You can call me Chloe,” I said with a grin.

He laughed. “Come, I will drive you both wherever you need to go, and I will arrange for the painting to be driven back to the vineyard. I am sure
Maman
will be very happy.”

Julien patted his younger brother on the back and thanked him as we walked toward the police car.

But just as I was about to take Julien’s hand and climb into the back seat, a flash of wavy, auburn hair caught my eye. I whipped my head around to where I’d seen it . . . but she was gone.

I raised my eyes toward the bright blue sky, the puffy white clouds sailing softly overhead, the sun’s warm rays beating down on my face, and I knew in that moment that I would never again have to feel like I had no one to look out for me.

My mother had been here with me all along, watching over me, guiding me, and giving me the courage to step out on a limb and take a risk, to really
live
my life.

So, as I said a silent
thank you
to my beautiful mother for leading me down this unpredictable, and sometimes crazy path, I tossed my rationalizations out the window, took the hand that was stretched out before me and rode off toward a future full of adventure and passion, a magical life that even in my wildest dreams, I never could’ve imagined.

Epilogue

From: Angela Kelly

To: Chloe Turner

Sent: Saturday, October 8 at 1:00 a.m.

Subject: Former boss desperately seeking French lover

Chloe,

Heard through grapevine that wedding has relocated to France and a sexy, French ex-con has taken the groom’s place.

Two pressing questions for you:

1) Where is my invitation?

2) Does this sexy, French ex con-man of yours have any brothers? If he does, I don’t care if you invite me or not. I’m on the next flight to France.

Angela Kelly

Kelly and Rain Premier Event Planning

Washington, DC

P.S. Does he talk dirty French to you in bed? Do you know what he’s saying? Do you even care? Vive la France sister!

The End

Read on for an excerpt from

SLEEPING WITH PARIS

by

Juliette Sobanet

www.juliettesobanet.com

One

vendredi, le 24 septembre

Just because lawyers know how to lie doesn’t mean they’re good at it.

“Keep in touch,” I called, waving a not-so-tearful goodbye to my co-workers for the last time. I stepped out into the muggy DC heat and was so happy to be done with that hellhole that I felt like ripping off my little black suit and skipping down M Street in my underwear.

After seven years of practice, both as a student, then as a poor college graduate, I’d become quite the expert at strutting in heels down the brick sidewalks of Georgetown. Today, as I glided along in a state of total disbelief that this day had finally arrived, my normally uncomfortable heels effortlessly carried me away from my boring part-time translating job—make that my
ex
-translating job—down to Wisconsin Avenue, where my fiancé was wrapping up his last day at his Georgetown law firm.

Unable to hide the enormous grin spreading across my face, I reached into my purse and pulled out my flight itinerary just to make sure, for the hundredth time that day, that this was, in fact, my life. I scanned the piece of paper for our names.

Charlotte Summers and Jeff Dillon. One-way flight departing from Washington Dulles International en route to Paris Charles de Gaulle. In two days.
Two freaking days!