Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) (10 page)

He raised his glass and addressed the whole
room. “Let’s drink to these two generous, dogged, and kind people. Their souls
are so full of warmth they radiate the excess of it all around them. And their
hearts are so full of love that it gives me hope for humanity. To Lena and Rob.
Hip hip hooray!”

Among the hoorays and clinking of wine
glasses that followed, Mat stole a glance at Jeanne and caught her staring at
him. Her gaze was dark with something intense, something powerful that he
hadn’t seen before. She looked at him as if he were a hero. Or a Viking god.

Or the only man on Earth.

He swallowed hard, shaken by what he’d
glimpsed.

She blinked, stretched her lips into a polite
smile and turned to Didier.

Mat’s mind raced.
Was
it . . . ? Could it be . . . ?

He didn’t dare put his question into words,
but for the rest of the evening he couldn’t think of anything else. Not even as
he held Cécile in his arms while they danced. Nor when he sizzled in guilty
jealousy as he watched Didier dance with Jeanne and wondered if they shared a
room tonight. Nor when Rob gave him a pat on the back and said, “Nice speech,
mon
pote
.
Oh, and by the way, you
are
a sappy cornball.”

Mat smiled distractedly and, as Rob walked
away, he finally allowed his brain to formulate the shocking question.

Could Jeanne have
feelings
for me?

The notion was both exhilarating and sad.
Because he didn’t doubt that what he had for her—now as four years
ago—was all-consuming, obsessive lust.

Nothing more.

***

Jeanne woke up early, her head pounding and her mouth dry.

Last night was a blur. She’d had too much to drink, tried too hard to
smile at Didier’s remarks, and resist the urge to look at Mat. Who had stared
at her too often to pass for casual interest. But his girlfriend had remained
serene and unperturbed. Maybe she didn’t notice Mat’s scorching looks. Maybe
she did, but was too well-bred to make a scene or even show she was affected.

Cécile was a woman of class.

Jeanne smirked. Even Amanda would envy Cécile’s polished looks, graceful
bearing, and impeccable manners. Everything about her, from her shiny smooth
hair and thin nose to her polished voice and long fingers with perfect
fingernails, screamed refinement. Screamed quality. She was the kind of woman
who would even pee with style and poise. She was the kind of woman a man such
as Mat would want for a life partner.

Drop the conditional, hon,
Jeanne told herself.

She was the woman Mat
wanted
for a life partner.

Jeanne wondered if Didier had noticed what was going on last night. They
still hadn’t crossed the boundary between occasional dates and a relationship.
She wasn’t sure they ever would. It was heartwarming and flattering that he
wanted more than a business partnership. But flattering wasn’t enough. She
didn’t fancy him, at least not yet. A month ago, when Didier tried to kiss her,
she told him as much. He said he’d wait. She promised herself she’d nurture any
embryonic feeling she might develop for him.

But deep inside she suspected Mat was right.

They weren’t a good match.

Jeanne showered, pulled on her jeans, and packed her travel bag. The
guests were to gather in the hotel’s garden in two hours for a copious brunch.
After a moment’s hesitation, she threw on a sweater, grabbed her book, and
headed out to the terrace.

“I knew you’d show up. Not a late sleeper, huh?” Lena greeted her from a
lounge chair.

Jeanne slumped down next to her. “What are
you
doing here?
Shouldn’t you be fast asleep, exhausted from the
wedding night
?”

“Ha-ha.” Lena stretched her arms. “I wish I could sleep for a couple more
hours though . . .”

“You’re telling me.”

“Is Didier still asleep?” Lena asked a little too innocently.

“I wouldn’t know. We booked separate rooms and spent the night in
different beds, if that’s what you’re trying to establish.”

“Good.”

Jeanne raised her brows.

“I know he’s being super nice to you and all, but . . .
I’m not sure he’s a good person, Jeanne. The way he treats customers—it’s
just too mean. He may be one of those guys who turn nasty the moment they think
you’re in their pocket. He’s not a good match for you.”

Jeanne’s lips thinned. “How come everyone thinks they know who’s a good
match for me?”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to—” Lena began, her eyes
brimming with remorse.

“It’s OK. I know you meant well. It’s just . . . someone
told me the exact same thing not so long ago.”

“Mat?”

“Yes.”

Lena shook her head. “I noticed the way he looks at you, even with his
girlfriend around. It’s like a déjà-vu from four years ago. The only difference
is that you seem to care this time around.” She stared Jeanne in the eyes,
defying her to disagree.

Jeanne turned away and began to study the dewy lawn.

“Oh, Jeanne.” Lena let out a heavy sigh.

Jeanne shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been good at bad timing.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

“No.”

Nothing that would give me hope.

Lena took Jeanne’s hand in hers. “Please don’t repeat my mistakes and get
involved with someone who’s wrong for you just because you can’t have the man
you care about. It won’t end well.”

“I know,” Jeanne said.

Lena nodded and reopened her paperback.

Jeanne smiled, grateful for her friend’s sense of tact, and opened her
own book.

The mood at brunch was cheerful and laid-back. Everyone showed up in
casual clothes, looking tired but happy to prolong Lena and Rob’s special day.
The newlyweds didn’t hide their relief that the wedding day hadn’t been marred
by an
incident
characteristic of gatherings with lots of booze,
especially when vodka competed with champagne.

Mat and Cécile came down into the garden side by side, both in pale
cotton polo shirts and linen pants. They were a stunning couple. Watching them
together hurt so much Jeanne wished she hadn’t been Lena’s maid of honor so she
wouldn’t have to sit at the central table. She wished she hadn’t been invited
to her best friend’s wedding at all.

“Did you sleep well?” Didier asked her.

She nodded. “What about you?”

“I didn’t.”

Jeanne gave him a sympathetic look. “Too much vodka?”

“Maybe. Or maybe something else.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a patient man, Jeanne, and I still admire you,” he said.

She tensed, waiting for the rest of it.

“But last night . . .” He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“The way you stared at
pretty boy
,
encouraging him . . . I expected better of you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend,” she whispered back.

“But I’m your
date
.
” He
sighed. “I understand the grass is always greener on the other side of the
fence. But that’s the thing—there’s a fence.”

She
studied her empty plate.

“You’re a clever girl. Can’t you see what he wants from you?”

She could. The problem was she wanted it
,
too. Badly.

Wasn’t that a hoot?

Didier shook his head. “Get real, Jeanne. I won’t wait indefinitely.”

You can save time and quit now
,
she itched to say, but she didn’t.

“Will you pass me the butter, please?” Didier asked, raising his voice to
normal.

She obliged, avoiding his eyes.

“Tell me, Mat,” he said, buttering his toast. “Where exactly do the
Greens stand on economic policy? I must admit I don’t have a clue. I only
follow the parties that
really
matter.”

Mat half smiled. “We’re in the center. On some issues, we’re center left
and on others center right, but we’re never too far from the golden middle
point.”

“I would’ve expected the Greens to be aligned with the socialists,” Lena
said.

“The European Greens’ stance is that environmental politics can’t be tied
to either the left or the right,” Cécile said.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not one of those ‘champagne socialists’ France is
famous for,” Lena’s dad said. “I find their hypocrisy disgusting.”

Jeanne felt she had to defend the party she’d always voted for. “I agree
our
gauche caviar
can be unsavory, but at least they aren’t fascists. If
anyone can save Europe from the extreme right, it’s the socialists.”

“Your feelings are admirable, my dear,” Didier said. “But as soon as we buy
La Bohème
,
you’ll hate them
for the taxes they’ll be squeezing out of us
.
”

Rob smirked. “Didier has a point.”

Jeanne rolled her eyes demonstratively. Of course he had a point. But
unlike her parents, she wasn’t going to veer to the right the day she became a
business owner. At least that was what she hoped.

“Your political activities, it’s like a hobby for now, right?” Anton
asked Mat. “I suppose in France, like anywhere else, you don’t get paid unless
you’re elected?”

“I’d say my political engagement is more than a hobby. But you’re
absolutely right—I have a day job. I work for my mom’s company.”

The older man smirked. “I can imagine how much you long to be
emancipated.”

“My father is alluding to my refusal to work for him,” Lena explained to
Mat.

“Oh, I see. Actually, the job is fun and even beneficial for my campaign.
We get orders from lots of local businesses and nonprofits, and even
Baleville’s municipality hired us last year to promote the town in the national
media.”

“Your address book must be well packed,” Lena’s stepmom said.

Mat grinned. “I can’t complain. So yeah, it’s a win-win for me. Besides,
I’m free to contradict my boss as much as I want, which is every employee’s
dream.”

The conversation moved to another topic, and Jeanne tried to be her usual
feisty self. She nearly succeeded—until she caught Mat looking at her.
Her pulse quickened, and she locked her gaze with his for what was, no doubt,
indecently long. When he finally looked away, Jeanne felt someone else’s
scorching look. Cécile was glaring at her, her expression black. It only lasted
for a few seconds. Her face became serene again as she turned to say something
to Mat.

So, she’d finally noticed what was going
on . . . or decided to let Jeanne know she had.

***

Mat realized he’d been staring at Jeanne again when his phone buzzed. He
glanced at the caller ID, turned to Rob, and whispered apologetically, “Sorry,
I have to take this. It’s my mom.”

“You have to take it because it’s your mom or because it’s your boss?”
Rob teased.

“Good question.” Mat grinned.

He strode to the flowerbeds in the middle of the lawn. “Hi, Mom. What’s
up?”

“Sorry to bother you now, but I need to know if the article is ready,”
Madame Gérard said
.

“Which one?”

“The most urgent one—about the toy shop.”

“I emailed it Friday night. Check your spam folder.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “So, how’s the wedding? I hope you didn’t lose the
rings.”

“Mother,” he said in exaggerated reproof.

She chuckled. “Oh, before I forget. I ran into monsieur the mayor at Le
Cheval Bleu last night. He told me he favored your candidacy over his
deputy’s.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, he was a little drunk, so he may not repeat what he told me for
the record, but yes. He said he believed someone like you—young, dynamic,
and tech savvy—was what the town needed.”

“Cool! Thanks for the news, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. Do you think you can get him to support you publicly?”

“No. He has to support his deputy. She’s from the same party and, well,
she’s his deputy.”

“Too bad.”

“It’s OK. It’s still great to know he thinks I’m what Baleville needs.”

Mat returned to the table grinning. Cécile would be pleased to hear the
news. He’d better give his full attention to her because so far he’d behaved
like a douche.

An hour later, the meal wound down, and the guests began to return to
their rooms to pack.

Rob walked around the table and asked Cécile if she could spare Mat for a
moment, “to finish off his last best man duties.”

“Of course,” Cécile said.

Mat smiled, pretending he knew what it was about, and followed Rob to a
small patio at the back of the hotel.

“What’s the deal with you and Jeanne?” Rob asked as soon as they were out
of everyone’s earshot. “Are you seeing each other?”

“No. Why?”

“Do you think I’m blind? You’ve been ogling her nonstop since we got
here. And she you.”

“So you noticed.”

Rob gave him a what-do-you-think look. “I’m afraid everybody did.”

“Oh God.”

“What did Cécile say?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I was hoping she didn’t
notice . . .”

“Maybe—I don’t know her well enough—or maybe she chose to
turn a blind eye on it. Whichever it is, you’re walking on thin ice.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Then why don’t you . . .
avoid looking at Jeanne?”

Mat smirked. “I must have a self-destructive
side, like my dad.”

Rob tilted his head to the side. “That’s a
bit too easy, blaming it on your dad.”

Mat sucked in his cheeks but said nothing.

“How long has it been going on?”

Mat hesitated before confessing, “Since your
engagement dinner last September.”

“Holy cow.”

Mat smiled. Despite his embarrassment, it was
a relief to talk to Rob about it. “The moment I saw her something snapped
inside me, and my old crush came rushing back.”