Paris by Heart Read online

  He held out his hand and without hesitation placed it over hers. Although he knew she might pull away, knew it could turn out to be even more awkward and embarrassing for him than their relationship had been in the past, he had to try to get through to her, had to find out where he stood. She was worth all the embarrassment in the world.

  She flinched and moved her hand away, but not completely. His little finger still lay against hers and Elise slowly lifted her head until their eyes met. A million butterflies tickled his insides. It was incredible the effect she had on him! She placed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and even that ordinary gesture had incomparable grace.

  He could have stayed like that with her for hours but after a few instants he thought she might be waiting for him to say something and so he did. “I thought of you all weekend. And Monday and yesterday, too. I’ve been counting the hours.”

  She frowned. “Really? You didn’t contact me. You waved when I walked through the café, but I thought maybe you weren’t interested anymore, and that’s OK, you know, I understand.”

  The smile on her face seemed so sincere, perhaps she would be fine if it all ended there, before it had really started. He wanted to thump the table at the thought of it. How could she stop at a kiss or two? He needed more than that. It was clear to him now. He had to tell her. It was his only chance.

  He held onto the edge of the table. “I knocked on your door but you must have been out. And then it got so busy in the café that I couldn’t stop. But I thought of you. I couldn’t think of anything else. And you didn’t contact me either. You have my number but I don’t have yours and I felt strange about asking Julie for it.”

  She fiddled with the edge of the article she’d brought. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He wished she’d say something, preferably sweet words of reassurance or desire even, but anything would be better than nothing.

  She batted her eyelids and spoke ever so softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can do this. Don’t get me wrong. I find you so incredibly attractive but I’ve never been one for casual relationships. I want someone who’ll stay by my side in good times and bad, someone who’ll forgive my mistakes and be there when I’m sick, when I’m healthy, when I’m sad, when I’m mad. Someone who wants to know everything about me. Casual doesn’t make me happy.”

  He wished he could go back in time, even to a few minutes ago when he had hope, hope that she would come to him, that the days and nights they’d spend over the summer would be enough to sustain him for years. Now it seemed to be out of the question and it filled him with sadness beyond expectation and reason. What could he do? She didn’t want what he had to offer.

  She cleared her throat. “I hope we can be friends.”

  Friends? The kiss of death! He wanted to kick the table. Instead, he nodded, defeated, nothing but a grimace for a smile on his face. What a lousy day this had turned out to be, after all the excitement and expectation! Elise had made it clear she didn’t want him and to add insult to injury tonight he was going out to dinner with Nicole.

  Elise patted the article. “I found this in a magazine. It’s about how cooking has evolved now that life is busier than ever. I thought you might like to work on this.”

  He wasn’t interested, especially not today. He didn’t think he’d manage to concentrate on some text probably written by someone who had no real experience with food and certainly no great love of it. It sounded like it was about saving time in the kitchen more than anything else. “Could we not just talk? Or I help you with your cooking again? What did you cook today?”

  She chuckled and he saw the child in her again. Such sweetness was rare and it saddened him even more than before that he couldn’t be with her.

  “I didn’t cook at all today,” she said. “I was expelled from class.”

  “Really? What for?” He remembered being expelled as a kid once for chewing gum and sticking it under the table, but he couldn’t imagine Elise doing anything like that.

  “For whispering a couple of words while the teacher was talking. It worked out well because I made a new friend.”

  He tilted back his head, wondering if the new friend was a man, wondering if that had anything to do with Elise’s decision not to take her relationship with Paul any further.

  She eased his mind straight away, as if she’d read it. “She is a lot of fun, Dominique, a great girl. We went to the Louvre together. It’s mind-blowing, the art, the building, the beauty of it all.”

  He nodded. So it wasn’t another man. Paul didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Should he ask her out on the weekend anyway, as a friend? What if she refused? Where would he go from there? And then there was the tiny problem of Nicole. What if he couldn’t get rid of her and she hung around all weekend?

  Elise gazed over at him, compassion in her eyes. “I guess we can cook. We’ll both enjoy it more than a boring article and it’ll be good for me to catch up on what I missed out on this morning, if you’re happy to do that.”

  He did his best to tame his enthusiasm. Perhaps if she spent time with him he’d have a chance to win her over. A slim chance, certainly, but it was better than none.

  “Sure,” he said. “What was it you were supposed to learn?”

  “One of my favourite desserts, crème caramel.”

  He let his enthusiasm show. “Oh, that is my favourite, too! I love the crème caramel.”

  She shook her head. “Crème caramel, not the crème caramel.”

  It seemed odd to him. “Why not the?”

  She rubbed her nose, thinking. “Well, it’s a definite article and you are not making a specific crème caramel, just any crème caramel.”

  He scoffed at the sound of that. “Non, non, non. Excuse me, but my crème caramel is far from being any crème caramel. People come from many distance—”

  “From afar.”

  “Yes, from very far for this particular crème caramel. It is the crème caramel and so it deserves an article. That is definite.”

  She laughed wholeheartedly and it warmed his soul to watch her. He stood and set to work before she changed her mind and decided to go back to the safety of studying a magazine article. He grabbed a bowl and a wooden spoon and placed them on the table. He spun around and unhooked a small pot from the wrought-iron rack above his head, and then a larger one.

  “I should have asked you, do you want something to eat first? There’s mackerel in white wine, maybe something else.”

  “You know what? I’d be happy with the crème caramel.”

  “OK then. We need sugar, flour, milk, cream, eggs, butter and vanilla. I’ve put everything away, so I shall go to the pantry. Why don’t you get from the fridge?”

  She tilted her head to her shoulder in the cutest way. “Get what?”

  The question surprised him a little. “You don’t know which ones will be in the fridge?”

  Her lips twisted and he could see from the glint in her eyes that it was with amusement.

  “I do,” she acknowledged. “But in English you must say what you get. You can’t just imply it. The sentence needs an object. I suppose it’s for clarity.”

  “Oh, clarity, I see. Well, I will get the butter, milk, cream and eggs from the pantry and you get the sugar and flour from the fridge. Clear enough like that?” He threw his hands up in the air. “Of course the butter and milk will not be in the pantry.”

  She shrugged. “The eggs could be.”

  “OK, I give you that. I will use an object in accordance with the rules of the glorious English language.”

  She chuckled and so did he and it seemed to him that the air around them was filled with magic.

  “You know, you’re speaking much faster even after just a few lessons, Paul.”

  “Yes, it’s thanks to you.”

  He wanted to put his arms around her slender waist, pull her to him and show her just how grateful he was. Couldn’t she see how right this would be? Instead he dug deep for control, letting
out his breath, and headed to the pantry. There in the semi-darkness he gathered his ingredients and his thoughts as he remembered their first kiss in this very same place. He paused for a few minutes, the flour under one arm, the sugar in the opposite hand, hoping against hope that she would join him.

  After what seemed like a long time he emerged from the cave-like cupboard and returned to the kitchen. He clicked his tongue rhythmically a couple of times, trying to appear chirpier than he really was. Elise had placed the pans on the gas stove and stood near them, ready for action—only not the kind that was on his mind.

  “So we start with the caramel, right?” she asked.

  He handed her the sugar. “Oui. We do the same quantities as you were doing this morning if you like. That makes it easier.”

  She nodded her agreement and took the sugar out of his hands, her soft skin gently brushing against his. He gulped, so unexpected was the shiver it sent right down his body. She glanced at him sideways and he wondered if she’d noticed how the slightest contact between them was electrifying to him. If she had she failed to mention it.

  She set to work with the caramel, adding a cup of water and stirring constantly. She was doing well.

  “Fabulous!” he said to encourage her. “Five or six minutes like that and then five or six minutes without stirring. Did you turn on the oven?” he asked.

  “No, sorry, I didn’t get that far this morning.”

  He smiled and crouched down to turn it on for her. His face was close to her legs, so close he imagined kissing them, his hand moving up and down to that warm, soft place… Oh, he was annoyed with himself! She wasn’t encouraging him. She’d made it clear they were to be friends. Did he have to have these visions of her naked body? He stood and tried his best to focus on the melting sugar and its sweet aroma.

  “Are you going to do another poetry reading?” she asked.

  He exhaled, grateful for the diversion. He had to keep his mind off Elise’s heavenly body. “No. I was thinking of maybe doing all Italian food one day next week. Definitely no more poetry. It was a total disaster. I now know people don’t come here for sweet words. They just come for a meal and a break.”

  “Maybe. It might be that it’s not your usual patrons who would be interested in the readings. You didn’t advertise much, did you?”

  “We don’t have the time or the budget, really.”

  “The same could happen with the Italian food day if you don’t let people know that it’s on.”

  She was right. He’d have to prepare things better next time. “You know about advertising?”

  “I’m not qualified but I’ve spent the past five years working in marketing, mostly typing up reports for clients. I’ve done so many of them I’ve learned a thing or two. Plus my parents had an air-conditioning shop before they retired and they were always talking business. You know what I think? Before trying things you really ought to identify your strengths and your uniqueness and build on that. The business formula might need nothing more than tweaking a little to change with the times.”

  He’d known all along that she wasn’t just a pretty face but her approach still impressed him. He liked a smart woman. For him there was nothing worse than a dumb woman, except perhaps a dumb female with a loud, nagging voice and a hairy chin. That tended to put him off.

  The sugar was turning a golden colour now, so he took some ramekins out of the cupboard and placed them on the table. “It’s ready to pour.”

  Elise shared the caramel between the ramekins rather skilfully, although a small drop landed on the table. He supervised her with the rest, gave her a few tips on combining the cream, milk and vanilla and beating the eggs, but he was careful not to stand too close, not to hold the whisk with her, not to lean into her body and smell her coconut-scented hair.

  The desserts were baking nicely in the oven and Paul and Elise had started cleaning up when Elise turned quickly, obviously not yet that familiar with the layout and size of the kitchen and he thought she was about to knock a pot, which would have still been hot, off the cooker with her elbow.

  He stretched, instinctively pulling her to him and out of harm’s way. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I thought you were going to burn yourself on the pot there.”

  He thought she’d pull away, perhaps not even believe he’d genuinely thought she’d nearly hurt herself, and express her displeasure. Instead she placed her hands against his chest and it seemed to him that they were the fingers of a sorcerer, so wondrous was her touch. He gulped, unable to think straight as he felt himself drowning in her gaze.

  She leaned in and placed her head against his shoulder. He couldn’t understand it, not after she’d said that she wanted to be friends, but how could he question it when she had this effect on him? Whatever it was she had to offer, he would take.

  There was a little caution in the way she smiled at him. “I’m sorry. This must be confusing for you. A few minutes ago I was telling you we could only be friends.”

  He nodded but said nothing, too scared she’d change her mind if he said the wrong thing.

  “Being here today with you, it’s become clear to me that I can’t be your teacher and see you in the café and not want more. Maybe seeing you for the holidays, if that’s all it can be, is better than nothing at all. I guess what I’m saying is I thought I couldn’t have a casual relationship, and I still don’t think it’s ideal, but I want to be with you. Every time I see you, I’m dying to be with you. Maybe there are times in life when a little is better than nothing at all.”

  He fell into the depths of those amazing big eyes of hers again and felt a wave of heat through his body. His lips found Elise’s and as they kissed the world disappeared around him. He was pleasure, pure and strong and he hoped she was experiencing the same magic. He groaned, aching for more.

  The timer on the oven rang and Paul wanted to swear as Elise pulled away. “We don’t want them to turn black now, do we?” she asked with a cheeky smile but it was her gaze that burned right through him.

  She put on a mitten and opened the oven door. “They smell like Heaven.”

  The scent of creamy vanilla filled the air, but it was nothing compared with Elise’s sweetness. Paul watched as she carefully placed the tray of hot desserts on the stainless steel bench. She scooped a spoonful out of one, blew on it and then brought it to her lips. “Oh, they taste amazing!”

  She fed him some too, then he fed her some more, and moments later they were in each other’s arms again. “What are you doing tonight?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes a little sheepishly.

  He glanced at the clock, suddenly returning to Earth. Tonight? Oh, no, he had to have dinner with Nicole. He brought his hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry, I forgot I have an appointment. I have to rush off. I’m really sorry.”

  He reached for his jacket on the back of a chair and pulled at it a little too hard. The chair fell over, the jacket still on it, and his wallet went flying, the contents of it spilling out onto the floor. He swore under his breath. It was always when you were in a rush that the universe failed to cooperate. He gathered his cards as quickly as he could.

  Elise got down on her hands and knees with him and helped pick up his papers. She looked at his driver’s licence, seeming somewhat amused. “Nice photo,” she said, handing it to him. “Rue Molière,” she added, having read his address. “I love Molière. Great comedy.”

  He escorted her to the stairs to her apartment and kissed her one last time. He would have loved to stay, or better still, to take Elise with him, but he simply couldn’t. If Nicole got angry with him she’d become vindictive and much more unpredictable and Christine’s future could be at stake. “I’ll call you over the weekend, I promise,” he said, breathing in her scent one last time before rushing off into the street. “What’s your number?”

  She scribbled her mobile phone number on the back of a piece of paper and handed it to him. He held her one last time, gave her a peck on the lips and, after lockin
g up, ran out, blowing her a kiss as she climbed the stairs to her apartment.

  Hurrying to the Metro Paul noticed everyone was looking at him, the eyes of strangers meeting his, some turning to examine him. He soon realised why.

  Despite the dreaded evening ahead with Nicole, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He was beaming at the thought of Elise and it felt great. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.

  If only it could last.

  Chapter 15

  Elise twirled around and around, her hands open so she could feel the rush of air between her fingers. The green topiaries and white gravel of the Jardin des Tuileries seemed to blend together to form a party streamer with the speed—which was perfect since all she wanted now was to celebrate her decision. Her skirt billowed, showing her legs, and she didn’t try to hide them. Dominique clapped her hands, chuckling at the sight.

  Elise stopped, still giggling and giddy with happiness. She was a child again, thinking only of today. She would have an affair with Paul, a love story, perhaps the most beautiful one she’d ever live, without worrying one bit about what tomorrow held.

  “You know it is illegal to show your body like that in public here,” said Dominique.

  Elise blinked, surprised not only by the statement but also Dominique’s attitude. She wasn’t merely warning Elise so she wouldn’t get into trouble, she was suddenly stern, austere. Elise quickly straightened her bouncy skirt. Perhaps it had lifted more than she’d thought and revealed her underwear.

  “Really? I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’m just so happy.”

  Dominique burst into laughter. “Don’t worry. I was kidding. We do not have enough police to arrest people for swirling skirts. And there is an exemption if you have nice legs.”

  Elise crossed her arms. “I thought it sounded strange but you looked so serious. No, it was worse than that, you reminded me of Madame Delapaix.”