Fine Print, page 3
I cracked my eyes, glaring at the bedside clock. 9:00. Shit. I pushed my way up to a seated position and grabbed the receiver.
“Are you up?” Brad’s voice invaded the fog in my head, forcing me to think.
“Yes,” I lied.
“I’ve got coffee,” he said. “I thought it might be better to call than to knock on the door.”
“Thank you,” I answered, feeling more grateful than he could know. “Just give me a second.”
He hung up without any more pleasantries, leaving me precious few moments to make myself presentable. I swung out of bed and felt the earth move. The carpet beneath my feet was plush, but I didn’t want to face plant onto it. Reaching a hand out, I steadied myself against the wall. There was a throbbing beneath my eyes that was more uncomfortable than painful, but still unwanted considering the circumstances.
All I have to do is get dressed and get on the plane, I told myself. Maybe run a brush through my hair and put some eyeliner on, but that was going to be the extent of my primping for the time being. I didn’t want to leave Brad waiting, and I didn’t want to give the impression that I was hung over, even though it was the truth.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I ran a cold shower. It woke me up immediately, sending me shivering for a towel. I hopped out, taking a look at myself in the mirror. I slept with my makeup on, and the raccoon eyes were a dead giveaway.
Reaching for the complimentary removal cloth, I swiped the evidence of last night’s debauchery off my face. Running cold water over my hands, I grabbed the soap. It took me five minutes to run through the basics, and when I was done, I was in far better shape than when I had started.
Leaving the bathroom, I felt my balance restore itself. I grabbed a bathrobe and a pair of pajama bottoms. I couldn’t decide how modest to be around him. We’d slept together, so that meant he had seen everything. But I was trying to reconstruct some semblance of professionalism, and that demanded pants at the very least.
It was too exhausting to try to make up my mind, and Brad was waiting. I gave up, leaving my room half-dressed but completely concealed. What happens in Paris stays in Paris, wasn’t that the saying? No, that was Las Vegas. Anyway, it seemed to fit. On Monday, I would arrive at work in business attire, but for the moment, I would take advantage of the familiarity that was growing between us and be a little more relaxed.
Knocking on Brad’s door, I touched my hair. Oh no! I had forgotten to brush it, and without the benefit of a mirror, I could tell it was all over the place. I pushed it behind my ears, attempting to recover, when the door opened and Brad stood in front of me, completely dressed in a suit and tie.
He blinked once, but that was his only reaction. I knew I was a mess. I hurried inside before he could say anything, pretending to be focused on our agenda for the day. I barely even noticed the Eiffel Tower standing right outside his window. In just a few short days, I had become so accustomed to the magnificent sight that it failed to impress me anymore.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning,” he answered, removing his glasses and retrieving a cleaning kit from a side table.
I watched, momentarily fascinated as he unfurled a piece of cloth and began rubbing it across the lenses. He looked up, catching me studying him. I could see a smile in his eyes, but it didn’t quite reach his lips.
“Long night?” he asked provocatively.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Are you hung over?”
“No.” I straightened my shoulders. “I barely drank anything, just danced all night long.”
“I’m glad you got back safely,” he said, tucking the cloth back into the cleaning kit. “We’ll leave at two o’clock instead of nine.”
I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, collapsing onto his couch. “Thank goodness.”
He laughed. “I can see you need more sleep.”
“Yes please,” I replied, lowering my head to the back of the sofa.
“I have another two meetings to attend to,” he said, putting his glasses back on and grabbing two coffee cups from the kitchen counter.
Sitting down beside me, he handed over one of the mugs. I took it gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma before putting my lips to the rim. The strength of the brew was something I would never get used to. In America, the coffee was watered down and filled with cream, sugar, and foam. All my favorite beverages in the coffee shop were as much milk products as they were actual coffee. This French concoction was different. I would have called it espresso if I didn’t know better.
“I’ll never get used to French coffee,” I mused, closing my eyes.
“You don’t have to,” Brad said. I could feel him settle back into the cushions beside me. It was a warm sensation, and I was glad I hadn’t bothered to dress up for the occasion. We might not be lovers after just one night, but we were clearly past the whole boss and assistant routine. “You’ll be back in Oakland soon, and you can have your coffee Americano.”
“Is that what it’s called?” I asked dreamily.
“Technically,” he replied.
Since neither of us were eager to get moving, I decided some conversation was in order. “What are your meetings today? Should I come along?”
“No,” he scoffed. “I think I can handle them myself. One’s with a potential investor for a different company I hold. The other’s with Alyssa.”
He said the name so quickly I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. But that was the whole point, and it was a dead giveaway that something was amiss. I cracked my eyelids, spying on him from across the sofa.
He looked away but finally found the courage to meet my gaze. We were like two wild animals in human clothes. I was a cheetah, and he was a gazelle. He knew I was about to eat him if he didn’t move away fast, and even though neither of us said anything, there was a primal quality in the air.
“Alyssa?” I asked innocently.
“Yes, she’s the woman you met last night,” he said, pretending that my heightened awareness was just because I was confused.
“I know,” I shut down that avenue of escape. “She’s Mr. Pierce’s daughter. I’ve known her for years, although I’m not sure she ever knew who I was.”
“She knows,” Brad responded a little too quickly.
“Hmm,” I muttered, snuggling a little deeper into my seat. “How is she doing?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “She’s living in Paris, and enjoying herself.”
“She said something about ‘getting you back.’” I recalled the brief conversation Alyssa and I had had in the hallway outside the ladies room the previous night.
“She and I had a fling,” Brad answered. If he was uncomfortable reveling that detail, I couldn’t tell.
“So I gathered,” I said, making sure he knew that I was up to speed. “She wants you back.”
He cleared his throat, and I couldn’t tell if that meant he was interested or not. “She has no plans to move back to the United States, and I have no plans to move here on a more permanent basis.”
I wasn’t sure why, but the confirmation of the fact that he wouldn’t be running back to her made me feel better. I told myself it wasn’t any of my business. Yet here we were, talking about her as if I had a say in the matter.
Brad and I weren’t related. We weren’t dating, and we certainly weren’t married. If he wanted to pick things up with an old flame, it wasn’t up to me. But still I appreciated the knowledge that he wasn’t interested. There was something about Alyssa that got my hackles up. She wasn’t just any other woman; she was bad news, I could just feel it.
“Why are you going to meet with her then?” I asked.
“There’s just something I need to talk to her about,” he answered evasively.
That could mean all sorts of things, and if I was a jealous woman, I might be worried. ‘Talking’ to Alyssa could include fooling around. He said that he had no intention of moving to Paris, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t up for one more roll in the sheets. I tried not to let it bother me, but the thought of the two of them making love was almost more than I could bear.
“I’ll get back as soon as I can, and we can pack up around noon,” he continued.
My heart did the math. If it was nine o’clock now, then that gave him three hours to be with Alyssa. It was plenty of time to do the nasty. Minus whatever time his other meeting took, that still left a potential opening that didn’t sit well with me.
I closed my eyes again, pretending to be exhausted. In the darkness I created for myself, I repeated the phrase none of my business over and over until it sank in. What Brad chose to do was his prerogative alone.
“I’m going to go back to my room,” I decided, standing up. “It sounds like you’ve got a busy day ahead.”
“Don’t I always?” he said with a smile.
I had to laugh. Despite the fact that I wanted to be angry with him for choosing Alyssa over me, he was still the same person that I had grown fond of. It was a pity. I thought we could have meant something to each other.
A single hookup in a hotel room in Paris was all we would have to show for our affection. I would have to go back home with only memories, and while I was partially to blame for that situation, I still didn’t like it.
I’d wanted distance between us, but I didn’t want to push him into the arms of another woman. Why couldn’t I have everything? If he continued pursuing me, I could console myself with the thought that someday the barriers would be removed and we could be together. But now...everything was different. He might not move to Paris, but with his resources, that wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker. I could imagine him jetting off whenever the mood struck him, to get lucky in the city of lights while I was stuck at home alone over Corey’s garage.
The gulf between us had never seemed bigger. I walked back to my room with the cup of coffee Brad had so thoughtfully gotten for me. Sleep was out of the question. My mind was churning with visions of Brad and Alyssa, and I couldn’t get it to stop. So instead, I ran a hot bath in the soaking tub and climbed in.
Chapter 5
Brad
I watched Teddy go with a mixture of desire and disappointment. From our short but awkward conversation, I was beginning to get the idea that she might be more attached to me than she let on. That was a good thing because I was growing more interested in her the longer I spent in her company.
The problem was propriety. Teddy seemed to think that we should back off, that the tryst in the hotel room had been a mistake and we should resume our previously cool relationship. I didn’t want to see that happen, but I didn’t know how to pause it. I couldn’t very well order her to sleep with me. Teddy had to come to me on her own, and all I could do was wait.
I wasn’t a fool. There was some animosity between Teddy and Alyssa. I’d felt it the previous night at the gala when Alyssa had asked pointed questions about Teddy. And I’d felt it again sitting there on the couch when Teddy asked me why I was going to see Alyssa. If I was a lesser man, I might enjoy their rivalry. Being the center of attention was nice.
But in this case, I didn’t need to draw things out. I wasn’t interested in Alyssa that way anymore. Sure, she was hot, and I was a red-blooded male. But I knew how it would go between us. She would get tired of me quickly, just as she had before. It had taken me months to pick up the pieces of my heart after she shattered them by running away. If she was reconsidering her actions, I wasn’t interested in a repeat performance. The cost of being with her was too high.
Teddy, on the other hand, was someone I would very much like to spend more time with. The problem with her was different, but with time, I thought I could convince her to let down her guard.
I had no desire to meet Alyssa in a hotel room or in her apartment. We texted throughout the morning and finally agreed to meet at a café. I thought it was the safest bet, considering her posturing at the Louvre. She was all over me, and I didn’t know if I would be strong enough to resist in an intimate setting.
I had a quick meeting with a potential investor that I knocked out first. Eschewing the limo for a less conspicuous mode of transportation, I took one of the hotel’s vehicles to the rendezvous point.
It was an impressively modern building downtown, towering above some of the older churches and dwellings. I rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor, getting off just in time to make my appointment.
True to his culture, my contact had sparkling water and croissants available to eat. I had skipped breakfast, except for coffee, so I indulged myself as we talked. The meeting went well, and at the end, we shared a good old-fashioned American handshake.
The café where I had arranged to meet Alyssa was just two blocks over. Down on the street, I located my car and told the driver that I would walk.
“Please pick me up at noon,” I instructed him. “I don’t care what I’m doing. Interrupt me if you need to.”
“Oui, monsieur,” the driver said.
Walking across a few city blocks made me feel like a real European. People in this country walked far more often than people did in America. Part of it was culture, but part of it was geography. The urban sprawl of cities like Los Angeles made walking impossible. Within the two city blocks I traversed, there was an abundance of shops and restaurants. Office buildings were located on the upper floors while store fronts opened onto the street level.
I had a little bit of time, and I definitely didn’t want to be early. Sitting there waiting for Alyssa like some love-struck teenager wasn’t in the cards. It was a subtle powerplay, but I was determined to make her wait for me instead of the other way around.
I stopped in at one boutique, thinking I would pick something up for my mom. I didn’t know when I would see her again, but a purse from Paris would bring a smile to her face no matter how long it took to reconnect.
They had some expensive name brand bags, as well as some local, in-house offerings for considerably less. I didn’t want to present my mother with anything less than the best, so I stayed to the back of the store where the genuine items were located.
A saleswoman came to help me out, and I explained what I was looking for. “My mother is a world traveler. She’s not flashy, but she definitely has refined tastes.”
“What about this one?” the woman asked, speaking English with a heavy accent.
The purse she indicated was black with a gold buckle. It looked more like an accessory for a twenty-something-year-old instead of a woman who could have grandchildren if her sons had been more agreeable.
“Do you have anything more understated?” I asked.
“What about this one?” The saleswoman moved on to a Chanel bag with the logo stamped all over it.
“Perfect,” I said. “Wrap it up.”
“Oui, monsieur,” she replied with a smile.
“You know what,” I said on second thought. “Make that two.”
The saleswoman brightened considerably, her commission on two Chanel bags sending euro signs dancing through her eyes. I watched her wrap them up and put them into a discrete paper bag.
One purse was for my mother, and the other was for Teddy. I wasn’t sure how I was going to give it to her. Maybe I would hang on to it and present it when the time was right. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to buy her off. The truth was that the money didn’t mean very much to me. On the other hand, a smile from Teddy when she unwrapped the gift would be more powerful than whatever the purchase price had been.
I left the shop feeling lighter somehow. I had done my duty as both a son and a potential boyfriend. Of course, I couldn’t put the cart before the horse and assume that Teddy and I would ever be romantically involved that way. But it didn’t hurt to hedge my bet. When the time came, I would have the perfect gift to memorialize our time together in Paris. It might even remind her of the first night we’d spent together.
Thinking only of Teddy and the way she’d looked the morning after our mutual encounter, I walked the rest of the way to the café. Just as I’d hoped, I found Alyssa there waiting for me. If she was pissed that I arrived late, she didn’t mention it.
She rose to her feet like an eager stalker, reaching out to give me a hug. I stood stiff, threading a single arm around her waist to give her a slight squeeze. I didn’t appreciate the gesture, and I didn’t want to give off any vibes that I was eager for a second chance.
Alyssa looked down at the bag I was carrying. “For me?” she gasped, reaching out for it.
“For my mom.” I held it back. I wasn’t going to mention the second purse. It was none of Alyssa’s business, and I didn’t want to fill her in on my hopes and dreams.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed but rebounded a second later. “Have a seat.”
I no sooner sat down than a waiter came up, asking me for my order.
“I’ll have a café,” I said succinctly.
“Right away,” the young man promised.
“You don’t want to order anything to eat?” Alyssa protested. “They have a great orange marmalade here. I can’t get enough of it.”
“You come here often?” I asked. Despite my trepidation, it was easy to be familiar with her. We’d shared a lot of time together back in the States before she left. Some of that history filtered back into the conversation, allowing me to relax before getting to the point.
“As often as I can,” she replied. “I live right up there.” She pointed to a spot above the street on the corner. “The view is magnificent. You can come see it if you want.”
“I have a plane to catch.” I declined her thinly veiled invitation. “But thank you.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay one more night?” she crooned. “I could show you things in Paris that tourists never get to see.”
“I’m sure you could,” I agreed. “But there is something of an emergency waiting for me at home.”
