“My date wasn’t feeling well, so we left the concert at intermission.” His eyes narrowed, as if zooming in on her. Too late, Piper realized she still wore her chef’s jacket instead of her uniform. “You were working hard?”
“No. I mean, I planned to but I...”
“I am joking.”
“Oh.” Thank goodness the lights were dim and he couldn’t see how red her cheeks were.
“If I recall, I suggested you take the night off to relax. I’m glad you did.” He crossed to the window. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood looking out at the tower.
One of the things Piper had noticed while working for Frederic was the way he concentrated so intently on whatever he was doing. Walking. Looking out the window. Some of the focus she attributed to his bad eyes, but lousy vision didn’t explain the power behind his movements. He moved with such deliberation. As though nothing could deter him from the action at hand. The guy could give Chef Despelteau a run for his money when it came to laser glares, that’s for sure. She could only imagine what it was like to be one of his students.
Or one of his dates, for that matter.
All of a sudden she realized those slate-colored eyes were looking at her. He’d said something, and she missed it. Again, she thanked the dim lighting for protecting her from bigger embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were enjoying your year in Paris so far.”
You mean her crying jag earlier didn’t give him a clue? “It’s a beautiful city.”
“That it is. Have you done much sightseeing?”
“A little.” When she first arrived and was still in her starry-eyed phase. After a couple weeks, however, solo sightseeing lost its luster. “Between class and work, I haven’t had much time.”
“That is too bad. You should make sure you see as much as possible. You never know when you’ll have another chance.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” For some reason, Piper felt as though he was talking about more than sightseeing. Or maybe fatigue was making her read too deeply between the lines. For all she knew, this was his normal way of making conversation. He approached everything else with intensity; why wouldn’t he approach talking the same way?
Regardless of the reason, the exchange left a hum in the air that made her antsy. Piper couldn’t help thinking how crisp and elegant he looked in his summer suit. Meanwhile, she was growing more aware of her wrinkled jacket by the second. Not to mention the smell of onion and cheddar cheese clinging to her fingers.
Suddenly, she needed some space. Setting down her pillow, she announced, “I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen.” The kitchen was spotless, but she needed some kind of excuse. Then, whether because of the thickened atmosphere or something else, she added, “I’m really sorry, too, about my meltdown earlier.”
“Already forgotten, Piper. I hope whatever caused your distress is gone by tomorrow.”
“I hope so, too.” Not very likely, but a girl could hope. She went to say good-night, but Frederic had already turned his back to the room, his attention once again on the scene outside his window.
Must have been a trick of the shadows. Standing there with his hands behind his back, he suddenly looked alone and far away. Maybe I’m not the only lonely person in Paris. The thought was in her head before Piper could stop it.
Frederic Lafontaine, lonely. Sure. Now she knew she was tired.
THE NEXT MORNING, Piper called Marie Rougeau-Montpelier and introduced herself. To her surprise, the elderly woman said she would be thrilled to meet with her, especially once Piper mentioned her brother’s artwork. She invited Piper to visit after lunch. The appointment meant skipping a day of class, but Piper didn’t really mind. A day off, in fact, might do her some good. Help her get her head back into the game.
Marie’s address, which turned out to be a luxury tower near La Défense, the business district just outside the city, was easier to find than she expected. Not wanting to ring the woman’s bell before she was expected, Piper found herself wandering around La Grande Arche, the city’s twentieth-century version of the Arc de Triomphe. It was the perfect summer’s day. Not too hot, not too cold. Being lunchtime, the square was filled with people. Business executives sat on nearby steps soaking up the sun while tourists and others lounged on the grass in the nearby park. Piper strolled the perimeter and watched as they laughed and chatted with each other. Was this what Frederic meant when he told her to see as much of the city as possible?
Thinking of her boss made her insides sag. He was nowhere to be found when she woke up this morning. That didn’t surprise her, he was nowhere to be found most of the time, but Piper sort of hoped that after last night, the routine might have changed. She still couldn’t shake the image of him staring out his salon window. Looking so solitary and distant. So alone.
There’s a word for what you’re doing, you know. Projecting or connecting, something like that. Whatever the word, she needed to stop. Just because she was in another sad mood didn’t mean her boss was too.
Her feet hurt, protesting having to wear sandals after months of wearing sturdy shoes. She looked around for a café where she could give them a break. There was one on the corner with a maroon-and-white awning that wasn’t overly crowded. Helping herself to one of the empty rattan chairs that lined the sidewalk, she had just pulled out her cell phone when she heard a familiar-sounding voice ordering an espresso.
No way. She looked to her left. Even with aviator sunglasses covering his face, she recognized Frederic’s profile instantly.
He was alone. At least the chair across from him was empty, and judging from the way his long legs were stretched out to claim the table’s real estate, he wasn’t expecting a guest to arrive anytime soon. Piper’s eyes traveled their length, from his wingtips to the muscular thighs that disappeared beneath the tablecloth. In contrast to last night, today he looked the picture of ease.
Must be nice to feel so confident instead of having to fake it all the time. And to be that good-looking. Patience was always saying that being beautiful wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Piper wouldn’t know. She was never someone people thought of as beautiful. When the guys in high school made fun of Patience’s job, they did so with a glaze of lust in their eyes. No one’s eyes ever glazed for Piper.
Just then, as though sensing her stare, Frederic turned in her direction. Piper started to shrink back into the shadows, then caught herself and waved instead. He didn’t wave back.
She was about to take offense when she realized she wasn’t in his field of vision. Smoothing her skirt, she walked toward his table.
“Bonjour, monsieur,” she greeted with a smile.
* * *
The sound of an American accent jarred Frederic from his thoughts. He knew of only one person who spoke French with an accent like that. Blinking out of his fog, he found a whirl of yellow and red in his line of sight. Lifting his eyes, he saw a familiar brunette head. “Piper? Where did you come from?”
“Two tables over. I waved, but you weren’t paying attention.”
She was being polite. They both knew he didn’t wave because she wasn’t sitting in his field of view.
“Lost in thought,” he replied, continuing the pretense.
“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Piper’s question brought him back.
“Not at all. I’m killing time after an appointment is all.” Yet another pointless meeting with