Midnight in Montmartre: A French Kiss Sweet Romance (8 page)

And the ground was shaking. The kiss was a 9.8 on the romantic Richter scale.

Mia pulled back. She took a deep breath. She couldn't meet his eyes.

Then she turned from him and flagged down a cab.

"Taxi!"

The taxi stopped, and Mia quickly ran toward it. She opened the door and slid in.

"I gotta go," Mia said. "Good night, Luc. See you on Monday.”

Before he could get a word in and offer the company limo to drive her home, she closed the door. The taxi sped off.

He was confused. He thought they had both enjoyed the kiss. Had he crossed the line?

O
n a sunny Saturday afternoon
, Mia strolled through the Luxembourg Gardens in the 6th arrondissement with Kiko and Amanda. They walked past tennis courts, a children's playground, and old men playing pétanque. The vast park featured impressive statues, fountains, perfectly manicured trees, and rectangular patches of grass on which people picnicked and lounged around on blankets.

Mia thought the Luxembourg Gardens should be considered the eighth wonder of the world. The park had been created in 1612 by King Henry IV. How many wars and disasters the world had seen since 1612, yet the beauty of the gardens remained. There was a lesson there somewhere, she thought.

When the trio walked closer to the gardens of the Luxembourg Palace, they decided to take a break and sit down before the round pool, where children were sailing toy boats and guiding them with long wooden sticks.

Mia took a deep breath. She loved this place. Everything in this park was beautiful: the trees, the fresh flowers, the architecture. Everyone from children to seniors found solace here.

Mia could have spent a whole day at the Luxembourg Gardens. A museum was supposed to be around somewhere, as well as a rose garden. Tourists couldn't stop posing for photographs, but there were plenty of well-dressed locals, too, reading French novels or newspapers, enjoying their time off from work. She would definitely come back on her own and take naps on a lazy Sunday in one of the comfy-looking green lounge chairs.

Kiko was hungry, and she came back to the area where they were sitting with a fresh waffle. Amanda was in the middle of talking about her new French boyfriend.

"He's the only Frenchman in the nation who's fanatic about American baseball. He even gets the international channels so he can watch the games. It's so boring. I left America to get away from stuff like baseball."

"If I were you, I'd just go shopping when he watches baseball," Kiko said. "Baseball's big in Japan, so I know what you mean. I also had a boyfriend that was obsessed with baseball before I married my husband. Sometimes I was tempted to rip the remote from his hands."

"Did you?" Amanda asked.

Kiko sighed. "So tempting, but I always controlled myself. We did get into a big fight about it once, though. How did a French guy get addicted to American baseball?"

"He spent five years working in Washington," Amanda said. "One day, he was bored and decided to go along with a colleague to see the Washington Nationals, since he'd never been to a baseball game. He discovered he really liked it, and of course he rooted for the Nationals, game after game, because he ended up working and living there. He still has all his shirts and other paraphernalia here. He even bought a Nationals winter jacket."

Amanda looked at Mia, who had been quiet all afternoon. "Are we boring you with all this baseball talk?"

Mia looked up at them. She had been staring into space, thinking about Luc and their kiss...

"No, I'm sorry. Go on."

"Is your guy into baseball too?"

"He's not my guy," Mia said quickly.

Amanda arched an eyebrow. "Did something happen with your boss?"

Mia opened her mouth to protest, but she was bursting to tell someone.

"Last night, we both got a bit tipsy, and we kind of kissed."

"What?" Kiko grinned from ear to ear.

"That's awesome!" Amanda exclaimed.

"No. It's not." Mia explained the circumstances that had led up to the kiss. "We were both high from winning the contract, and we both had a glass of wine too many."

"Remember the old saying," Amanda said. "
In vino veritas
. In wine, there is truth."

Mia shook her head. "It's so embarrassing. I was the one who fell on him. I don't even remember if I initiated the kiss or not. What if he thinks I'm some pathetic, sex-crazed employee with the hots for the boss? I don't even know how I'm going to show my face at work on Monday."

"Oh, come on, Mia," Kiko said. "Are you sure he didn't kiss you? He likes you and you like him. You're both single. What's the problem?"

"I don't know," Mia said. "It's just that, well, I see him with someone more like him. Someone like Beth."

"Who?"

"Beth Montaigne, the Montaigne lingerie heiress. She's the head of the new label, and I met her yesterday when we did our presentation. The brand hired a British supermodel for the campaign, and she has nothing on Beth. She's lovely, eloquent, educated, and someone I can totally see Luc with."

"Do you think Luc likes her?" Kiko asked.

"The other men couldn't stop staring at Beth. They hung on her every word. I can just see Luc with her, that's all."

"See, you're just making things difficult for yourself," Amanda said. "You're jumping to conclusions that have no facts to support them. Why would it be strange for Luc to like you instead? You're also beautiful, as well as funny and educated. Why compare yourself? Who knows, on Monday, Luc might walk up to you in the office, grab you, and give you a passionate kiss in front of all the employees."

Mia smiled. "Somehow, I doubt that. It's so awkward. I do wonder what he thinks about the whole situation. I kind of freaked out and jumped in a cab after we kissed."

"But why?" Amanda asked.

She shrugged. "My old experiences with my ex from
Seattle Life
came flooding back. I didn't like him nearly as much as I like Luc, but I don't want to put myself in a position where it'll be awkward."

"Where you'll get hurt, you mean." Amanda looked at her with sympathy.

"I know, I know, I'm supposed to be fearless. I'm supposed to be strong. It's the image I project, but sometimes, when you're thrown into a sensitive situation, you can't help but, well, retreat into a corner."

"You've gained your strength back now, haven't you?" Kiko asked. "Why don't you call him?"

"And say what? Sorry for getting drunk and kissing you? Anyway, he hasn't called me."

"Hmmm." Amanda thought about it. "Maybe it is good not to call him for now. You'll see him on Monday anyway. Sometimes guys need space. He'll probably be thinking about you all weekend."

"I hope in a good way," Mia said. "I do really like him."

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could just go up to men and slap the truth out of them?" Kiko said. "What happened to all these romantic Frenchmen I keep hearing about? Is it just a stereotype?"

"In my experience, yes." Amanda laughed. "France is the place of reason, with all those philosophers who advocated logic and rational thinking. French men can be romantic, but they're not swept away by passion as much as you think. Then again, there are those Frenchmen who won't take no for an answer and will call you and follow you around like stalkers."

"You know," Mia said. "Love has little intelligence and reason."

"Men have never been ruled by intelligence or reason," Kiko quipped.

"Well," Amanda said, "to be fair, women are not always the best in those categories either."

O
n a windy Saturday night
, Luc sat alone at the counter in his neighborhood bar. He was on a first-name basis with the Albanian owners. The place was kitschy, decorated like a bar from the sixties. Perhaps it hadn’t been updated since the sixties. Either way, it was Luc's kind of place. Old men and young hipsters in one place. Jukebox playing. Cheap beer. A laid-back atmosphere. It was like a time warp, and not very Parisian at all.

His peers, the ones who only knew him on a professional level, probably thought of him as the stuffy type who would unwind over an expensive glass of scotch in a fancy hotel bar. Those who were close to him knew he'd rather spend time in hole-in-the-wall bars. Perhaps it was because there was no pretense in this type of place; he could just be himself and not what society expected him to be.

His bartender Jules was a student at la Sorbonne, where he studied French literature. Jules entertained his patrons at the counter with impressions of his pompous professors and crazy stories about college parties.

Luc chuckled as he listened. His university days had not been so wild. He’d had two girlfriends in his life, each relationship lasting two to three years. He was a monogamous guy by nature and probably one of the last in his circle of friends who believed in true love.

As it happened, he was also the last of his circle of friends to be single. He'd often been accused of being a romantic and for that being the underlying reason he was still single. He didn't agree with that idea. The next time he got into another relationship, he wanted to be sure it was with the right woman.

Not that he lacked choices. A lovely redhead talking to a friend at the end of the bar kept turning around throughout the evening to smile at him. She was undoubtedly beautiful, and he'd seen other men try to talk to her and her brunette friend, to no success. Luc, however, was not interested. Whenever he was focused on a woman, no other mattered to him.

And that woman he was crazy about was Mia.

While he was envious of his pals for having fun on a Saturday night without him, it was his choice to be alone. Yes, he did feel lonely, but love was worth it. He was smart enough to know that a fleeting encounter with a pretty girl would not satisfy him in the long run.

For the longest time, he had thought the woman he cared about was Beth, but he found himself less and less concerned about her. When he had seen her at the meeting, she was still the same beautiful blonde he'd known since his MBA days, but somehow his heart didn't go pitter-patter as before. Could he really be over Beth, a woman he had pined over for years, just because Mia had come into his life?

It was different with Mia. He didn't idealize her. She was real. He appreciated her quick wit, her humor, her smile, her generosity. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. She wasn't afraid to be emotionally open, and he felt as if he knew her well after a few deep and intimate conversations.

And how well did he know Beth? He knew
about
her. It was different than actually knowing her. He knew she was beautiful, smart, and desired. He knew she was part of elite society. She could speak multiple languages and play the cello. But he didn't recall ever having a deep conversation with her as fulfilling as those he had had with Mia.

Mia had been so easy to talk to. She saw the humor in everything and wasn't afraid to laugh at herself. She made him feel as if he could be that way, too—honest, easygoing, fun. He liked that he didn't have to pretend to be someone else, someone better, when he was with her.

Yesterday evening, they had kissed. It had been an accidental kiss, prompted by wine, but it had been the best kiss he'd ever had. Now that he'd kissed her, he knew why he had felt regret before, during the night of Mia's mugging in Montmartre, when he'd squandered the chance.

The problem was, she was still his employee. An employee/boss relationship was fraught with professional and emotional risks. It didn't matter to him so much what the employees thought about him, but Mia was already despised at the office. What if nasty rumors spread about her being the boss's favorite for reasons other than her talent and professionalism?

Not that they had done anything, really. It was all theoretical, but what if the others thought she got her job because she used her sexuality to get cozy with the boss? He had hired her on the spot, after all. At least a couple of the employees knew that, the ones in HR.

He would never want to be responsible for tainting Mia's reputation. While she was charming enough to tempt any man, she would never behave unethically. She had the highest integrity.

Which was probably why she had left so abruptly after they kissed.

Luc sighed.

"Anything else,
monsieur
?" Jules the bartender asked.

Luc looked down. His glass was empty.

"I'll have another," he said.

"Woman problems?" Jules looked at him knowingly. Which was funny to Luc because Jules was probably still in his teens.

"To a degree," Luc admitted. "A woman problem is a nice problem to have, if you can just work out the details."

"Maybe." Jules placed the new glass in front of Luc and took away the empty one. "The only men without women problems are those who are gay or dead."

Luc laughed. "Well, I'm not gay, and I'm not dead yet."

"If you really want her, get her." Jules took out his iPhone and showed Luc photos of his cute girlfriend from his Instagram. "My girlfriend Adelle. I was in love with her the moment I saw her walking across campus. It took me months to win her over. If you want her, nothing should get in the way." Jules raised his glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Luc said. "You're right. You're young but wise, my man."

He liked Mia, and she seemed to like him. If she didn't, she wouldn't have kissed him back so passionately. Who cared what the other employees thought? There was something between them, and he wasn't going to let other people's opinions, or his own pride, get in the way.

On Monday, when he saw her, he would tell her how he felt about her.

M
ia had spent
most of the weekend thinking about Luc. She couldn't help it. She looked forward to Monday morning when she'd get to see him again, yet she also dreaded it, fearing what he was going to say or not say.

How would he treat her? Would he acknowledge that steamy moment outside the bar, or would he pretend nothing had happened?

He hadn't called her all weekend. What if he was embarrassed by the kiss or was even disgusted by it?

When she went into the office, she was surprised to find a few coworkers responding to her morning greetings with friendlier attitudes.

"Congratulations on the campaign," one man said, in English no less.

No one in the office, aside from Sarah, Luc, and Didier, had ever said a kind word to her. They usually replied to her cheerful words begrudgingly and gave her stony looks of disinterest.

When Mia approached her desk, Sarah gave her a hug as soon as she saw her. "I knew it! I knew they'd pick your campaign. Well done."

"Thanks," Mia said brightly.

"Some of the people here are dying with envy, but the others are forming newfound respect for you."

"You really do have to earn your place here." Mia told her about the warm reception she had received that morning.

"No kidding. See? I told you they'd come around."

"Hey, has Luc been in yet?"

Sarah shook her head. "Don't think so. At least, I haven't seen him in yet."

Mia breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been tense knowing that she could run into Luc at any moment; she would have to speak to him sooner or later. Although she was in the clear for now, a part of her did want the meeting to happen sooner to get the awkwardness out of the way.

When he came, it should be easy to find an excuse to talk to him. She could ask him questions about the Montaigne campaign. What were they going to run first, magazine or TV ads? Which publications or stations? Would the ads run in France first or in the UK simultaneously? Any of those questions were valid. She did want to know the answers, as they were related to her work.

It would also be nice if he could answer questions of a romantic nature as well.

Such as: Do you love me?

Mia groaned to herself. She would never ask that. Not in a million years.

But she did want to know whether he was interested in her. He was so nice to her, going above and beyond to help her both professionally and personally. She didn't want to misread the signs or take advantage of his generosity.

Or what if she didn't misread him? What if he did calm all her fears with another passionate kiss in his office? His strong arms wrapped around her, her chest feeling the heat of his body, his lips all over her—

Stop it
, she told herself.

She shuffled through the papers on her desk as a way of distracting herself from her thoughts.

"Mia,
bonjour
."

Mia looked up. A French woman, about twenty-five with a platinum-blond bob, was standing over her, smiling.

"Bonjour,"
Mia replied. She recognized the coworker as one of the graphic designers. She'd seen her look at her with curiosity from time to time in passing, but they hadn't had the opportunity to speak.

"I just wanted to say that I heard about the Montaigne campaign and thought your idea was excellent," the woman said in heavily accented English. "I'm Amélie, by the way."

"Thank you," Mia said, smiling back.

"I'm glad it was approved." Amélie paused. "Please excuse my English. It must be terrible."

Amélie looked so stressed that Mia felt a wave of sympathy. "You're joking, right? Your English is way better than my French.
Mon francais est horrible
."

Amélie laughed. "
Non
. It's fine. I can understand what you're saying."

"Even if my accent is as thick as molasses?" Mia gestured to Sarah's empty chair. "Please, sit for a moment. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Amélie said as she eased into the chair.

"I got the feeling that I wasn't exactly well liked in the office. Most of the people here were Arctic ice cold. Is the glacier starting to melt?"

Amélie sighed. "There's definitely some—what would you call it in English—office politics? You know Brigette, in HR? Brigette has been working here the longest. And Lina's practically her sidekick. She's been here almost as long. What they say goes around here."

"So they're like the queen bees here," Mia said. "I feel like I'm in high school again. Their opinions really matter in this professional work environment?"

"Unfortunately, yes. If they form an opinion of you, it takes a while for them to change it. The others like to be on their good side. I should've ignored 'the orders' from the start. I was a bit insecure and barely getting along with them myself, since I only started working here five months ago. I was nervous for my job, but I should've stood up to them."

"It's okay. Thanks for letting me know. I thought it was strange that everyone just decided I was invisible from the start."

"I know. It's terrible. I felt really bad when I saw them treating you this way. It took me too long to talk to you."

"It's really all right," Mia said. "It's hard to get in the middle of office dramas. Hey, I noticed a couple of people actually being friendly this morning."

"A few of us have talked about it, and we're tired of Brigette and Lina's tyrannical behavior. There's no reason not to give you a chance. Now that you've won a campaign that had been a challenge for everyone at LUX, including the bosses, people are starting to see that you are an asset to the company, and that Brigette and Lina are wrong."

"I really don't bite," Mia said. "I think they would like me if they got to know me."

"I know. You seem so friendly, and I regret not talking to you sooner."

"Better late than never. I really appreciate it anyway."

"I guess we'll be working together more, since I'll be working on the Montaigne magazine ads." Amélie stood up. "I better get back."

"Thanks," Mia said. "I'll see you around."

Amélie turned around.

"I know it's petty, but it's not personal. It's jealousy. In fact, I think they're insecure about their jobs, and they feel threatened by anybody who's new."

Amélie went back to the table where the designers worked. Mia turned around and caught Brigette's eye. Brigette gave Mia one of her usual frosty looks and went back to talking to Lina.

Mia shrugged. There were some people in the world who simply didn't like you due to their own insecurities. What could she do? All Mia could focus on were the people who did appreciate her.

She got up to get some coffee from the break room. She focused on the positives so far: at least a few other employees were warming up to her. Her Monday was off to a good start.

In the break room, Didier was making an espresso.

"Good morning, Mia," he said over the noise of the machine. "Congratulations again on the campaign. We're all excited to start working on it."

"Fingers crossed that the public will like it," Mia replied.

"Who knows what will appeal to the public? It's always a surprise, but it would really surprise me if your campaign isn't well received. Luc seems confident that it'll do well. I trust him. He's a lot better at predicting public response than I am."

"Speaking of Luc, is he in yet?"

"Not yet. If he was, you'd know it. He'd be humming to himself with his head in the clouds, with that silly grin on his face. Have you noticed?"

"That he's happy?" Mia said. "I thought that was what he was like."

"No. He's usually much more serious. He's only been this cheerful in the past few weeks."

"So what's gotten into him?"

Didier grinned. At first Mia thought he was going to say it was because of her, and she looked away shyly.

"Probably because of Beth Montaigne."

Mia looked up, startled. "Beth?" she said weakly.

"Luc will be working with her more closely now that he has the Mademoiselle Montaigne campaign. He's been in love with her for years. Didn't you see how excited he was after Beth approved the ad?"

"Yes, I suppose..."

"Now this will finally be his chance to win her over. Working on the campaign will throw them together, and he'll finally be weeded out from the pack of suitors that's always surrounding her."

Mia felt nauseated. It was as if she'd been hit with a tranquilizer in the heart. Her hand shook as she put her espresso cup in the machine when Didier was finished with it.

"I didn't know that Luc liked Beth," she said as normally as she could while conjuring up a fake smile.

"Oh yes. They did their MBAs together. He's been carrying a torch big enough to ignite a forest. But can you blame the man? She could walk into a room and turn gay men straight. Beth is not like most women. She's beautiful and rich but also ambitious. She's determined to be respected for her business skills, too, and be admired for her brains on top of her beauty. Most women of her status would live off their looks and family, so that's very admirable. She's picky, that one. If she picks Luc, he'd win the prize of a lifetime."

Mia turned on the espresso machine, letting the cat-gargling noise silence the breaking of her heart.

"Absolutely," Mia said. "I can't blame him either."

Didier poked his head out the door. "Oh, I see Luc coming in. I'm going to have a quick chat with him first. Enjoy your
café
."

"Thanks. See you."

Mia gulped the bitter liquid. It burned its way down her throat.

And her cheeks burned. So did her heart. Everything in her body seemed to be on fire.

How was she supposed to face Luc now? He'd been in love with Beth all this time, and she got drunk and threw herself at him. It was mortifying.

Someone like Beth Montaigne would never do something like that.

She sat down at the empty round table in the middle of the break room and contemplated what she was going to do when she saw him. Before she could decide, however, Luc poked his head into the break room.

"Mia?"

She almost jumped out of her seat. At least the espresso cup raised up to her lips was empty, so she didn't spill anything.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luc said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Didier said you were here, and I wanted to talk to you."

He still had his coat on, and he was carrying a mahogany briefcase with his initials on it. She couldn't look into his eyes for long.

"Sure."

"Come into my office."

She followed him as he opened the door and turned the lights on. Even though she'd been in his office before, this time the room felt sterile and cold. The desk was made of glass, and the chairs were stainless steel and black leather. It was classic, sleek, and modern, like the male version of Beth's office. Mia had the urge to run out of there.

He closed the door behind them. She sat down while he went around to sit behind his desk.

"I wanted to talk to you about Friday night," he said slowly.

Luc looked uncomfortable. What if he wanted to reprimand her or even fire her? If she'd known he had the hots for Beth, she wouldn't have been so careless.

He opened his mouth to speak again, looking as if he was choosing his words carefully.

“I—”

"I'm really upset about what happened, too," she blurted out. "We're both professionals, and I shouldn't have gotten drunk enough to do something utterly regrettable. We were caught up in the excitement, with the campaign and everything. It was just one too many drinks. I'm so sorry. I just want to be clear that it was nothing but a misunderstanding."

"Oh." Luc looked surprised. He was silent for a moment.

Mia braced herself. She looked away.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I'm glad we got that sorted out."

"Let's just forget it ever happened," Mia said. "I'm very good, you know, at forgetting things."

"Really?" Luc looked at her with a serious expression. "The history buff?"

Mia gulped. "I remember what I want to remember, and I can let go of the rest. Free the brain up for what's important, right?"

"Right." His voice was grave. "I guess you’ve said all there is to say."

"No hard feelings?"

"None." His smile was bittersweet. "We have a lot of work to do on the campaign, and we've gotten along professionally so far. I'm sorry if I have offended you—”

"No, no," Mia protested. "It was entirely my fault. You were a gentleman. Again, I'm really sorry." She got up. "Well, I should get back to my desk and start working. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up with this morning."

"Okay." He gave her a strange look.

She scurried to the door, not wanting to spend another second in that room with him, with the rejection of the whole humiliating situation.

She went back into the break room to make herself another espresso.

"I need something stronger than this," she muttered.