The Art of French Kissing by Kristin Harmel

Author:Kristin Harmel [Harmel, Kristin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780446581431
Amazon: B0031MA7ZW
Publisher: 5 Spot
Published: 2008-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

After a few more days of working long hours to prepare for the junket and to do more preemptive damage control by sending out releases about all of Guillaume’s great charity work, Poppy and I spent the weekend shopping, eating out, and, of course, flirting with strangers Poppy had picked out at bars, although Poppy abandoned me briefly for a Saturday night date. Despite myself, I was starting to enjoy feeling attractive to Frenchmen. It was good for my confidence, in a way I had never expected.

On Tuesday, Guillaume and I arrived by taxi at Café le Petit Pont, the same place Poppy had taken me on my first night in Paris, for the interview I’d reluctantly promised to Gabe.

“I promise we’ll keep this short,” I said to Guillaume as we sat down at a table in the outside courtyard, facing the river. “We just have to appease this Gabriel Francoeur guy, and maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

“I’ve heard he’s terrible,” Guillaume said with what appeared to be an expression of amusement on his face.

“The worst,” I muttered. I glanced around and saw that most of the people near us were staring at Guillaume, who seemed oblivious. Several tourists were surreptitiously snapping photos, and others were holding up cell phones to capture his image. No matter how many times I’d been responsible for my Boy Bandz clients in public, I’d never quite gotten used to the attention that fame brought with it.

“What’s wrong?” Guillaume asked me after a moment, leaning across the table.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t bother you? All these people staring and taking your picture?”

Guillaume glanced around, as if noticing for the first time that we weren’t entirely alone in the restaurant.

“Oh,” he said. “I guess I don’t even think about it anymore.” He smiled broadly and waved a few times to excited fans. Then he turned his dazzling smile back to me.

When our waiter arrived with a basket of French bread, we both ordered café au lait, which arrived within seconds. Amazing the kind of service you got when you lunched with a superstar.

“Okay,” I said once we’d each taken a sip. “Gabriel will be here in twenty minutes. We need to go over some things first.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful Emma,” Guillaume said, flashing me a winning smile. “Then perhaps we can make sweet music together again, you and me?”

I rolled my eyes. He was so strange sometimes. “No, Guillaume.”

He pouted. I ignored him.

“So I think it goes without saying that you can’t admit to Gabe that you were drunk on any of the occasions he’ll be asking you about,” I began.

Guillaume recoiled in mock horror. “Drunk? Me? Never!”

“Riiiiiiight.”

“Really, Emma, excessive alcohol consumption is wrong,” Guillaume said. He batted his lashes sweetly. “Drug use is wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure Gabe will be won over by your puppy-dog eyes.”

Guillaume looked confused. “Puppy-dog eyes?”

I realized the expression didn’t translate. “I mean, innocent expression.”

“I am innocent,” Guillaume said. “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

I thought about this for a moment.

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