Paris Is Always a Good Idea by Jenn McKinlay

Author:Jenn McKinlay [McKinlay, Jenn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

chapter fifteen

WHAT AM I doing here?” he asked. His hair was standing on end, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them. A vein was throbbing in his neck, and a frown line was chiseled between his eyebrows. He looked irate. “A more appropriate question is where the hell have you been, Martin?”

“Out.”

“Out?”

“Yes, out.”

He looked me over, taking in my loose hair, exotic makeup, and overall sexy party-girl appearance. His expression became outraged.

“You look hot, Martin,” he said. It sounded like an accusation. “Wait! Were you on a date?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Um, when I signed for your bag two hours ago and had to bribe a guy from upstairs, who was kind of a dick, by the way, to let me wait by your front door, keeping watch over your stuff, yeah, it became my business,” he snapped. “So . . . François?”

“That’s not his name.” I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to get sucked into his drama. “But if you must know, yes, I was out—with friends.”

He let go of my bag and stood. He put a fist against his back and stretched with a wince. His voice had the full range of sarcasm when he said, “Well, so long as one of us is having a good time.”

I glared at him. It was almost daybreak, and here he was, ruining my fun evening as only an overgrown frat boy could. Any warm feelings I had developed for him vanished like a pebble dropped into the Seine.

I unlocked my door and pushed it open, flicking on the light switch. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Jason followed me, grabbing my bag and another small carry-on, presumably his, and stepped into the small apartment. As he entered, he took the place in, from the windows to the fireplace to the loft. “Nice.”

“Focus, Knightley,” I said. “Why are you here?”

He glanced at me and squinted as if trying to remember what he was doing. Then he kicked off his shoes and shucked his wool coat, draping it over one of the chairs. He moved past me and grabbed the bright-green throw off the back of the couch.

“I’m here because you went off the grid and there’s been a change of plans,” he said.

“What change?” I asked. I stared at him over the back of the couch.

“Severin wants to meet here in Paris at Le Cinq. We couldn’t get in touch with you, and Aidan freaked out, so here I am.”

“What?” I shook my head. I couldn’t decide if I was more hurt or angry. “We’re supposed to meet in Italy next week at the wine festival.”

“Well, Severin changed the plan, which you’d know if you’d bothered to check in, which you didn’t, causing Aidan to be rightly concerned. The guy has a lot going on, Martin. That was uncool.”

He stretched out on the sofa, which was too short for him, letting his feet hang over the armrest while he tucked the decorative pillow under his head.

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