“No, just depressing.”
“Some people like depressing art. As for my abilities... I’m afraid the artistic gene stopped with my mother.”
“So your mother was an artist. Do you have any of her paintings?” The floral one in the salon, she bet.
“Unfortunately, no. She had to give up her work.”
“Why?”
His gaze dropped to the floor. “She just did.”
Not by choice, either, she’d say, based on the sorrow in his voice. What happened? She wanted to ask, but it was obvious Frederic didn’t want to share and who was she to push? After all, there were things in her life she wasn’t ready to share either. She settled for giving his shoulder a nudge to draw him back to the moment. “So your lack of an art gene... Is that why you became a teacher? Because those who can’t, teach?”
If ever a comment didn’t fit a person. Fortunately, Frederic got the joke and nudged her shoulder in return. “Professor, thank you very much. There’s a second set of panels in the next room. Then I want to take you upstairs to see another favorite of mine. If you’re a good girl, we can stop at the gift shop and buy you a new poster as well.”
“Don’t let Bernard hear you say that,” Piper shot back with a smirk. She was holding him to that promise, though.
* * *
Piper assumed that once they finished at L’Orangerie, Frederic would call for the car so they could return to the house, but he did not. Instead, he asked her for the time.
“Almost half past six,” Piper replied.
“Good. We have plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?”
“To walk along the river, of course. We’ll walk until we get hungry, and then we’ll find a place to eat.”
“You don’t have to take me to dinner,” she told him.
“Why not? You can tell me if the food holds up to your culinary school standards.”
“Because...” Because she hadn’t forgotten that she was talking about her sad, friendless state just before he stopped the car, which made her fear this adventure was nothing more than a very romantic pity trip. “I’ve already taken up too much of your day as it is.” Along with half of yesterday too. “I’m sure you’ve got other things you’d rather do.”
“I already told you, I do not. What I do want is to enjoy this beautiful summer night.”
Taking her by the elbow, he stepped off the curb only to jump back when a car horn blared loudly.
“Perhaps we should wait until the light changes.” He spoke with a smile, but Piper saw a pair of pink spots peering out beneath the rims of his aviators nonetheless. “I’m usually quite good about checking traffic, but sometimes I get distracted.”
“I didn’t look, either,” she pointed out. “We both deserved the horn in this case.”
Even so, the incident must have bothered Frederic more than he let on, because once they were across the street, he fell quiet.
Once again, Piper didn’t push. People needed to work out their embarrassment their own way, even people like Frederic, who didn’t get embarrassed all that often. As they walked in silence, she contented herself with studying the riverbank. The bag carrying her posters from L’Orangerie slapped against her thigh, and she imagined the sound was the water lapping the river’s edge.
The view was a familiar one. Over the past eight months, Piper had walked the river dozens of times. After school. On errands. In all four seasons. Yesterday, if someone had asked her, she would have said the path didn’t live up to the billing... Today, though... Today, it was as though she was seeing the riverbanks for the first time. Probably because she wasn’t walking alone.
More than that. For the first time in months, she didn’t feel alone.
Looking over at Frederic, she wondered how many of the people passing them envied her his company. A man who so obviously could have his pick of any woman in Paris. Her insides toppled end over end that she was the one he picked. So what if today was a pity date? Tomorrow’s routine would return soon enough. Today she would take his pity, and enjoy the break.
“My mother.”
Frederic’s voice was soft and unexpected. Yanked from her thoughts, Piper nearly stumbled.
“You asked me why I studied art history,” he said. “My mother was the one who taught me to appreciate art.”
Strange that he would choose now to address a remark made at the museum. Here she thought he’d been dwelling on their near miss with the car. Unless the two were related.
“Sounds like you got part of the art gene after all,” she said.
“More likely she wanted to make sure I was exposed to as many beautiful things as possible.”
There, Piper realized sadly, was the link. She had this image of Frederic’s mother exposing him to sight after sight. How young had he been when his eyes started to fail? “It’s funny,” she heard herself saying, “but sometimes I forget you have trouble seeing. You certainly wouldn’t know it at home.”
“That is because I work hard to make sure I function without assistance. I made up my mind very early in life that blindness wouldn’t leave me helpless.”
“You’re not blind, though.”
“Yet.”
Her stomach sank. In the back of her mind, she’d known what his response would be, but she’d hoped otherwise. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said cutting her off. “I accepted my fate a long time ago. Someday, I will wake up and my eyesight will be gone. Perhaps not so drastically, but it will happen.”
“What will you do then?” Piper wasn’t sure she wanted to know. There was a resignation to his voice that made her sad.
Frederic stopped so he could turn to face her. The sunglasses masked his eyes, but the rest of his face was resolute. “I will deal.”
A fair enough answer. Why then did it make her want to throw her arms around him and hold on tight?
“If my sister were here, she’d add, ‘then figure out a way to fix the situation’.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Somehow I doubt she was referring to degenerative eye disease.”
“No, although she definitely got us out of some dark times.”
“Dark?”
Probably not the best word to use. Giving a shrug, she started to do what she always did and play off the comment, but then changed her mind. “Things weren’t always great when I was growing up. Patience always did her best to make them better. I owe her everything.” A small wedge of guilt worked its way into her throat, the way it always did when talking about her sister.
“Sounds like your sister is a special woman.”
“I always thought so,” she said.
“Must run in the family.”
Was he talking about her? Piper shook her head. “I don’t think...”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Never turn down a compliment, Piper.”
What was it with Frederic touching her and walking away? Twice now his fingers had stroked her face. She traced the spot on her lips, convinced his fingers left a part of himself behind. Why else would they continue to tingle?
“Piper?” Ahead a few feet, Frederic had stopped and was looking for her.
“Sorry, I was think— Do I hear music?”
She did. The soft sound of violins and accordians could be heard in the distance.
“It’s coming from around the bend,” Frederic said.
“A concert?” It sounded like too many instruments to be a regular sidewalk performance. A dinner cruise maybe. She tried to remember if there was a dock ahead.
Meanwhile, Frederic was trying very hard to hide a smile. “You know what it is, don’t you?”
“Perhaps,” he replied.
Oh, he definitely knew. He was holding out on her, just
like he did with the Monet exhibit. Question was, what was he hiding? A thrill of anticipation passed through her, strengthened by her still-tingling lips. They rounded the corner, and she spied a large crowd surrounding the amphitheaters. “It is a concert.”
“Is it? You might want to look closer.” He flashed another one of those mysterious smiles, making Piper think her insides might melt.
Drawing closer, she saw that the crowd was watching a swirl of movement. “Oh my God, are they dancing?”
“Ballroom dancing at dusk,” Frederic murmured in her ear. “A summer tradition.”
It was a beautiful sight to see. Dozens of couples twirling to the music.
Piper pointed to a graceful blonde woman moving between the dance groups. “The woman in the red shirt. Is she a judge or something?”
“Instructor, more likely. Here to help the less-skilled dancers learn the steps.”
Didn’t look as if anyone needed lessons. The pairs moved in graceful synchronicity to the slow, pulsing beat. “Do you know what dance they are performing?”
“Based on the music, I would say the tango.”
She should have known. The air was ripe with sensuality. You could literally feel the passion as the more experienced dancers stalked the dance floor. Piper felt her breath quickening in response. Behind her, Frederic breathed quickly as well, his chest brushing against her back with each rise and fall of his lungs. A dinner boat passed, its bow lights creating a fairy-tale background just as the music peaked.
“Wow,” she whispered when the song had ended. She looked over her shoulder. “I’ve never really seen ballroom dancing up close before. It’s beautiful to watch.”
A new song began to play. Piper recognized the strands of “La Vie en Rose.”
“The dancing is open to everyone,” Frederic said. “Would you like to join them?”
“Out there? I’m no ballroom dancer.”
“You don’t have to be. The only requirement is to enjoy moving to the music.”
More couples were making their way to the dance floor, made brave by the familiar music. Piper couldn’t help noticing that several of the pairings barely moved. They were content to simply hold each other and sway to the beat.
She imagined Frederic’s arms holding her and grew warm all over. Before she could say a word, a hand molded to the small of her back and she was propelled forward.
“Stay by the edge, where there isn’t too much of a crowd,” he said. Piper really wished his breath wouldn’t tease her skin the way it did.
He led her to an open space near where they were standing. “I hope you can do this without stepping on anyone’s toes, because I can’t,” she said.
His arm slipped around her waist and pulled her tight. “Moving to the music is the easy part,” he told her. “It’s the crowds that are the problem.”
The crowds, she repeated to herself. The crowds were why he was holding her so close. Another inch or so, and her cheek would be flush with his shoulder. The music’s familiar three-beat rhythm echoed in her ear. Head bobbing in time, Piper counted her steps. “Relax,” he said. His chest rumbled against her cheek as he spoke. “Let the music guide your feet.”
“I think my feet might be tone-deaf.”
“Nonsense. You’re in Paris. Everyone is graceful in Paris.” He tightened his grip, his cheek pressing against her temple. “Let yourself go and enjoy.”
Why not? When would she ever have this opportunity again? The sun was setting, the breeze was warm and the spires of Notre Dame were keeping watch. What could be more magical? Piper closed her eyes and let the music take control. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
* * *
“See?” Frederic said. “I told you that you could dance.”
Truthfully, they weren’t so much dancing as swaying in time, but Frederic didn’t mind. The crowd made more complex moves difficult for him. Holding Piper’s hand against his chest, he contented himself with inhaling the scent drifting off her skin. How was it a woman could smell so good without perfume?
Piper had her head nestled against his shoulder, the crown of her head tucked near his chin. He wondered if she realized how much like an embrace their dance had become. Not that he was averse to the position. It had been a while since he held a beautiful woman so close. And he couldn’t remember the last time he actually danced with a woman.
“Hold me close and hold me fast,” Piper was singing under her breath. “The magic spell you cast.”
“This is la vie en rose,” he finished.
She lifted her head and they were close enough that he could see the dreamy expression in her eyes. The soft glow brought his awareness to life.
“I always loved this song,” she told him. “Before I came here, I used to imagine the city with accordion players on all the streets playing this song, just so people could walk around to it.”
She really did have a romantic’s view of his city. Shame on those other students for destroying that dream. “I’m sorry we let you down.”
“It’s okay,” she said, putting her head back on his shoulder. “This works, too.”
They walked the rest of the way home. He would probably regret using his eyes so much, but at the moment, listening to Piper hum “La Vie en Rose” under her breath, he thought it worth the sacrifice.
Ahead, the Eiffel Tower blinked in all its lit-up glory. Frederic couldn’t help but stop. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yeah, it is,” she said, craning her neck to get a better view. “No matter how cranky I get about life in Paris, I can never hate the tower.”
Neither could he. He didn’t know why, but he found himself feeling very open and poetic tonight. Wasn’t like him. As a rule, he preferred to keep the world at arm’s length. He never wanted to get to a point where someone felt obligated to him because they shared a closeness. He knew only too well what obligation led to. Far easier—and safer—to stay charming and superficial. Tonight, though, it seemed he was destined to break that rule.
“I told myself a long time ago that I would never take the tower for granted,” he told Piper. “Ever since then, I’ve made a point of looking at her every day.”
Because you never know when you’ll have the chance to see it again.
He heard a soft cough. Turning his head, he saw Piper smiling at him. “Thank you,” she said. “For this afternoon. For showing me the Paris I’ve always dreamed of. I’ll never forget it.”
Frederic didn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t 100 percent sure why she compelled him to be so whimsical. Inexplicable as his decision was, however, he had to admit that she wasn’t the only one who’d enjoyed the day. “I’m glad,” he said. “I had a good time, too.”
She was smiling, and he could make out a sparkle shimmering in her eyes. Their sheen was luminescent. So was her skin, he thought, letting his eyes take in as much as they were able. The smell of vanilla and spices wafted toward him, like a siren’s call. Then suddenly, she was closer, and her lips brushed his cheek in a shy kiss.
The feel of her lips on him stayed long after Piper disappeared into her rooms. Not yet ready to head upstairs, Frederic sat in the dark and studied his tower. Today was not what he expected. Piper wasn’t what he expected.
Whether or not that was a good thing, he didn’t know.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS OFFICIAL. Piper hated Chef Despelteau as much as he hated her. There was no way her culinary skills were that far below the rest of the class. Honestly, she was beginning to think the man would have a problem with Julia Child’s French cooking.
Wonder what Chef Despelteau would think if he knew she didn’t like half the foods they were preparing? They were all so froufrou.
Feeling rebellious, she stopped at the grocery on her way home and bought a roast
and potatoes. She’d like to see Chef Despelteau make a Yankee pot roast as well as she could.
Might as well face it, babe, you’re a common food girl at heart. A common girl, period.
Maybe so, but she was also a girl who had waltzed under the Paris moon. How many people back home could say that? No sooner did the thought enter her head than the memory washed over her. Piper smiled. If she concentrated, she could remember every detail, right down to the smell of Frederic’s skin.
So many of the guys she knew used slow dancing as an excuse to cop a feel. They’d rest their hands on your rear or plaster their bodies so tightly against yours that the two of you might as well be sleeping together. Frederic held a woman like a man who had nothing to prove. Of course, it didn’t matter how he held her. It wasn’t as if last night was like some magic spell that changed them from boss and employee into something else.
Still, he’d given her a great memory. Now if anyone asked, she wouldn’t have to lie about having spent time with a handsome Frenchman.
She arrived at the house to find her handsome Frenchman stretched out in his chair again. Amazing how he could make something as simple as sprawling in a chair look elegant. He had one arm flung over his eyes while the other rested gently on his stomach. Piper’s gaze fell to the long fingers that were curled ever so slightly against his shirt. As though it remembered their touch, her skin began to tingle.
“I know you’re standing there,” he said, stirring.
Piper winced at getting caught. Thank goodness she was behind the chair so he couldn’t see how red her cheeks were.
“I thought I might have to wake you up again,” she said. “You looked dead to the world.”
“Only resting. My meeting for tonight had been canceled, so I decided to rest my eyes for a moment. They tend to get tired this time of day.”
“Sorry I disturbed you then.” It never occurred to her, what with his limited field of vision, how much energy it must take for him to focus. Making yesterday’s adventure all the more special.
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