There were some American dating customs he did not understand, such as not calling a woman back right away if a man was interested. He had been confused when American friends discussed the appropriate amount of time to wait before calling. If you were interested in a woman, you called her. Not staying in contact frequently would have been considered a slight at home. He still shook his head at some customs, but he knew enough to say without a doubt that only a few strange men would appreciate Jemma’s level of attention. Most would run as far and fast as they could.
This was the third of Eli’s remaining clients he had seen, silently sitting through their shocking behavior without complaint, because that was what Eli had instructed him to do. When Jemma attempted to feed him when she realized he was not eating, thanks to her destruction of his food and killing of his appetite, he was forced to put his foot down.
“Jemma, put my fork down this instant,” Guy said firmly.
She dropped it and stared at him like a puppy in trouble. “But…I thought…Eli told me…”
“I know what Eli told you,” he said as patiently as he could manage, “but I am the one here with you, and I think it is time to change the rules. Do you understand?”
She nodded hurriedly, whether she understood or not.
Guy signaled for their waitress, Megan. She approached the table somewhat cautiously. Guy handed her his plate of mushed food. “Could I have this replaced, s'il vous plait?”
Megan glanced at the mangled food in distaste. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back with a fresh plate.”
As she walked away, Guy took a drink of his wine. When Jemma reached up with her napkin, he snapped up a warning hand. She froze, not sure what to do with herself.
“Jemma, how old do you think I am?”
She stared at him, slowly lowering her napkin. “Um, in your late-twenties?”
“Close enough,” Guy said. “Old enough to wipe my own chin in the unlikely instance that I drip wine down my face, yes?”
Jemma seemed confused by the question. Her nod was slow.
“Old enough to cut my own food, and chew it well enough not to choke?”
Again, she nodded without showing true understanding of the point Guy was trying to make.
“Old enough to use a napkin, or take care of any mess I might make while eating?”
“Yes,” Jemma finally said, “but you don’t need to take care of those things. I can do it for you.”
“I do not want you to do such things for me.”
Her face fell. “But why?”
“Because I am a grown adult, perfectly capable of caring for myself during a meal. It makes me uncomfortable to have you be so attentive and overbearing.”
She seemed rather confused. Tears glistened in her eyes, making Guy question his approach, but he held his ground. In that moment, he imagined it was Patricia sitting across from him. He had stuck with her through so much, never giving up no matter how many times he wanted to simply walk away from the responsibility caring about her brought on his shoulders. These women were not facing drug addiction, mental illness, or personality disorders, but if they could not change their behavior, Guy knew they would spend their lives alone and unhappy. As he realized that, his demeanor changed and his frustration ebbed.
Jemma looked at him, her hands clenched in front of her chest. “I just wanted to help.”
“Oui, I know that, Jemma,” Guy said more patiently, “but perhaps there are better ways you could help, less intrusive ways.”
The young woman listened with an uncertain expression as she and Guy began discussing appropriate ways to show affection while on a date. When Megan returned with a fresh meal for him, Jemma immediately tried to grab for it, but he was prepared and refused to give her access. She was upset by his refusal, but when he asked her to help him decide on a dessert instead, she grinned at him as though he had just asked her to save his life. Guy could only hope she would begin to understand the point he was attempting to make. Eli may not agree with his approach, but Guy no longer felt tied down by Eli’s tactics. He had turned the business over to him and he intended to run it in his own way.
The evening seemed to pick up pace after that. It was not long before he found himself driving home feeling rather pleased with himself. Jemma was nowhere near being capable of sitting through a social situation without trying to burp and feed whomever she was with, but he felt as though she had started down a path that might take her there someday.
He was tossing his jacket on the back of a chair when his phone rang. He reached for it without thought, but froze when he saw Charlotte’s name come up. He was slow to answer, putting it up to his ear with trepidation.
“Bonsoir, Charlotte,” he said as normally as possible.
“Hello, Guy. I hope you don’t mind me calling so late. I just got home and I wanted to say hi.”
Guy swallowed hard, wanting very much to know how her visit with her parents had gone. What decision had she come to, if any? Shoving his questions away was difficult. He did not want to bring up her health over the phone and risk her hanging up on him if she was upset that he had discovered her secret. Instead of prying into her weekend, he lowered himself to the sofa and merely said, “You can call any time you please. It is nice to hear from you.”
She seemed relieved, moving on to talking about her visit, though nothing specific to her illness. Guy listened, enjoying the sound of her voice, struggling to contain his fears. It was a long while later before Charlotte’s weariness finally caught up with her and she indicated she needed to get to bed. Guy was about to ask if he could see her in person, but she beat him to it.
“Guy, I hope this doesn’t seem too forward, but would you possibly have dinner with me tomorrow? I could use a friend to talk to, and some advice…if the offer stills stands.”
“Of course the offer still stands, Charlotte. Where would you like to eat?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Why don’t you choose?”
Guy smiled, thinking back to the “date” he just left, and how much more he would have enjoyed being at his favorite restaurant if he had been there with Charlotte. “Have you ever been to Dolcini?” When Charlotte said she had not, he assured her she would love it. “I don’t get off until seven tomorrow. Will eight o’clock be acceptable?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like me to pick you up?” Guy asked.
Charlotte hesitated. “No…I better just meet you there.”
He did not pry into her reasons. He felt reasonably sure he could guess them. If she was truly going to tell him about her illness as he expected, she was no doubt worried that Guy would show his true colors and partir en courant. He could not blame her for thinking he would cut and run at such news, but he fully intended to prove her wrong. Guy had walked away from many women for trivial reasons, but he felt confident that nothing Charlotte could tell him would change his mind.
Chapter 12
Un Prince de Français
Never before had Guy found himself so nervous. It was worse than sitting for his board exams. He had rushed through paperwork and changing his clothes after his shift ended in order to make it to the restaurant before Charlotte. Kit and Christine gave him strange looks as he rushed out, but he had been acting erratically lately and they chose not to comment.
Guy entered the foyer of Dolcini, much to Pierce’s surprise. Normally, Guy would have made a reservation, but Charlotte had called too late to do so the previous night, and every time Guy tried to make the call during work hours, he had been interrupted. He strode up to Pierce nervously. “Can you fit in myself and a guest tonight?”
“Another client?” Pierce asked. Shaking his head, Guy reassured him that there would be no strange and disruptive guests that night. “Oh, good. I would have made room either way, of course, but I’m glad to see you here for more social reasons. I’ll have Megan prepare a table immediately.”
“If possible,”
Guy interrupted before he could walk away, “somewhere private.”
He tried to say it as plainly as possible, but Pierce was too perceptive to be fooled. “Is everything all right, Mr. Saint Laurent?”
“Oui, I would just prefer something out of the way tonight.”
Pierce nodded, though he seemed to suspect there was more to the request. That was why he was so good at his job. Guy turned away from the stand and began scanning the diners waiting for a table just to be sure he had not missed Charlotte somehow. She was not there, which was something of a relief. He needed a few minutes to compose himself after his harried rush from the hospital.
It was another ten minutes before Charlotte stepped into the foyer, her eyes darting around for Guy. He wanted to catch her attention, but she had captured his first. When she had asked the previous night what to wear, he had reassured her that anything she wore would be fine. He still didn’t know what she did for a living, but he always saw her in business clothes, so he had expected her to arrive in something similar. He was so glad she had ignored his advice.
Her long caramel-colored hair curled over her bare shoulders. The halter-style black dress she wore exposed her creamy skin in more places than he had previously seen, but still managed to keep her modest. The fitted waist belled out into a loose skirt than ended just short of her knees. The only thing that broke him out of his blatant staring was her obvious anxiety.
Stepping into her line of sight, Guy smiled when she saw him. He stepped forward, extending his hand and gently pulling her closer to him. He kissed each of her cheeks in greeting, lingering a moment too long once again. As he pulled back, she smiled with relief, and surprisingly, a hint of annoyance as well.
“You lied to me.”
“I did?”
“I would not have looked fine in anything here. Thank goodness I mentioned the name of the restaurant to a coworker and she warned me to dress up.”
Guy chuckled, apologizing for his faux pas. “I truly was not worried,” he defended. “You always look wonderful.”
“Don’t start using that French charm on me. I know your tricks.” She said that, but Guy could see the hint of a blush on her cheeks. She tried her best to distract him from it, however. “Do you think we’ll have to wait long?”
Spotting Pierce, he signaled to him that they were ready. The smile that spread across his friend’s lips was amusing. Pierce rushed over immediately. “Your table is ready, Mr. Saint Laurent. Allow me to show you the way.”
Charlotte was caught off guard by Pierce’s eagerness, but she took it in stride. Leaning in close to Guy, she whispered, “He said your name right. I see why you like coming here.”
He could not help laughing at her jest. He could not remember having complained about how his name was constantly mispronounced, but if she had taken the time to ask around about him at the hospital, he supposed someone would have mentioned it. They reached their table a moment later, and Guy pulled her chair out for her. As he did, he said, “The food is even better than Pierce’s accent. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will. Thank you,” she said as she took her seat. Guy took his seat a few seconds later and they listened to Pierce’s customary announcements of who their waiter would be and when Megan would arrive, which was always reported as “shortly.” He said everything with an unusually chipper smile on his face.
Once the obligatory information was given, Pierce casually stepped closer to Guy, muttering, “Elle est belle.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as Guy smiled and Pierce walked away. “I’m going to have to learn to speak French just so I can make sure you aren’t making fun of me with your friends,” she chided.
“Making fun?” Guy said. “Never! I would not dream of such a thing.”
“Yeah, sure.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at him.
Guy felt reasonably confident she knew he would not make fun of her, but he still felt he should explain Pierce’s comment. He did not want to go into the whole date shark business right then, but he had no trouble translating Pierce’s comment.
“I was here last night for a business meeting, and the woman I was dining with was quite… unusual. Pierce was merely commenting how lovely you are and how pleased he was to have you here tonight.”
Charlotte considered him carefully, as though she thought he was playing with her. Eventually, she could only shrug. “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it, I suppose. I do hear that French men can be a bit tricky, though.”
“Tricky?” Guy said, feigning insult. “I believe the word you meant to use was charming.”
She tried not to smile, but it proved impossible. Instead, she could only shake her head at him as she laughed. Her amused expression slowly faltered. Her fingers were trembling as she slid them from the table to rest in her lap. “Thank you, Guy, for coming to meet me tonight.”
“You had a long weekend, no?”
Charlotte nodded, blinking back tears. “Very long,” she said, her voice quivering.
They were interrupted from further discussion by Megan’s approach. Charlotte seemed relieved, and to be honest, so was Guy. He knew what was coming, but he wanted Charlotte to enjoy herself for a little while before she confronted what was happening.
Once Megan had retreated to place their orders, Guy said, “May I offer a suggestion?”
“Did I order something gross?” she asked. “If I did, you have to tell me.”
“Non, non,” Guy said with a laugh. “I was just going to suggest that we not talk about your weekend just yet. First, enjoy your meal. After, why don’t we take a walk and talk then?” He paused to gauge her reaction, and when she seemed likely to argue, he said, “You do know French men like to have their way, yes? It is better if you just agree with me.”
Charlotte laughed, letting go of her hesitation. “Where are we going to walk? I’m not too keen on wandering around the streets at night.”
“There is a small park just a few blocks away. It is safe, I promise. I will not let anything happen to you.”
His last sentence seemed to strike a chord with Charlotte. Her arguments fell away, yet her gaze lingered on Guy. She appeared to be trying to decide whether or not he meant what he said. Guy had no trouble standing up to her scrutiny. She relaxed after a moment, apparently satisfied, and changed the topic. She seemed to be rather good at that.
“So, tell me about the trip home you have planned. What will you do while you’re there?”
“I will undoubtedly be pressed into an unending string of pompous events I will detest.”
Charlotte’s nose wrinkled. “I thought it was an anniversary party? How long do parties last over there?”
Chuckling, Guy said, “Normal parties last as long as American parties.”
“This isn’t a normal party?”
Guy shook his head. He was looking forward to seeing his parents and relaxing in the countryside, but he truly did not anticipate being held fast in the prison of social niceties his mother would force him into. “Unfortunately, no. The celebration will begin on Monday with a cocktail party for all the invited guests. Then there will be a luncheon the next day where guests can mingle and get reacquainted, since most will be traveling from other parts of France. Wednesday night will be the highlight with the gala to finally celebrate my parents’ anniversary. Hopefully, the rest of the week will be free for myself and the other guests to enjoy the sights and city, but I am sure my mother will come up with something else for us all to do.”
The list of events made Guy shake his head, but Charlotte looked stunned. She took a drink of her water slowly before setting it back down and pinning him with a mockingly serious expression. “Be honest, Guy. Are you some sort of French prince? I won’t complain if you are, but I think it’s only fair for me to know if I’m getting mixed up in some sort of strange attempt at a fairytale. I don’t think I have nearly the right wardrobe for that sort of thing.”
She smiled when Guy broke out in laughte
r. “Non, I am not un prince de français of any kind. The French no longer have a monarchy or aristocracy to speak of.”
“But your family is wealthy, I’m guessing.”
“Quite.”
Charlotte nodded, “Good to know. If I ever happen to find myself in France and need help, I’ll have a name to drop.”
“If you ever find yourself in France, I sincerely hope it is because you are with me,” Guy said, surprising himself with his boldness. Charlotte seemed equally surprised.
She was saved from having to respond to that by the arrival of their food. The topic of conversation then turned to the taste and quality of the food and the prospect of an equally delicious dessert. Guy was saddened as the last of the plates were cleared away, but he stood anyway.
Charlotte started to stand as well, but paused a moment later. “Wait, what about the check?”
“I am here often enough that they don’t bother bringing a check anymore. Conrad has my credit card on file.”
“But, I invited you to dinner,” Charlotte argued.
“Please, it is my thanks for helping me get through these last few weeks.”
Charlotte’s mouth thinned as she pressed her lips together in annoyance, but it only lasted a few seconds before she sighed. “Well, thank you, Guy, but you’re going to return the favor again by listening to me as we walk.”
“I am happy to do so.”
Guy gestured for Charlotte to go ahead of him. She stepped away from the table, at last relinquishing her claim on dinner. Guy followed her, his nerves growing with every step. He was not alone in that. By the time they exited the restaurant and Guy indicated the direction of the park, Charlotte’s hands were shaking. He could have pretended it was due to the cold weather, but they both knew it was a lie. When Guy reached for Charlotte’s hand, she did not hesitate to take it.
Chapter 13
Pas Bon
Shark Out of Water Page 10
