“Wait a minute, so you were already pregnant during the wedding?”
“Yep. Only I didn’t know it. I missed my period in March, but I didn’t think much of it. My menses aren’t regular.”
Jeanne gave her friend a bear hug. “I can’t believe it. This is huge! How does it feel to be pregnant?”
“It’s weird, actually. I’m still having a hard time accepting there’s a living creature growing inside me.”
“Like in the Alien movies.”
“Oh no!” Lena grinned. “It’s actually a good feeling. Weird, but good.”
“You and Rob are going to have a sweet little family,” Jeanne said.
“You’re next. You caught my wedding bouquet.”
“Did I have a choice? You hurled it at me.”
Lena chuckled.
When they walked out of the bathroom, Mat was hovering by the door. Lena gave him a small smile and walked past him toward the dining room.
Jeanne followed in Lena’s tracks, her head down . . . until he moved in front of her, blocking her way.
Shit.
Slowly, she looked up.
Double shit.
He was even hotter than she remembered from a month ago.
Must be my imagination.
Mat stared at her in that fierce way that made her knees go weak.
“How’s life?” he asked after a while.
“Same old,” she said.
They peered at each other for another long moment, and then Mat took a step toward her. His chest rose and fell, and his eyes turned the color of dark slate.
If I don’t say anything, he’ll kiss me.
It was tempting to let him.
And then she remembered something. She’d thought about Mat last night, but not in the way she usually did. She’d thought about him in connection with Daniela, and that horrible boyfriend of hers. In spite of his new job and promises, the fights hadn’t stopped. The concierge denied being battered, even as she wore big sunglasses inside the building. The woman needed help.
And Mat enjoyed helping people.
“I have a neighbor whose boyfriend is violent. I’ve heard them fight, and I’ve seen her with bruises several times,” she said.
He ceased drawing closer, but he didn’t retreat either.
“A friend of mine put her in touch with a Help Center, but it didn’t go down too well.” She threw her hands up. “I don’t know how to convince her to report him. And to jilt him.”
Mat took a moment before speaking. “She should learn Krav Maga.”
“What in hell is Krav Maga?”
“An extreme form of self-defense. Several martial arts plus a bunch of dirty tricks rolled into a technique that’s diabolically effective.”
“Wow. Sounds like something I wouldn’t mind trying myself. Are you an adept?”
“I’ve been practicing it for the past two years. In addition to the weight lifting.”
“I see.”
“If she takes a class twice or three times a week, in a month she’ll be able to knock him out.”
“No kidding?”
“I’m serious. Besides, it will do wonders for her self-confidence.” He smirked. “Remember me four years ago?”
“I thought you were Cécile’s handiwork,” she said archly.
“I’m a multivariate equation.” He counted on his fingers. “Cécile’s handiwork plus weights plus Krav equals the perfection standing in front of you.”
She burst out in laughter. “Why do I have the impression you’re only half joking?”
He whipped out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “I know an instructor who gives Krav Maga classes in the 18th, just a few métro stops from here. I’ll send you his phone and address . . . if your number hasn’t changed.”
“Still the same.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve got to go back and congratulate Amar.”
“Of course,” he said and stepped aside to let her pass.
***
“So, Liviu is at a friend’s place. I’m free all evening. Where is it you want to take me?” Daniela asked, letting Jeanne into her tiny loge.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
In the métro, Jeanne noticed Daniela eyeing her voluminous backpack with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. At one point, the concierge opened her mouth to say something but then closed it, shooting Jeanne a haunted look.
She finally spoke when they resurfaced at Château Rouge. “I don’t think I can handle another session with a bunch of moralizing old ladies like the ones you set on me last time.”
“I’m really sorry about that,” Jeanne said. “My friend who recommended them sincerely believed they’d help.”
“I’m sure they sincerely wanted to. Only they made me feel so . . . ashamed of myself and of my life. I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing them again.”
“I understand.” Jeanne said, feeling her ears burn.
This time we’ll try something entirely different.
Daniela adjusted her sunglasses on her nose. “I only agreed to come because you threatened to report Nico to the police.” She touched Jeanne’s sleeve. “How about we go to the movies? I haven’t done that in years.”
Jeanne shook her head and halted in front of an incongruous building that said Dojo in Asian-style red letters. She pushed the entrance door open and turned to Daniela. “Et voilà. Follow me.”
As they made their way through the hallway, Jeanne read the signs on the doors: Karate, Judo, Kung fu, Kickboxing, Ballet.
Really?
The next one said Krav Maga.
She knocked on the door. A few seconds later a big man in his midforties opened the door and ushered them into the large room with padded flooring.
He pointed to the two visitor chairs by a small desk in the corner of the room. “Jeanne, right? And . . . ?”
“Daniela,” Jeanne answered for the concierge who looked completely overwhelmed by the turn of events.
“My name’s Dominique. Please, sit down,” the instructor said. “I’ve been expecting you. The beginner class starts in fifteen minutes. You can try it after our chat, if you brought the right clothes.”
“I have everything we need,” Jeanne said, pointing to her backpack.
Dominique delivered a short introduction to his martial art. He particularly stressed how it allowed a smaller and physically weaker person to overpower a larger and stronger one.
“It’s great exercise, too,” he added in conclusion.
Jeanne opened her backpack and pulled out her checkbook. “I’d like to pay for both of us, for three months.”
Dominique gave her a surprised look. “What do you mean? Oh, I see—he didn’t tell you. Mat stopped by a few days ago and paid for the two of you. For one year.”
Jeanne blinked, processing the information. The class was far from cheap. She’d examined her budget carefully, determining what expenses to cut to free up the funds for it. Mat was no doubt doing well for himself, but even so, a year’s fee for two was a substantial amount of money. Especially considering the two in question couldn’t even be called his friends . . .
“I’m not sure about this . . . ” Daniela said, interrupting Jeanne’s musings. She screwed her face up and glanced at Jeanne then at Dominique.
“Something’s bothering you. Will you tell me what it is?” Dominique asked.
“I don’t want to beat anyone up,” Daniela said.
He smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have to. Hopefully, you won’t need to. But, believe me, you’ll feel so much better knowing that you can.”
Daniela stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “OK. Let’s do it.”
Soaking in her bathtub later that night to relax her aching muscles—including a few she hadn’t known she had—Jeanne wondered about Mat’s gesture. It was generous, no doubt. But it was also too extravagant. Was he trying to impress her, to make her feel grateful to him so she’d sleep with him?
Jeann
e pinched her nose and sank under the water for a few seconds. When she reemerged with a white hat of foam on her head, she told herself Mat wasn’t the kind of person to pay for a woman’s favors. The guy she remembered from four years ago wouldn’t have even thought of that.
But then, he was no longer that guy. He’d transformed both outwardly and inwardly into a different kind of man. The kind she’d sworn off after her embarrassing affair with Fred. Jeanne stared at the wall as a bitter, tangy taste spread in her mouth. The truth was this man, the new Mat, didn’t have much in common with the geek who used to worship her. Gone were the messy curls and the ugly glasses, but also the vulnerability and the goofiness. He was now a self-confident politician, full of ambition and promise. He was so driven, so sure of the path he’d set for himself.
A path that didn’t intersect with hers.
Wasn’t it cruelly ironic that she’d waited until this metamorphosis to finally fall in love with him?
***
Chapter Nine
June
Mat rubbed his forehead and tried to reason with himself.
Turn around and walk away. Or better still—run.
He didn’t move.
He’d been standing in front of Jeanne’s building for a good fifteen minutes now, struggling to recover control over his body. But his brain no longer seemed in charge. Mat smirked. He had a pretty good idea what had taken over.
Just a glimpse. A quick hello and I’ll leave.
Over the past month, he’d thought of Jeanne—her vitality, hearty laughter, sexy voice, and gorgeous body—way more than he should. More than he’d thought about his girlfriend, his work, and the forthcoming municipal elections combined.
Today, having finished his business in Paris earlier than planned, he didn’t go to the train station. His feet brought him to La Bohème where he hoped to catch a glimpse of Jeanne. Maybe say hi. Maybe even accidentally brush her hand. He was vaguely aware coming here was an uncommonly bad idea. But his traitorous brain refused to list the many reasons why he shouldn’t be in Jeanne’s vicinity again.
As it turned out, she’d taken the afternoon off.
Mat loosened his tie and took a few breaths. A woman carrying groceries stopped in front of the intercom, keyed in the code, and pushed the entrance door open. Mat rushed in after her. He had no idea on what Jeanne’s floor was, but it wasn’t a problem. All he had to do was check the names on each door, starting from the ground floor.
He walked past the concierge’s loge and smiled. Dominique had told him that since enrolling three weeks ago, Daniela and Jeanne never missed a class. They were beginning to show progress.
The tiny sign over the peephole of the next door read “Jeanne Bonnet.”
Mat took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
She’s probably out, he told himself, trying to calm his breathing.
Footsteps approached on the other side of the door. There was a brief pause.
Is she looking through the peephole?
She opened the door and Mat gasped. She was so unbearably lovely in her cotton sundress, her hair tied into a loose bun, and a light blush coloring her cheeks.
He stared at her, spellbound, neglecting to think of an excuse. Forgetting to say hello.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
He blinked, remembering where he was, and why he shouldn’t be here. But it was too late for regrets.
“You mentioned some time ago you lived five blocks from La Bohème. So I checked the names on the intercoms of all the buildings around the bistro until I found yours.”
He’d expected a rebuke but was it joy that flickered in her eyes? He didn’t dare believe it.
Jeanne schooled her features into a polite smile. “Thanks again for the Krav Maga subscription. You didn’t have to do it.”
“It was my pleasure.” He smirked. “As you know, I get off finding solutions to people’s problems. I’m convinced Krav Maga will help Daniela. It’s bound to.”
Jeanne nodded. “Come on in. I have to leave in about twenty minutes, but I can offer you a cold drink.”
He stepped inside. Jeanne reached behind his back and pulled the door shut. As soon as he heard the click, he took her in his arms and pressed her to his chest.
She didn’t resist.
He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. God, that smell of coffee in her hair, mixed with her delicate perfume. How he’d missed it! He stroked her tanned shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the smooth warm velvet of her skin. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, and her nose.
“Oh, Jeanne.” He repeated her name between the kisses, his voice deep and soft. It felt good to be able to say her name aloud while touching her. His gaze darted to her mouth, but he didn’t kiss it, stretching out the sweet torture of anticipation.
Jeanne’s arms were now around his neck, and her hands caressed his nape. She closed her eyes and held her face up for his kisses. When she slightly opened her lips and moistened them with her tongue, he knew he was a goner.
With a low groan, he closed his eyes and kissed her. Really kissed her. For the first time in his life, he kissed Jeanne the way he’d always wanted to, the way he hadn’t had a chance to do until now. His tongue plunged into her mouth and stroked hers. He ran it against the inside of her teeth, her palate, and then sucked on her tongue. She didn’t taste of honey or mint. It was something different, sweet, and sultry at the same time.
The taste of paradise.
Jeanne shifted her position, and through the thin layers of their clothing, her taut nipples brushed over his chest. Mat gasped and pulled away a little, afraid he’d embarrass himself like a teenager. He needed a few moments to regain a measure of control over his hunger for this woman, before he could hold her and taste her again.
With a dazed expression, Jeanne opened her eyes. She stroked the back of his head, and a smile touched the corners of her lips. “Let your hair grow.”
“I thought you didn’t like my curls.”
“I didn’t. But I wish you had them now.”
“It’s the new and improved Mat that turns you on, remember?” he teased. “What if the curls triggered your former indifference?”
She smiled a little too brightly. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”
He suddenly realized how quickly he had grown used to the idea that Jeanne fancied him, that she was unable to resist his touch. It had become a given in his life, a secret source of warmth and reassurance he delved into every time he faced rejection, disappointment, or simply a spot of the blues.
“No chance,” he said, gently pushing her toward the wall and bracketing her between his legs.
She leaned into him, her hand sliding to his shoulder. Gripping it, she pulled him even closer. Her other hand remained on his nape, stroking it.
He nuzzled her hair, drawing in the coffee scent. It made his body ache with desire.
I have to take her now, or I’ll lose my mind.
He’d wanted her so badly for so damn long. A pang of guilt hit him as the image of Cécile flashed in his brain. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. He grabbed Jeanne’s wrists, brought them behind her back, and shackled them with his hands. She was now a prisoner of his legs and hands—of his entire body.
Judging by the look of total abandon on her face, she didn’t mind it at all.
He kissed her lips again and penetrated her mouth with one deep thrust of his tongue. The sweetness of it sent a shiver through his body, robbing him of the last traces of restraint. He whispered her name as he slid his palms under her thighs, picked her up, and backed her against the wall.
Jeanne wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed onto his shoulders. Her voice was deliciously raspy as she said his name. He began to move against her. His right hand slid under her skirt. He rubbed the back of her thighs, stroked her buttocks through her cotton panties, and then went to her core. If he needed more proof of her desire for him, he had it now. Touching her like
that nearly sent him over the edge.
“I want you so much,” he whispered against her mouth.
Her eyes were glazed when she opened them. “I want you, too.”
He stroked her and a tremor spread through his body. “Let me make love to you. Please, let me make love to you.”
She peered at him, her face flushed with desire.
Is that a yes?
He pulled out his strongest argument. “Let’s get it out of our systems. It’s the only way to cure this madness.”
He was about to ask if she had a condom when her expression changed. She stiffened in his arms and put her hand on his chest to push him away. Disoriented, he lowered her on the ground and searched her eyes for an explanation.
“You’re a fool,” she said.
“Why? What did I do?”
“Don’t you get it?” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Do you really believe we can screw this ‘madness’ out of our systems?”
She opened the door. “I’d like you to leave now.”
He stared at her for a few moments, and then nodded and rushed out without daring to turn back.
***
It had been over a week since Claude had given in to his demons and stopped coming to work. He didn’t answer or return Jeanne’s calls, which worried her a little more every day. On Tuesday she got bad news from Nîmes: Her mom had tripped on the stairs and broken her leg. After talking to her on the phone, Jeanne took the first southbound train and spent two days at the hospital entertaining and distracting her.
Back in Paris, she endured another sleepless night because of Daniela and Nico’s fighting.
Then Mat turned up on her doorstep with his ingenious idea to “get it out of their systems.”
Jeanne sighed as she emptied the filter basket and began to wipe the coffee machine. Could this week get any worse?
It just might, considering the look on Pierre’s face as he approached her, accompanied by Didier.
“Let’s finish this morning’s conversation,” Pierre said.
“OK.” Jeanne put her hands on her hips. “You have to fire Thierry.”
“Isn’t it a bit drastic?” Pierre asked. “Didier thinks highly of him.”
Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) Page 9
