Page 56 of Enemies to French Kisses
“Expensive?”
“Stunning.” His breath is warm on the back of my neck as he steps an inch closer. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
“It’s an incredible dress.”
He takes in a deep breath and pauses as if unsure what to say. But his words come out clear and direct. “It’syouthat’s incredible. This dress wouldn’t be the same on any other woman. You radiate, Laura.” He leans even closer, his lips grazing my ear and it’s all I can do not to melt at the sensation of him being so close and saying such things.
To me.
This is my story, not a movie, and it’s happening right now. His lips move but his words reach me a moment later, my mind not able to connect them to reality.
“You are a ray of sunshine in a lonely man’s world.”
We stand, watching each other in the mirror, his chest leaning against my bare back for nearly longer than is proper, but I can’t break his gaze.
Good heavens, Laura—get a grip on yourself!This man is compromised. He has a head injury, for goodness sake. You can’t take advantage of him, roping him into a relationship when he’s vulnerable. What would he think of you when he comes out of it? So far, we have been on the up and up. He hasn’t even mentioned the word ‘wife’ for two days. Reality is seeping in at last, and only then can we possibly consider something more serious between us…
What is going to become of me? I was supposed to be the one who had it all together, knew her mind and went for it, climbing up the biotechnology corporate ladder.
Instead, I’m feeling as twisted up as a bat at a football game. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d be crushing on MarcLemonstre, I would have slapped them up the side of the head and sent them home without biscuits. Not that horrid excuse of a man, one worthy of my verbal offload of every insult able to be spoken in the polite company of Sacre Coeur.
But here we are. His dark eyes are full of desire. I see it and I feel it.
Or is that me?
Whoa, cowgirl. This is all getting to be too much.
“I need to finish my hair!” I bark at Marc, whose scared face is fully warranted given the force of my declaration.
“Your hair?”
I turn and place my hands on his chest where his tuxedo shirt hangs on him unbuttoned. The ripple of his abs lead down to—I snap my head up to meet his cheeky smile.
“My hair, that’s right. Get outta here now so a girl can finish getting ready.”
He backs away, his eyes not budging, holding me in his spell until he finally closes the door behind him.
The tense breath I exhale isn’t just because I don’t know what to do for a coif. I havegotto get myself under control.
He’s a compromised man, I repeat to myself. A gorgeous, strong, sensitive compromised man.
CHAPTER23
Laura
Flashes leftand right blind me. This cannot be my life. Laura Anne Dowling, Sage Township transplant, has no place in such glitz, glamor and haute couture. Someone takes my picture as I walk the carpet with Marc. The society pages of Paris is a long way from the Sage High School yearbook where I had the pleasure of being voted Most Likely to Convince the Armadillo to Fly.
Here’s hoping I have as much social adeptness here as I did in Debate Club.
The streets in front of the Paris Ritz Hotel are lined with sleek black cars and flashing cameras, all capturing the arrival of the engagement party’s elite guests. The hotel itself is a palace of glittering lights and grandeur, chandeliers hanging from high ceilings and marble floors shining under the soft glow of the lights. As we move inside, soft jazz music fills the air and mingles with chatter of the impeccably dressed guests. The walls are adorned with paintings and sculptures, and waiters in crisp white suits carry trays of hors d'oeuvres.
A pang of anxiety ignites in my chest as I scan around at the sea of faces, all adorned with designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. They probably own their elegant dresses, not like me who’s only borrowing one. I should have gotten my hair done instead of doing my classic ‘blowdry-and-fly’ style. Marc takes my hand and tucks it under his arm, as if he could feel my insecurity seeping out of my pores. My heels click on the marble as they cut into the sides of my ankle, and I really miss my leather boots all of a sudden.
Marc puts his hand on the small of my back and leans over. “You can breathe now.”
“Have youseenthis dress? Breathing is not an option.”
He smiles and brings his lips close to my cheek as if to kiss me. My body stiffens in spite of myself, ‘compromised man’echoing in my head. He must sense it, as he backs off and leads me with a gentle tug toward the bar.
