Page 33 of Forgiving Paris
God, help me. Please.
He started the tour in the sixteenth district. “Tourists find this arrondissement less interesting.” His eyes met hers again. “But it is where the wealthy retire.”
Ashley glanced at the pretty street and the old French architecture. The people walking the sidewalks looked wealthy. Even the dogs looked rich. What did Jean-Claude mean by telling her the wealthy retire here? Was that a hint, a foreshadowing of what he saw with her? That somehow they would share their lives together? Maybe even living in this beautiful section of the city?
“I’m taking you higher now, Ashley.” He kept his hands on the steering wheel. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Oui.” She felt young and immature. Not ready for a man like Jean-Claude. “I trust you.”
He drove her to the fifteenth district, and he left the car with a valet. As they stepped out, he kept an appropriate distance.Just friends, Ashley told herself.He only wants a friendship with me.
Jean-Claude held the door open for her. “This is the Montparnasse Tower. One of the tallest buildings in Paris. More than a million tourists take this elevator ride every year.” He winked at her as he pushed a button. “I have privileges. I will take you where others cannot go.”
Her head was spinning as the elevator whisked them to the top of the building. Jean-Claude told her that the place where they were going offered a 360-degree view ofParis. They stepped off the elevator and he directed her to a small room at one end of the rooftop. Clearly some sort of VIP area. Inside were comfortable chairs, cold water, and pastries.
“I prepared this for you, chérie.”
Here it comes, Ashley thought. He was going to try to kiss her or take advantage of her. She was ready to stop him, ready to tell him to take her home. She wasn’t some cheap American affair. But instead of making any sort of move, Jean-Claude took the seat opposite hers and sipped a glass of water. “I am intrigued by your artwork, Ashley. You will have to show me sometime soon.”
Ashley could barely catch her breath. “Merci, Jean-Claude. Merci.”
They finished a plate of strawberry eclairs and chocolate macaroons, and he led her outside to the edge of the viewing area. “It is almost like heaven up here. You can see my city… all of it.”
His city.Ashley was consumed by the words he chose and the way he said them. The dizziness she felt had nothing to do with how high up they were. In no time they were back in his car. “You know Hyde Park in London?”
Ashley had never been there. “I’ve heard of it.”
“There is a hidden diamond of a park much like it in the seventeenth arrondissement. Square des Batignolles. We will walk there.”
Was she in a dream? Ashley had never heard of these places, never imagined she’d get to visit them in her first few days in Paris. And how was it that Marguerite hadgiven her the day off? Just so she could see the city with Jean-Claude? Did he have that much power with the woman, with his good standing at Montmartre Gallery?
Ashley didn’t have time to sort through the answers. At Square des Batignolles, they parked in an empty lot and Jean-Claude helped her out of the car. He wore black jeans and a white T-shirt and between his cologne and his strong arms, Ashley had to work to keep her distance.
She wondered if he would take her hand as they strolled the meandering path past bubbling streams and picturesque ponds. Grassy knolls cropped up on either side of the trail. “This is only a preview, mon amour. I will bring you back someday. Picnics in the park are quintessentially Paris.”
Ashley could barely walk a straight line.Quintessentially Paris?Who talked like that? How had she found this wonderful man and what was she doing allowing herself to fall for him? Back in his sedan, they breezed through the thirteenth arrondissement. “Here you will find street art and Butte aux Cailles, a popular neighborhood with the young people. Like yourself.” He grinned at her. “We will go to the eleventh. I have found the perfect patisserie for us.”
For us. Ashley tried to remember to exhale. He asked her about her art, why she had started painting and where she saw herself with it in ten years, twenty. “Still painting.” Her words were breathy, dreamy. As if everything she’d told herself last night had never happened. “Selling my work. Making a living at it.”
“And so you will.” Again his voice was a physical touch. They stopped at a charming white-brick café and he led her to a private patio. Again they were expecting him, a fact that made Ashley feel heady and important. Jean-Claude had done his homework. He had planned and made phone calls and prepared the day in great detail.
All for her. Which had to mean something.
Maybe he was divorced, and the woman had only been with him last night because they were still friends. He clearly didn’t care for the woman. Jean-Claude had only had eyes for Ashley from the moment they first saw each other. So maybe this was love? A love at first sight that could only happen in Paris.
Ashley dared to dream it was so.
Over coffee, Jean-Claude reached across the table and touched his fingertips to hers. But only for the briefest few seconds. Then, as if he remembered himself, he drew back. “My love of art happened very young,” he told her. “I saw a tree outside my bedroom window. And I wanted to re-create it.” He laughed. “I couldn’t do anything else until I found paper and sketched that tree. I have what they call a natural talent.”
Somehow his story didn’t sound arrogant. Who could argue with him?
“You like lakes, chérie?”
A picture of Lake Monroe flashed in Ashley’s mind. She blinked and it was gone. “I love lakes. So peaceful.”
“I will take you to a lake like none other.” He winked at her again, and she felt her heart flutter. “Bassin de laVillette is in the nineteenth. It is situated in the fifth largest park in Paris. It is another place I will take you again.” He touched her shoulder but only briefly. “When we have more time, mon amour.”
The lake was everything Jean-Claude had said. Grassy hills and people sitting on blankets talking and eating, soaking in the sun. He was explaining that the park was more than sixty acres in the northeastern part of the city, but all Ashley could think about was him. Was he going to hold her hand? Would he try to take her in his arms? What was this? What were they doing?
