Page 22 of Kissing for Keeps
“Bonjour,” Philippe says, putting out a hand. I reach to shake it, ensuring I have that grip that saysI can do damagewhile also maintaining civility. Delicate balance.
“Right,” Siena says. “Philippe, this is Jack. He’s Madison’s brother.”
“Ah,” Philippe says. “Not your boyfriend, then.”
She laughs. “No.”
His smile widens as they share a glance that reinforces my choice to come on this “tour.” I put on a smile of my own and wrap my arm around Siena’s shoulders. “We’ve known each other for a long time. She’s like a sister to me.”
I stare at Philippe, willing him to take my meaning, but his expression stays pleasant. Maybe the sister thing was a bad choice. Is sisters-are-off-limits not a French rule?
“My parents said you might want a different room, Jack,” he says. “We have a very nice one in thedonjon—what you Americans call the dungeon, I think.”
Youwouldwant to keep me locked up in the dungeon, Philippe. I glance at Siena to see if she’s getting the same aggressive vibes I am, but apparently, she sees nothing wrong with the prospect of me sleeping on a grungy floor with my wrists and ankles in rusty chains.
“I’m good here,” I say. “Thanks, though.”
Philippe dips his head politely.
Siena turns to me. “You really don’t have to come.”
“But how am I supposed to be an effective assistant if I don’t know the venue?” I jerk my head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep Philippe waiting.”
Philippe mainly addresses himself to Siena as we start, heading for the main part of the chateau first. I try to listen as he gives us a rundown of some of the 900-year history of the place, but I’m also trying to keep tabs on this guy. He’s not aggressive in his approach, but he’s also not shy about the fact that he admires Siena. Basically, he’s riding that line that keeps me on my toes but never gives me enough reason to intervene.
As for Siena, I know from personal experience how quick she is to put me in my place at the first sign of flirtation, so I’m kind of surprised to see how much she lets Philippe get away with. She doesn’t even bat an eye when he helps slip her cardigan onto her shoulder or when he offers his hand to help her step into one of the rooms.
If I tried anything like that, I’d come away with a bruised arm, at the very least. I’ve always assumed the way Siena reacts toward me is the way she’d react toward any guy who flirts with her, but this tour is giving me some stuff to chew on—like the possibility that I reallydojust bug her.
“How do you remember all this stuff?” Siena asks after Philippe explains the stories behind the swords hanging at the top of the staircase.
“I have been hearing it since I was a boy. Anyone who is going to take over a chateau like this needs to understand the history, of course.”
Siena looks at the tall ceilings. “Crazy that this will all be yours someday.” There’s distinct wonder and awe in her voice. She’s probably thinking what it would be like to own a chateau.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s a crushing responsibility. I can’t imagine the repairs to a place like this are cheap.”
“No, it is very expensive,” Philippe admits. “And itisa large responsibility, as you say.”
Pop. There goes Siena’s dream.
“But it is also a great honor,” he continues, “to take charge of something like Chateau Vidal that carries so much history and heritage within its walls.”
Siena glances at me with a little smile that tells me she thinks Philippe just pulled one over on me. “You said the chateau is 900 years old?” she asks as we come back down the grand stone staircase.
“Not this part of the chateau,” Philippe says. “The ruins are the oldest section. Thedonjon—this building we have just toured—is only 600 years old.”
“Basically brand new.” Her cardigan shifts precariously close to the edge of her shoulder again, and I’m determined thatIwill fix it this time.
But Philippe is too quick for me. He laughs as he readjusts it and smooths it over her shoulder. “You have a wonderful sense of humor,madame.”
I barely suppress an eye roll. I mean, shedoeshave a good sense of humor, but Philippe has known her for all of twenty minutes.
“Oh, thanks.” Siena’s expression turns pensive. “Hey, I thought unmarried women weremademoiselle?”
Seriously, Siena. She’s basically throwing herself at him. The way Philippe responds to her comment by sending her a sidelong glance tells me he’sinterpreting her question the same way. My eyes will get stuck permanently rolled back in my head if this continues. That’d be a shame, because this tour is actually kind of cool, and I want to see everything.
Philippe clasps his hands behind his back. “That is true, and some of the older generation still uses it, but the termmademoiselleis frowned upon nowadays, and I did not wish to give offense.”
