26 Hours in Paris (25 page)

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Authors: Demi Alex

BOOK: 26 Hours in Paris
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“Yes,” Charlie conceded, reaching for the tanks. “They're good, non-intimidating, and cute. If you don't mind me being the first to wear them, I'll take them.”
“I don't mind,” Kathryn replied, holding the bright-colored shirts high. “On the condition that you agree to take these dresses with you.” She held up a barely there little black number. The plunging halter matched the nonexistent back, which matched the tiny skirt.
“That's not enough material to cover my hips.” Charlie held up a hand in protest. “Even if I'm five inches shorter than you, it's barely going to reach past my underwear.”
“Don't wear any.” Kat handed her the items in order. Colorful tanks. Miniskirts. Skimpy and fun sun dresses.
Letting out a long sigh, Charlie stuffed them in her case and returned to the couch. “You need to look at it from my point of view, Kat. This assignment means something different to me than it does to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Her friend gave her a sobering look and sat beside her. “It means a byline to me and to you. We've worked hard for our own features. Plus, it's an opportunity to break out of our loveless ruts.”
“Kind of.” Charlie reached for the e-cig and took a long drag. “I'll admit that what you're saying is mostly on target. However, there's never been a doubt in your ability to make it as a writer. Your parents supported your career goals—maybe not financially so much, because they couldn't, but they always cheered you on. Paul hired you because he knew you were a capable writer. He had proof from your school days.” She puffed on the pink stick and chased the vanilla-scented vapor with a waving hand.
“You're a great writer,” Kathryn insisted.
“Thank you,” Charlie said, folding her hands between her knees. “I like to believe that, but my family doesn't. According to them, the only reason for me to attend Columbia Journalism School was to find the right husband, which I recklessly overlooked during my undergraduate education. I was there for my M-R-S degree.”
“You are so much more than pretty wifey material,” Kathryn said, her pitch a bit higher than typical. “You're such a talented writer, not to mention someone that I would always want at my side. Dependable, smart, hardworking, stable—”
“It doesn't matter. None of that matters to my family. From the time I was in sixth grade, my parents made my life's ambition very clear. My only job was to find the proper husband I was bred for, blend the families, and bow my head as he grew my inheritance.” Her shoulders dropped in defeat, but her determination rose in opposition. “
I
can grow my own fortune. I don't need an inheritance and a man to validate me.”
“You don't touch your trust account.”
“No. I don't,” Charlie agreed. “There are too many conditions and repercussions. I don't want to be played like a marionette. I'd rather live within the means I earn.”
“Okay. Let's talk about how this week will make a difference.” Kathryn covered Charlie's hand and squeezed in support. “I'm here for you. Let's brainstorm the best avenues to proving that you are more than a pretty face.”
Relief and gratitude flooded Charlie. She was so lucky to have a friend who believed in her. “I'm going back to the basics. Starting with the five W's every investigative reporter asks. Who, what, when, where, why . . . I'm going forward with my intentions from the moment I embark. I'm going to interview all of my fellow passengers that are willing to share.”
“Don't forget the how,” Kathryn added, folding her feet under her bum. “I got it. Let's brainstorm all your key questions over a bottle of wine. That way, you're guaranteed not to miss anything you could use.”
“Can't,” Charlie said, checking the time on her phone. “I need to get to the Port Authority. My bus leaves in a little over an hour.”
“Bus?” Kat shrieked. “Are you out of your mind? That's going to take forever.”
“Twenty-six hours, to be exact. The same amount of time you'll have on the ground in Paris.” Charlie winked and stood. She carried the dinner containers to the kitchen and set them on the counter. “If I take a flight, I'll arrive totally wrecked and the first two days of the cruise will be ruined. I hate flying and need loads of meds to get my butt on a plane. It would take a huge toll on my body. I'll bus it.”
Shaking her head, Kat gazed at the floor. “You're going to regret getting stuck—wait!” She looked up, excitement playing in her eyes.
Charlie looked at her friend, wondering what exactly the massive brainstorm was. “You know I'm on a tight schedule, right?”
“I got it,” Kat said, holding an index finger in the air. “I have twenty-six hours in Paris. You have twenty-six hours on the bus. So you need twenty-six interview questions for the cruisers.” She clasped her hands together and rolled her shoulders. “Trust me. It's our lucky number. Twenty-six! Everything twenty-six.”
“Okay. If you insist.” Charlie stretched up and wrapped her arms around Kat's shoulders. “I really have to go. I'll work on the questions while someone else drives. You never know who may be on that bus.”
“You never know,” Kat agreed.
About the Author
 
Demi Alex
writes steamy romances, blending emotional fulfillments of the heart and carnal desires in her work. Born in Athens, Greece, and raised in her own version of a big fat Greek life in New York, Demi was infected with book and travel bugs early, and currently admits the only therapy for this condition is to combine the two in fictional stories that allow her characters to let loose and experience all they crave. She attended SUNY at Stony Brook, and after changing her major numerous times, graduated with a degree in public policy and international studies. Her characters are loosely inspired by people she encounters while she travels or during the time she spends matching homes to owners as a Realtor. She simply has a passion for matchmaking that can't be put to rest. Readers can visit her online at
www.demialex.com
, on Facebook, and at @DemiAlex2U on Twitter.

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