Amanda's Guide to Love (8 page)

He strode by her side.

“Talk,” she said without looking at
him.

“What about? Oh, right, your name
and address.” He looked left, right, and back before putting his index finger
to his lips. “Promise not to tell anyone.”

“Cross my heart.”

“I work for Interpol. I had a
sketch artist make your portrait, and then I ran a face-recognition search on
it.”

She glanced at him sideways. “Very
funny.”

“Why? It’s a perfectly plausible
explanation.”

She shook her head. “
I’m a
mind-reading alien
would’ve been more plausible.”

“Really? Why? Can’t you see how I’m
perfect for Interpol?”

She looked him over and sighed.
“You’re perfect for Bollywood.”

He shrugged. “Fine. You want the
insipid truth? Here it is: I went through your purse while you showered.”

“Don’t sound so smug.” She gave him
a withering stare. “What you did was wrong.”

His best option was to lay his
cards on the table. “I wanted to see you again.”

“But I told you it was a one-off
for me.”

“I was hoping to change your mind.”

“Then why did you wait a whole
month?”

I’ve been trying to forget you . . .
and
I failed.

Nah. Some cards were better kept
hidden. “I was away.”

“I won’t get involved with you,
Kes.”

Was there a polite way of
explaining he wasn’t asking her to get
involved
?

They halted at the métro entrance,
and Amanda gave him a determined look. “I’m sorry, but it looks like you wasted
your morning.”

It was time to play his trump card.
“I didn’t come here to ask you on a date. I remember how adamant you were on
the subject back in Deauville.”

“What’s this about then?”

Keep it cool, man
. “I’ll be playing at Casino
Enghien-les-Bains over the next few weeks. It’s just an hour north of Paris . . .
so I rented a furnished apartment in the city.”

“Aaand?”

“I don’t know anyone in Paris, so . . .
we could just hang out from time to time, keep each other company for the
movies, the swimming pool . . . that sort of thing.”

“And you think I’d buy that?”

He smiled. “I’m also hoping that
while we do all those things, we’ll sleep together—at least once or twice. But
I’m not counting on it.”

“Listen, Kes. I had a great time
with you in Deauville. The sex was mind-blowing—and believe me, I’m not saying
that to flatter you.”

He sneered. “I believe you. You’re
not the kind to flatter.”

“But sex isn’t everything.” She
began to descend the stairs leading to the métro station.

He followed.

“You’re wrong for me,” she said as
they passed the turnstiles. “And I’m too clever to let you lure me into an
affair.”

“OK.”

She turned to peer into his eyes.
“OK as in ‘good-bye’ or as in ‘we could still hang out with absolutely no
prospect of sex’?”

“The latter.”

“Read my lips: We. Will. Not. Have.
Sex.”

“I’m game.”

As they boarded the train, Amanda’s
expression changed from tense to playful. “I’ve been wanting to get into shape
for the Parisienne Marathon. One of the perks of being unemployed is I have
ample free time.”

“My work offers the same perks.”

“I don’t have enough willpower to
train alone,” she said, “and none of my friends enjoy jogging.”

“I jog every day.”

She nodded. “I also want to learn
to rollerblade. But I’m too old to suffer the humiliating initial falls alone.”

He grinned. “I guess I’ll be buying
a pair of rollerblades later today.”

“And I go to the municipal swimming
pool every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Note taken.”

She looked excited. “Oh, and I need
a partner for the Pedro Almodóvar retrospective next week. Any chance you’re
interested?”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “The
guy makes unconventional movies about marginal individuals. What’s not to
like?”

They went on discussing other
things they could do. Amanda vented her frustrations over her wearying job
search. As they mounted the steps back to the surface, she told him how
liberating it felt to open up about her weaknesses.

“Because I don’t care if you think I’m
a loser,” she offered by way of explanation.

They stopped in front of a huge
office building at La Défense
,
where Amanda
was to have her interview. She recapped the terms of the deal: They’d be
pastime companions for a few weeks until he moved on to another casino in
another city. Or until she found a job and got too busy for leisurely pursuits.

They shook hands on it, and Kes
hurried back to his hotel. He had work to do, starting with finding a furnished
apartment in Amanda’s neighborhood and researching Casino Enghien-les-Bain
s
to see if it was worth his while.

Because the chance to sleep with
Amanda at least one more time definitely was.

Once in his room, Kes fired up his
laptop and stared at the screen, his thoughts too muddled to focus on what he
had to do. His meeting with Amanda hadn’t gone as planned. It wasn’t a complete
fiasco—he’d gotten her to agree to see him again. The problem was her
conditions might turn out to be untenable.

But it was too late to back out
now. He would play her game for a while, hoping she’d succumb to his charms.
She would. Of course she would. Maybe even by the end of the Almodóvar retrospective.
Let’s say in two weeks.

Three weeks, max.

Because if she didn’t, then he’d
just signed up for a month of torture.

Kes pictured a stuffy, dark room
and a parched hostage tied up to a chair in the middle of it like in spy
movies. He imagined a jailer stepping in with a big glass of cold water,
touching it to the prisoner’s cracked lips, telling him to beg for it
. . .
and then walking away with the
glass. The captor would return an hour later and tease the hostage again and
again until the man went
stark-
raving mad.

That
was
how his arrangement with Amanda might turn out—watching the coveted glass of
water up close, day in and day out, but unable to drink from it.

Of course, nobody had tied Kes up.
He could walk out of his prison any time he wanted and hook up with another
woman. A woman who wouldn’t see him as her inferior. Who’d be accessible and
willing.

The problem was he’d wanted
this
woman ever since she unwittingly rocked his world during that weekend in Deauville.
It had been too good—and too short. He needed more of her to quench his thirst
and move on.

Kes shut his laptop
and prayed to Saint Sara that his snarky, snobbish belle would let him seduce
her in Paris like she’d done in Deauville.

* * *

“I still don’t get it,” Jeanne
said, tightening her in-line skates around her ankles.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “And yet it
isn’t complicated, even for a waitress.”

“Ha-ha. I must be a particularly
dumb waitress
,
then.”

Amanda pulled her wrist guards on
and turned to Jeanne, not daring to stand up from the bench on her own. “OK.
Which part of my extremely straightforward explanation do I need to repeat?”

“Hmm. Let’s see.” Jeanne pinched
her chin. “You’ve found a partner to practice rollerblading with. Your first
practice session is scheduled for tomorrow. And yet you need a prepractice
session with me. Right?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“You’re good at this. You can teach
me the basics.”

“What about this ‘partner’ of
yours? Can’t he teach you?”

“He’s a total beginner like me.”

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. “What’s
the point of practicing with a beginner?”

“The idea is that we’re equally
bad, so it won’t be too embarrassing for either of us.”

“Why do you need me
,
then? It’s my only day off this week
,
and I’m stealing two hours of it from Mat.”

Amanda hesitated. “I’m hoping
you’ll teach me to fall with a modicum of grace . . . and
dignity.”

“Who did you say your partner was?”
Jeanne narrowed her eyes.

Amanda looked away. “Just an
acquaintance. You don’t know him.”

“Does he have a name?”

“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, he’s in
town for only a month.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned
him before?”

“Because he’s not important.”
Amanda held out her hand. “Now will you pull me up, please?”

Jeanne shook her head. “Stand up on
your own so I can spot the mistakes.”

Amanda took a breath, lifted her
body from the bench
,
and slowly straightened
her legs. She maintained the upright posture for a few seconds, all her muscles
tense and her back unnaturally stiff. But the moment she tried to move, she
tripped and landed hard on her backside with her feet over her head, her arms
flailing
,
and her mouth spitting the vilest
curses in the French language.

Jeanne crouched next to her. “Does
it hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Amanda rubbed her
derrière. “You see my problem now?”

Jeanne smiled. “I’ll do my best,
but I can’t promise you’ll be gliding like a swan on a lake tomorrow. Your beau
might still get to witness a graceless fall or two.”

“He isn’t my beau.” Amanda glared.
“He’s just an acquaintance.”

“I’m so sorry. Your
nameless
acquaintance
might still see you in a ridiculous position.” Jeanne shrugged
with an exaggerated nonchalance. “But it doesn’t matter because
he
doesn’t matter, right?”

With that, she pulled Amanda to her
feet. The two spent the next hour skating up and down the majestic Esplanade
des Invalides
.
Jeanne made elegant U-turns, effortlessly negotiating
curbstones and barking instructions. Amanda rolled a few meters on stiff legs,
took a tumble, scrambled to her feet, and tried again.

When they finally pulled off their
skates and settled in
at
a sidewalk café,
Amanda’s leg muscles and several random body parts ached. She whimpered and
pressed her glass of iced tea to one sore calf and then to the other.

“You never told me why the CEO
fired you,” Jeanne prompted, picking up her soda.

Amanda sighed. “Can we just say it
was the pinnacle of a series of harebrained decisions he’d made since taking
the reins of ENS?”

“What kind of decisions?”

“Downsizing R&D, for starters.
You don’t do that when you’re in the energy business. Things evolve so fast—if
you aren’t cutting edge, you die.”

“I guess you told him that?”

“Of course I did. But he just
laughed me off.” Amanda pulled a face, imitating Julien Barre. “ENS,
Mademoiselle Roussel, needs more marketing—not more research.
Pff.
”

“Was that your only difference of
opinion?”

Amanda chewed her lip. “No.”

“I’m listening.”

“Two months ago Julien decided ENS
should acquire one of our competitors. He announced it during a staff meeting.
Said he was sure he’d get the board to
OK
the
operation.”

“Why am I getting an inkling you
didn’t think it was a good idea?”

“Because it wasn’t! We buy small,
innovative start-ups. There’s no point in absorbing an established company
almost as big as us. I told him he was biting off more than ENS could chew.”

“Did you tell him that in front of
everyone?”

“Well, yes. It was during the staff
meeting. I was hoping others would support me.”

“Did they?”

Amanda shook her head. “Not a
single department head, manager, or engineer. A bunch of cowards
,
that’s what they are. They only care about their
own careers and don’t give a shit about the future of the company.”

“Did you try to talk to Julien in
private afterward? Explain your reasoning?”

“I did . . . and it
didn’t go well.”

“Let me guess—you ended up insulting
him?”

Amanda brought her glass to her
mouth and kept it there.

Jeanne gave her foot a light kick
under the table. “Come on, woman, spill the beans.”

“He wouldn’t listen.” Amanda
sighed.

“So you said something outrageous
to get his attention, didn’t you?”

“I may have asked if he wanted to
acquire a large company to . . . compensate for the size of his
private parts.”