Heaven Scent (27 page)

‘Penny for them?’ asked a throaty voice.

Ashton looked up to find Marianne Peroux standing over him. Wearing a bright red coat with glossy black boots and leather gloves, she looked sleek, beautiful and dangerous.

‘Isn’t that what you English say?’ Marianne slid into the seat opposite Ashton.

‘Er, yes. Yes, it is.’ Ashton’s gaze darted to the door but Leoni was nowhere to be seen.

Marianne allowed her eyes to run over his delectably English blond hair and his stubbly chin, which gave him a far sexier edge than when he was clean-cut. And those comflower-blue eyes . . .

‘So. What is occupying your thoughts? Or should it be who?’ She gave him a knowing smile.

Ashton hoped he wasn’t going red. He caught a waft of Marianne’s perfume, a new one this time but just as pungent as the last one.

Disconcertingly, she held her wrist out and turned back the cuff of her leather glove. ‘It’s our new fragrance.’

‘It’s . . . very strong,’ Ashton responded with a slight cough.

Marianne let out a peal of laughter. ‘I know. It’s called La Vengeance.’

Ashton raised his eyebrows. ‘Revenge. Why choose that name?’

‘It is a joke, nothing more.’ Marianne waved an airy hand then leant over and tucked a scented card into the top pocket of his suit. ‘I see the Ducasse family have registered their interest in the sale of the building.’ Her green eyes met his unflinchingly. ‘I hope you know I won’t give up without a fight.’

Ashton inclined his head. ‘Of course. You seem like a woman who … who’s used to getting her own way.’

Marianne pursed her lips. ‘Most of the time.’ She got to her feet. ‘Keep the stubble,’ she instructed him, cupping his chin with her gloved hand. ‘It’s very sexy.’ Planting a kiss on his mouth before he could pull away, Marianne laughed and left the coffee shop.

Outside, her mouth falling open in surprise, Leoni watched the exchange. Ashton was certainly a dark horse; he hadn’t mentioned anything to her about dating anyone. His usual type, she noticed ruefully; as Olivier had said all those years ago, Ashton obviously still liked curvy redheads. It bothered her slightly that Ashton was keeping secrets from her. She went inside and slid into the seat Marianne had just vacated.

Ashton’s startled expression sat oddly with the smear of lipstick on his mouth.

‘Well, well,’ Leoni said, eyeing his lips. ‘Who was that?’

Blushing slightly, Ashton rubbed his mouth with a handkerchief. Leoni was wearing a businesslike suit and she looked as professional as usual but there was a glow about her. Ashton felt a stab of unease.

‘It was just Marianne making a point,’ he said.

Leoni sat back. ‘That was Marianne Peroux? Ashton, far be it for me to tell you what to do with your love life, but is it advisable to date Marianne while the building sale is going through?’

Ashton looked horrified. ‘Me? Dating Marianne?’ How Leoni could possibly think such a thing? ‘You couldn’t be more wrong, Leoni.’ Ashton shuddered. ‘She frightens the bloody life out of me.’ He pulled the scented card out of his pocket. ‘And as for her latest perfume . . .’

Leoni sniffed the card he was holding out. ‘Eeeguh! That’s awful. How have Armand done so well over the years?’

‘God knows. I suppose certain women must like fragrances like that.’ Ashton glanced at his watch. ‘Would you like a coffee or shall we go straight to the shop?’

‘Straight to the shop, please,’ Leoni said, giving him an excited smile. ‘I can’t wait to see it!’ She tucked her arm through his as they walked to the door. ‘And then I can tell you all about the perfect date I went on with Jerard last night . . .’

Feeling his heart constrict painfully, Ashton plastered a smile onto his face.

Xavier glanced at Cat across the table as she gazed at the view. They were dining on halibut with crab Hollandaise at a lovely restaurant high up in the hills. The vista was gorgeous and even as the sky darkened Cat couldn’t help wishing she was here in different circumstances. They probably looked like a reasonably happy couple enjoying a spot of lunch but in reality the air was still rather tense between them.

Xavier was actually quite likeable – when he wasn’t being disagreeable. Over the past few days, they had crossed swords on more than one occasion but when they chatted about perfume, he was intelligent, relaxed and quite funny. He was just incapable of talking about anything remotely personal. The shutters would come down, his sensual mouth would curl contemptuously, and he would become distant and overly polite. Cat had learnt that as long as she stuck to the safe topic of fragrance, she and Xavier could get on reasonably well; in fact, she actually rather enjoyed his company. She was doing her very best not to compare Xavier to Olivier but it was difficult when his phone kept alerting him to texts from various girlfriends. It was also impossible to tell what he thought of her.

‘So tell me who’s who in the perfume world,’ she said as she sipped her Sancerre.

Xavier sat back. They had visited most of the
parfumeries
in the area – Fragonard, Galimard and Molinard – and Cat’s luggage was now weighed down with beautiful perfume bottles and a collection of scents she hadn’t been able to resist, despite the depleted money supply she had mentioned in passing. In Galimard, several of the male assistants had fawned all over Cat as if she were a celebrity, leaving her laughing in bewilderment and reluctantly accepting all the free samples they had insisted she take. To her credit, she had been admirably modest about it, claiming it was simply down to her ‘kooky’ French accent but Xavier wasn’t so sure.

‘Well, there’s Sylvaine Delacourte, Azzi Glasser, Camille Goutal, and Roja Dove, of course,’ he said. He noticed that the pale, hazy sunshine had given her skin a rose-gold hue and that her shoulder, exposed by the mint-green top she was wearing, had caught the sun too. Xavier had half a mind to tell her she might need some after-sun but he refrained, thinking it would sound too intimate.

‘Roja Dove is like a walking encyclopaedia on all things perfume-related,’ he continued. ‘I was obsessed with him when I was younger, he’s a bit of a hero of mine. He used to collect perfumes and perfume bottles when he was a kid and he got a bit of a name for himself pestering experts. He was offered a job by Robert Guerlain in a factory near London and even though he has never trained as a nose, he worked with the perfumers and eventually opened his own boutique in Harrods.’

Cat smiled at a waiter as he removed her plate. ‘I didn’t even know there was a perfume boutique in Harrods. Did Roja create his own perfumes in the end?’

Xavier nodded, raising his eyebrows to ask if she wanted to see the dessert menu. When she shook her head, he ordered them coffees. ‘Oh yes. His boutique had a crystal Caron fragrance fountain and Clive Christian hand-engraved bottles which were diamond-encrusted. They sold for more than a hundred thousand pounds.’ He pointed at her with his wine glass. ‘For a certain sum of money, Roja will make a bespoke scent, just for you.’ Xavier mentioned a figure.

Cat gulped. ‘That’s a bit pricey for me.’

‘But worth it,’ Xavier asserted. ‘Trust me.’

‘Couldn’t you make me one for less than that?’ She grinned to show she was just teasing him.

‘I could,’ he said cautiously, feeling his jaw clench. Letting it go, Xavier reminded himself that he shouldn’t always feel as if he was being attacked. Feeling relaxed after several glasses of wine, he decided to indulge her. ‘What would you like it to smell like?’

Happily surprised that he was playing the game, Cat thought for a moment. ‘Well, I’d call it Reckless, or something, I know that much. Leoni would probably want it called Scarlet Woman or the Black Widow Spider, I’m sure.’ She pulled a face.

‘Are you reckless?’

Cat let out a laugh. ‘What do you think? But seriously, I like dangerous sports, I suppose, parachute jumps, climbing, that sort of thing, and I used to ride a lot . . . I love horses, actually.’

Xavier was impressed. ‘You like climbing? I didn’t know that.’ He told her about his recent climb and Cat was envious – that stretch of mountains was famous for its views and its complexity. She was equally amazed to find that Xavier enjoyed something as physical and as dangerous as climbing; it was at odds with the rather lazy persona he projected. Maybe he was only cautious when it came to love, she mused.

‘I distracted you,’ Xavier said. ‘You were about to describe what you’d like in this new fragrance I’m allegedly creating.’

‘Right, yes.’ Cat tried to remember what she’d learnt in the perfume factories. ‘It should have an outrageous brief, like the ones you told me about. Something like the scent of an ocean wave as it crashes down on a sandy beach while a coconut falls on a man’s head.’

Xavier laughed.

‘I suppose I would need to choose a type, wouldn’t I?’ Cat went on. ‘What about a gourmand? I liked the one you made in that trio of scents.’

Xavier shrugged. ‘Gourmand scents are a more recent addition to the fragrance family. DKNY’s Be Delicious, for example, has a coffee accord, and Angel, by Thierry Mugler, features candyfloss and toffee apples. They’re usually childhood scents, to create nostalgia.’ He paused. ‘How about a blast of sweet rose, orchid and white lily, to start with?’ he suggested.

Cat blinked at him. ‘Wow, that was quick. Sounds gorgeous. What next?’

Xavier’s eyes met hers. ‘Some creamy amber and a touch of freesia to stabilise the top note.’

‘Perfect, I love all those.’ Xavier made it sound so easy to come up with a new fragrance on the spot. ‘What about the heart notes – the middle bits?’

Xavier nodded. ‘Something fruity but also deep and full bodied. Plum, red berry and orris root for a raw hit. I think also some mandarin . . . a tropical accord is unusual but if it’s done properly, it can really work.’

Cat felt sure he couldn’t have worked out the perfume he had just described in the past few minutes. ‘All right, time to confess. You didn’t just come up with that, did you? This is something you’ve already given a lot of thought to.’

Xavier pulled a rueful face. ‘Sort of. It’s something I was working on before and after my mother died.’ He stopped, as though he felt he’d said too much. The unfinished fragrance had had all the makings of a modern classic, the kind of fragrance that would be aimed at the younger consumer but could still bridge the generation gap. Something that could offer that much sought-after sense of decadence, sophistication and glamour.

Cat wanted to know more but she was aware she had to be careful. ‘Did you . . . identify the base notes?’

‘Almost. Honeyed cedarwood, ambergris – synthetic, of course – and sandalwood. And something else . . . but I hadn’t identified that part.’

Cat fiddled with her hair. ‘So it’s unfinished?’

He nodded, his eyes downcast. ‘It’s . . . something happened and I stopped working on it.’ Xavier couldn’t bear to say it out loud but the perfume had been based around his idea of the ‘perfect woman’. If it ever saw the light of day it would probably surprise most women to know – one, in particular, Xavier thought with a grimace – that it hadn’t been based on anyone he knew. It was simply a concept created with certain characteristics and attributes in mind.

Cat itched to question Xavier about why he had abandoned what sounded like a beautiful fragrance, but she knew better. It would put an end to their pleasant lunch and Xavier was likely to erupt. Cat glanced up at the sky, aware of a chill in the air. Dark clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up, tossing the surrounding almond blossoms.

She looked at Xavier’s closed expression and changed the subject to something she’d been meaning to get to the bottom of. ‘Olivier’s parents, how did they die?’

Xavier drained his coffee, disconcerted by the abrupt change of subject. He glanced up at the darkening sky and realised they should make a move. ‘Uncle Henri and Aunt Paulette died taking drug overdoses at the party of all parties. Did Olivier tell you something different?’

Cat nodded. Of course he had. ‘He told me they died in a riding accident,’ she said flatly.

‘No, that’s how my mother died.’

‘Why would Olivier lie about such a thing?’ Cat blurted out. ‘I didn’t need him to make things up . . . I thought we had so much in common. Leoni was right; I didn’t know Olivier at all. I’m just an idiot for falling for his stupid lies . . .’ She stopped and looked away. ‘God, sorry. I thought I was over him.’

‘Olivier was a pathological liar,’ Xavier asserted. ‘Even as a child he used to make stuff up. He used to run rings around my grandmother, if it makes you feel any better.’

Cat pleated her napkin. ‘Christ. Love . . . isn’t it shocking what it can do to you?’

‘Tell me about it.’

Cat wished he
would
tell her about it. She wanted to know what had made him the way he was, what had caused him to ditch the one thing he loved doing most in the world.

Xavier hesitated. He was tempted to confide in Cat. She was so open and honest. But it was ridiculous, he had only spent a few days in her company and he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to his own father about what had happened back then. What was he thinking?

Cat lifted her head and leant forward. ‘The thing is, the death of our parents was what we really bonded over. Mine died in a skiing accident,’ she explained. ‘They lived life to the full and they died doing just that. They were caught in an avalanche in Austria when I was fifteen.’

Xavier stared at her, suddenly seeing her in a completely different light. He’d had no idea she’d suffered such a tragedy at a young age. ‘That must have crucified you,’ he commented.

She nodded. ‘It did . . . it really did. They were everything to me . . . I was an only child so I guess I was probably a bit spoilt.’

‘You don’t seem spoilt,’ he replied. ‘Not like me,’ he added lightly. ‘Pampered playboy and all that. Tell me about your parents.’