Kissed in Paris (20 page)

“Do you think they saw us?” My pulse raced as Julien let go of my waist, causing me to trip and bump into a large display of calla lilies. What were calla lilies doing on a tour boat?

“No,” Julien said. “But I knew it was only a matter of time before the police tracked us here.”

“Us? You mean
me
?”

A beat passed before Julien responded. “Yes, of course.”

Before I had a chance to consider his hesitation, a man dressed in a black and white tuxedo appeared at our side. “
Champagne
?” he asked in a French accent as he thrust a tray of bubbly glasses at us.

Why were they serving champagne on a tour boat? I scanned the faces surrounding us and gasped as I caught sight of a woman in a long, sparkly white gown with a thin, wispy veil gliding down her back, leaning over to kiss a tall, lanky man in a black suit.

Oh my God. We were crashing a wedding. If I was the event planner at this wedding, I would have thrown us out immediately.

Julien plucked a glass of champagne off the tray. “
Merci
,” he said, not fazed in the slightest by the situation.

“Put that back!” I whispered.

“
Et vous, mademoiselle
?” the waiter asked me.

“No,
merci
,” I responded.

“What is the problem?” Julien asked, the innocence in his voice making me want to grab the glass of champagne out of his hands and throw it in his face.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re crashing someone else’s wedding! We have to get off this boat.”

Julien peeked over my shoulder and nodded toward the park. “Of the two options, I would rather be here.”

As the wedding cruise pulled away from the dock, I turned and spotted the two police officers walking right past where we’d just been standing.

“This is why I did not want to leave the hotel room,” Julien said in an irritating sing-song voice.

“Oh, so now this is my fault.”

Julien arched an eyebrow then downed a sip of champagne.

“Stop it. Stop doing that. It’s making me crazy.”

He laughed, then took another gulp, bigger this time. “Mmm.
C’est bon
. You should try some.”

“This isn’t funny.” I grabbed Julien’s arm and dragged him to the edge of the boat, hoping none of the guests would notice we didn’t belong here. “Do you know how much money a wedding like this costs? We have no right to be here, let alone take part in the celebration.” I nodded toward his now empty glass of champagne.

“What do you propose then? Jumping off the boat?” His smirk widened.

“You think everything is one big joke, don’t you? I mean, do you actually think no one is going to notice? Look at how we’re dressed. You’re in the same jeans and T-shirt you’ve been wearing for the past two days.” I lowered my voice and smiled as a couple of chatty guests walked past.

Julien waited until they were gone. “If you keep shouting at me, yes, people will begin to notice. But if you calm down and act like you’re
happy
to be here with me,
your date
, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not acting like you’re my date. And don’t even think about pulling a stunt like you did yesterday on that awful newlywed tour bus.”

The lines around Julien’s eyes crinkled as he laughed at the memory. “That was quite funny, was it not?”

“It was not.”

“Oh, thank God,” came a high-pitched Southern drawl behind us. “Did I hear you two speaking English?”

I flipped around to find a short, middle-aged woman with bleach-blond bangs curled about an inch off her forehead, puffy cheeks smothered in pink blush, and pearly white teeth glinting in the sunshine.

“Um, yes,” I answered hesitantly. I did not want to have a conversation with anyone on this boat.

“I thought I heard my native tongue over here.” Her smile dimmed as she eyed the two of us—me in my jeans and sneakers, Julien in his beat-up black boots. “I don’t remember seeing y’all at the ceremony.”

“Our flight into Paris was delayed, and we had to rush to Annecy. No time to change, you see.” Julien slid his arm around my waist. “We are so happy we made it.”

“Oh, you poor dears! You must be exhausted! At least you made it in time for the cocktail cruise. You’ll have time to change before the reception tonight.”

“Mmm.” I nodded. Thank God this wasn’t the reception. This should only last an hour or two at the most.

“Are you friends of Luc’s or Charlotte’s?” she asked.

“Charlotte,” I blurted, hoping we could get this woman to leave us alone.

“I can’t believe we’ve never met! I’m Charlotte’s Aunt Liza from Florida. Well, from Texas originally. But anyhoo, I just can’t believe our Charlotte is all grown up and marrying a French man!”

“It is true. Time goes too fast,” Julien said, his eyes flickering in amusement. “Chloe and I are hoping to have a wedding as beautiful as this when we get married.” He grabbed another glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray. “It is just a matter of time. Right,
chérie
?”

Aunt Liza clasped her hands over her heart. “Now aren’t you two just the sweetest things.” Her strong floral-scented perfume assaulted my nose as she leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “And from what I hear, French men are dynamite in the bedroom.”

“Mmm,” I said, wishing I could shrivel up and disappear. This was horrible. Just horrible.

“Chloe and I are waiting until marriage.” Julien turned and nuzzled his nose into my cheek. “Isn’t that right,
chérie
?”

I wrapped my arm around his waist and pinched the skin under his T-shirt as hard as I could while keeping a smile plastered across my face.

“Y’all are going to have quite a wedding night. Well, it was great meeting you two lovebirds. I’m off to grab another cocktail. Can’t let them go to waste!”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Aunt Liza sauntered off, her thigh-length fuscia dress sloshing a little too high with each step in her three-inch leopard-print heels.

“You are the worst liar I have ever seen,” Julien said in between champagne sips.

I placed my hands on the edge of the boat and took in the view of the white cottages that speckled the mountainside off in the distance. “You’re not that great yourself.
Waiting until marriage
?”

“I thought you would appreciate that. It seems like something you would do.”

“I am not waiting until marriage, for your information.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Have you ever experienced a man other than your fiancé?”

“What? You have no business asking me that.”

“What does it matter? After tomorrow, you may never see me again anyway. Just answer the question.”

“Fine. I’ve been with Paul since college, so he was my first, and he’s my last.”

Julien’s face contorted, a look of near horror passing through his eyes. “But how do you know he is the right one for you when you have never experienced someone else?”

“I don’t need to sleep around to know that I’m marrying the right person. And besides, it’s not like sex is the whole relationship. It’s just one part, a small part really.”

“A
small
part?”

“Well, for you I’m sure it’s the
only
part of a relationship. But for me, other things matter too. Like compatibility and stability.”

Julien let out a dramatic yawn. “Boring, boring. What about the passion?”

“I have passion. We have passion.”

Julien nodded to the newlyweds at the front of the boat who were locked in an almost inappropriate embrace—her hands ruffling through his short brown hair, his lips trailing from her mouth down to her neck. “Do you have that kind of passion, with your fiancé?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Of course. Of course we do.”

He raised his right eyebrow at me, then resumed watching the newlyweds swap tongues. “I don’t believe you.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“No, I am French. And the French man is quite different from the American man.” He gestured to the breathtaking scenery as the boat carried us further into the clear blue lake. “Look at what the world has to offer you. You should not limit yourself so young.”

Julien turned to me then, the wind blowing his hair back, his big brown eyes lighting up under the intense sun. “You are how old?”

“I’m twenty-nine. You?”

“I’m thirty-four. And I have had thirty-four years of a passionate life. Can you say the same?”

“No, I can’t. I’m only twenty-nine, remember?”

“Anyway, all I am saying is—”

I placed my forefinger on his lips to shut him up. “Shhh. For all your talk about enjoying life, you sure don’t know when to be quiet and enjoy the moment.”

Julien took my hand off his lips and held it for a few seconds before placing it back on the railing of the boat. Butterflies raced through my stomach at the feel of his touch and patches of heat stung my neck.

“You are right,” Julien said softly. “There is no need to ruin the moment with words.”

I pulled my eyes away from his and focused ahead on the mountains, willing the redness that danced on my cheeks to go away. And as I tried to concentrate on the scenery—the gorgeous mountains all around us, the bright blue sky and the puffy white clouds overhead, the majestic white castle on an island in the middle of the lake—all I could think about was the patch of Julien’s skin brushing up against my shoulder ever so slightly, sending tingles up my spine and making me feel lightheaded and dizzy.

I closed my eyes and let out a long, quiet breath. I’d never spent this much time alone with a man other than Paul. And I was just emotional, worried, and tired after everything that had happened. That’s all it was. And I loved Paul. No, we weren’t the most passionate couple, but we’d been together for eight years. Passion—I mean real, sensual passion—wasn’t supposed to last past the first year, was it?

When I opened my eyes, Julien’s gaze remained fixated on me.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, his expression and his voice even softer than before.

“I . . . I don’t know. Just that . . .”

My mind went blank as Julien’s face squared directly in front of mine, his brown eyes burning right through me, making all of my practical beliefs, my rationalizations, my need to constantly be in control of the situation, fly right out the window.

“Yes?” he prodded.

I tore my face from his and breathed in the warm summer breeze blowing off the trees. “Nothing. I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

Thirteen

At my insistence, Julien and I trailed along the edge of the boat, careful to steer clear of the bride and groom and all of the chatty guests. When we came upon a table piled high with fluffy squares of bread, chocolate-covered strawberries and pots of steamy fondue, I realized I was ravenous. I hadn’t eaten anything since the chocolate croissant that morning.

Julien shamelessly loaded up a plate of food, not the least bit concerned that we were uninvited guests at this party.