One Summer in Paris(89)

Grace grabbed her wrap and her purse. “Philippe and I are going to dinner. You and Etienne are welcome to join us.”

“No way. We don’t want to intrude, do we, Etienne?”

Etienne was more respectful. “Are you meeting him at the restaurant, Mrs. Porter? We could take you there first, before we go back to my parents’ place.”

“Thank you, but I’m meeting him by one of the quiet entrances at the back. He has a driver.”

“Okay, well, in that case we’re out of here.” Audrey leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. “This is one of those times when you do not need company. Have fun, although I already know you will because that man really does know what to do with his hands.”

“Audrey!”

“What? Tell me you didn’t want to be that piano. Of course you did.” Audrey hugged her, but only so that she could whisper in Grace’s ear. “Go for it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Audrey pulled away, grinning. “I love you, Grace. I especially love you when you’re being all stiff and prim, but I’ve seen you without your tights, remember?”

Grace gave her a gentle push. “You’re going back to Etienne’s?”

“Yeah, I need to know what happens next to that girl in the book. Her whole life was going to shit—darn. I tell you, it almost made my life feel straightforward.”

“You’re reading?” She must have looked surprised because Audrey shrugged.

“He knows I’m dyslexic. He knows all of it. All my dirty little secrets. Technically I’m not actually reading, I’m being read to. I never thought that sounded like a fun thing to do in bed, but you’d be surprised.”

Grace glanced at Etienne, who was red-faced and embarrassed.

Really, the man was adorable.

“You’re reading to her?”

“I like reading aloud. I take a drama module.”

“See?” Audrey nudged her. “Story with actions. I’m going to make him read erotica next just to see if he can do it without blushing. Now go and write your own story, and don’t forget the actions.” She and Etienne melted into the throng of people, leaving Grace to fight her way to the entrance.

The crowd had thinned by the time Philippe appeared.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, ignoring everyone around them. “Well? Did you enjoy it?”

“You have to ask? Didn’t you hear the applause?”

“I’m not talking about the audience,” he murmured against her lips, “I’m talking about you. I was playing for you.”

“It was exquisite. You were brilliant.” They slid into the car that was waiting. Philippe shrugged out of his jacket and tugged at his bow tie. Without shifting his gaze from hers, he pushed it into his pocket.

“You look beautiful. And you wore the dress.”

“You asked me to.”

And why not? She couldn’t imagine ever wearing it again once she arrived home.

She could imagine Clemmie’s face if she walked into the store wearing the blue dress and gold strappy sandals.

Here in Paris, she was New Grace. She liked being New Grace. New Grace didn’t feel intimidated about walking around Paris alone. New Grace was happy not to plan every second of her day. New Grace occasionally left shoes on the floor where she’d kicked them off, and tonight New Grace was on a date with a man.

New Grace had punched Old Grace in the jaw and knocked her unconscious.

And she had Audrey to thank for it. Who would have thought that an eighteen-year-old girl would have been her inspiration to challenge herself?

The car prowled silently through the streets, and she gazed out of the window.

Paris at night sparkled like a woman all dressed up for a night out. She thought how pretty it was and how much she was going to miss it when she returned home.

Finally, they pulled in near the river.

“Are we going to another of your favorite restaurants?”

“No restaurant.”

“I thought we were eating?”

“We are, but I wanted something a little more intimate. How do you feel about picnics?”

She started to laugh. “It’s late. It’s dark—”

“And there is no view like this one.”

His driver produced a hamper of food, and they ate by the river with their legs dangling over the edge, enjoying a perfect view of Notre Dame. Here in the heart of the city, they were surrounded by both tourists and locals.

And a picnic with Philippe turned out not to be a few slices of packaged ham from the supermarket, but food bought fresh from the finest shops in Paris.

“I’m guessing you didn’t put this together yourself.”

“I might have had a little help.” He opened the basket and unwrapped the food. “I was playing the piano, so I delegated.”

She wasn’t about to complain, because the food was delicious.

They ate savory tarts, charcuterie, cheese and plump olives. The bread was crusty and fresh and the view was unbeatable.

It was more romantic than any dinner she’d eaten in a restaurant.

Or maybe it was the way she was feeling.

It was a perfect night for seduction, and Grace was ready to be seduced. She was also ready to do the seducing.