AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just for long enough that he could win the bet.
And the bet was all that mattered.
Chapter Seven
The final week of Zoe’s training had been set aside for the most important element - the thing on which her impersonation of Vanessa Reese hung: Wine. And of course it was not just wine that she had to learn about, it was specifically French wine, Jourdan’s wine in particular, and there was only one place to go to learn about that.
“Have you been to France before?” asked Nick, as they settled into their seats on the plane.
“Been to Paris with Vanessa a couple of times,” said Zoe.
“Ah, Paris,” smiled Nick, reminiscing to himself. “The most romantic city on earth.”
“You’ve clearly never been there with Vanessa Reese,” said Zoe, darkly.
“I guess trips with your boss aren’t really that romantic.”
Zoe shook her head. When your boss was Vanessa Reese, the ambient romance in a city could be sucked out of it. Zoe could have found herself reclining with a handsome troubadour in a candlelit gondola, gliding down a Venetian canal, as her companion serenaded her, accompanying himself on the guitar – but if she had been there with Vanessa, then the overall trip would still not have been romantic. Other bosses might have been different, they might not have exert such a horrid and pervasive influence as Vanessa did, never giving her employees a moment to themselves, but Zoe wouldn’t really know. Then again, Zoe imagined that Nick would not be the sort of boss to drain the romance from a city.
As the thought entered her mind she found heat rising in her body. She did not mean that coming to Paris with Nick was romantic! Of course she did not mean that. She merely meant that if she was to meet someone handsome in Paris, someone whom she liked and who she felt some connection to – then Nick would not ruin it for her the way that Vanessa would have.
She tried to stop feeling guilty for her thoughts as she glanced furtively at Nick, seated beside her. He was handsome. And she did – after a fashion – like him. She was liking him more every day. And there had been that night at her parents when it had seemed, if only for a moment (and a drunken one at that) that there might have been some connection between them.
But, she reminded herself, he could also be a massive jerk. Not to mention self-involved, and he was a playboy with a string of women waiting for his attention. And, on top of that, he had shown no interest in Zoe herself whatsoever. Why she was even giving any thought to this subject was quite beyond her. It was all silly nonsense. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Just because he was a good-looking man with a few decent qualities did not mean she was interested in him romantically. After all, he had plenty enough bad qualities to balance out the good.
Just because she was thinking about this now (just to pass the time really) did not mean that she would ever act on it. The brain went in some funny and meaningless directions when you gave it rein and sometimes it was fun just to let it go and see where it might end up. It was like dreaming really; all sorts of weird stuff showed up but it didn’t mean anything, not really. Just because you dreamed about a man didn’t mean that you liked him any more than the next man.
Even if the dream was a certain type of dream – it didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Even if, in the dream, you might find the man looking down at you with fire in his eyes, kissing you as you have never been kissed before. It didn’t mean anything.
Nor did it mean anything if, in the dream, the man went on to gently undo the buttons of your blouse, kissing at the soft, willing body beneath – his for the taking – while you lay beneath him, writhing at his electric touch as his fingers caressed ever nearer to their ultimate goal, before he pulled back and removed his pants to reveal…
“Zoe?”
Zoe nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice in her ear. “I… Yeah?... Something… What?”
Nick looked concerned. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”
“I…” Zoe could feel the heat throughout her body, and the circumstances, being put on the spot like this, particularly by Nick himself, seemed likely to make things worse rather than better. “I’m just going to pop to the bathroom quickly.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and raced for the bathroom.
A stewardess held out her hand and approached her. “Hi. You need to remain seated until the pilot has turned off the seatbelt lights. I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you.”
Zoe closed her eyes. “Sorry.” She mumbled as she regained her seat, trying not to feel Nick’s arm rubbing against hers as she sat beside him.
Mortified with embarrassment, Zoe pretended to sleep for most of the rest of the flight. But her mind seemed determined to undermine her, as her thoughts wound their circuitous way back to the same place, and the same man. By the time they landed, Zoe was looking forward to a cold shower and a change of clothes, she was feeling really quite uncomfortable.
“You don’t travel well, do you?” commented Nick as they disembarked.
“Some days worse than others,” Zoe admitted, regretting more than ever that she hadn’t packed her vibrator for this trip.
She tried not to look at Nick as they grabbed a cab to take them to their hotel.
They would spend only one night here in Paris (romance capital of the world) before moving on tomorrow into the wine regions so Zoe could learn more about vineyards and about the geography of France, and so she could practice her French and try to lose that distracting accent. They pulled up outside their hotel.
“What do you think?” It might have been Zoe’s imagination but she thought she caught a tone in his voice that suggested he was trying to impress her by splashing his cash. Zoe was not that type of girl. Never in her life had she been impressed by money, or by men who flaunted it to win her affection. She didn’t care how much their suit cost or who hand-stitched their shoes, she didn’t care how big their car was or how fast it went (it was all overcompensating anyway), she didn’t care what they spent on dinner or how hard it was to get into the restaurant, she didn’t care about any of it. On the other hand, it was pretty hard not to be impressed by the hotel outside of which they had just pulled up.
“We’re staying here?”
“Just for one night.”
“So this is isn’t the palace of the King of France.”
“There is no King of France.”
“I know, I’m exaggerating to make a point.” And it was a point worth making. It was not just that the building was big, it was that it was grand. In fact, it was Grand. It had pillars and turrets, and finials, and other architectural swirls and squiggles that Zoe could not put names to. It had men outside in burgundy uniforms who hurried forward to open car doors and carry bags, not because they expected to get a tip, but as if their lives depended on it. The doors were fitted with brass, so highly polished that it looked like gold, and the deep red carpet that sprawled out to beckon them through the door was so deep pile that walking across it was like wading through cotton wool.
“I’ve got a room here?” Zoe still felt the need to clarify this point.
“Of course not,” said Nick, dismissively, insulted at the thought. “You’ve got a suite.”
“A suite?”
“Several rooms.”
“I know what a suite is!”
As it turned out, Zoe had thought that she had known what a suite was, but apparently she had been misinformed.
“This is all mine?” she asked the uniformed bellboy who had shown her up.
“Oui, Mademoiselle,” the man said, politely.
“All mine?” She probably sounded like an idiot, but now that Nick was off in his own room and not there to hear her, she didn’t really care.
The bellboy shrugged. “The hotel would like it back at the end of your stay, but until then, oui, Mademoiselle.” He spoke perfect English with a very attractive French accent and Zoe realized that she had not seen one unappealing man working here yet. Back home
, service organizations preferred to hire pretty girls for men to leer at, here the situation seemed to be reversed.
Zoe decided that was a huge improvement.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mademoiselle?” the bellboy asked in deep, sensual tones that made Zoe wonder - if she were to ask for what was on her mind, what might the result be?
“No thank you,” she said, only a little regretfully.
