JEMMA
Lukewarm water cascades down my soapy skin as Luca consumes my every thought.His kindness knows no bounds.His sexiness makes me ravenous.His banter is playful.He’s the full glorious package.He makes me feel better, feel seen.Of all the men I could have slammed into, I ran into Luca.How did I get so lucky?
For real.How?
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s a bit of Christmas magic.From scammed and alone to a perfect Parisian apartment complete with a French hottie, who, I might add, is currently waiting for me in a sexy Santa apron, ready and willing to bake Christmas cookies in honor of my mother.
Swoon.
I’m beyond grateful for everything my twisted bit of luck has brought me, but greedily, I want more.
I know I just met Luca, but it feels like we’ve known each other for years.
My time in Paris is limited, and I want to experience everything, including him.As daydreamy thoughts of Luca’s sultry lips on mine fill my mind, a burst of icy cold water sputters from the showerhead, knocking me back to reality.
Shivering, I twist the knob and reach for my fluffy towel.
What if I’m getting ahead of myself?Luca’s kindness could be just that—kindness.Nothing more.
Ugh!
I have a giant Eiffel Tower-sized problem—I want so much more.
ChapterTwenty-Two
JEMMA
Forty-five agonizingly long minutes have passed since I was in the same room as Luca.I can’t get ready fast enough.My heart is racing in anticipation of our impromptu baking session.
Pushing aside any lingering doubts, I quickly finish getting ready, letting my hair fall more naturally today.I sift through the contents of my unpacked suitcase, finally selecting the perfect cream-colored sweater—the one that hugs me in all the right places.Before stepping out of the room, I dab my lips with a creamy pink gloss and brush some mascara over my eyelashes to ensure my blueish-green eyes pop.
Luca’s back is turned to me when I enter the kitchen.Michael Bublé’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” is playing through a small speaker resting on his dining table.One week ago, any Christmas song would make me cringe, but now my mouth is itching to sing along.I wait in the doorway, watching him move along the countertop humming along with the festive tune.My heart swells.
I snap a quick photo with my phone, capturing this perfect moment in time.I don’t hesitate and quickly send it off to Gretchen, forgetting about the time difference again.
Jemma: Looks like I’m staying at Luca’s for the rest of my trip.He’s a very thoughtful host.I’ll tell you more later.
My eyes fall back to scanning every inch of Luca from behind.I can’t find a single thing wrong with him.He’s downright perfect.I let a tiny snicker escape, and Luca whips around.
“Is this music okay?”he asks, a hint of concern in his voice.
“It’s perfect.”I gleam.“I’m ready to get my bake on.”I smirk, reaching for my cheeky Mrs.Claus apron perched next to the speaker.
“Whoa there, Santa’s little helper.”Luca chuckles, nudging a plate toward me with a perfectly golden pain au chocolat resting on it.“Eat first,” he insists.
So damn perfect!
A playful grin simmers across his full lips.“I may have snuck out while you were in the shower to grab some pastries from the boulangerie around the corner.But when I got there, I panicked and realized I should have asked what you like.So, I also got a plain croissant too, if you’d rather.”
I love how the word croissant rolls off his tongue—kwuh-sahn.
So fucking flawless!
“I will eat any pastry you put in front of me.I’m kind of spoiled when it comes to baked goods,” I say, drawing the plate closer to me.“Gretchen’s girlfriend is an incredible pastry chef”—I take a bite—“oh, but this is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.Don’t tell Suzy I said that.”I giggle.
Luca laughs, his single dimple extremely present.“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I smile sweetly, gazing out the window and wishing for a bit of snow to fall to make this moment even more perfect.
