They stared each other down, the space between them charged with so much tension it was suffocating.
Finally she whispered, “I’m leaving. I have to.”
Quentin held her gaze a moment longer, then pivoted and strode from the living room.
She hurried after him. “Please understand, Quentin.Please—”
He paused at the front door, hand on the doorknob. “You know how you always used to tell me that one of these days I’d push you too far, and you wouldn’t forgive me?” He turned and pointed a finger at her. “If you do this to us—if you leave me—I’ll never forgive you.”
And with those devastating words vibrating in the air between them, he slammed out of the house, knowing he’d seen it—and possibly her—for the last time.
Chapter 20
Paris. The city for lovers.
Probably not the best place to take refuge if one was nursing a broken heart. But Lexi had always been a glutton for punishment. So over the next four months, she immersed herself in the hustle and bustle of Paris, hoping the City of Light would help chase away the darkness ravaging her soul.
As she’d hoped, she’d been offered a chef instructor position at the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu school. While she waited for her summer classes to begin, she worked on her next cookbook, inspired by her surroundings. She moved into a studio apartment in the trendy, historic district of Le Marais. Many nights she sat on her balcony with a glass of champagne and quietly toasted the stars. She went for long strolls, meandering down streets lined with outdoor markets, boutiques, cafés and elegant restaurants. She went to the theater and the opera, and spent entire afternoons wandering around museums and art galleries.
But nothing was the same without Quentin.
Every time she saw an elderly French couple companionably walking arm-in-arm, she wanted to weep. Although she was only three hours away, she never visited Burgundy. It was hard enough trying to keep the memories at bay without actually being there.
She missed Quentin so much she ached. She would have givenanythingto hear his husky laughter, or to hear the excitement and passion in his voice as he told her about a new case. She missed his lazy smile, missed the way his eyes glinted wickedly when he looked at her. Every night she lay awake in bed for hours, craving the heat and strength of his body wrapped around her, buried deep inside her. And she couldn’t help wondering, over and over again, whether she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by leaving him.
When she first arrived in Paris she’d tried to contact him, sending text messages and emails, playing their favorite songs on his voice mail.
He never responded.
After a while she’d given up, dismally realizing that she’d not only lost the perfect lover and companion. She’d lost her best friend.
One day she ventured to Asha’s upscale boutique on the Champs-Elysees. Since becoming a grandmother, Asha had created a line of maternity and infant wear that had become very popular with many celebrity moms. Lexi wanted to buy some outfits for her goddaughter. Every time Reese emailed new photos of Savannah, Lexi was shocked to see how fast she was growing. And she felt guilty for missing out on so much.
She was standing in the boutique, fighting back tears as she gazed upon a beautiful maternity blouse, when an amused voice drawled, “Don’t get tears on my merchandise,chère,or I’ll have to charge you for it.”
Startled, Lexi glanced around and was surprised to discover Asha standing there.
“Asha! I didn’t know you were in Paris.”
Asha chuckled. “Darling,” she said, greeting Lexi with a double-cheek kiss, “when am Inotin Paris?”
“Right. Of course.” Asha’s international haute couture house was headquartered there. She somehow managed to divide her time between Atlanta, New York and Paris—and still keep Sterling happy.
She arched a fine brow at the blouse Lexi was holding. “Is there a reason you’re browsing through the maternity racks?”
Lexi blushed deeply. “I—I was just, um, looking around,” she stammered, clumsily hanging up the blouse. “Everything you design is absolutely gorgeous.”
Asha gave her a knowing smile, then took her hand and led her through the busy boutique to a private, luxurious reception area in the back. With barely a snap of her fingers, an assistant materialized out of thin air bearing two glasses of champagne on a silver tray.
“So, Alexis, are you enjoying your stay in Paris?” Asha asked, gesturing her to join her on an elegant silk sofa.
“Very much.” Lexi smiled as she sat down. “ItisParis.”
“Mmm. The last time you were here, you were moping over Quentin because he’d called to say he couldn’t make it for New Year’s.” Asha smiled faintly. “And here you are again,chère, moping over Quentin.”
Lexi flushed, averting her gaze to take a gulp of wine.
“He’s not faring much better,” Asha told her. “Michael says Quentin has become such a workaholic that even Marcus is worried. He says Quentin is often the first one at the office, and sometimes he’s still there the next morning when Marcus returns.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Looks like the hard-partying, skirt-chasing scoundrel we once knew and loved is no more.”
