For the next five minutes, the only verbal sounds consuming the car are the directions from the GPS.Turn right on ParisianParkway.
Then finally, Icy Hot Princess speaks. “I have a Skype meeting today with a New York City publisher. That’s what is so important about today.” She drums her fingernails along the centerarmrest.
“Are younervous?”
She hesitates for a minute, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, then says, “Not yet. But I’m sure I will be about three minutes before the call.” A smile plays on the edges of her full lips, making her look even more likeperfection.
“I’m sure you’ll aceit.”
She gives a half-shrug. “So, how long have you been inParis?”
Now, who’s the one being sotalkative?
“Just a couple of months,” I admit, hoping she doesn’t recognize me from that day at the airport. Plus, I really don’t want anyone to know it’sme—Jaxson Malone, the actor andmodel.
“And why did youleave—”
“New York?” I interject. “I thought a change of scenery was inorder.”
“Well, Paris is a lovely change of scenery. I moved here years ago from Savannah, Georgia and doubt that I’ll ever go back.” She tilts her head and adds, “You look slightly familiar. Have we metbefore?”
Shit.
“Um, no. But I get that a lot, you know. I must have one of those faces that makes people assume they’ve seen me before,” I outrightlie.
“Hmm. Isee.”
The GPS saysarrivedas I roll the car to a stop in front ofHaute CoutureHeadquarters.
And before stepping out the the car, she tosses her hair, lifts her chin like a Haute Diva, and says, “Please pick me up on time this evening. I don’t likewaiting.”
Yep.Icy Hot Princesssuits her ratherfine.
