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She wandered around taking in each lavish detail. All the accessories from the light switches to the lamps, the vases to the mirrors, had a nineteen twenties art deco vibe to them. In fact, Polly narrowed her eyes, she was no expert but that fruit bowl looked pretty genuine to her.
If the bathroom had an enormous roll-top bath, vast, thick towels and an array of scented creams and bubbles then Polly had either died and entered her own personal heaven or was in some kind of weird reality show tailored to her every need.
She tiptoed through the large bedroom, noting with approval the terrace off it, complete with sun loungers, and entered the bathroom.
Oh! It was utterly perfect.
Would it be very wrong to have a bath when she was supposed to be prepping for the oddest business meeting she had experienced in ten years of work?
Reality asserted itself. A chill ran through her.
What kind of meeting was this? She should go back into the sitting room and take advantage of her solitude to complete the prep work she had neglected on the way here. More importantly she should phone Rachel and find out what on earth was going on.
Maybe, if this was all a mistake, she could book the suite anyway. After all, she was here now. She was finally in Paris. It would be a shame to just turn around and make her way tamely home now that her mother’s spell was broken.
With a last longing glance at the bath Polly returned to the sitting room, resisting the urge to bounce on the bed as she passed it.
It was all just as gorgeous when she walked back into the main room but it just didn’t have the same effect. The suite felt too big, too spacious. Too lonely.
This was why she had never stayed anywhere like this. This was a suite made for two. For lovers. From the massive bed to the double tub, the twin sun loungers to the sumptuous robes, it was a place heavy with romantic possibilities.
Polly walked over to the window and out onto the balcony, looking at the Eiffel Tower more like a set from a film than an actual view. What would it be like to be here with someone else? Sipping champagne—or, for her, right now, some kind of fruit cordial—and watching the city below?
What would it be like to stay here with Gabe?
Polly tried to push the thought away but it stuck there, persistent. She had shared so much with him the last few weeks. If only she could share this too. Had she tried hard enough to get through to him? After all, she had pretty much told him that she was giving up and putting the baby first.
Had that been the right thing to do? It had certainly been the sensible thing, the logical thing.
But should she have fought harder?
Her hands clenched. In her desperation to prove that she wasn’t her mother, had she thrown away her only chance at happiness?
A soft knock at the door pulled her out of her introspection and she gave the view one last, longing look. It was time to work.
She should have the meeting and then, maybe, she would think again. Make a final decision. Stick with it this time. She couldn’t keep second-guessing her choices.
She didn’t usually. Maybe this was a sign that she had got it wrong...
Another knock, a little louder this time.
‘Yes, I’m coming...’ If only she could remember his name!
She was going to have to wing it. Polly walked over to the darkly panelled door and opened it, words of apologetic welcome on her lips.
Only to falter back as she clocked the tall, dark-haired man on the threshold.
‘Gabe? Are you in this meeting as well? Thank goodness. I am woefully ill prepared. I can’t even remember the developer’s name. Although I will deny it if you quote me on that.’
Gabe didn’t say anything and she continued, the words tumbling out. ‘Do you have any idea why he has arranged to meet us in such an odd place? Although it is completely beautiful. You should see it, it’s like a slice of heaven. With macaroons and views.’
Okay, she was definitely gabbling.
But better gabbling than grabbing him by his lapels and dragging him in close. Better gabbling than flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
But, oh! How she wanted to. Especially now.
Her eyes took him in greedily. It was unfair. No man should look so good. It wasn’t as if he were dressed any differently from his usual smart-casual style. Perfectly cut grey trousers, white linen shirt open at the neck, hair falling over his forehead, heavy stubble shadowing his sharply cut jaw. Standard Gabe.
Utterly irresistible.
How could she walk away?
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
She would try again, fight harder. Both she and the baby needed her to fight. Needed Gabe in their lives.
She stood aside as he strolled into the room. ‘Bonjour, Polly.’
She was going to make him see. If she could only figure out how.
