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“Oui, Monsieur Marchant.”
“Soon, tu parleras couramment.”
“Maybe by our next trip.”
“Next trip?”
“Oui, Marie said you told her we would be back soon.”
“Would you like that?”
“Oui, beaucoup.”
We stopped walking and he cupped my face in his hands and gently pressed his lips against mine. We stood on the side of the street kissing like some of the French couples I’d seen on our walk. “Merci.”
“Pourquoi?”
“Making the effort.”
“Je ne comprends pas.”
“That sounds so beautiful.” He kissed me ag
ain. “I love hearing you speak French.”
I remembered what Marie said about how he loves speaking French. “I’m trying.”
“And I appreciate it.” He slipped his arm back around my waist and we continued walking.
“Besides, if we are going to be doing business here, I need to be able to communicate. I want to be an asset, not a liability.”
“Liability?”
“If I don’t understand the language, I can’t help you.”
He stopped walking and looked at me. “What did you say?”
“I’m part of your team, and we need to speak the same language. Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“Plus, Marie says you often slip into your French tongue when you get angry. I’m not going to argue with you without knowing what you’re saying.”
“She said that?” We laughed and continued walking.
“She also gave me a list of things I need to get.”
“A list?”
“Oui, she said now that I have survived my first night out in Paris, I need to become a proper French woman.”
“She did?” he smiled.
“Oui.”
“And how are you to become a proper French woman?”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the list and started reading. “She said I need a nice bag, Chanel or Dior if possible. A good pair of dark jeans and a pair of white jeans, a leather jacket, a beautiful scarf, preferably an Hermes scarf, the perfect black dress, black stiletto pumps, beautiful lingerie, a signature scent, and the perfect red lipstick.”
