The Paris Connection (8 page)

When he finally looked at Emma, he found her smiling in a way that let him know he had said everything she wanted him to say. Unexpectedly, he grinned back and even went so far as to reach his arm around the back of her chair, feeling, perhaps for the first time since he had arrived, that he was truly a part of things and the leader of this company.

He only had a few seconds to enjoy this feeling, however, before René appeared in the dining room’s doorway.

“Is everyone ready for the evening’s activities?”

Cole felt René seek him out and watched as the other man’s scrutiny passed between him and Emma. Cole relinquished the back of Emma’s chair and pushed away from the table, offering his assistance to help Emma to her feet. She paused briefly, looking at his proffered hand and then up into his eyes. She placed her fingers into his and allowed him to help her from the table. When he looked back toward René, he found the other man nodding at him in approval. Apparently, René thought he had patched things up rather well.

Cole hoped that he had. Because for some reason, all he wanted at the moment was for Emma to keep a good opinion of him.

* * *

C
ONSIDERING
HOW
MISERABLE
she had been this afternoon, Emma had to admit that she was enjoying herself immensely. Dinner had been delicious, and she felt satisfied with the conversation and how Cole had helped her reinforce the benefits of the Reid and Aquitaine merger. Her own opinion on this score amazed her—though she had been against the joining of the two companies initially, she realized that she had somehow come to view their union as a promising thing.

She was not, however, wholly at ease. Her conversation with Marc earlier in the day and the idea that he had planted implications about her in Cole’s head still rattled her slightly. And she had been all too aware at dinner of Cole’s eyes on her. He couldn’t possibly believe anything Marc had said, especially after they’d set the record straight with their talk. Still, she felt uncertain about the way he watched her and frequently found herself rubbing at her wrist, still remembering the ache from when she had slapped him.

Despite everything, Cole had behaved like a perfect gentleman, even escorting her outside after dinner and onto the patio, where there was a table set up with items for the evening’s activities, along with chairs for their group.

René instructed them all to settle into a semicircle while he retrieved a giant inflatable beach ball from the nearby cluster of props. He directed Cole to a separate chair, facing the rest, and placed the beach ball into his hands.

“Julien instructed that this weekend was both an exercise in team-building and an opportunity for your new boss to learn more about each of you while, in turn, you get to know him. So I have taken some of the usual icebreaker activities and adapted them to your situation.”

To her right, Emma sensed Giselle straightening as René moved around their circle. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at Giselle’s obvious interest and managed to catch Cole’s gaze in the process. He grinned at her, as though he shared her amusement, and she belatedly realized that, like Giselle, she had straightened at this attention. She quickly turned her focus back to René.

“To begin, we will let Cole get to know you each a little better. He may toss the ball to each of you in turn, and when he does, I will choose a slip of paper with a question you must answer. Cole will be allowed one follow-up question, if he chooses.”

On her left, Emma sensed Aurora fidgeting nervously. She turned her head and found the other woman frowning. “What sort of questions will there be?” Aurora asked.

“The list might include anything from where you grew up to how many children you have or what your favorite color is. You must all remember that your CEO is new to both this country and your firm, so while you already know multiple details about each other, he is still getting to know you. Now, are there any more questions?” René paused before stepping out of the semicircle and moving back to the table. “Excellent! Then we begin. Cole, whenever you’re ready, you may toss the ball to anyone you choose.”

Somehow, Emma was not at all surprised when the red-and-white striped sphere came flying toward her. She caught it easily and then looked to René for her question.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” she answered, forcing her attention back to Cole. “But I do have lots of cousins, back in the States.”

“Cole,” René spoke, “do you have a follow-up question?”

“Where in the States?” he asked.

“Oregon,” she replied. “I was born and raised in a small town there before I left home for college in Seattle.”

“A West Coast girl, then,” he remarked.

She nodded and sensed he would have questioned her more if René hadn’t prompted her to toss the ball back. Cole caught it and shifted in Louis’s direction.

Louis answered questions about how he met his wife and how long they’d been married, before Aurora, Giselle and Marc each had a turn. Marc talked at length about several awards he’d won over the years before René pointedly cleared his throat, and Emma found the ball aimed back in her direction. She rested it in her lap as René read her question.

“What is your most profound childhood memory?”

She involuntarily flinched at the question, unprepared to be asked something that would strike such a personal chord. She realized Cole had caught her reaction and saw his head cock with curiosity.

“Um...what do you mean?” she asked, stalling.

“Any childhood memory that has influenced you into adulthood,” René elaborated. “Whether a family member, a vacation, an award—” He quickly halted on that score, his gaze skittering to Marc and back as though he feared the other man would once more launch into his list of accomplishments.

She drew a breath. “I see. Well. I suppose it would have to be the death of my father.”

Focusing her eyes at a point above Cole’s right shoulder, she still couldn’t help noticing how his eyebrows furrowed, as though with pity.

“He died when I was fifteen, from surgery complications. It was...unexpected. And difficult.” Just how difficult, she didn’t want to elaborate on, recalling the deep well of loss over the years as she had witnessed her friends on father/daughter outings and the ache she’d experienced on her wedding day when her dad hadn’t been there to walk her down the aisle.

The group had fallen silent following this answer, the sound of nighttime insects creeping into their circle.

“Cole? A follow-up question?” said René.

Cole studied her, as though he had quite a few more things he’d like to ask. She was relieved, however, when he shook his head. She tossed the ball back, and he caught it, holding her gaze with his own for a moment, before shifting toward Aurora. The questions went around the circle several more times. Emma had the chance to talk a bit about Avery and even her arrival in Paris as an au pair, as well as naming her favorite movie—of course, it was
An American in Paris
—and the fact that she hated peas.

With each question, Emma sensed all of them relaxing a bit more, and by the time the game finally wrapped up nearly an hour later, she was pleased to notice that not only were they laughing and teasing with each other, but easily including Cole in the banter, as well.

As René took the beach ball from Cole, he encouraged them all to stand and move around a little since the next activity would be a bit more physical. While they stretched and chatted, Emma noticed René laying out squares of multicolored carpet in a rectangular shape along the patio’s pavers. Once he finished, he called them over and asked each member of the group, with the exception of Cole, to stand on the squares. They took their places, with Louis and Aurora side by side at the front, Giselle and Emma behind them and Marc standing on his own at the back.

“For our next activity, you will have the opportunity to learn more about your boss through the popular game Two Truths and a Lie.”

“Oh, I know that one,” Giselle announced.

“Then you know how it’s played. Cole will offer three facts about himself, and you must choose which two are the truth and which one is the lie. But there is a twist to our version.”

René stepped around the rectangle, gesturing to the squares of carpet beneath their feet. “For every time you guess wrong as to which statement is the lie, I will remove one of these squares. The object is that your feet must never step off the carpet. As the space shrinks, you will have to find room to accommodate each other. If one of you steps off the carpet and onto the patio, you are out of the game.”

Marc scoffed. “Easy enough. How hard can it be to spot a lie?”

The rest of them all looked over their shoulders to eye Marc. No one bothered to contest this statement, but it was obvious to Emma that they all recognized the challenge. Since they knew relatively little about their new boss, anything he said could be less than true.

“Do we all understand the rules of the game?”

Emma shifted, along with the others, to face René and Cole. She found herself eager to find out what facts Cole would share about himself.

She inwardly assured herself that her interest was purely professional, but deep down, she knew it was more than that. After the past couple of weeks working together, she couldn’t wait to know a little bit more about her boss.

* * *

C
OLE
FACED
HIS
employees and was grateful that René had warned him about this exercise ahead of time, so he’d had a chance to consider what facts he’d like to share. Though he didn’t shy away from talking about himself, neither did he invite it. His history, growing up in the foster care system and the sad story behind his birth, would only invite pity from others, something he never wanted. He usually had a ready anecdote or two to share about himself, but he always found it was good to be prepared in advance when possible.

Since René had given him the heads-up, he had a stack of statements ready to offer for this game.

“One, I had a dog named Rufus growing up.”

True, though he wouldn’t tell them he’d been forced to leave the dog behind when he’d been transferred from one foster home to another.

“Two, I’ve never been married.”

Also true, though he had proposed to Ophelia before she summarily rejected him in favor of moving to Hawaii and marrying Dane Montgomery.

“Three, my favorite book is
Fahrenheit 451.
”

Silence descended, and he could see the group working through all three of his declarations. He couldn’t help being satisfied to see Marc frowning severely, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out which of the items named was the lie.

Giselle raised her hand. “The one about the dog. That’s not true.”

Cole couldn’t help grinning at having fooled them. “Wrong.”

They uttered a collective gasp of dismay, and he sought out Emma, watching as she shifted to make room for Giselle as René removed one of the squares they stood on.

“Which one was the lie?” Louis asked.

“My favorite book is
To Kill a Mockingbird,
” Cole answered.

“Don’t make it easy on us or anything,” Marc muttered.

Cole kept his grin up. “Oh, I don’t plan to.”

“All right, ready for round two?” René asked. No one protested, so Cole continued.

“One, my middle name is Bradley. Two, I have the world’s rarest blood type, AB negative. Three, I’m allergic to shellfish.”

Again, the group frowned in concentration. He saw Emma watching him, as though trying to discern the lie simply by observing him. He found he enjoyed the attention from her and widened his grin for her benefit. She quickly looked away, and he felt a swell of disappointment.

“Blood type,” Marc declared. “He is definitely lying about the blood type. The odds are too great.”

René looked to him for his response.

“Wrong again. I am, in fact, AB negative, but I’m not allergic to shellfish.”

Another groan went up as René took one of the squares, and their space shrank a little more.

The game continued for the next half hour with the squares slowly disappearing. Emma guessed correctly twice, when she claimed he was lying about once having dated a famous movie star and then again about hiking through the Brazilian rain forest. But she struck out when she supposed he had never taken cooking classes. Eventually, the carpeted space for the group to stand on had reduced to around half a dozen squares with the five of them crowded up against one another. Marc became irritable with the close proximity, and Giselle snapped at him more than once.

René suggested Cole whittle his statements down to one truth and one lie to even the odds a bit.

“One, I cried at the movie
Titanic.
Two, I have deuteranopia, which is a form of color blindness.”

Though he felt this one was a bit easier, the group was obviously still stumped.

“A man would never admit crying to that movie. You must be color-blind,” Louis announced.

Cole shook his head. “I bawled like a baby when the ship went down.”

They laughed at this, but as René moved to take away another square, they shifted more tightly together still. Marc grumbled, trying to find room, and began to elbow his way in between Giselle and Emma, who were already standing hip to hip. Cole watched as Emma tried to accommodate him, but Marc was bigger and forcefully pressed in until she was edged out. He called her name just as she stumbled backward. She tried to catch herself going down, reaching out her right hand. Her palm stopped her descent, but then she cried out as her wrist gave way, and she fell onto the patio’s stones.

CHAPTER SIX

D
ESPITE
HER
EMBARRASSED
protests, Cole insisted on looking over Emma’s wrist. She was too humiliated to admit to him that it had been sore after she had slapped him earlier in the day. She suspected it was simply strained, but when she had landed on it, the pressure had caused it to give way beneath her. Now it was more tender than painful, but both René and Giselle agreed with Cole’s insistence that she put some ice on it.

Though Giselle offered to join her, Cole declared he’d take care of it, and the next thing Emma knew, he was escorting her away from the group and back into the house, toward the château’s kitchen. He helped her to the table, even after she reminded him she could walk just fine, and then made quick work of locating a plastic bag, gathering ice from the freezer and insulating it in a dish towel.

“You seem pretty handy in a kitchen,” she remarked, desperate to break the silence.

He looked over his shoulder as he finished wrapping the towel around the bag of ice.

“I’ve been a bachelor for years. I learned to manage the basics.” He moved toward the table, carrying the ice pack.

“Then you’re not at all like my ex-husband, Brice,” she remarked. “He can’t even make coffee without someone to measure it for him.”

Cole didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for her hand, and she immediately jerked away when his fingers, chilly from the ice, touched her skin.

“Oh, that’s cold,” she murmured.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his hands together and reached for her again. The touch of his fingers, warmer this time, still raised goose bumps along her skin.

“That’s probably why Brice had a new girlfriend each week for a while after we divorced. He can’t bear to be alone. He’s one of those types of people.” She knew she was babbling, but she needed something to distract her from the way Cole was cradling her wrist, turning it left, then right.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

“Only a little. It’s just a bit sore, that’s all.”

He picked up the bag of ice and placed it over her wrist, but to her consternation, he kept the fingers of his opposite hand along the underside of her arm, as though checking her pulse. “What do you mean, ‘those types of people’?” he said.

“The ones who fear their own company.”

“Oh. Those.” He paused. “Maybe he missed your company when you weren’t around.”

Emma made a face.

“Brice might miss having someone to look after him, to feed his ego, but he never missed
me.
”

“Then he didn’t know what he had when he had it.”

She studied her wrist, too shy to look into his eyes after this indirect compliment.

“So, is that why you and Brice divorced? He didn’t appreciate you?”

“Oh, no. It was sort of the opposite. He didn’t think I could love him enough, when I became a mother.”

She looked up in time to see Cole’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “What do you mean?”

The table was laid with a saltcellar and pepper mill. Emma picked the latter up with her free hand and began to toy with it. “Brice didn’t want a child. He didn’t think I could love him in the same way if I was a mother. When I became pregnant with Avery, he suggested we...make other arrangements. But she was our child, and just because he didn’t want a baby didn’t mean I was prepared to give her up.”

She realized her body had turned rigid with this argument, as though she expected Cole to contradict her as Brice had. But she was pleasantly surprised to feel his fingers squeeze lightly in reassurance against her wrist.

“You made the choice you knew was the right one.”

She relaxed. “I did. I love Avery. I’ve never regretted my decision.”

She noticed a cloud cross his features before dissipating. “Every child should be loved like that,” he murmured.

He sounded almost...wistful. “What about you?” she asked. “Do you hope to have children one day?”

He was silent for a bit. “You know, I’ve never really given it much thought.”

Somehow, she wasn’t quite certain that was the truth. She thought about his answers during their recent game. Nothing he’d shared had been truly personal. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

“Hasn’t there ever been anyone special in your life? Someone who made you think about having a child with her?”

She felt the ice’s chill descend over the underside of her wrist as Cole pulled his fingers away. She worried that she’d offended him somehow until he spoke again.

“There was Ophelia, my ex-girlfriend.”

“Lillian Reid’s daughter?”

She’d heard the rumors, of course, about how Ophelia Reid had left her position at the company to move to Hawaii and marry the retired ad executive she’d been sent to recruit.

“Yes, we were together for four years. I had even proposed, but she...broke things off when she left the company. That’s how I was assigned this position. It was meant to be hers, but when she left, Lillian assigned it to me instead.”

“You still don’t sound too happy about it.”

He met her eyes, and she was caught in the warmth of his gaze. “Oh, I don’t know. It might be growing on me a little bit.”

She felt a flush building and directed her attention to her arm, rearranging the ice pack even though it didn’t really need it.

“Tell me more about Avery,” Cole coaxed, and she was grateful for the suggestion.

“Avery is perfect,” she announced.

He laughed at this statement. “Well, it’s not like you’re biased or anything.”

She laughed along with him. “Her hair’s dark, like mine, but she has her father’s eyes.”

“That’s a shame.”

She jerked slightly in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your eyes are nice,” he elaborated. “I just meant she’d be lucky to have that feature from you.”

“Oh. I see.” She cleared her throat. “Well, she enjoys tea parties, of the make-believe variety.”

“Don’t all little girls enjoy that?”

Emma gave a slight shrug. “I never did. I was too engrossed in books to be bothered with that sort of thing.”

He nodded. “I could see that.”

“I loved fairy tales,” she added. “But only ones with princes and princesses. And happy endings, of course.”

“It sounds like you always had good taste.”

She grimaced. “No, that’s not true.”

“Oh, come on, give yourself some credit.”

“If I had good taste, I wouldn’t have chosen Brice. He barely gives a thought to Avery. How could I have chosen a man who doesn’t care about his own child?” She was surprised she had asked this question of Cole, and yet, his attentive ear and kindness had caused her to let her guard down.

“I don’t know, Emma,” he answered. “But it’s not your fault that he didn’t want Avery. And it doesn’t make you a poor judge of character because you didn’t see that. You did the right thing by your daughter in the end. That’s all that matters.”

She suddenly felt exhausted, overwhelmed by thoughts of her ex-husband and the events of the day.

“I think maybe I should call it a night.” She removed the ice pack and twisted her wrist around to prove it was all right.

“It’s been a long day,” Cole agreed.

They fell silent. She could hear faint sounds of conversation and laughter from outside; the others were clearly still having a good time. She preferred being in here, though, she realized, in Cole’s company.

“You’re sure your wrist is okay?” he asked, taking her hand in his once more and moving it gently from side to side.

“It’ll be fine in the morning, I’m sure.” Perhaps it was his thoughtfulness and the intimacy they’d established in the past few moments, or maybe it was simply his proximity, but she felt compelled to speak openly with him.

“Cole? Maybe I owe you an apology.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to come here,” she admitted. “I didn’t want the merger to happen. I refused to believe it was a good idea, but now I think maybe I was wrong.”

“It’s all right, Emma. I know this merger is a tricky thing. There are a lot of mixed feelings about it.”

“I know, but...” She drew a breath. “I shouldn’t have judged you, before I even knew you. You’re obviously very capable, and it’s clear you care about the people who work for you, and you’re charming and han—” She had to stop talking. Now. “I mean, you’re not so bad. For the most part.” She tried to keep those last remarks teasing and hoped he wouldn’t notice just how much she’d given away. She was relieved when he smiled without drawing attention to her effusiveness.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He hesitated. “And about earlier today... Again, I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, and then, because she had to make sure he understood, she said, “I would never behave like that, you know. For one thing, I have a policy that I never date people I work with. Julien and I are just friends.”

“I know.”

“He was there for me,” Emma continued, “after Brice and I separated and then divorced. He helped me find ways to balance motherhood with my career. I don’t know why he did it, but it was kind of him. He still remembers Avery’s birthday every year. He always sends some sort of present. She looks forward to it. He’s been like a father figure to me, especially since I haven’t had a father of my own in a very long time.”

He nodded at this, but she sensed something she’d said had bothered him. She waited to see if he would share it with her, but he finally got to his feet. She followed his actions, slightly disappointed at his lack of response.

“Thanks for clarifying things for me.”

“Of course,” she murmured, still uncertain why she felt he had closed her out.

“Rest well, Emma.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

He left the kitchen, and after another moment, she did, too.

* * *

E
MMA
AWOKE
THE
next morning feeling slightly confused by her unfamiliar surroundings. She curled deeper beneath the covers, trying to orient herself until she recalled that this was the weekend of the corporate retreat. Once she remembered that important fact, she stretched out and tugged the sheets off her head, blinking at the sunshine streaming through the window. She replayed the events of the day before, tensing over Cole’s question at the ropes course and their conversation in the forest.

Twirling her wrist around beneath the covers, she was happy to feel no pain. Thinking of his apology allowed her to relax once more until she remembered how Cole had turned slightly distant at the end of the evening and how she’d tossed and turned for the better part of an hour as she’d replayed everything she’d said. She couldn’t believe how open she’d been with him about Avery and her relationship with Brice. It wasn’t like her to share so much, but the warmth of his fingers on her arm and the growing closeness she’d felt toward him after the team-building games had conspired to loosen her tongue.

Perhaps his coolness in bidding her good-night had been because he found her revelations about her personal life immature and unprofessional. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, counting and recounting the wooden beams of the old château. Well, she couldn’t take any of it back now. She might as well make the best of it and enjoy the weekend as much as she could.

She kicked off the covers and looked at the bedside clock. It was still early enough that she could probably sneak away unnoticed. She decided to dodge the others for a while and check out the forest chapel from the estate brochure. According to yesterday’s orientation, it was tucked away, just off the bike path, in the woods. Maybe some fresh air and privacy would restore her confidence.

She ducked into the bathroom for a rushed shower and dressed in a black-and-white striped shirt and corduroys. She reached for her cell phone and then stopped, deciding to leave it behind. That way, she wouldn’t be tempted to respond if any of the others called to find out where she’d gone. Slinking out of her bedroom, she tiptoed down the stairs. She hesitated at the kitchen entryway, wondering if there was any coffee available, and then decided it wasn’t worth the risk. She wasn’t ready to face anyone, least of all Cole, just yet.

Heading for the shed where René had said the bicycles were stored, she was relieved to find it unlocked. She pulled out one of the bikes and climbed on, wheeling it toward the front of the house. She circled the drive a few times to practice. It had been several years since she’d been on a bicycle. Not since she’d first moved to France and married Brice, and they’d spent a week at a bed-and-breakfast in Vendée, where there were numerous cycling trails. As soon as she felt comfortable, she pedaled toward the forest path and entered the woods.

It was a beautiful morning, the air clean and crisp and not too warm. Occasional signs assured her she was headed the right way, and it felt good to pump her legs to propel the bicycle forward. After about ten minutes, the path widened to the right, and she could see a lane leading into a clearing. As she steered into the curve, she recognized the stone building featured in the estate literature. She drove to the end of the dirt road and came to a stop, her eyes sweeping over the charming little chapel. The stone steps leading up to the door were traced with lines of moss sprouting from serpentine cracks, but they appeared well intact. She admired the door with its gothic arch and faded stained-glass plates fitted into the top. Above these rested another stained-glass window, its colors darkened with age, and then, toward the roof, a cutout of a cross.

She wheeled her bike next to the stone steps and rested it against the building as she noticed a plaque, describing the chapel’s history. Written in French, it explained that the chapel dated from as early as the fourteenth century with restorations performed in the latter half of the nineteenth century. It had seen a rich and varied past that included everything from wars to weddings. She reached out to rest her palm against the cool surface of the stone and marveled, as she always did, at France’s long history. She’d always been a bit of a history buff, and while she loved American studies, her homeland’s past was much shorter than that of other countries. America had been an unknown and untamed wilderness when this chapel had already stood for centuries.