Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) (16 page)

He wasn’t finding the situation amusing at
all. “Yes. But we haven’t . . . made love
,
”
he said, his face on fire.

She chuckled. “That wasn’t what I meant,
actually. I was wondering if you’d done any talking. Have you discussed things
with her?”

“Not a whole lot, but yes. Why?”

She tilted her head a little in a
can’t-you-see look. “Were you bored by her conversation?”

Jeanne, boring?

He shook his head. “She’s fun to be around.”

“Is there anything about her you find
objectionable?”

Mat gave his mom a quizzical look. “Define ‘objectionable.’ ”

“Is she vulgar? Unscrupulous? Racist?
Smelly?” She smirked. “Is she one of those lost souls that refuse to recycle?”

It was Mat’s turn to smirk. “None of the
above.”

“Then I’ve got another question. How was the
kissing . . . and whatever else you two did together?”

He couldn’t look in her eyes and answer that
question. So he turned away from her and fixed a spot on the wall. “Great.” He
paused, chewed on his lip, and added, “Better than great.”

She fell silent for a moment before asking, “When
was the last time you saw her?”

“Early June.”

“And you still can’t get her off your mind?”

He looked into her eyes. What kind of point
was she trying to make?

She shrugged. “It’s your life,
sweetheart.”
She hesitated.

“Ye-e-s?” he prompted.

She cupped his cheek
and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll figure this out sooner or
later . . . I just hope it won’t be too late.”

***

Chapter Twelve

September

All too soon, summer was over. Between the municipal elections and the
exhibit project, Mat had hardly found two weekends to drive to the coast to
take a dip in the cool waters of the Channel—once with Cécile and another
time with Rob. Vacation plans had been canceled, which suited Cécile just as
well, considering all the litigation cases she had to prepare over the summer.
So they stayed in Baleville
,
promising themselves to take a nice long holiday over Christmas and go
someplace faraway and exotic.

It would do us good to go someplace faraway,
Mat thought as he
shut his laptop, turned off the lights, and tiptoed to the bedroom at one in
the morning. Lately, he’d gotten into the habit of preparing for bed around
eleven, and then working for a couple more hours in the study. That way, he
could sneak into bed in the wee hours of the morning without waking Cécile up.

It worked like a charm every time.

Except tonight.

As he lifted the end of the blanket, Cécile stirred and fumbled for the
night lamp switch.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he said.

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. Must’ve had too much coffee.”

He climbed into bed and lay on his side, facing her.

Touch her,
he told himself. But his arm remained motionless by his
side.

“Mat, you’ve been working like crazy on this exhibit project over the
past three weeks.”

“It’ll be less intense once all the contracts are signed and the
conversion works begin.”

“I doubt it. Are you done with politics?”

“No, of course not. I just . . . I need some time to
recover from the defeat, to rebuild my self-confidence.”

Cécile sat up and gave him a pointed look. “You should get your
priorities straight. While you’re ‘rebuilding your self-confidence,’
opportunities have come and gone. You’ve already missed the European Parliament
elections.”

Mat sat up, too. “It would’ve been unrealistic.”

“Maybe. But you can’t afford to wait too long. The regional and the
cantonal elections are next year. You need to get back in the ring.”

He sighed. She was right. As always.

Cécile cocked her head. “You’re still hung up on that waitress, aren’t
you?”

“I haven’t seen her since our conversation after the election results.”

“I know that. What I don’t know is if you’re over the whole stupid
thing.”

He looked down at his hands.

“So sleeping with her didn’t help?” she asked.

He stared at her in surprise. “I haven’t slept with her.
We’ve . . . fooled around, but that was it.”

“Then go do it, for heaven’s sake! Don’t you see how this fixation has
been distracting you from the important stuff? From your career, your goals?”

Mat’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Wait a second. Slow down. Are you
saying you’ll be OK if I slept with Jeanne? Are you
giving me leave
to
do it?”

“Absolutely. Not only will I be OK, it’ll be a good thing for both of us.
You’ll get what you want and then lose interest in her. And I’ll
get . . . a reprieve.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “You know what. Unfortunately, you have needs
that . . . overwhelm me.”

His mouth curled. “I don’t have any
unusual
needs—”

She wasn’t listening. “So, please, do have a bit of fun with your
waitress. You’re welcome to see her every time you’re in Paris. Just keep it
discreet. I deserve that much.”

He suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Cécile was looking at him, a benign smile on her face, clearly expecting
some kind of gratitude for her grand gesture. But he didn’t feel any. What he
felt instead was resentment. Yes, he was still mad about Jeanne, and yes, he
still craved her. Rejecting her offer a month ago and staying away from her
ever since was one of the hardest things he’d done in his life. A real
achievement, a feat of self-restraint.

So yeah, he was as desperate for her as ever.

But he didn’t want to use her.

He wasn’t the kind of man Cécile was casting him to be.

He didn’t want to be that man.

***

It had been a surreal night. At around two in the morning, Jeanne woke up
to yelling, thumping, banging, and other sounds of a fight turned ugly. When
Liviu screamed, she ran over without bothering to pull a sweater over her
pajamas.

She pounded on Daniela’s door. “Open up! Open up immediately, or I call
the cops right now!”

To her surprise, Daniela opened the door, looking shaken but unharmed.
Giving Jeanne a funny look, she stepped aside and let her enter the loge. The
first thing Jeanne noticed was Liviu, rushing in from the kitchen with a glass
of water in his shaky hands. He didn’t take it to Daniela, but ran around the
dining table instead. Jeanne followed him and saw Nico prone on the floor.

He was perfectly motionless.

“Shall I pour it over him?” Liviu asked his mom.

Daniela nodded.

Liviu emptied the glass over Nico’s head.

Nothing happened.

“He’s breathing.” Daniela told Jeanne.

“Did he hit his head?” Jeanne asked, kneeling next to Nico to inspect
him.

“No,” Daniela said.

Jeanne took his pulse and sighed in relief. He wasn’t dead, just passed
out.

Thank God.

Then Daniela’s reply sank in. “Oh my God. Did you—?”

Daniela nodded. “When he raised his hand to hit me, I punched him the way
Dominique taught us.” She chortled nervously. “Turned out to be a little too
effective.”

“Are you sure he’s alive?” Liviu gave Jeanne a doubtful look.

“Positive. Let’s see if we can make him come to without calling the
firemen,” Jeanne said as cheerfully as she could manage and slapped Nico’s
cheeks.

Nothing happened. She shook him a little, and then slapped his cheeks
again.

She went on like that for a few moments, until she heard a faint groan.

Nico opened one eye halfway.

“You did it!” Daniela shouted in relief, rushing to his side. “Liviu,
fetch another glass of water, quickly!”

They pulled Nico into a reclining position and propped him against a pile
of cushions. He opened his other eye and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Is he drunk?” Jeanne asked.

“Wasted.”

Liviu arrived with the water and was about to give Nico another cold
shower when Daniela snatched the glass from his hand.

“This one goes into the mouth,” she said with a faint smile.

As he drank and looked around, Nico’s expression turned from blank to
wild-eyed, and then to bleak. “You hit me?” he half asked, half stated, trying
to focus his gaze on Daniela.

“Yes,” she said, her fists clenched.

He turned to Jeanne. “I’m a b-b-battered man now. Why aren’t you calling
the cops?” He snorted, mumbled something under his breath, threw his head back,
and laughed uncontrollably for a good five minutes.

After he was done, Nico stood up on shaking legs and declared he was
leaving.

“Where will you go?” Daniela asked. “The
métro
is closed, and you
can’t walk to your place like this.”

“I’ll take the night bus.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took a
few unsteady steps toward the door.

“Nico, wait! Stay here until dawn. You shouldn’t—”

“You’re not telling me what I should or shouldn’t do,” he snapped.

Daniela lifted her chin. “Fine. Go! I don’t care if you get mugged or run
over.”

Nico turned to Liviu. “See you around, kid.”

And he was out the door.

When Daniela stopped by the bistro the following afternoon, Jeanne took
her aside. “Any news?”

Daniela nodded excitedly. “I called to check on him this morning. He
didn’t answer. I called again, every fifteen minutes, until he finally picked
up around noon.”

“Did he get home safely?”

Daniela shook her head. “He blacked out about twenty meters from our building
and woke up at the hospital. They’re going to keep him under observation for a
couple of days.”

“How do you feel about all this?”

“That’s the weirdest thing, Jeanne.” The young woman suddenly beamed. “I
feel proud. I landed my boyfriend in the hospital with a small concussion, and
I feel proud of myself.”

“I can’t blame you,” Jeanne said with a grin.

Daniela’s face grew serious. “As soon as he’s out of the hospital, I’ll
tell him we’re finished.”

“I’m so glad to hear it!”

“I . . . I may still have feelings for him, but I know
they’ll pass. I won’t have Liviu witness another fight.”

She paused and added with a mischievous smile,
“Regardless of who batters whom.”

***

Chapter Thirteen

December

Will I need my city boots in Nîmes?

Jeanne had been pondering the question for
five minutes now, a little amused by her own indecision. She hadn’t hesitated
for a second when she paid all the money she hand—and the money she
didn’t have—for
La Bohème.
Yet now she couldn’t make up her mind
whether to take her boots to Nîmes. Theoretically, you packed a pair of boots
when traveling over Christmastime. In practice, the forecast promised
exceptionally mild weather in the south, and even if she ended up going to the
mountains with her brother, those high-heeled contraptions would be useless.

That was it—she’d take her hiking boots
instead.

Jeanne returned her leather boots to the shoe
rack and closed her travel bag. A quiet week with her family was exactly what
she needed after this roller-coaster year.

The doorbell rang.

Liviu must be anxious to collect his
present.

She rushed to the door and opened it without
looking through the peephole.

Mat stood in front of her, in all his tall,
manly beauty.

His sandy curls had grown back—not as
long and messy as he used to wear them, but long enough to soften the angles of
his face.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“May I come in?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you. Please.”

She led him to her cozy living room and
motioned to the couch.

He removed his coat and took a step to sit
down, but stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “It’s over with
Cécile.”

Jeanne’s mouth opened slightly. “What
happened?”

He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge
of his nose.

“What happened, Mat?” she repeated her question.

“Cécile gave me permission to sleep with you.
She said it would be a relief for her as much as for me.”

“Wow. And?”

“And I . . . broke up with
her. It’s been two months now.” He gave Jeanne an unreadable look.

She waited for him to add something, but he
just stared at her.

She stared back. “I take it you don’t want a
woman who doesn’t mind sharing you.”

“Something like that.”

“And you waited for two months before telling
me.”

“I needed to figure some things out first.”

She gave him an amused look. “Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Feel like sharing?”

He put his glasses back on. “That’s what I
came here for. I even prepared a speech, but now I can’t remember what exactly
I was going to say or in which order.” He smiled apologetically. “So, if
you don’t mind, I’ll cut straight to the chase.”

“Cut away.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Here goes.
This
thing I feel for you . . . I used to think of it as a weakness.
A design flaw. Sometimes, I thought of it as a curse.”

“I’m truly flattered,” Jeanne said, her mouth twitching.