Page 65 of The Paris Trip

To her relief, as she appeared to have temporarily lost access to the language centres in her brain, she heard a wail above the sound of the traffic, a high-pitched ‘Coo-ee!’-style cry from across the busy road. Baffled, her gaze drifted that way and hooked onto the familiar sight of Madame Rémy and Nonna, seated together at a pavement café only a few hundred feet from the river bank, trying to catch their attention.

‘Erm, your gran,’ she whispered feebly, attempting to pull herself free.

‘I’m… grand?’ he repeated, frowning.

‘Grand? Why would I say you were grand?’ She shook her head, still reeling from his kiss. Her lips felt numb, her body tingling. ‘I said, your gran.’ And she pointed in the direction of his relatives. ‘See? Gran.’

He glanced that way and swore under his breath. His arms fell to his sides, releasing her at once. Sunlight dazzled her once more, free of his shadow. ‘Ah, yes… My gran. Bien, d’accord.’ They began to walk towards the two ladies, who were now waving. ‘I suppose it would be too much to hope she hadn’t seen us kissing.’

Maeve considered that. ‘I take it she wouldn’t be very happy?’

‘I’m more worried she’d be pleased,’ he growled.

Squelching along beside him, Maeve shot a startled look at his face, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. ‘Sorry… Pleased?’

‘What you have to understand is that my grandmother is one of the biggest matchmakers in Paris. Apart from my great-grandmother, that is. When the two of them get together…’ He shook his head in weary resignation. ‘They have been disappointed for years that I’ve refused to settle down and present them with great-grandchildren. The moment I show any interest in a woman – apart from Liselle, whom they both dislike intensely – I think their brains spiral off into weddings and babies.’

Weddings and babies.

She was blushing, and couldn’t seem to stop herself. But oh lordy-lord, That Kiss…

What had his Nonna said on first meeting her? That she would be his Muse? And now she had to face the two older ladies, who had no doubt spotted the two of them canoodling and might expect news of an engagement at any moment. And it wasn’t like that at all between her and Leo. It had just been a kiss. Nothing special. Nothing to report.

They had almost reached the busy road between them and the café, cars zooming along with the usual mad disregard for safety or traffic rules.

‘Wait, they don’t like Liselle?’ Her stupid brain had focused on that interesting nugget of information instead of all the rest, trying to work it out.

He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘And that’s putting it mildly.’ His clever gaze narrowed on her face. ‘You know, I half expected you to slap me for kissing you just then. Or to tell me exactly what you think of me at the very least. You weren’t angry?’

‘It was only a kiss. Goodness, of course not…’ Guilt rose in her like a hot tide, aware that she was lying to herself as well as him. ‘But we’d better not keep them waiting any longer,’ she babbled. ‘They must be so bored, poor things. We’ve been ages. And it’s all my fault.’

Hurriedly, she squelched to the edge of the kerb, and was poised to run across the road in front of oncoming traffic when he grabbed her arm.

‘Hey, what do you think you are doing? This is Paris. These drivers take no prisoners. You’ll be killed if you don’t wait for the lights.’

‘Oh, don’t exaggerate.’

He raised his brows at her wild gesture. ‘All right, you’ll be seriously maimed if you run in front of those cars.’

As though to demonstrate the truth of that, the next few cars to pass them did so in a blur of speed, engines roaring.

Breathlessly, she peered down the road. ‘There are traffic lights?’

Almost on cue, the cars coming towards them ground to a halt. Though she noticed the drivers still revved their engines impatiently at the lights, as though dying to mow someone down.

‘Yes, we Parisians do occasionally allow pedestrians to cross the street without fear of death. But you have to hurry.’ He ushered her across before the traffic could start moving again. Safely on the other side, he trod purposefully towards his grandmother’s café table, kissing this elegant lady on the cheek and then bending to kiss Nonna too. ‘I’m sorry we took so long,’ he told them in French, ‘but I’m afraid there was an accident… Maeve fell in the river.’

Madame Rémy, who had leant forward to embrace Maeve, as the French seemed to do at every possible opportunity, pulled back to study her in horror. ‘Mon Dieu… I wondered why your hair was wet. And Bernadette’s lovely dress. Oh, and your shoes too.’ She pointed to one of the empty wicker seats at their table. ‘Please, join us. How did this happen?’

With an uncomfortable smile, Maeve sank damply onto the seat. Was she really going to be forced to relive that epic humiliation?

‘It’s quite a long story,’ she begun reluctantly.

‘Her hat blew over the side of the boat,’ Leo told them succinctly, ‘and she fell in the river trying to retrieve it.’

Okay, maybe not that long a story, Maeve thought, throwing him a strained look of gratitude.

‘Mais quelle horreur! You need a hot chocolate after such an ordeal,’ Madame Rémy said sympathetically, and turned to look for the waiter.

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