Page 23 of Meet Me in Paris

“To be fair,” Hunter said, “they taste kind of like chicken wings. The bones are smaller, though, so be careful.”

I seriously considered dumping Hunter’s champagne into his lap before taking a hard look at my options. I could refuse and order something else, but then Hunter would have the upper hand and my sisters could continue their merciless teasing. Or I could rise above all this and behave as a true Parisian. Hunter tried them, after all, and he was the pickiest eater I knew.

I could do this.

Looking Hunter dead in the eye, I pinched a frog leg between my fingers and tipped it toward him as if in a toast.

My sisters fell silent. Jillian seemed to be focusing her camera.

I lifted the meat to my lips.

Tastes like chicken. Tastes like chicken.

I opened my mouth.

Chicken. Chicken.

My teeth closed over a bit of thigh meat and ripped a section free. I gave Hunter a determined smile and chewed it slowly, enjoying his eyes, which widened by the second.

This tastednothinglike chicken.

The meat rolled around in my mouth. My throat seized up, refusing to allow it passage to my stomach. Even my stomach roiled at the thought of accepting a piece of amphibian.

I groped around my lap for my napkin so I could spit it out, but the napkin seemed to have fallen to the floor.

Grimacing, I leaned over, straining in my tight dress, and felt around the floor to retrieve it.There.I caught a corner of it, but it wouldn’t pull free. A quick glance revealed a shiny black shoe on it.

“Well,” a deeply accented voice said from above me. “If it isn’t Miss Kennedy.”

As I came back up, I hit my head on the table. Rubbing it, I tried to focus on the man standing next to the table. “Claude?” I would have forced a smile, but I still had mashed frog between my teeth. I forced it down with a massive effort and rose to meet him.

Before I knew what happened, Claude leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. First on the right side, then the left.

A European custom,I reminded myself.Don’t get too excited.

“How charming finding you here.” His eyes skimmed my plate. “Most Americans cannot handle our delicacies. Do you enjoy it?”

Please don’t have frog in my teeth.“Very much. It’s far superior to ours.” I felt Hunter’s eyes bore into me and completely ignored him. “Do you have a table, Claude, or would you care to join us?”

“I have already finished my meal, but I would be pleased to join a beauty like you for champagne. I look forward to our date tomorrow.” He pulled out the chair across from me, sat down, and waved to the waiter to bring another glass.

Our date.I’d considered it a business chat, but when he put it that way, especially in front of Hunter . . .

At the moment, Hunter’s glare could burn a hole through the table. Good. Frogs, indeed.

“I meant to ask you. How long do you intend to stay in Paris when you return from your trip?” He pronounced Paris as “Par-ee,” which I found utterly charming. Everything about him, in fact, down to the carefully fitted tuxedo he wore. Had the man dressed up to eat here alone? Or had his companions already left?

“I’m not sure,” I said, wincing internally at being outed like this. I hadn’t told Hunter or my sisters yet about my plan to relocate here. “Six months, at least. I’ll decide after that.”

“A wise choice. See if you like, eh?” He entered the information in his phone, downed his glass of champagne, poured himself another, and downed that too. Finally, he stood. “I will see you tomorrow, then,” he said.

I stood again. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“I’m afraid so. Meeting with another client, though Iwould cancel to spend time with you if I dared.” He leaned in to whisper. “Royalty.” Then he gave me two quick cheek kisses in succession again before striding toward the door.

“Good luck,” I said stupidly as he left, touching my cheek. Had that just happened?

Our entire party stared after him.

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