Page 2 of The Paris Chapter

‘If anything can make you believe in love again, it’s Paris,’ Carly agreed.

And that phone call was the reason I was currently on the Eurostar.

All by myself.

I picked up my Kindle and opened up the new romance novel I was reading.First Impressionsby Liv Jones. She was best friends with my publicist at Turn the Pages, Stevie, who had told me I would love this book. But I tried and failed to even read the first page. I closed my Kindle case quickly. Not only could I not write about romance, but I also currently couldn’t bear to read it either. But I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to admit that to anyone at my publishers. My editor Gita had no idea I hadn’t written a word of the novel that was due in only three weeks’ time. I’d never missed a deadline before. That just wasn’t me.

But then Joe had screwed me over.

Gazing out of the train window, I watched as St Pancras faded away and we headed towards the City of Love. I regretted letting Luke and Carly talk me into this, but I was desperate. I needed inspiration. Something to pull me out of my hating-love mindset. Otherwise Joe would not only have taken my heart and trampled on it, but he would ruin my career too.

Please, Paris, work your magic.

2

Gare du Nord was hectic when I got off the Eurostar, dragging my suitcase behind me. I hadn’t slept well last night and was too keyed up to snooze on the train, so I fought off weariness and made my way outside. It was February and London had been grey, miserable and cold so I was happy to see Paris was bathed in wintery sunshine instead. The bright day gave me some hope that this trip might not be a complete disaster. I walked out of the station and hoped the crisp February air would help to wake me up.

The Airbnb that Joe had chosen was only a ten-minute walk from the station, so I set off in the direction I’d memorised from Google Maps. As I made my way through the winding streets, I looked up at the Parisian architecture that couldn’t fail to thrill even the most cynical Londoner. There was something about Paris. Even though Carly accused me of having rose-tinted glasses when it came to romance, she couldn’t say the same about this city. It was beautiful. I held back from calling it romantic, my heart was firmly closed against all of that, but it did help to lift my sprits just a little bit.

I soon reached the apartment building and stared up at it in awe. Joe, I hated to admit it, had chosen well. It was a Haussmann-style building with a cream-coloured stone façade, a steeply sloped roof, and ornate black balconies that were charming. I typed in the door code the Airbnb host had given me and walked through the main door. I then had to walk up to the second floor, the building having been constructed before lifts were a thing. Luckily, I’d packed light, my mind only half on the job, so it wasn’t too hard to get my suitcase up there.

Outside the front door was a key box. I put in the code the host had given me and took out the key to open the door. I was surprised to find only one key but as I’d come alone, it didn’t matter. Letting myself in, I stepped into the apartment and forgot everything that was wrong for a moment.

After walking through the tiny hall, I found myself in the living room. The light was glorious as the sunshine beamed in through the huge windows, displaying the balcony and then the city beyond. The floor was shiny wood and there was a stunning fireplace in the corner. The furniture was antique and so Parisian, my heart sung.

I shrugged off my leather jacket, left my suitcase and hurried towards the window, stepping out onto the balcony, the smile wide on my face. Then I actually gasped out loud. Because to my right, peeping through a gap in two buildings opposite, was the Eiffel Tower. This Airbnb was a dream. I wasn’t grateful to Joe for much but I was for him finding this.

Maybe, just maybe, this will be good for me.

I walked back inside from the balcony and looked across at the kitchen in the corner and then as I stepped towards where the bedroom and bathroom were, I frowned. I could hear running water nearby. I spun around but then told myself not to be so jumpy. The walls were likely just really thin.

I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled it with me towards the open bedroom door. I was just about to walk through when the sound of water abruptly finished and there was a click, and to my shock and horror, the door next to the bedroom opened and out walked a man wearing the skimpiest of white towels around the middle of his body, shaking his damp hair all over the wooden floor.

‘Oh my God…’ I cried, and acting on impulse, I pushed my wheelie suitcase at him.

‘What the actual fuck?’ the man cried, jumping back just before it hit him, crashing into the wall instead. Then things got even worse and his towel slid down his body. I yelped as I caught a flash of flesh while he hastily grabbed the towel and pulled it up to cover himself.

‘Who are you? What are you doing in my Airbnb?’ I demanded, hiding my eyes behind my hand in case I saw more than I should again.

‘Hang on… Tessa?’

I took my hand away in surprise. Now the man had the towel firmly back in place, I looked at him properly. His cheeks were bright red and he was staring at me, confused. His blonde hair flopped over his face and when I looked into his eyes, they were a startling blue. ‘Sorry, I…’

‘Oh, yeah, I guess you probably don’t remember me,’ he said uncertainly. ‘It’s Ethan. I’m Joe’s…’ He trailed off as recognition sunk in.

‘Best friend,’ I finished for him, staring into his frankly terrified-looking face. I had only seen him twice, both fleeting meetings, and obviously he had been fully clothed as expected. This was most definitely unexpected. I shook my head. ‘But what are you doing here?’ I repeated, marginally more calmly than I had squealed at him a minute ago. At least he wasn’t a stranger aboutto attack me. But I wasn’t sure Joe’s best friend being here was much better.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’

I realised I was still staring at him. And he was still in a tiny towel with most of his body on show. He had a more muscly, defined chest than I would have thought based on the fact he equalled my five-foot-eight frame. I looked away quickly, desperately trying hard not to think about the glimpse I’d had of what was underneath that towel. Thinking about the word ‘hard’, I blushed instantly and coughed, thanking God that people couldn’t hear each other’s thoughts. I took a breath and tried again. ‘Please tell me why you are in my holiday flat. The one I’ve rented for the next five nights.’

‘You haven’t rented it, I have,’ Ethan said slowly, as if mulling over what I was saying. I saw out of the corner of my eye he was shaking his head. ‘Joe said…’

I breathed in sharply. Of course this was Joe’s fault. And it explained me finding only one key in the box outside. I held up my hand. ‘How about you get dressed and I sit down and then you join me and we can talk about this without you being in a towel and me hyperventilating from the shock?’

‘That sounds like a plan.’ He sounded amused now. Of course he did. He was probably loving every minute of my panic attack, poised to tell Joe all about it.

I quickly spun around and went back into the living room. I heard Ethan walk into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Collapsing onto one of the sofas, I shut my eyes and put my head back against the soft, cream fabric. I couldn’t believe that this trip was already turning into a disaster. Then again, it just topped off the past couple of months really.

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