Page 20 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
Dean winced along with Kyle, because the punch she’d given him hadn’t seemed playful.
“You had a place in your back pocket this whole time.” She stared at him with her hands planted on her hips. “God, I need to do something or I’m going to—”
She headed for the main kitchen like a pit bull on a mission, disappearing from view. The chandelier gave a melodic but loud clamor before they heard Madison cry, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
Kyle took off after her like he must have as a football player from days past.
“Dean!” Madison called out seconds later. “You have a visitor.”
He did? He glanced over at Sawyer before shoving out of his chair and rushing to the back. Skidding to a halt, his mind went blank.
Jacqueline was here. In the restaurant. How had she known to come?
CHAPTERFIVE
Dean’s mouth went dry as he took her in. His dream girl was more gorgeous in person, even after the follow-up research he’d done on her. Five-seven if he had an eye. Luscious dark blond waves of hair and a slender form with all of her gorgeous feminine attributes decked out in a light green sweater, skinny jeans, and black knee-high leather boots. Only, she wasn’t smiling back at him with stars in her brown eyes. His dream girl’s face was tight with a flush across her stupendously high cheekbones, her fists balled at her sides.
But Dean knew kismet when he saw it. She was here, and that meant something, so he came forward enthusiastically, the chandelier tinkling its approval, or so he told himself, and called out, “Bonjour, Jacqueline!” as his other roommates and Nanine arrived in the back of the kitchen.
Her gorgeous rosy mouth twisted into a sexy pout, and his heart raced at her scent—floral with a musky note to give it depth, a little naughty to his mind.
“I’m Dean, and these are my friends and business partners in The Paris Roommates Group—”
“I know who you are,” she answered briskly. “I read the article in the paper today, but I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. Pierre was not meant to be sold.”
Dean rocked back on his heels at that. She was here for the parrot?
“But he was at a pet store,” Madison shot back before glancing at Dean.
“She’s right,” he said, worrying his mouth. “I understood from the owner of the store—”
“Yes, I know. It was all a great misunderstanding, and I’m deeply sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll repay whatever you spent, of course.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, feeling confused and unsure of how to respond. This was not how he’d imagined meeting her…
“Ma chérieJacqueline,” Pierre squawked, suddenly flying through the air toward her.
She extended her arm for him and then hugged the parrot to her cheek. “Oh, Pierre,” she crooned in French, “I am so sorry this happened. But I will rectify it. I promise.”
“Hong Kong? Hong Kong?” the parrot asked.
“I’m back, at least for now. There is…much to do.” She swept her dark blond hair over her shoulder and met Dean’s gaze. “This must seem unspeakably rude. I can only imagine what you must be thinking. When I contacted the owner about Pierre and learned he was gone already, I was frantic. Then I saw the article inLe Monde—”
“Which announced to august members of the Paris culinary circles as well as the world that they could expect to see Pierre at our restaurant, Nanine’s,” Kyle broke in, shooting Dean a warning glance.
He ignored it. Maybe the loss of her stepmother had her overly emotional and not thinking things through. He knew grief could affect people that way. “I’m sorry you’re so upset, Jacqueline. Can I call you Jacqueline? How about we sit down and have a café?”
The corners of her eyes seemed to pinch. “No, thank you. I’d simply like to take Pierre and settle accounts with you. As for the article—”
“Do you have any idea the kind of excitement Pierre’s arrival at Nanine’s has generated?” Kyle continued, sidling over to Dean as if he planned to wrestle him to the ground if he let that parrot leave the premises.
Golden Boy was starting to piss him off. Sure, he happened to be right, but Dean didn’t imagine his dream girl would agree to go out with him if he kept her beloved parrot. Oh, why couldn’t love and romance be all champagne and bonbons? This was Paris! There had to be a solution.
“Pierre is a chef again,” the parrot squawked.
Jacqueline’s mouth parted. “But Pierre?” she said in French, hurt lacing her voice.
Dean fought the urge to cross to her, but she only had eyes for the parrot.
