Page 45 of Brooke
He was always holding it out to her, and this time she thrust hers into it. His grip tightened and he drew her to his large frame. “Whatever it is, we will set it right.”
Set it right? How could she undo the hurt she’d caused Thea by failing to be the wedding cheerleader she was supposed to be? Everyone knew her forced smiles. They were her roommates, for goodness’ sake! And Nanine had called her. Finally. About that!
A taxi pulled up to the curb, and Axel opened the door, helping her inside. She slid over as his large frame entered behind her, and once again, she was taken aback by the giant size of him. The top of his golden head practically rested against the interior of the vehicle. “You really are tall.”
“So my ID says.” He shot her a quick smile before murmuring their destination to the driver, who turned his Arabic music down and kept his eyes peeled to the road as Axel settled back and put his seat belt on.
She followed suit and watched the streets fly by as they drove to wherever he was taking her. She knew the area well, had walked the streets since she’d come to Paris when she was a young girl. By second grade, she had begun to learn French after reading everyEloisebook available, withEloise in Parisbeing her favorite. Back then, Eloise’s adventures had seemed like her own. Now she was, for all intents and purposes, a seasoned local, and while her adventures weren’t as fresh and new as they’d been when she’d been a young girl, Paris still gave her a special glow.
Adventures…
Axel’s thumb stroking the back of her hand brought her gaze back to him. He’d called what was between them an adventure, so maybe, just maybe, she was indeed having a grown-up adventure in Paris, after all.
Despite being a big fat failure of a friend.
The car pulled to a stop before a motorcycle parked in the street. Axel paid the driver and then opened the door, helping her out. She noted the street, a quiet residential one close to Luxembourg Gardens. He tugged her hand toward a large aquamarine gate and punched in a code. When themassive door clicked open, he beckoned her through the gate.
A wrought-iron chandelier overhead illuminated their path through an archway. They emerged into a discreetly lit garden filled with evergreen trees and rosebushes with only a brush of fall petals still hanging on. Lace-leafed gray-green groundcover wound its way down the ash-colored brick as they approached another double set of doors, this one in matte black. Axel punched in another code and opened the door for her to precede him.
The moment she stepped inside, she knew it was his house. The undercurrent of pine in the air was much like his usual scent, and the minimal lines of dove gray, black, and forest green could only have been combined as warmly as they were by Axel Erikson, the designer god.
When she started to walk inside, she suddenly halted in place. She felt him touch her back supportively. “I can’t go into your house with dog shit on my shoes.” Toeing them off, she carefully held the offending article by the back of its heel. “God, I loved these shoes.”
“Don’t worry,” Axel assured her. “I will have them professionally cleaned.”
“I can?—”
“Let me do this for you, Brooke. You are not the only one who can manage things, you know?”
She could feel the angry burn rise up inside her.
“That’s right.” His hand touched her back in a soothing caress. “Right now, you do not need to think of such things. You can lean on someone else to handle what’s needed. Besides, wouldn’t it be amusing if you wore home a pair of my shoes?”
She gestured to his large feet. Oh, she’d look like a swimmer wearing flippers on land inhaute couture.“Are you serious? Do I look like a clown?”
He studied her, those damn gorgeous lips of his twitching. “No, nor a mime. Although Paris is famous for them.”
This time she fought a smile when he mimed a box, his expression bland. “I didn’t expect your sense of humor.”
He held open the door and gestured for her to throw her shoes outside, which she did with a shoe lover’s wince. “I didn’t expect you to step in and wash a parrot and conduct our first business meeting and house tour dripping wet. You didn’t flinch. Not once. Standing there with your bangs dripping onto your beautiful face?—”
Heat flushed up her neck. “I cannot believe you thought that was funny! It was mortifying.”
Closing the door, he encouraged her to start walking down a hallway with walls of cream and forest green and a natural wood floor. “Come on, Brooke, you have to admit that scene was like a comedic play. Pierre squawking while you wrestled him and shot daggers at Dean with your eyes and winced as he splashed you. Pierre. Not Dean.”
“You saw all that?” she gasped as he turned on low-hanging interior lights in matte black.
“Yes. Before Sawyer told me I’d better stand out of sight and let him announce me.” His massive shoulders were shaking. “Your face was priceless.”
“I wanted to impress you.”
His good humor softened the hard line of his jaw. “Which you did even more than you had already. I already knew you were beautiful, an incredible writer with great insight into design, a well-respected mover and shaker in the fashion world, and that you had a huge heart, amazing vision and style, and were a loyal and devoted friend.”
She had to close her mouth consciously as she watched him walk into the large open kitchen with a brick wall on one side. He turned on the faucet, gesturing for her to join him at the double stainless steel sink. “You knew all that?”
“I always thoroughly research who I’m working with,Brooke.” He handed her the liquid soap from a well-known line, another forest aroma. “Besides, I was already attracted to you before I showed up at the house that first morning.”
“Before?You’re kidding!” She scrubbed her hands under the warm water as she watched him lather his large hands beside her, likely because they’d been in a Paris taxi and she usually washed her hands when she got home.
