Page 40 of All Mixed Up

Shattered commitments on both fronts. The anvil on my chest, the stings in my eyes, and the strangle around my throat confirmed it. I hid my hands from my camera, hiding the helpless clench of my hands, as well. These two didn’t need any more ammo for their cannons of concerned friendship. I wasn’t one iota sorry about the camouflage either.

Right now, the only thing I regretted was the Grand Canyon that’d somehow been flown across the Atlantic and then plunked between Lucien and me. Now that I knew what needed to be done about it, I was restless to get started.

I had to commandeer an emotional helicopter. Right freaking now.

Thank God Leese routed that much out. “Go get him, Ju-Ju Bee,” she cheered, and swung a mini high-five at her screen. “You have to take that priest by the collar and wrestle him down right.”

I giggled. Couldn’t be helped. “Okay, no argument on that—but do you goddess geniuses have brilliant ideas for how and when?”

At once, Gigi tossed her chestnut curls. The move was so flawless, I wondered if she planned on auditioning for Glinda in Wicked sometime soon. She sure as hell had the singing voice for it. “Well, that part’s easy,” she stated with supreme sass.

I jogged up both brows. “Oh?”

“Nothing beats the element of surprise.”

“Surprise?” Leese joined me on the puzzled echo.

“Ohhh, absolutely.” As soon as she lowered her head, she swirled an elegant fingertip at her screen. “Whenever I pull the ‘nothing’s wrong’ bullshit on Nico, he cuts me off at the pass by surprising me. He leaves the studio early and takes me to SoHo for dinner, or a walk through Central Park and drinks at Cipriani, or even just bringing my favorite fro-yo if I’m busy at work. The thing is, since I haven’t had days or weeks to prepare for the conversation, what he gets out of me is the same thing you need from Lucien.”

“Honesty.”

There was an answer I could supply. And a plan I could execute.

Bolstered and renewed, I flashed them both a huge grin. “I already have the perfect idea too.” Actually, a hundred of them—though one stood above and beyond the rest. “Have I told you both that you’re amazing?”

Gigi’s gaze danced like irises in the sun. “Only about a million times.”

Leese giggled. “But you can tell us again.”

“Better yet, just go and get back that sparkle in your eyes, girlfriend.”

“Yes, Miss Proust,” I joked.

But inwardly, I added one more line. That’s the plan, missy. That is definitely the plan.

15 Days and Counting

I leaned against a tree across the street from Paget International, set off a shaded street in the 8th Arrondissement that blended old and new only the way Paris could achieve.

And I was fidgeting like a nervous schoolgirl.

Granted, I looked the opposite. To the outside world, I was a bad-ass bicycle girl in my black neoprene shorts and hot pink cycling shirt. Thank God. Nobody had to know about the gawky dork except me. Well, me and maybe the squirrel up in the tree. He stared at me intently while nervously nibbling a nut between his sweet paws.

“Dude,” I mumbled at the animal. “I won’t give up your game if you don’t give up mine, okay?”

But I still felt like the husks of his nut, falling in skittery paths to the pavement. As the minutes ticked by until one o’clock, the squirrel’s biological brethren skittered through every inch of my nervous system, merrily attempting to rip up my composure with their eager feet.

“Want to give me a break, guys?” I added through my teeth. But the little bastards weren’t listening.

I’d just have to deal. And keep telling myself this was going to be epic. That everything was going to work out. I was in such unfamiliar territory—though unbelievably, that did not apply to the sights around me. In just under two weeks, I’d learned a lot about the nooks and crannies of Paris, thanks to the man I waited on now. Ever since Lucien’s new decision that everything below my waist was off-limits, a lot of our time lately was spent walking through the city. We discovered interesting shops and eateries, chatted with people in all colors and professions, and of course, enjoyed many textures and genres of music.

Because of our adventures, I’d learned what a keen music ear the man had. He focused on melodies, tempos, and vibes nearly as acutely as he did me. I had to admit, it was a cool side of him to observe. Granted, I still missed our sexual chemistry, but a star gone supernova wouldn’t fill that bill either. If I had to settle for second best, sharing the pleasure of live music with the man was a damn great alternative.

But there I went again. Thinking about what Lucien Paget could do with his cock. And his lips. And his fingers. And his eyes. And his—

“Stop.” I gritted it out, ordering the composure squirrels to go run rampant elsewhere. Too little, too late. I shifted my weight a little, concentrating on taking deep, full breaths.

It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. This is going to be great. He’s not going to think you’re a meme-worthy creeptastic stalker bitch. Even if he does, he’ll be nice about it…right?