“It's nice to smell it without being attacked.”
“You said thatattackedwas too strong a word, that I'd just cleaned your neck really, really well.”
“I said that to be polite, seeing as how we'd just met. You definitely attacked me.”
She grinned. “I definitely did.” She snapped the cap back on Relaxation and Berry. “The inspiration for this one was bath time when I was little. My mom would stick me in the tub with bubbles. When I got out, she'd wrap me in a fresh towel. For me, this one smells of clean skin and belonging.”
“I recognize your inspiration in the scent. But this is a very sophisticated, mature take on bath time.”
She looked at him the way an elementary school teacher would look at her star student. “That was my intent. Be aware that what you're smelling here”—she held up the paper—“is the perfume's top note. It's deceiving to judge a perfume based on its top note only. I advise all my customers to test a perfume by applying it, then living with it for hours. If they do that, they'll be better able to decide if the perfume is perfect for them. Too often people enter a perfume shop and buy based on the top note alone. The top note is like the outer petals of a rose. Fleeting. The middle note and base notes are the inner petals. A person is going to spend most of their time with those latter notes, so it's best if they make sure they love how the middle and base notes mix with their body.”
She took a new bottle off the shelf. “My brothers were almost always nearby when I was a kid. But once a month or so, I'd have my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother to myself when we'd have high tea together. A few times a year we'd splurge and have high tea at a restaurant. The rest of the time, we'd gather at one of the homes for tea and sandwiches and scones. I loved those tea parties and created this perfume with that inspiration.” She sprayed a fresh strip of paper. “It's called Luxury and Cream and has notes of tea and strawberry. My challenge was to find aromas that would also communicate thefeelingof high tea. Fancy. Crisp like a linen napkin. A ritual inherited from nobility.”
He took the paper from her and inhaled. “I'm impressed.” He inhaled again. “Is there a specific way that experts smell perfume? A series of steps?”
“When we go to a symphony, we take in the details of it with our sense of hearing while letting our thoughts and emotions expand. Perfume is a symphony, too. One that we take in with our sense of smell. Like with music, we experience it more fully if we let our thoughts and emotions expand.”
“I don't know how to do that.”
“Take your time with a perfume. Draw in several breaths and allow yourself to focus on it. I often decrease my other senses by closing my eyes or silencing sounds.” Her eyelids drifted shut and she demonstrated by breathing the fragrance, then staying very still.
He froze, staring down at her. She wasn't looking back so he was free to study the way her eyelashes rested against the top of her cheekbones. The delicate shape of her lips. The arch of her brows.
His mouth went completely dry.
Time stalled. He was distantly aware of the painted sky above them and the fragrance of her perfumes all around.
Why hadn't he met her some other way? Any other way? At any other time? As it was, she had a boyfriend. And even if she didn't, he couldn't act on his feelings for her because of the FBI. The operation that bound them together was also the thing that cast him as the rule-following professional. He wished it wasn't so. He didn't want to play this role with her.
Her eyes snapped open, and time lurched back into motion.
She reached for another strip of paper and another bottle of perfume as if everything was normal, as if she hadn't just devastated him. “This is my newest fragrance. It's inspired by Maine, but I purposely avoided the most obvious notes of ocean and evergreen. With this one I was trying to communicate big dramatic skies and rugged coastline. Nature and freedom and wild blueberries and home.”
Jude took his time with it, as she'd instructed. “You captured Maine's soul. Gemma, you're as brilliant at this as any of the great noses you mentioned earlier.”
Her face softened. “That’s a lovely compliment. Thank you. But no. In all humility, I'm not at the level of the great noses. I'd like to be one day.” She grasped another bottle. “This one's my best seller. I was twenty and wildly infatuated with a boy when the inspiration for this one came to me. It took me years to nail the blend.”
“Years?”
“Yes. My work on this far outlasted my crush on the boy. It's called Hope and Spice and its fragrance evokes attraction. It has notes of musky amber, incense, and guaiac wood. When I finally brought it to market, women went crazy for it. Over and over they've told me that their boyfriends and husbands find it addictive and irresistible. A few of them jokingly call it a love potion.”
“But your goal with this wasn't to attract men?”
“No. I'm all about creating scents that are true to me, that I love. And I’m all about helping my customers find the one that they love. If the scent they pick ends up enslaving men, that's just a side effect.” She sprayed and held up the paper.
The scent hit his nose. Deep and delicious. He ran a hand through his hair, then cupped the back of his neck. The magnetism he felt toward Gemma hovered close to the surface when he was near her, but now he felt overwhelmed by its rushing, heady power. Blood pounded against his temples.
“Does it smell like infatuation to you?” she asked, a knowing glint in her gray eyes.
“Yes,” he said simply, voice hoarse.
She returned the bottle to its shelf. “As you can see, I have several other fragrances. But that's enough for you to get the gist. I'll email you a list of the perfumers and brands responsible for the most famous scents of the last fifteen years. It would do you good to read up on them and also on the scientific process of extracting scents and fusing them with an alcohol base. That involves molecules and compounds and the like.”
He felt drunk.
“Also, I highly recommend you gain some firsthand experience with Rhapsodie. You should be very familiar with the scent and history of the perfume your fictional buyer is purchasing. Do you know anyone who owns a bottle?”
“My mother does.” Research he could manage. What he couldn't manage was another sniff of Hope and Spice. “I should be going,” he said abruptly, taking several steps toward the stairs. “I don’t want to infringe on your time any more than I already have.”
