Shaking off her unsettling reverie, Ella showered, changed clothes, and strolled down the hall to find Yelena.
A smiling face and twinkling brown eyes greeted her knock at the door. “Come on in,” Yelena welcomed Ella in French, kissing her on each cheek in the friendly, familiar greeting ofla bise.“I’ve made a salad,and there’s enough for two.Have a seat and tell me all about salsa dancing with Jean-Luc while I pour us some wine.”
Yelena handed Ella a glass ofSauvignon Blanc,setting the small table with a crusty baguette, nut-encrusted goat cheese, and an enormous salad. Heaped with chunks of white tuna, fresh string beans, vine-ripened tomatoes, hard-boiled egg, sliced olives, and an incredible vinaigrette dressing with minced garlic, Ella gaped at the delectablesalade niçoise.It looked indescribably delicious.
While they ate and sipped wine, Ella described how Jean-Luc had taught her the basics of salsa dancing, twirling her in his experienced arms to the upbeat, steady rhythm of the Latin music in the trendyLoca Luna. She shared the visit tole Musée de la Vie Romantique,how she’d found souvenirs for her classroom, and how Jean-Luc had promised to take her to discover more of the hidden secrets of Paris tomorrow.
“I must confess… I am quite jealous.” Yelena chuckled, sipping her wine. “But I’m also delighted that you’ve met such an alluring man. An artist, a dancer…your own personal tour guide. You are very lucky indeed.”
“He’s an incredible lover, too.” Ella savored the dry, fruity flavor of theSauvignon Blancafter swallowing a bite of baguette spread with the tangy, creamy goat cheese. “I’ve never felt this way about any man before. Not even my husband.” She smiled sadly as she traced the rim of her wineglass with the delicate tip of a long finger. “Paul was always more interested in watching whatever was on TV than in anything I had to say.” She gulped a large swallow of wine, washing down the painful memories of rejection and years of neglect. “I remember once…he was watching a football game. I put on a sexy lace teddy to entice him. I got up the nerve to stand in front of the TV, hoping he’d notice. And want to make love.” Ella looked down at her glass, her eyes suddenly brimming with unexpected tears. She glanced up to meet Yelena’s soft, sympathetic gaze. “Do you know what he said?” With a bitter laugh that was more like a choked sob, she spat, “Move over.I can’t see the game.”
Yelena squeezed Ella’s hand, her quiet companionship a soothing solace.
“Any time I wanted to speak to Paul, I’d always have to ask him if he was listening. He’d mute the TV, irritated at being interrupted. Then, after I’d said what I wanted to say, he’d just turn the volume back up. Without comment. As if nothing I said even mattered.” She downed the rest of her wine. “We hardly ever made love. Only when he wanted to, and it was always over quickly. When he was finished, we were done. My satisfaction didn’t matter at all.”
Yelena refilled their glasses, encouraging Ella to continue with the much-needed catharsis.
Ella smiled in gratitude as she took a large swallow, the mellow warmth relaxing in Yelena’s comforting presence. “But Jean-Luc is different,” Ella mused as the image of his handsome face and magnificent body floated into her mind. “He’s. unlike any man I’ve ever known. He tells me I’m beautiful, that he can’t get enough of me. He’s a skilled lover. And he always puts my pleasure first, before his own.”
Yelena’s limpid brown eyes melted like milk chocolate. “Mmm,” she purred. “He sounds perfect. No wonder you’re falling for him.”
I am falling for him. I love everything about him. His long black hair, neatly trimmed beard, dazzling smile. His muscular chest, covered with dark hair, the tattoos on his arm and stomach. The incredible scorpion tattoo on his back, with enormous pincers curving upward like the outstretched arms of a flamenco dancer.“I’m a Scorpio,” he’d confided, when her loving, explorative fingers had traced the extraordinary design emblazonedbetween his broad, brawny shoulders. She loved the way he had danced just for her. His unique, creative talent as an artist. And above all, she loved how he craved her, made love to her, and filled her empty soul with passion and fire.Yes,I am definitely falling for Jean-Luc Cortés. And falling hard.
The thought of leaving him at the end of June filled her with emptiness and sorrow.
“I have an idea. Would you like to go shopping? I saw some pretty scarves in a boutique nearby. I want to get a few postcards and souvenirs to bring home for my classroom. We can get a Nutellacrêpe, and a cup ofchocolat chaud.” Yelena finished her wine and flashed Ella an impish smile. “I also want to get my portrait done, like you did. We can head over tola Place du Tertreso that Jean-Luc can sketch me. And then, when he’s done, you can go home with your sexy bohemian artist.” She grinned at Ella’s enthusiastic nod of approval.
“I’ll pack a change of clothes. Jean-Luc said he wanted to show me a few moresecrets of Paristomorrow. Can you stop by my room in a few minutes when you’re ready?” Ella carried the salad bowls and wine glasses into the small kitchen area. She washed and rinsed them in the sink, then placed them in the drainer on the countertop to dry.
Yelena wrapped up the goat cheese and put it, along with the vinaigrette dressing, back in the tiny refrigerator. “Sounds perfect. I’ll brush my hair, grab a jacket, and be there in five minutes.”
Ella dashed down the hall to her room, her spirit soaring at the thought of spending the night with Jean-Luc. With a sudden pang of self-doubt, she wondered if he might not be glad to see her. He might have made other plans. Maybe even with another woman.Stop it! You’ll be able to tell if he’s glad to see you when Yelena gets her portrait sketched. If he seems preoccupied or uninterested, then you’ll you know. He might very well be delighted. Just wait and see.
Tamping down her nagging insecurities, Ella decided to wear one of her Renaissance Denim Couture creations—a snug, faded jean skirt with pale pink rose lace appliqués curving along both sides of the corset-like lacing. Layers of mauve lace and shimmery silk ruffles cascaded in a sexy but chic asymmetrical hemline that fell almost to her ankle on one side and bared her knee on the other.Jean-Luc loves my long legs. This skirt will flutter as I walk. And give him a great view.
She wore her hair down—for he loved it that way—and packed her makeup, toothbrush, and a long bohemian skirt in shades of turquoise and teal with a matching top into a huge black bag. After a quick mental inventory, confident she’d included everything she’d need for tomorrow, she hoisted the embellished bag over her shoulder. Greeted Yelena’s expected knock at the door. And headed out into the starry night sky and the irresistible lure of Montmartre.
Inside a little boutique, Yelena held up a floral scarf and raised her eyebrows inquisitively. “Do you like this one?” The shades of lilac and deep purple complemented her coloring and highlighted her expressive brown eyes.
Ella smiled encouragingly as Yelena looked in the mirror. “It’s gorgeous. I love it.”
“Ooh,” Yelena gasped as she spotted a slouchy bohemian bag adorned with amethyst-colored crystals and sparkly lavender beads. “This will match it perfectly.”
The pretty scarf draped around her neck and the new purse slung over her shoulder, an exuberant Yelena led Ella to a glass kiosk where the delicious aroma of crêpes perfumed the vibrant night air. She ordered them each a Nutella crêpe, and Ella watched in awe as the vendor poured a ladle of thin batter into the sizzling pan, flipped the thin pancake high into the air, and caught it perfectly to lightly brown the other side. Topping the warm crêpe with a generous dollop of Nutella, he folded it expertly with his spatula, slid it onto a sheet of wax paper, wrapped it up and handed it to Yelena. He then repeated the fascinating performance and gave Ella hers.
“Mmm,” she hummed, as she bit into the warm crêpe, the gooey goodness of melted Nutella a decadent mouthful of chocolate hazelnut bliss. “This isdelicious.”
They ate every sumptuous bite, licked their sticky fingers, and tossed the empty wrappers in the nearby trashcan. Yelena checked the time on her phone. A mischievous glint sparked in her dark eyes. “Come on, let’s go get my portrait sketched.”
Amid the familiar red umbrellas and lush canopy of shade trees,La Place du Tertrewas bustling with tourists. Some were seated, having their portrait sketched, others perused the various works of art for sale, and many mingled, reveling in the lively ambience of bohemian Paris.
Ella spotted Jean-Luc across the cobbled stone square. Clad in his usual black tee shirt and tattered, faded jeans, his long hair was tied back in a queue, his expression serious as he concentrated on sketching the portrait of a middle-aged woman whose husband was watching with an approving smile. A young woman stood next in line, patiently waiting her turn, while several other potential customers admired his collection of paintings.
At Yelena and Ella’s approach, Jean-Luc raised his gaze. As his eyes met hers, a dazzling smile stretched across his handsome face, illuminating Ella’s entire soul.
He set down his piece of charcoal, excused himself politely from his customers for just a moment. And enveloped Ella in his tattooed, chiseled arms. Warm lips brushed hers as he whispered into her mouth. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about you all night. Can you stay? And come home with me later?”
Ella wrapped her arms around his neck, overcome with joy. “Yes. I would love to.”
