French Kissing (3 page)

‘We've both changed since we were thirteen,' I said. ‘But we're still friends. And I would very much like it,
mon ami,
if you would come with me and Nick to Natalie's party. Besides, Natalie needs you there. Her guest list is short on good-looking men.'

Alex's mouth lifted in a lop-sided grin. ‘In that case, how can I refuse the invitation?'

Three

The doorbell rang. That would be Nick. Stopping to put on a bathrobe before I left my bedroom (Alex knew a lot about me, but he didn't need to know the colour of my underwear), I went and opened the front door.

‘Hey, Nick.' I tilted my face up and he dropped a perfunctory kiss on my lips. ‘I'm not nearly ready – I still have to do my make-up.'

‘That's OK, Anna. I'm early.' Nick stepped past me into the hall. ‘So where's this French house-guest of yours? Do I get to meet him tonight?'

‘You'll get to meet him when he's finished taking a shower. He's coming with us to Natalie's.'

‘You spent the entire day with him, and now you're taking him to your boss's party?' Nick frowned. ‘You're not planning to cart him about with you all weekend, are you? Because I was hoping you and I could spend some time together tomorrow. Just the two of us.'

‘Tomorrow, I'm all yours,' I said. ‘But Alex is only going to be staying with me a few weeks, and I would like to spend some time with him while he's here.'

‘A few weeks? I thought you said he'd only be staying a few days?'

‘It's however long it takes for him to find a place of his own. Don't sulk, Nick, we can always go to your place if we want some time alone.'

I put my arms up around my boyfriend's neck, intending to draw down his head and kiss away his bad mood, but at that moment, Alex, naked except for the towel around his waist, came out of the bathroom. His hair was still wet from his shower, and rivulets of water ran over the smooth planes of his chest and the hard ridges of his superbly toned abs, to vanish amongst the dark hair on his stomach. My gaze travelled over his gleaming torso, past the towel hanging low on his hips, to his muscular legs, and back up to his face, and I thought: his body is amazing.

Removing my arms from Nick's neck, I said, ‘Alex, this is my boyfriend, Nicholas Cooper. Nick, this is Alexandre Tourville. The guy I've been writing to all these years.'

‘Hello, Nicholas,' Alex said.

Nick said, ‘Bong-joo-er, Alexandreh. Common ally voo?'

I smothered a smile. Nick remembered very few French phrases from his schooldays, and his pronunciation was appalling.

‘
Je vais bien, merci …
' Alex said, once he'd worked out that Nick was asking how he was doing. ‘
Je ne sais pas …
I didn't know you spoke French, Nicholas.'

‘Il ne fait pas,'
I said. ‘He doesn't.'

‘Then tonight we must speak in English,' Alex said. He added, ‘I should go and put some clothes on.'

Must you? Really? I thought.

Alex went off to his bedroom. Nick followed me into mine, shut the door, and sat down on my bed.

‘That was kind of you to speak to Alex in French,' I said. ‘I'm sure he appreciated it.'

‘I was just being polite,' Nick said. ‘Though I needn't have bothered. He obviously speaks excellent English.'

‘He does. He's totally fluent.' Like I told you. Many times. When Nick made no further comment about Alex's linguistic abilities, I said, ‘Alex and I had a really good time today. He wanted to go sight-seeing, so we started out at Buckingham Palace. Then we cut through St James' Park –'

‘Rather a cold day for a stroll in a park, I'd have thought.'

‘It was freezing, but it was beautiful by the lake – the air was so clear and crisp. After we left the park, we went down to the river, and walked along the Embankment to Waterloo Bridge. Alex loved the view from the centre of the bridge as much as I do. He took some great photos.'

‘What's so wonderful about the view from Waterloo Bridge?'

‘You can see so many famous landmarks – St Paul's Cathedral, the Shard, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye … You get a real sense of history …'

Nick raised one eyebrow. ‘You sound like a tourist guide. Did you and Alex spend all day trekking round London?'

‘Pretty much. Apart from when we had a very late lunch in Covent Garden, listening to the buskers singing opera. After that, we went to Trafalgar Square.' The memory of Alex talking me into climbing on the lions, an activity he'd missed out on the first time he'd visited London, made me smile. I tried to imagine Nick sitting on a lion, and failed.

‘You must have walked miles,' Nick said.

‘It was fun. You and I should have a day out in London.'

‘I commute into central London Monday to Friday. I don't feel the need to go there on a Saturday.'

‘Oh. Well, we don't have to.' I took a sequinned dress out of my wardrobe and held it up against me. ‘Is this too formal for Natalie's party, do you think?'

‘How would I know?' Nick said. ‘She's your boss not mine.'

I gave him a long look. ‘Nick, is something wrong?'

‘You told me Alex was shorter than you.'

‘He was the last time I saw him, but naturally he's grown since then.'

Nick's face flushed. ‘I don't know that I'm entirely comfortable with your sharing your flat with him.'

‘What?' Where was this coming from, I wondered.

‘You know what I'm getting at. You and I don't spend every night together. There'll be times when you're alone here with him …'

Seriously?
‘Nick, we've been together over a year now. Are you telling me that you don't trust me?'

‘It's not that I don't trust you, not exactly, but Alex is …' Nick's voice trailed off.

‘Alex is what?'

‘He's the sort of man that girls find attractive.'

‘And you think I'm going to jump into bed with him, just because he's sleeping down the hall?'

‘When you put it like that … I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?'

‘You are, actually.'

‘There really is no need for me to worry?'

‘Absolutely not.' I stepped into my dress and turned around so that Nick could zip me up. ‘I like Alex, but I don't like him in
that
way. And you'll like him, once you get to know him. I'm sure you will.'

Looking far from enthralled at the prospect of getting to know Alex, Nick got out his phone and scrolled through his messages. I sat at my dressing table and began applying eyeliner.

My boyfriend was jealous of my friendship with another man. However ludicrous it was, there was a part of me that was just a little pleased by his outburst of possessiveness. At least it showed he cared. There had been times lately, when Nick's assumption that I would always fall in with his plans, his routines, and his ghastly mother's demands for our attendance at family gatherings had made me feel rather taken for granted.

The journey across London to Natalie and Oliver's tastefully renovated Victorian house in Fulham took over an hour on the tube. Alex and I talked non-stop the entire time. A sullen Nick, who had evidently not changed his opinion of Alex as a potential rival for my affections, barely said a word. Alex telling me how lovely I looked when he first saw me in my sequinned splendour hadn't helped. After standing the whole way, wedged between them in the unbearably hot, crowded carriage, I was very glad to come up out of the underground, even though it was a bitterly cold night.

‘The pavement's icy,' Alex said, as we started walking. ‘Are you going to be OK in those high-heels, Anna?'

‘I'll be fine,' I said.

We'd only gone a few paces when I slipped on a patch of ice, and would have fallen if Alex hadn't caught me. I righted myself, smiling my thanks. Alex offered me his arm. Without thinking, I slid my arm through his, and then, when I saw the glowering expression on Nick's face, I clutched his arm as well. The three of us resumed walking. Fortunately, Natalie and Oliver's place was only a few minutes from the station.

It was Oliver who answered the door when I knocked, welcoming me to his home with his habitual warm smile.

‘Anna. Come on in. Natalie's around somewhere …'

We all trooped into the hall. From further inside the house, I could hear music, laughter, and the clink of glasses.

‘Hi, Oliver,' I said. ‘You've met Nick, my boyfriend …'

‘At the office Christmas party,' Oliver said. ‘Hello, Nick.'

‘And this is Alexandre Tourville.'

‘Welcome – to – England – Alexandre,' Oliver said, shaking hands with Alex. He spoke with exaggerated slowness and his voice was extremely loud, almost a shout. ‘I – am – Oliver – Heywood. Natalie's – husband. Am – I – Speaking – Too – Fast – For – You?'

‘No, not at all,' Alex said. ‘It's good to meet you, Oliver. And I must thank you for including me in the invitation to your wife's birthday celebrations. Anna often writes to me about her work, and I'm very glad to have the opportunity to meet her colleagues.'

‘You speak such good English,' Oliver said, impressed. As Nova Graphic's Accounts Director, dealing with clients on a daily basis, he was necessarily a good communicator, but like so many Brits, he'd never learnt a foreign language. My ability to speak French amazed him almost as much as my talent for chasing up printers and invoices.

Natalie came into the hall, holding a glass of wine. At work, like the rest of the creative team, she usually wore jeans and a T-shirt, but tonight she was wearing a red maxi-dress with spaghetti straps which clung to her in all the right places, and looked absolutely stunning.

‘Happy birthday, Natalie,' I said.

‘Anna! Nick!' Natalie hugged me and Nick, and then turned to Alex. ‘And you must be Anna's Frenchman.'

Inwardly, I groaned. Nick wouldn't like her calling him that. I glanced at my boyfriend, but his face was expressionless.

‘
Enchanté, madame.'
Alex took hold of Natalie's hand and kissed it. His dark eyes locked on hers. ‘I am Alexandre Tourville. I wish you
un joyeux anniversaire.
'

What's with the French and the hand-kissing? I shot Alex a look, but his attention was focused on Natalie.

‘Thank you, Alexandre,' Natalie said, rather breathlessly. ‘Oliver, would you take everyone's coats upstairs? And Anna, would you mind helping yourself and Nick to drinks? And get one for Alexandre? I'd like to introduce him to some friends of mine.'

After a brief hiatus while Oliver relieved us of our outdoor wear, Natalie spirited Alex off into the living room. Nick and I found our way to the kitchen, where other guests were also helping themselves to drinks from an extensive array of wines, beer, and spirits. I introduced Nick to the people I knew, and he was soon discussing that afternoon's football results with a copy-writer, a freelance illustrator, and Natalie's father. I poured myself a glass of wine, and as there was no sign of the conversation turning from sport to a subject in which I had the slightest interest, I poured a second glass for Alex, and went and joined the party in the other room.

Natalie and Oliver's long through living room (think white walls, white voile curtains, pale wooden floor) was overflowing with people, music, and conversation. The first person I recognised was Alfie Lennox, a designer who'd been working at Nova Graphics for almost a year. For once, he didn't have earphones clamped to his head (claiming that he needed to hear music at all times to inspire his artwork, Alfie was rarely without his iPod), and he'd combed his unruly hair and had a shave. And he was wearing jeans
without
holes in the knees, together with a neatly ironed shirt.

‘Hey, Mr Lennox,' I said. ‘You're looking very dapper tonight.'

‘Yeah, well, got to make an effort for Natalie's
fortieth
,' Alfie said, with a grin. ‘You scrub up pretty well yourself, Ms Mitchel.'

‘Thank you, kind sir,' I said. ‘You haven't seen a tall, dark French guy anywhere around, have you? I was supposed to be fetching him a drink.'

‘I saw Natalie leading a tall dark man in the direction of the conservatory. I don't know if he was French.'

‘I'll try in there, then,' I said.

I edged my way through the crowd in the living room, stopping to talk to Natalie's mother, and one or two other people, and went into the conservatory at the back of the house.

There were fewer people out here, and I spotted Alex straight away. He was standing in the middle of the room, leaning casually against a table, surrounded by women. At least half a dozen of them. Apart from Natalie, I didn't know any of them. Alex was talking, and the women were hanging on his every word, smiling at him, tossing their hair, practically salivating. Not that I blamed them. He was
ridiculously
good-looking.

Natalie detached herself from the back of the group and came and stood beside me.

I said, ‘I see that you've helped Alex make some useful new contacts.'

‘Oliver isn't the only one who's good at networking,' Natalie said. ‘Not that your Frenchman needed much help from me to raise his profile.'

‘I guess his Unique Selling Point is instantly recognisable.'

‘I'm a happily married woman, but when he kissed my hand, I swear my legs turned to jelly.' Natalie fanned her face with her fingers. ‘He is
so
hot, Anna. Why didn't you tell me?'

‘I didn't know,' I said. ‘The last time I saw him, he was thirteen and a bit of a geek.'

‘But surely you've seen him in photos since then?'

I shook my head. ‘Alex photographs other people. He's not into selfies.'

‘Haven't you ever Googled him? What about Facebook?'