The Paris Connection (3 page)

“Emma.”

Her attention jerked back to Julien.

“Do we have an understanding?”

She swallowed. “Of course, Julien,” she replied. “I’ll support the merger in any way I can.”

Julien relaxed. “
Merci.
Now, I would like you to show Cole to his new office as well as give him a tour of the building.”

“Certainly,” she managed to choke out. Julien turned to go.

“Julien.” She called him back. “I’m sorry.”

“It is forgiven. But do not do anything that will make you have to utter those words again.”

CHAPTER TWO

E
MMA
SPENT
THE
rest of the morning showing Cole around the Aquitaine offices. By unspoken agreement, they said as little as possible to one another outside of topics related to work. The questions he asked were good ones—about the day-to-day operations, their strongest recruiters, their largest clients and competitive markets. Despite her dislike of him, she had to admit that Cole Dorset seemed well versed in the area of executive recruiting. She supposed she could see why Lillian Reid had called him her “best and brightest,” but she still harbored serious reservations on whether Cole could do the job as effectively as she would have.

During the latter part of the morning, Cole asked for a few minutes with each of the top-level recruiters, so Emma began the rounds of the senior offices with him. Before they approached each one, she gave him a brief summary of that particular recruiter’s special skills, fields of expertise and any personal interests.

Once again, she was forced to grudgingly admit how Cole used her words to his benefit. He was a sponge when it came to the information she fed him, retaining facts and using them to establish camaraderie with his team.

At Marc Benoit’s door, he commented on the skiing hobby Emma had mentioned before they entered the room and then spent nearly twenty minutes listening to Marc enthusiastically describe his winter vacation to the Swiss Alps.

He greeted Aurora Fontenot with a grin and handshake, noting the framed canvas hanging on her wall and acting shocked when she blushingly confessed she had painted it herself.

Standing outside Louis Terrell’s office, he congratulated the senior recruiter on his placement record and remembered all three names of the man’s children along with his wife’s charity efforts.

She hesitated on the threshold at Giselle Bisset’s office. Giselle was her friend, but the woman was an unbelievable flirt. She wasn’t sure how to warn Cole about Giselle’s never-ending quest for dates. She opted instead to share Giselle’s passion for French fashion and her specialty of media relations, and was duly impressed when Cole easily deflected Giselle’s attempts at flirtation by repeatedly steering the conversation back to her niche.

Though she was loath to admit it, Cole’s people skills were undeniable, and Emma could see why Lillian Reid must have found him valuable, both as a recruiter and now as a leader. Seeing his talents up close, however, only served to remind her of what she had lost—the promotion and the opportunity to be standing in Cole’s place at this very moment. Fortunately, after a morning filled with introductions and a catered lunch for the whole floor, he’d asked to spend the afternoon alone in his office to review some files pertaining to the merger. She suspected he also had to update Lillian Reid on how things were progressing, but she was more than happy to leave him to it. She spent the rest of the day in her own office, catching up on her work. When the day was over, she wanted nothing more than to erase her memories of the past twelve hours, eat some dinner, take a hot bath and curl up on the couch with Avery for the evening.

She arrived home to her apartment and hung her bag on the coatrack as she announced her presence. “I’m home!”

Entering the living area, she sighed at the sight of toys scattered across the floor and cushions pulled off the couch. A makeshift fort of pillows and blankets—and was that her favorite shawl?—blocked her entrance to the hallway. She tore down the obstruction and continued toward the bedrooms, calling for her daughter and Melanie, the au pair who had come to live with them two months before.

Though Emma had chosen to remain in France after her divorce from Brice, she didn’t want Avery to forget the American side of her heritage. The au pair system was the perfect way to balance Avery’s cultural experiences. After all, it was how Emma herself had first come to Paris and fallen in love, by signing up as an au pair straight out of college. She had merely been young and looking to see some of the world before settling into a career, but her time in the city had stolen her heart, as had Brice, and by her twenty-third birthday, she had found herself married and living as an expat in this country.

Emma wanted her daughter to be bilingual, so she insisted Avery speak only English when at home. Having an American nanny only reinforced this. Plus, Emma got to share her enthusiasm for her adopted city with a new au pair each year. The au pair system set a maximum amount of hours caregivers could work each week, leaving them free to explore the city and make friends in their free time. During the summer, Melanie watched over Avery through the day, and Emma got to spend time with her daughter in the evening and on weekends. Once nursery school started in another couple of weeks, Melanie’s duties would shift to getting Avery ready for school and then watching her in the afternoons until Emma got home from work; the au pair would also watch Avery all day on Wednesdays, since schools had off that day in France. Melanie would still have most evenings and weekends free to spend the time as she wished.

“Avery? Melanie?” Emma called as she picked a pillow up off the floor.

“We’re in here!” Melanie called from down the hall.

Emma entered her daughter’s bedroom to more chaos—scarves looped around the bedposts, their ends trailing down to the mattress, where the sheets had been stripped from the bed and a picnic blanket spread out instead, along with Avery’s tea party set.

To her credit, Melanie looked up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the mess. Avery said she’d never made a pillow fort before.”

Emma waved this apology away. Avery was five years old and extremely well-mannered—at times, frighteningly so—but children were children, and playtime should be a happy mix of wonder and chaos.

“We’ll get it cleaned up before dinner,” Emma said. “Now...where is my daughter?”

A tiny, dark head could be glimpsed from the other side of the bed.

“Have you given her to
Madame
Bernadette in the apartment downstairs?” Emma asked Melanie with a wink. “
Madame
likes her, but Avery talks so much, Bernadette may not want her and might try to give her back.”

A muffled giggle could be heard across the room, and Melanie grinned at Emma’s acting.

She sighed dramatically. “Well, I hope Bernadette is nice to her. It is a shame you gave her away because I was going to make cheese omelets for dinner, and they’re her favorite.”

The tiny figure suddenly popped up from the side of the bed, her hair fluttering in strands across her face and her lips wide in a smile. “Melanie wouldn’t do that,
Maman!
”

“Ah.” Emma raised a finger, and Avery quickly corrected herself.

“I meant, Mom.”

Emma moved toward her daughter as Avery came around the bed and waited for her greeting. Emma leaned down, brushed her nose against her daughter’s and then kissed the top of her head—their standard homecoming exchange.

“Did you two have a good day?”

Avery nodded, but Emma looked to Melanie for confirmation.

“We did,” Melanie agreed. “Except that Avery insisted we have a tea party before cleaning up our fort in the living area.”

“Well, she’ll have to clean it up before dinner.”

Avery looked up at her with pleading eyes, but Emma shook her head. “You should be full of tea and cakes, so surely you can’t be hungry,” she teased.

Avery smiled and swayed back and forth. “They weren’t
real
tea and cakes,” she reminded. “It was make-believe.”

Emma tapped her nose affectionately. “Oh, okay. In that case, I’ll begin the omelets right away while you put away your toys.” She turned to Melanie. “You’re joining us for dinner, right?”

Melanie shook her head. “I’m meeting some other au pairs, if that’s all right. We’re taking the train to the Loire Valley next weekend, and we’re working on our itinerary.”

“Of course. You’ll love the Loire Valley. It’s beautiful.”

The two chatted about Melanie’s upcoming trip as Emma began to make dinner. Then Melanie helped Avery finish cleaning up the living room before she went to her room to get ready for her evening out. She let Avery watch her apply her makeup as Emma finished up dinner.

Emma was just plating the omelets when the phone rang. Setting aside the skillet, she went to answer.

“Hello,” she greeted the caller. “This is Emma speaking.”

“Allô,”
came the reply, and Emma felt herself tense as the familiar voice of her ex-husband sounded over the line.

“Brice,” she said, making an effort to keep her tone reasonably pleasant.

“How are you?”

“I just finished making dinner for Avery. Would you like to speak with her?” She knew the answer before she even asked, but she was forever hoping Brice would take more notice of his daughter.

“Ah, yes, well, that’s what I’m calling about,
chérie.
”

She gritted her teeth against his persistent use of the endearment. They had been divorced for five years, and he still, out of either habit or more likely to irritate her, insisted on tossing the word into every other sentence.

“I am not your
amour,
” she reminded him for the countless time and wished he would get on with it.

He ignored her tone and forged ahead. “Yes, well, I just wanted to say that I will be unable to spend next weekend with Avery as I said I would. Other plans have come up.”

Emma leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Brice had begun seeing someone new in recent months—Christine—and it seemed his time with her always superseded any plans with his daughter.

“And what if I should need to reach you?”

He chuckled, the tone faintly bitter. “Why should you need to reach me, hmm? We never speak unless it concerns our daughter.”

“And even then, the conversations are rare.”

She could tell her goading had annoyed him because his voice was clipped when he replied.

“You were the one who wanted to have the child, Emma. I told you we were too busy for such commitments.”

The words pierced far more deeply than she would have admitted. “I don’t regret my choice,” she murmured in reply. “Avery is a greater blessing than I might have imagined.”

“Oui,”
Brice sneered, his disdain leaking through the phone line. “And it’s why you chose her over me.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged with weariness. “It was never a competition, Brice. I could have loved you both.”

“But you didn’t.”

His resentment was clear, and she didn’t have the energy nor the desire to argue with him. Brice had chosen to believe her love for him should outweigh her love for their child. He wanted to be the center of her attention. She had fought with him to keep the baby once she learned of her pregnancy, but after Avery was born, things changed. Her entire world had homed in on that single, delicate life she held in her arms. Brice had seen motherhood dawn upon her...and he had never forgiven her for it.

“Very well. I will tell her you send your love.”

“If you wish.”

In truth, she had not even said anything to Avery about spending a weekend with her father. She had long ago learned not to get her daughter’s hopes up where Brice was concerned.

She had been about to ask if Brice wished to reschedule when she realized his end of the line had gone dead. Releasing a sigh, she returned the phone to its cradle and went to tell Avery it was time for dinner.

* * *

C
OLE
D
ORSET
SAT
across from Julien Arnaud and watched in awe as the man attacked his dinner with a Frenchman’s gusto. Steamed mussels dredged in a butter, garlic and lemon sauce; sautéed sweetbreads with a spicy tomato ragout; a salad of crisp apples, fennel and walnuts; and
pommes frites.

Cole found dinner with Julien as much entertainment as sustenance. After several moments of being watched, the other man finally seemed to realize he was an object of attention. He raised his head and dabbed at a drop of butter on his chin.

“Is something the matter with your meal?” He gestured toward Cole’s partially eaten entrée of stuffed ravioli with broad beans and white asparagus. It was the only vegetarian dish on the restaurant’s menu.

“Not at all. It’s delicious.” And it was, but Cole found his appetite lacking after his first day at the Aquitaine offices. He was tired and a tad homesick, as well, but he would not admit it to Julien.

“Are you sure you would not prefer the foie gras? As I said, it is excellent here.”

Cole shook his head. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Julien only shook his head and smiled. “You cannot live in Paris and not eat meat.”

Cole didn’t argue with the man. Truthfully, he didn’t have anything against meat. It was only that years ago, when he had first been interviewing for a job with Reid Recruiting, he had somehow inadvertently claimed to be a vegetarian. The statement had impressed Lillian Reid, and so he had stuck with the deception all these years. He had never even revealed the lie to his longtime girlfriend, Ophelia, since she was Lillian’s daughter. But occasionally, when he thought he could get away with it, he would find a restaurant where he was sure not to run into anyone he knew and order the thickest, juiciest steak he could find. But meat was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“Perhaps I ate too much earlier. Emma was very thorough in making sure I sampled as much of the food as possible at today’s luncheon.”

“Ah. Or perhaps she took away your appetite, mmm?” The question was rhetorical, of course, but Cole jumped on the opportunity to discuss the woman further.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much.”

Julien waved this statement away with a twirl of his fork. “
Non.
Emma is only wary of you as she is of most men since her divorce. Not to mention that your job was meant to be hers before the merger went through...and Lillian demanded otherwise.”

Cole felt a stab of curiosity. “Emma was supposed to have the CEO position?” No wonder she was a little touchy where he was concerned. Lillian hadn’t told him she was slated for his promotion. “Is she still your preferred choice for the job?”