A Year Like No Other Page 12

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Brandon smiled back at her. She really was a beauty!

  Jazz’s heart plummeted. Typical, Murphy’s Law! Just when she’d decided to talk to Yves, he’s out sick for a week. She hoped he was okay and that it was, as Chantal said, not serious.

  “We’d better ring Sophie and check out that he’s all right,” she suggested to Brandon, hoping that he’d do it. She would have felt bad talking to Sophie right now when she was planning to meet up with her husband.

  “Yes, I’ll do that right away,” he said to a relieved Jazz. “Thank you, Chantal.” He smiled charmingly at the young girl once more.

  Chantal made no move to go but sat swinging one perfectly tanned leg backwards and forwards.

  “You like coffee?” she asked him.

  Catching the amused glint in Jazz’s eye, he turned to her and asked, “Jazz, coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” She grinned back at him.

  “Make that two coffees, please, Chantal,” he said, as she hopped down from his desk.

  “What an operator,” Jazz remarked when she’d gone. “You better watch yourself there. She has the hots for you!”

  Brandon threw his head back and laughed. “You have to admit that very few men would be able to resist that!”

  “And I take it you’re not one of them!”

  He could see she was enjoying this.

  “I didn’t say that,” he shot back, “but she is bloody gorgeous.”

  With that, the lady in question arrived back with the coffee. There were three cups on the tray. She was obviously joining them. She sat down beside Brandon and it was obvious that she was making a play for him as she flirted and fluttered her eyelashes and crossed and uncrossed her legs. She must have a diploma in ‘How to Attract Men’ Jazz thought. Having watched Chantal in action for ten minutes, she decided that it was more than a diploma she had – it was a degree – and a master’s one at that! So this was how Frenchwomen did it!

  Brandon finally told Chantal he had some work to do and she reluctantly took her leave. Jazz said nothing but sat grinning at him.

  “What could I do?” he said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly but it was obvious to Jazz that he’d enjoyed every moment of it.

  Ashling was in very good humour. Putting on her beige trousers that morning she was amazed to find that they were loose around the waist. “It’s not possible, is it?” she said aloud, barely daring to hope. Taking them off again, she hopped up on the scales. To her delight she had lost seven pounds since she’d started dieting. Holding her breath in hope, she then tried on her favourite ‘Not Your Daughter’s Jeans’. Exhilarated that they fitted her – it had been over a year since she’d been able to wear them – she was buoyant as she dropped the girls to school and set off to meet Felicity for coffee. She had booked two tickets for a walking tour of the Louvre which was due to start at nine thirty. Felicity was very excited about it. Over coffee she told Ashling all about the visit to Versailles.

  “It was wonderful, truly wonderful,” she said, her eyes glowing.

  “I’m dying to go but I think the girls are too little. It would be too much for them.”

  “Oh no, they’d love it,” she assured Ashling. “The musical fountains are enchanting and the gardens, not to mention the château, are simply stunning. I’m sure they’d love it. There are lots of restaurants so, as long as you pace yourselves, it should be no problem.”

  “Great, we’ll take them so,” Ashling replied, smiling at Felicity’s obvious excitement. She seemed like a different person to the nervous, uptight woman she’d first met.

  “Here, I brought you some brochures from the Cordon Bleu school. I’ve enrolled in a wine course and I gather the cookery school is first class.” She took the brochures out of her bag and handed them to Felicity.

  “Thank you so much. I’ll check them out later.” She smiled her gratitude at Ashling. Really, she was so silly to have thought Irish people were all boors. No one had ever been as nice or as kind to her as Ashling.

  They had a marvellous time in the Louvre and were mesmerised by the graceful Venus de Milo and also the sculpture by Canova of Psyche and Cupid. Both were breathtakingly beautiful. They were surprised that the Mona Lisa was so small. They had expected a much larger painting. And yes, they both agreed, her smile was very enigmatic. Ashling was fascinated by the painting of Napoleon’s Coronation. Pointing out his sisters to Felicity, she whispered, “That’s Pauline Bonaparte there. Canova also did a very famous sculpture of her which is in the Villa Borghese in Rome. She’s almost naked and reclining on a chaise longue.”

  “Oh, I have a copy of that at home,” Felicity said excitedly. “My sister brought it back to me from Rome. It’s very pretty.”

  “Yes, she was the great beauty of her day. I’m fascinated by everything to do with the Bonapartes. They were a fascinating family.”

  “Gosh, you’re so well informed,” Felicity said, feeling embarrassed at her own lack of knowledge.

  “Well, I read a lot and I’m a real Francophile.” Ashling smiled. “I’m fascinated with Louis XIV and his court also.”

  After the tour they went for lunch and Ashling shared the good news of her weight loss.

  “Congratulations! But don’t lose too much. I wish I could gain weight,” Felicity grimaced. “I think it’s because of my nervous energy that I stay slim.” She then shyly told Ashling about her life. Ashling felt sorry for her, thinking how differently they’d been raised. Her mother sounded like a right dragon. Poor Felicity! No wonder she was a nervous wreck. Looking on the bright side, she suspected that this year in Paris would be a godsend for her. Look how much she’d changed since they’d first met three weeks ago. She seemed a much calmer, happier woman. After their lunch, they hugged goodbye and, as Felicity made her way home, she marvelled again at how cultured and educated the Irish girl was. It just shows how stupid it is to have pre-conceived ideas of people, she thought, acknowledging that she herself was often most guilty of it.

  21

  The following morning Ashling went to the gym with a spring in her step.

  Hugh greeted her warmly. “Hey, girl, you’re sure toning up,” he remarked, flashing his lovely smile. “You’re looking good.”

  “Yeah, well, I lost seven pounds since I started here,” she said proudly.

  “Bully for you. It sure shows,” he said, admiration in his voice.

  It was true, she was more toned. She had even started running on the treadmill – on the flat, it’s true – but she was getting there. She didn’t collapse in a heap when getting off the cross-trainer any more. It would take time, she knew, but it would be worth it.

  After the gym she made her way to Les Deux Magots. Corey was there, sitting staring into space. As she sat down, he came over to her.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” he said. “When you didn’t come in yesterday, I was worried that I might have frightened you away.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she laughed, “of course not! I like to visit a different museum or place of interest once a week and yesterday I went to the Louvre with a friend. It was wonderful,” she told him.

  She saw the relief that flooded his face.

  “And,” she continued, “thanks to you, I’ve decided to try writing a novel. I’m going to start today, as soon as I catch up on my diary.”

  “What kind of novel? What genre?”

  “Well, as I’m in France and I love historical novels I thought I’d set it in the time of Louis XIV. I always found him a fascinating character and I’ve read a lot about him and his lovers. What do you think?” She looked at Corey hopefully.

  “Very wise. They say you should write the type of book you like reading and also of course you should write about what you know. Looks like you’ve got it in one.” He smiled encouragingly at her and she felt relieved. “Will you join me later for lunch and let me know how it goes?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “See you in a coup
le of hours then.”

  The time flew by and she couldn’t believe the time when Corey came to her table. “Well, how’s my fledgling novelist? How did it go?” he asked.

  “It’s amazing. I started on it and the words and ideas just seemed to come. I’m really enjoying it.”

  “To a future bestseller!” he toasted her. “I have every confidence in you.”

  He really was very sweet and so encouraging, she thought, as she walked to collect the girls from school. For some reason she hadn’t mentioned him to Kieran. She didn’t know why. It was nice having a secret friend.

  Felicity was more than proud of herself. The day after their visit to the Louvre, she’d taken her courage in her hands – which she admitted was unheard of for her – and braved the cookery school that Ashling had recommended. To her delight, they were starting a cordon bleu course in two weeks’ time and it was in English. She’d been so impressed with them and they’d been so nice to her, that she’d signed up on the spot. She knew that Maxwell wouldn’t mind the exorbitant price that they were charging. He would be happy that she’d found something that she really wanted to do and of course it would mean that he’d feel less guilty about leaving her alone in a strange city every day. She couldn’t wait to tell Taylor and Ashling what she’d done, not to mention Maxwell. Wouldn’t he be surprised!

  Surprised was an understatement. Max was gobsmacked. He didn’t recognise this confident woman (well, not confident exactly, but certainly not the nervous, diffident woman of old) and he was truly proud of her.

  “Splendid!” he said. “This will be marvellous for you.” Heaving a sigh of relief, he mentally thanked Ashling. What a great girl! He knew it was she who had boosted Felicity’s confidence.

  Jazz was amused by the antics of Chantal. It was obvious that she wanted to get something going with Brandon. Every morning, first thing, she arrived bearing three cups of coffee and croissants or pretty little pastries. She obviously knew the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach as she watched Brandon devour the delicacies with gusto. Mind you, she was obviously appealing to his eyes too and each day she wore an ever shorter skirt with a different pair of glorious heels and sat swinging her gorgeous legs under Brandon’s nose. She had taken to wearing her long hair down and it would fall forward, silkily brushing his face, as she placed his coffee before him. The scent of Chanel No. 5 would assail him and Jazz knew that it was only a question of time before he succumbed to her charms. She had to admire the girl. She was a pro when it came to seducing men.

  “I could sure use some of her techniques,” Jazz remarked to Brandon ruefully, after Chantal had left the office.

  “You don’t need them,” he declared gallantly. “She’s very attractive but you’re a true beauty – and you also have a terrific brain, while I’m not too sure about Chantal’s!”

  This did not make Jazz feel any better and she wondered why Yves had chosen Chantal over all the other secretaries. Obviously, he was more into looks than brains. Suddenly, she felt very jealous of the young blonde girl.

  Despite what he’d said to Jazz, Brandon was not immune to Chantal’s charms. It had been quite a while since he’d had a woman and this girl was certainly easy on the eye. One afternoon, when Jazz was out of the office, she came in and blatantly asked him to meet her one evening.

  “Chantal, I’m a married man.”

  She laughed a tinkling laugh. “I am married too. I don’t want you for to marry. No, I like for you to make love with me.” She laughed again and then reached forward and kissed him on the lips, her little tongue probing his mouth. God, she was offering it to him on a plate. She would arouse a saint, he thought to himself, and I’m no saint!

  He watched her, hips swaying and hair swinging as she left his office. At the door, she turned and winked at him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in and the thought excited him.

  Ashling knew that Kieran was making a conscious effort to be home earlier each evening but he was still arriving home just as the girls were going to bed so he got to see very little of them. His birthday was the following Saturday and she had arranged a surprise dinner party for him. Sophie had assured her that Yves would be well enough to come and Jazz had asked Hugh to accompany her so she wouldn’t feel like an oddity amongst all the couples. Ashling would have preferred not to have had Taylor there but unfortunately she had no choice but to invite her. She warned everyone not to say a word to Kieran. Max had promised her that he would take Kieran to golf on Saturday so that he wouldn’t twig about his surprise party. It should be a great night.

  Thursday had been a long tough day at work.

  “I could murder a beer,” Brandon said to Kieran. “You coming?”

  “I promised Ash I’d get home early – but maybe one quick one,” he said, seeing the disappointed look on Brandon’s face.

  The bar was crowded and as Brandon came in he spotted Chantal across the other side of the bar with two girlfriends. She waved and raised her glass to him in a salute.

  “I’d like to buy a drink for those three girls over there,” he said to the barman, pointing to Chantal.

  “Isn’t that Yves’s secretary?” Kieran asked.

  “Yes. She’s been very kind bringing us coffee every morning,” Brandon replied, fiddling with his key ring.

  “Ah-ha!” Kieran grinned. “Something’s up here. She doesn’t bring Max and me coffee every morning.”

  “Maybe you don’t have my charm,” Brandon laughed as the barman brought their drinks.

  Kieran finished his beer before Brandon was even halfway through his.

  “Sorry about this but you know how it is. I’ll be in the doghouse if I don’t get home pronto.” He looked sheepish as he left.

  Brandon understood. Unfortunately, he had no incentive to go home. There would be no wife waiting for him with a nice meal and a loving word. No, no need to rush home. He was ordering a second beer when Chantal came over and stood before him.

  “Thank you for the drink. You are alone, oui?” she asked. “The Irishman – ’e is gone?”

  Brandon nodded yes. “Can I get you another drink? How about your friends?”

  “They leave also,” she smiled sexily at him.

  She sat down close to him and the scent of her excited him. Her skirt had rolled up over her thighs and he caught a glimpse of a lace stocking-top. As she leaned close to him, her top fell open, revealing the top of her soft rounded breasts.

  “I want very much to make love wiz you,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “You come with me now?”

  Brandon didn’t stand a chance. He wanted her just as badly. She was much younger than he but it didn’t seem to bother her. He realised it had been far too long since he’d had a woman. Silently, he followed her out of the bar, drinks forgotten.

  She took him to her small apartment which was nearby.

  “What about your husband?” he asked, terrified that he might walk in on them. She pealed with laughter. “My ’usband is at our ’ouse in Normandy – ’e work to make cheese with ’is family but I stay ’ere, in the week, because of my work.”

  Looking around, Brandon saw that it was just a one-room studio. He wondered if she’d taken other men there before him. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was here now. He wouldn’t think of Taylor. She wasn’t interested in him anyway. He wasn’t used to this straightforward approach by a woman but he wasn’t complaining. When in Paris . . . he told himself. In New York, the women he’d bedded had wanted to be wined and dined first and then seduced. Obviously, Frenchwomen had no need for such pretence.

  Chantal slowly undressed him and then herself. She was wearing a delicious white lace basque, stockings and a tiny thong. He could see her beautiful body through the lace and suddenly he couldn’t wait to take her. She made him wait as she peeled it off, piece by piece. He could barely restrain himself. Her body was magnificent as she slowly climbed on top of him and brought him to ecstasy. He had neve
r experienced sex like it. Her expertise was incredible.

  She then lay back and showed him what she wanted and her obvious enjoyment aroused him once more. This time they climaxed together and it was pure pleasure. Sated, they lay panting and she smiled at him.

  “I guess you beaucoup sexy man. Always, I can tell. You make Chantal very happy. We do this again, oui?”

  “Yes, please,” he said, barely able to believe what was happening. It was as if all his birthdays had come together.

  Jazz knew, the moment Chantal entered the office on Friday morning that something had happened between her and Brandon. There was an intimacy and sexual vibe in the air that hadn’t been there before. When Chantal left, she looked over at Brandon and he winked back at her. So, the male has pounced, Jazz thought, smiling to herself. Well, perhaps not. More like the female has devoured. Poor Brandon, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with Chantal’s wiles. It would be interesting to watch.

  22

  Kieran was a little put out that Ashling had forgotten his birthday. He’d thought they might do something special together, as a family, but when Max rang to ask him to play golf, she told him to go ahead as she was meeting Jazz for lunch.

  “Well, I like that,” he muttered, feeling neglected. She hadn’t even remembered it was his birthday.

  In fact, Ashling had been in a tizzy for two days trying to keep the party a secret.

  When he arrived back from golf on Saturday evening, Max surprised him by asking if he could come in for a drink.

  “Yeah, sure,” Kieran said, looking at him strangely. This was out of character. Max normally wanted to get back to Felicity as soon as possible. In fact, now that he thought about it, Max had delayed more than usual after the golf.

  Entering his house, he was surprised at the silence. Normally he would hear the TV or Ashling talking on the phone or the girls playing. Not tonight. With Max in tow he opened the living-room door and couldn’t believe his eyes. All his colleagues were there and they all erupted into a mixed version of “Happy Birthday” and “Bon Anniversaire”. He was bowled over.