Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)(21)

Then, one fine afternoon, we ventured into a quiet corner of the town, where I at last found the bottle.

I’ll confess—I squealed when I saw it.

Was it everything I hoped it would be?

It was everything and more.

It smells like honey and citrus, and even now, a few weeks later, I can still inhale the fine spray of salty waves and I can see a peach-mauve sunset on a beach where I lie on a hammock, peeling a tangerine, having no cares in the world.

But, I said it’s everything and more for a particular reason.

It became more for me.

Tangerine Wild became the scent of something I’ll always remember, when we wandered across the soft, sugary sand as the sun dipped in the sky, and he dropped to one knee.

It’s the scent of saying yes.



Yours in noses, A Scentsual Woman





13





Elise





Present day



Sometimes, I miss New York City. The relentless pace fueled me. I learned how to jostle my way onto a subway, how to position myself on the platform to catch the right car at the right time. I could hail a cab and have it sliding to the curb, door opened for me, in five seconds flat. Hell, I could hail a taxi in the rain and barely get splashed on by the sky.

Sometimes, I miss the forty-yard-dash pace of the city where I was raised. The rat-a-tat-tat, go-go-go rhythm of the fastest place in the world, where we did everything in double time, especially lunch.

In Manhattan, we order, eat, and sign a deal before dessert arrives.

Not so in Paris with Dominic. He orders dessert, and we have yet to touch on the reason for this meeting as we close in on the two-hour mark for a meal.

It’s a typical lunch in the City of Lights, where the world slows to a meandering pace at most eateries, including at this restaurant a block off the famed rue de Rivoli. White linen tablecloths hang crisply from tables, and antique gilded mirrors line the walls. Dominic chose it when I invited him out to lunch to discuss a business proposal. Since I’m in need of his services, I agreed to his haute cuisine. He’s one of the most talented industry analysts I’ve ever worked with, and the highest paid too. I still lament letting him go last year when I had to tighten the belt.

“Would you like dessert?” the waiter asks.

I shake my head. “No, thank you. Just a coffee.”

After the waiter leaves, Dominic leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Okay, I am ready to talk shop.”

I smile. “So glad to hear.”

When we arrived, he said, “Let’s eat, let’s catch up, and let’s discuss business only over dessert. I’m dying to know how you are.”

“Tell me all about your proposal.” He runs a hand over his mostly smooth skull. His bald patch has broadened in the last year, and his goatee has grown as well—his hairline is heading in opposite directions.

“I’m quite excited about this one. I think it’ll be a great chance to make deeper inroads into a new sector, and I’m keen on the possibility of working with you again.”

“You’re lucky I wanted to listen. After you let me go unceremoniously,” he says, huffing dramatically, as if it’s a joke, but I wonder if there’s a kernel of truth to it.

I smile softly, placing my hands together as if in prayer. “I know. Have you forgiven me?”

“We shall see.” He winks, and I know he’s hurt, but it seems he’s not going to nurse it forever.

“Look, you know the reason I had to let you go is I lost some accounts to the Thompson Group. I felt terrible about it at the time, but it was the only thing I could do. The good news is I hope to rectify that now with a great new opportunity.”

He stretches an arm across the table and pats my hand. “Yes, I know it was hard for you. I read your blog.”

I jerk my hand away. I don’t use my real name on my blog. I never have. “What?”

“Your perfume blog.” His tone is matter-of-fact. “I figured out A Scentsual Woman was you when you axed me. I put two and two together from the things you’d said in meetings about perfume, and then I googled blogs and pored over some, and it sounded like you. All that stuff about that man. It fit you to a T.”

My skin crawls, a creepy sensation as if someone’s been watching me.

Someone has.

I suppose that’s my fault for wearing my heart on my online sleeve, even though it was an anonymous sleeve and I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Since I learned the truth about Eduardo, I’ve scoured my blog and removed any story that chronicled my romance with him, though he was never named either.

But the fact that Dominic hunted around for me, maybe even hoped to find dirt on me, makes me uneasy. It sends a drumbeat of worry in my brain.

Cancel. I should abort this plan before it gets any worse.

But he’s talented. He’s saved me so many times over the years . . .

I ignore the flush of heat on my cheeks, the stain of embarrassment, and soldier on. “Be that as it may, I’m getting ready to pitch some new business, and I need a great analyst. I would love for you to come back on a project-by-project basis. I can pay you well.”

“Go on.”

I tell Dominic about a resort I’m prepping to pitch, giving him basic details without revealing the potential client’s name.