“You’re in my chair,” I said bluntly, pointing to the seat he had made himself comfortable in.
“Oh,” Gabriel said. He smiled at me for a moment and then stood up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t see anywhere else to sit.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be staying that long,” I said.
“What Emma is trying to say,” Poppy interrupted smoothly, stepping in front of me, “is that we would be pleased to help you with whatever you need so that you can be on your way.”
She elbowed me in the ribs, and I shrugged. Gabriel, with all his dark-haired, green-eyed good looks, was starting to make me uncomfortable.
“Ah, I see,” Gabriel said. He glanced at Poppy then returned his gaze to me, where it lingered a moment longer than it had to. “Well, ladies, I was just stopping in as a favor, actually.”
“A favor?” Poppy and I said in unison. We stared at him incredulously.
He looked a bit taken aback by our reaction. “Hey, I can’t be a nice guy?” he asked.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Poppy muttered.
Gabriel looked wounded. “Now that’s not fair, Poppy,” he said. “I’m just doing my job.”
“And we’re just doing ours,” I said.
Gabriel glanced at me and nodded. “I know,” he said. He hesitated a moment and then locked eyes with me. “That’s why I thought you’d appreciate knowing that Guillaume has a big night planned Sunday at Buddha Bar. You may want to, er, keep an eye on him. He always gets himself into trouble there.”
“He’s never gotten into trouble there,” Poppy corrected quickly.
“Ah, so the fire in the men’s room there last month?” Gabriel asked.
“Not his fault,” Poppy said, too quickly.
“And the sexual harassment charges from the waitress?”
“A mistake, obviously.”
“Hmm,” Gabriel said. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. How about the drug dealer who was arrested there and told the police he’d sold to Guillaume just the night before?”
“He doesn’t do drugs,” Poppy said, her voice tight. Oddly, Gabriel still looked amused.
“How is it,” I interrupted, “that you somehow know that Guillaume is going to Buddha Bar Sunday night?”
“I have my sources,” Gabriel said, fixing me with an even stare.
I cleared my throat. “And you’re just here out of the goodness of your heart?”
He laughed. “Not entirely,” he said. “I was sort of hoping that you two might remember this next time around. And that you might consider being a bit more honest with me in the future.”
“That’s it?” Poppy asked.
“Well, that and an exclusive first listen to his album,” he said. I could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant. “So that the UPP gets first dibs on reviewing it.”
Poppy shook her head. “You’re a real piece of work, Gabriel,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”
“To be honest,” Poppy said, “I don’t actually believe that you have a source that says Guillaume will be at Buddha Bar. I think you’re making it up.”
Gabriel looked a little troubled. “Okay,” he said. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He glanced at Poppy and then turned his attention back to me.
“Emma,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Officially, anyhow.”
He extended his hand. I reluctantly slipped my hand into his, noticing immediately how warm and big it was. I expected a handshake, but instead, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Ladies,” he said, nodding at us as he lowered my hand slowly. He hadn’t broken eye contact, and I was startled to feel my heart beating more rapidly. My hand still tingled where he had kissed it. “I’m sure I will be seeing you again soon. Au revoir.”
With that, he backed out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Jerk,” Poppy muttered once the door was shut.
“Yeah,” I said, absently holding my hand up to examine the spot where it had just been kissed. “What a jerk.”
Poppy took me to dinner after work that night to celebrate the fact that I had saved her from getting fired the night before—at least temporarily. After first courses of escargots and green salads with a Dijon dressing, I had coq au vin and noodles while Poppy had a steaming bowl of cassoulet—a French stew of beans, sausages, chicken, duck, and tomatoes. We split a bottle of house red and shared a crème br?lée for dessert.
“That’s the best chicken I’ve ever had,” I said in awe, patting my full stomach as we left.
Poppy grinned at me. “This isn’t even a particularly good restaurant,” she said. “I suspect you’re going to like France very much, dear Emma.”
I was tired after dinner, but Poppy insisted that we go out again.
“You’re never really going to get over Brett, are you, if we sit around the flat moping?” she asked, linking her arm through mine and pulling me along the street. “Besides, it’s a Friday night! The perfect night to go meet guys!”