one of them for him. She always stayed in the same suite on the Cambon side of the hotel. There were no rooms left overlooking the Place Vendôme, and she suspected he would have liked one of them, but she had to take what she could get, and had on his behalf.
“Thanks a million, Fiona, that'll be great.” He made a note to have his secretary call the hotel, give them his credit card details, and arrange to have a car pick him up at Charles de Gaulle. He was thrilled to know it was less than a week away. And Fiona was equally so as she drove to East Hampton late that afternoon. She was mildly sorry she had decided not to see him before she left. It might have been easier than seeing him again in Paris, for the first time since her dinner party. It felt a little weird that they hadn't had a date yet, and he was meeting her in Paris, but they would have plenty to keep them occupied. And Adrian would be there. She could send them off together, if Adrian was free and she had to work. But she was going to try and spend as much free time with John as she could. It was a great way to get to know each other, and a great place to do it.
She nearly had an accident thinking about him, in the heavy traffic on the Sunrise Highway, and she didn't get to East Hampton till that night. The traffic had been horrendous, and she was happy to see her friends. It was an easy, relaxed weekend with one of the senior editors of the magazine, her husband, and her kids. And when Fiona got home on Sunday night, John called.
“How's my rival?”
“Who would that be?” She sounded happy and relaxed after her weekend on the beach. And she was feeling more comfortable about him, particularly since she hadn't seen him all weekend.
“Sir Winston, of course. Did you take him to East Hampton?”
“He hates the beach. It's too hot for him, and he can't swim. He spent the weekend with Jamal. He just brought him home. He's always mad at me when I go away. He's going to summer camp next week.” In this case, it was truly a dog's life, one any man would have envied him, and John nearly did. He particularly liked the thought of lying around, sleeping on her bed, minus the snores.
“He's a lucky guy,” John said cryptically, and they discussed last details of the trip to Paris, and what sort of clothes he should bring. She told him then that nothing planned was black tie, but he needed a couple of dark suits. The Dior party was usually dressy. And there might be one given by Givenchy. Chic always gave a cocktail party, as did most of the big designers. Valentino, Versace, Gaultier, and Chanel always gave one in Coco Chanel's apartment on the rue Cambon.
They weren't going to lack for entertainment and social life. And the party Chic gave at the Ritz was always fun. Adrian was in charge of organizing it and inviting the guests. He always invited every movie star, singer, designer, celebrity socialite, and royal he could lay his hands on. People begged to come.
She made a mental note the next day to tell Adrian to include John in the party Chic gave. John sounded genuinely excited about the trip. And in spite of her occasional conflict and concern about him, she still found John hard to resist, and she was just as excited as he. It was going to be fun to have someone to share Paris with. Someone other than Adrian and her other editors. It was going to be nice to be with a man again, for whatever reason, whatever purpose, friendship or other, for however long. And as she hurried off to a meeting thinking about it, she decided in a moment of bravado to give it a fair chance with John and throw caution to the winds. Who could tell, he might just be worth it. And what would life be without excitement and romance?
Chapter 4
The night flight to Charles de Gaulle from JFK was always too brief. Fiona did some work, ate dinner, settled back in the reclining seat under the comforter Air France provided in first class, slept for a few hours— and then hit the
“Thanks a million, Fiona, that'll be great.” He made a note to have his secretary call the hotel, give them his credit card details, and arrange to have a car pick him up at Charles de Gaulle. He was thrilled to know it was less than a week away. And Fiona was equally so as she drove to East Hampton late that afternoon. She was mildly sorry she had decided not to see him before she left. It might have been easier than seeing him again in Paris, for the first time since her dinner party. It felt a little weird that they hadn't had a date yet, and he was meeting her in Paris, but they would have plenty to keep them occupied. And Adrian would be there. She could send them off together, if Adrian was free and she had to work. But she was going to try and spend as much free time with John as she could. It was a great way to get to know each other, and a great place to do it.
She nearly had an accident thinking about him, in the heavy traffic on the Sunrise Highway, and she didn't get to East Hampton till that night. The traffic had been horrendous, and she was happy to see her friends. It was an easy, relaxed weekend with one of the senior editors of the magazine, her husband, and her kids. And when Fiona got home on Sunday night, John called.
“How's my rival?”
“Who would that be?” She sounded happy and relaxed after her weekend on the beach. And she was feeling more comfortable about him, particularly since she hadn't seen him all weekend.
“Sir Winston, of course. Did you take him to East Hampton?”
“He hates the beach. It's too hot for him, and he can't swim. He spent the weekend with Jamal. He just brought him home. He's always mad at me when I go away. He's going to summer camp next week.” In this case, it was truly a dog's life, one any man would have envied him, and John nearly did. He particularly liked the thought of lying around, sleeping on her bed, minus the snores.
“He's a lucky guy,” John said cryptically, and they discussed last details of the trip to Paris, and what sort of clothes he should bring. She told him then that nothing planned was black tie, but he needed a couple of dark suits. The Dior party was usually dressy. And there might be one given by Givenchy. Chic always gave a cocktail party, as did most of the big designers. Valentino, Versace, Gaultier, and Chanel always gave one in Coco Chanel's apartment on the rue Cambon.
They weren't going to lack for entertainment and social life. And the party Chic gave at the Ritz was always fun. Adrian was in charge of organizing it and inviting the guests. He always invited every movie star, singer, designer, celebrity socialite, and royal he could lay his hands on. People begged to come.
She made a mental note the next day to tell Adrian to include John in the party Chic gave. John sounded genuinely excited about the trip. And in spite of her occasional conflict and concern about him, she still found John hard to resist, and she was just as excited as he. It was going to be fun to have someone to share Paris with. Someone other than Adrian and her other editors. It was going to be nice to be with a man again, for whatever reason, whatever purpose, friendship or other, for however long. And as she hurried off to a meeting thinking about it, she decided in a moment of bravado to give it a fair chance with John and throw caution to the winds. Who could tell, he might just be worth it. And what would life be without excitement and romance?
Chapter 4
The night flight to Charles de Gaulle from JFK was always too brief. Fiona did some work, ate dinner, settled back in the reclining seat under the comforter Air France provided in first class, slept for a few hours— and then hit the
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