The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [30]
The muscles tightened in his freshly shaved jaw. His steel eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you here.”
“Really?” Claire pulled the flaps of the thick coat collar away from her face and fluffed her hair. “Perhaps you aren’t in charge of the guest list.” She rapped on the carved wood with gloved knuckles.
Grey slipped past her and opened the door.
She threw a smile back at him as she entered past him into light and music. “I’m sure your parties are a real scream though.”
He slipped off his coat and held his hand out for hers. Claire shrugged her coat into his arms and inspected him as he turned away. His tailored suit revealed broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist as he hung the coats in a concealed closet.
They walked side by side to the salon’s doorway then paused and looked at each other. She wasn’t about to enter the party with this bastard. He stood back from her, the hint of a smile on his lips. Apparently, neither was he.
“After you.” Grey tilted his head toward the doorway.
Claire peeled back her lips into her coldest smile. “Merci.” She entered.
The salon shimmered in candlelight. Men in tailored suits and women in soft dresses, the strains of forbidden jazz on the record player. A long marble-topped table reflected glints of flickering candles between the black-market bread, cheese and wine. Paintings in gold-leaf frames glowed like scattered embers in the light. Laurent’s photos, framed in black, leaned discreetly against the wall.
It amazed Claire to think this place had almost been home. For a while anyway. She could almost imagine what it would have been like if she’d stayed. If she had helped throw tonight’s fête. She felt a stab of sadness that she and Laurent weren’t a beautiful couple, ensconced in a beautiful life.
No one seemed to notice her. Claire found an empty space next to the fireplace. She extended her cold hands toward the flames as Grey headed to a couple across the room. He kissed the woman on the cheek and greeted the man with the first smile Claire had seen on him. In spite of herself, she noticed how the grin sparked Grey’s eyes and warmed his face in a way some might call handsome.
The man was short, stocky, with a burst of dark hair on the top of his head. He wore heavy trousers, faded tie, stiff collar and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms. The woman was in her early forties, in a worn but impeccable brown tweed suit. After a moment of talk, the woman squeezed Grey’s hand, left the men and approached Claire.
Claire’s mouth dried up. What did Grey tell them about her? She took a deep breath and smoothed the wool over her hips. Poise, restraint, grace, she told herself. She pulled back her shoulders and arranged a smile as the woman faced her.
“Good evening, Madame Harris. I am Odette Berri. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” The woman extended a firm hand. Her pleasantries didn’t extend to her face, kept politely neutral.
“Good evening, Madame Berri. Thank you.”
“My husband, Jacques.” She gestured toward the man speaking with Grey.
That was a surprise. Though Odette’s suit was a bit worn, her manner appeared too refined to be married to the man next to Grey. He looked like a farmer fidgeting in his Sunday best.
Odette distractedly fingered a loose curl of wiry salt-and-pepper hair and glanced back toward the men as if thinking about rejoining them. “How are you finding Paris?”
Claire raised an eyebrow at the rather wishful attempt at benign conversation.
The woman glanced away and tried to suppress a grin. “Never mind.” She met Claire’s gaze. “You find Paris cold, hungry and beaten. Same as every other cold, hungry person in the city.” Her eyes were an arresting green, with laugh wrinkles at the corners. “I hate inconsequential conversation.” She nodded toward the table, still unvisited. Her eyes lingered on a platter laden with slices of cream-colored paste layered on toasted bread. “I wish Laurent would join us so we may begin. I haven’t tasted foie gras or brioche in months.”
A genuine smile found its way onto Claire’s face.