of him? What if she became an anecdote he told at trial seminars later?
“I heard about the recall. How did you ever get them to agree to it?”
“Happy Birthday, Mr. Michaels. You get a free gym bag for your birthday.”
Harlan slapped his forehead. “I forgot.”
Forty years old today. And he’d never looked more handsome. His strong jaw and supple skin tone belied his biological age and belonged on a man ten years younger.
“Happy Birthday, Harlan. Lets go visit Kathy tomorrow. We could celebrate your birthday together.”
“I can’t go tomorrow. Sorry.”
“I’m still working with her,” Lana said.
“Then I am too. It just takes faith. And things will work out. Just like in an old movie.”
“You’re Kathy’s hero.”
“I’m as tall as Cary Grant. If that helps.”
Lana looked admiringly at all 6’2” of Harlan Michaels. Maybe he was playing a role. It was the role she’d always wanted someone to play for her.
“I’m sorry, Lana. I’ll never be Cary Grant. I’ve got to get out of here.” Harlan sprinted out the door as quickly as his Gucci sneakers could carry him.
Chapter Twenty Nine
S tephanie loved shopping in Passy. At the more expensive shops in Paris, the saleswomen humored her by speaking French back to her slowly. At the cheaper stores, they spoke English back to her. It sucked to have a bad French accent.
“Oui,” she said to shoes she couldn’t afford. She needed red pumps for her brave new world.
She walked back out on Rue de Passy looking for a café. A man smiled at her. She looked away.
All those years of having the upper hand, laughing through the prism of a girl who usually got what she wanted, were gone now. She’d given a case away after hot sex with Harlan in France.
Sure she could tell herself she’d given Harlan the documents because it was the right thing to do. It was easy to slip the documents on top of the trash Harlan took out. But what if Harlan had been old and fat and bald? Would she still have been stimulated and inspired to do the right thing? HA.
Mel knew of course. She wasn’t worried about him telling. What would he say? Harlan banged the documents out of her? Admit that the associate he hired at first sight spurned him? And got boned senseless by Harlan in the south of France? Mel wasn’t going to tell anyone.
She looked down at her phone. A picture of Harlan with a text appeared.
“I could fly to Paris this week. Remember how much we enjoyed France?”
What was it with men and putting the word remember before every veiled reference to sex? As if. She could forget. Harlan. Dangerous. Tempting. Too dangerous.
She texted him back.
This week could be a problem. Nice thought though
.
There was time enough for Harlan. She was in Paris. Where anything could happen for an American girl.
What’s going on this week?
He texted back.
Harlan chasing her. This was unexpected. She smiled.
Usual. In Paris. Pretending I’m not noticing the Gap store on the corner.
What’s wrong with the Gap?
Nothing. In the states. In Paris, I want to see French shops.
Do you dream in French?
After a few nights here. I dream I speak flawless French.
I could improve on that dream.
And there he was, standing in front of her. Harlan Michaels.
“How could you possibly know where to find me?”
“I bribed Lyla with a case of champagne and a promise to take her trash out when I’m in her neighborhood.”
“You’ll be busy.”
“Lets look at some real estate.”
“Do you know this is the 16 th Arrondisement? One of the most expensive neighborhoods in Paris?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’d have an awesome view of the Eiffel Tower from here.” He pointed to an elegant apartment building.
“Maybe we should look at the view from the Eiffel Tower.” Stephanie gazed at it fondly, the Eiffel Tower always filled her with hope and appreciation.
“Want to walk up the first two flights?”
“Sure, I can take you up that way.
“I heard about the recall. How did you ever get them to agree to it?”
“Happy Birthday, Mr. Michaels. You get a free gym bag for your birthday.”
Harlan slapped his forehead. “I forgot.”
Forty years old today. And he’d never looked more handsome. His strong jaw and supple skin tone belied his biological age and belonged on a man ten years younger.
“Happy Birthday, Harlan. Lets go visit Kathy tomorrow. We could celebrate your birthday together.”
“I can’t go tomorrow. Sorry.”
“I’m still working with her,” Lana said.
“Then I am too. It just takes faith. And things will work out. Just like in an old movie.”
“You’re Kathy’s hero.”
“I’m as tall as Cary Grant. If that helps.”
Lana looked admiringly at all 6’2” of Harlan Michaels. Maybe he was playing a role. It was the role she’d always wanted someone to play for her.
“I’m sorry, Lana. I’ll never be Cary Grant. I’ve got to get out of here.” Harlan sprinted out the door as quickly as his Gucci sneakers could carry him.
Chapter Twenty Nine
S tephanie loved shopping in Passy. At the more expensive shops in Paris, the saleswomen humored her by speaking French back to her slowly. At the cheaper stores, they spoke English back to her. It sucked to have a bad French accent.
“Oui,” she said to shoes she couldn’t afford. She needed red pumps for her brave new world.
She walked back out on Rue de Passy looking for a café. A man smiled at her. She looked away.
All those years of having the upper hand, laughing through the prism of a girl who usually got what she wanted, were gone now. She’d given a case away after hot sex with Harlan in France.
Sure she could tell herself she’d given Harlan the documents because it was the right thing to do. It was easy to slip the documents on top of the trash Harlan took out. But what if Harlan had been old and fat and bald? Would she still have been stimulated and inspired to do the right thing? HA.
Mel knew of course. She wasn’t worried about him telling. What would he say? Harlan banged the documents out of her? Admit that the associate he hired at first sight spurned him? And got boned senseless by Harlan in the south of France? Mel wasn’t going to tell anyone.
She looked down at her phone. A picture of Harlan with a text appeared.
“I could fly to Paris this week. Remember how much we enjoyed France?”
What was it with men and putting the word remember before every veiled reference to sex? As if. She could forget. Harlan. Dangerous. Tempting. Too dangerous.
She texted him back.
This week could be a problem. Nice thought though
.
There was time enough for Harlan. She was in Paris. Where anything could happen for an American girl.
What’s going on this week?
He texted back.
Harlan chasing her. This was unexpected. She smiled.
Usual. In Paris. Pretending I’m not noticing the Gap store on the corner.
What’s wrong with the Gap?
Nothing. In the states. In Paris, I want to see French shops.
Do you dream in French?
After a few nights here. I dream I speak flawless French.
I could improve on that dream.
And there he was, standing in front of her. Harlan Michaels.
“How could you possibly know where to find me?”
“I bribed Lyla with a case of champagne and a promise to take her trash out when I’m in her neighborhood.”
“You’ll be busy.”
“Lets look at some real estate.”
“Do you know this is the 16 th Arrondisement? One of the most expensive neighborhoods in Paris?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’d have an awesome view of the Eiffel Tower from here.” He pointed to an elegant apartment building.
“Maybe we should look at the view from the Eiffel Tower.” Stephanie gazed at it fondly, the Eiffel Tower always filled her with hope and appreciation.
“Want to walk up the first two flights?”
“Sure, I can take you up that way.
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