Midnight in Montmartre: A French Kiss Sweet Romance (5 page)

L
uc had it
, the perfect campaign for Mademoiselle Montaigne. And it was all thanks to Mia. Excited, he called his secretary, asking her to send Mia into his office.

He saw her every day along with the rest of the employees, but this was the first time since their initial meeting that he’d had a legitimate reason to see her one on one. Not that he didn't try. This was Mia's first week on the job, and Sarah had to train her. He would have trained her himself if he could, but that would look suspect to the other employees; they would think that he was giving her special treatment.

He flipped through Mia's proposal again and smiled. One week on the job and she had already hit it out of the park. Was it beginner's luck, or was she simply as talented as she was beautiful?

Mia knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said.

A twist of the knob and she was in. Dressed in a knitted lime-green dress with lemon-yellow heels, Mia certainly dressed for work with flair. She looked great in bright colors, since they complemented her dark skin tone. Every time he saw her, he felt refreshed, like being awakened when he'd been sleepwalking through his days.

"Morning, Luc. What did you want to see me about?"

He stood up and crossed over to her to kiss her on the cheeks. When he retreated, he was slightly embarrassed by his overt display of affection. Friends gave each other air kisses in France all the time, but it didn't necessarily happen at work. He hoped she didn't consider him to be overstepping any boundaries.

"I read you campaign idea for Montaigne," he said. "It's genius!"

Mia broke out into a big smile. "You really like it?"

"Like it? It's unlike anything I've heard of before. And it's hilarious."

He gestured to a chair for her to sit down, and she did.

"Thank you. I tried to spin a little Americana into the ads."

"How did you come up with it?" Luc asked.

"I was trying to think of something feminine and playful. Lingerie ads featuring models parading around like sex kittens are so overdone. I heard that the company wanted this line to be edgy. Personally, I didn't think that needed to be translated into making the ad even sexier and more provocative."

"That was the major issue I had with the proposals I've read so far too," Luc agreed. "It's difficult not to cross the boundary from sexy to pornography. That's not what the client wants, since Madame Montaigne is so tasteful."

"Right, and these ads are targeted toward young women. What does lingerie do? Gives women a sense of pride and empowerment. Women are intelligent. They want to be respected and feel powerful."

"Power is certainly an overt theme in this pitch," Luc said. "My only concern is whether this idea would go over well in France. Or England. I think men and women would love this concept in America, but Europe is a very different place."

"In some ways, I agree. I know England and France have strict gun control laws, but this ad is tongue in cheek. We're not advocating buying guns. We're still selling lingerie."

"You know, I never dreamed of a lingerie ad featuring guns." Luc laughed.

"Sometimes you have to break new ground," Mia said. "It's a small gun. Bigger than a derringer, but not a Magnum either."

Luc was impressed. "You know your guns."

"Computer research. I'm thinking the guns can even be pink. With the mini-holster as part of the ensemble. They’ll look a bit like toy guns, maybe. We'll be able to make our point with humor. I think people will at least be mildly amused by the ad."

"Gigi Tom is tough,” Luc said. “I think she'd be good with this concept. She can act, right?"

"I think she's been in a few music videos," Mia said. "I'm thinking the first commercial can be an action film. Another can be black and white, film noir, and so on."

"Yes." Luc's eyes lit up. "I like the movie theme idea. Wait until the other writers hear about this."

Before he allowed himself to be too excited, he rubbed his chin with one hand and thought about it some more.

"What's wrong?" Mia asked.

"I do have some minor reservations. The gun thing can be controversial. We're not advocating violence; I know that's not your intent, of course. It's more about protection, and it's a fun idea, but a gun is a gun."

"We will have to tread carefully on how to go about it," Mia agreed. "You can show it to test groups, right?"

"Definitely. We'll need to do that."

"That's good. So you think this idea has potential?"

"Definitely." He clapped his hands, feeling pumped. "Enough dilly-dallying. First we'll get our team to finish a detailed proposal, then we'll take this to the Montaigne company and get their feedback. We'll take it a step at a time."

Mia beamed. Her smile was so infectious that he smiled back even wider. He hoped he didn't look too Cheshire-cat crazy.

"Great." She stood up, taking this as her cue to go.

"And Mia?"

"Yes?" She turned around.

"I want you at the pitch meeting."

"You mean, with Montaigne?"

"Yes. We'll meet them on Friday in their office."

Mia was quiet for a moment. Luc could tell she was trying to digest the information.

"They're all going to speak French?" Mia asked.

"Probably, considering this is France. But if the Montaigne group wants to make it in anglophone countries, they will have to practice their English once in a while, don't you think?"

"Yes, but will I be speaking?"

"Of course you will. It's your idea, and your English is better."

"Luc, I'm a writer, not a speaker."

"You've never made a speech before?"

"I have, but usually to pitch stories to my editors."

"This is no different," Luc exclaimed. "You'll be doing the same thing. Instead of it being a story for an article, it's a story for a commercial. You don't strike me as the shy type."

"That's true. I'm not shy. But it's been a change to work in France, with a whole new culture with a new set of customs and rules. It's definitely a challenge."

"But it's also exciting, isn't it?" Luc winked at her.

He hoped he didn't look stupid, winking...what was he doing?

"You think the board members will like the idea?" Mia asked, less sure of herself now. "With the gun and everything?"

Luc thought about it for a moment then nodded. "I think so. Sure, some of them will be conservative and might not take to it as quickly, but there are others who are more open-minded. Beth Montaigne is our age, for one thing. Half of her team are women. I'd be surprised if they don't get it. I don't see why they wouldn't find it funny."

F
rench sounded
great when other people spoke it. So why did Mia sound like a choking cat whenever she attempted the language?

She watched the French teacher, Madame Florence, write a phrase on the blackboard. Madame Florence was explaining the verb tenses in French, at least from what Mia could tell. It would've been helpful if Mia understood French so she knew what Madame Florence was saying. That was the whole point of going to French classes in the first place.

She hadn’t realized the class would be taught completely in French. It was a catch-22. How was she supposed to learn French in French when she didn't speak French?

"What is she talking about?" Kiko whispered to her.

Kiko was a Japanese housewife who had come to Paris when her husband got transferred here. She spoke perfect English because she had gone to university in Toronto. Mia liked her frankness. To her left sat another of Mia's friends in class. Amanda was an American yoga instructor who also had a biting sense of humor.

"I have no idea," Mia whispered back.

Amanda used her translator.
"Monsieur Rochelle est né à La Rochelle."

"Clever example." Kiko giggled.

Madame Florence turned around and glared in their direction.

"I would learn more French watching that movie,
Gigi
," Amanda said. "Louis Jourdan is the quintessential French lover."

Mia tried to suppress her laughter this time. She felt like she was in grade school. She was tempted to pass notes.

"He speaks impeccable English," Mia said. "I doubt you'd learn any French at all."

"We wouldn't need to speak." Amanda was a New Yorker and was quite blunt about her likes and dislikes. As aggressive as she was in daily life, Mia had gone to one of her classes and found it fascinating to see how at peace and swarmi-like Amanda was when she taught yoga.

Mia was glad that she was making more friends in Paris, especially when most of her coworkers were still giving her the cold shoulder no matter how much she smiled and tried to make conversation with them.

As Madame Florence went over the past-tense conjugations for the French verb for "born," Mia wondered if she considered Luc a friend. They had such an easy way of conversing with each other, but a clear line was drawn at work.

He was her boss now, but they had started off as friends, sort of. She was curious about his background. With his manners, his way of dressing, and his high levels of education and success, he could've been an aristocrat.

And who was she? Middle-class family, mixed raced, and adopted. She had no heritage that she knew about, while Luc's probably went back for centuries. His ancestors had probably fought the Hundred Years' War.

If he was from some high-society family, he was certainly not a snob. He was full of humanity and good humor, and those were the main reasons Mia liked him.

Not to mention his blue eyes and the way his
derriere
looked in a suit.

Aside from the differences in their backgrounds, office romance was a disastrous idea. When it didn't work out, they would have no escape. Mia knew from personal experience. She had once dated an editor at
Seattle Life
. Fortunately he was not her editor, but they had to bump into each other in the office all the time or awkwardly share the elevator on occasion. He wasn't a big love on her romantic landscape, but she would've gotten over him a lot sooner if they didn't work in the same building forty to fifty hours a week. Dating someone at work was not an experience Mia cared to repeat.

"
Bonne soirée
," the teacher said at the end of the class. Then she said something about homework. At least she wrote the page numbers of their French grammar exercise book on the board.

"Are you girls hungry?" Kiko asked.

"Starved," Mia said.

Since she went to French class directly from work on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, she only had time for a light snack before class. Even though she was pooped from a long day at LUX, going out for a dinner with the girls would give her a boost in energy.

"Great," Kiko said. "I know this great place around the corner."

At a charming French restaurant in the 4th arrondissement, where patrons were already spilled over the sidewalk at the tiny, round terrace tables, Mia, Amanda, and Kiko were able to grab a tiny round table of their own to share.

They took turns ordering in French, then Mia asked the waiter to rate their French.

"All of you were
magnifique
," the handsome waiter said with a flirtatious smile.

"
Merci beaucoup
," Amanda replied, keeping a lingering, seductive gaze on him.

"Subtle," Mia teased her when the waiter left.

"What? I was being nice."

"If that's nice," Kiko said, "I wonder what you're like when you're trying to be sexy."

Amanda laughed. "You don't want to know."

"Since you teach French people yoga," Mia asked, “are they ever mean or condescending to you?"

Amanda shook her head. "No. They're quite friendly. But it's a different atmosphere. People who take yoga classes are more into their health and spirituality. They come because they want to lower their stress. By the end of the class, everybody would be mellowed out."

"Not to mention Amanda is the only person talking during the class," Kiko added.

"That helps."

The girls laughed.

"Why?" Kiko asked Mia. "Are your coworkers still frosty toward you?"

"It's not better, but at least it's not worse."

"What about that scooter-riding, debonair Frenchman who is, in a crazy plot twist, now your boss?" Amanda wiggled her eyebrows for dramatic effect.

"He's still my boss," Mia said. "There's nothing going on between us."

"Not because you don't want it to," Kiko said. "It's such a romantic story how you met. That's certainly something to tell the grandkids."

"What about my story?" Amanda said. "My boyfriend bumped into me on the street. I fell on my butt. My butt was sore for the whole afternoon."

Kiko raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that certainly beats it."

They laughed again. It felt good for Mia to laugh. Working at the office could be tense, especially when she got the impression that the others wanted her to fail. They knew that her ad had been chosen by Luc and Didier to be pitched, but they had hardly congratulated her.

"I don't know, guys," Mia said. "Luc and I are so different. He's so..."

"What?" Amanda said. "Rich?"

"I don't know. He went to the best schools, and he's probably related to counts and dukes. I'm a girl from Seattle with unmanageable hair."

"Mia!" Amanda exclaimed. "I am ashamed of you. How can you berate yourself like that? You're Mia freakin' Golden, for godsake."

"She's right, you know," Kiko said. "I thought you were confident."

"You're right," Mia said. "I'm Mia Golden. I'm just as educated. There's nothing wrong with my hair, even if it does take up a lot of space and people hate me at concerts. I may not know where I'm from, but I know where I'm going."

"Amen," Amanda said.

The wine and the bread came first. They feasted on the delicious pieces of fresh baguette with butter and clinked their wine glasses.

"Don't let him slip through your fingers," Amanda said. "If it were me, subtlety would not be my middle name."

"It isn't," Mia said.

"He sounds like he likes you. If he's single, just go for it. You're only in Paris for a year. What do you have to lose?"

Mia took another swig from her glass. "Why do you have to be right all the time? Life is short. It's just a matter of finding out if Luc actually feels the same."