Page 30 of She’s a Big Deal

Patrice Leconte and his business partner, Stephanie Charpentier, clearly enjoyed her presentation. It would be hard not to, really. Not only did Grace deliver it on blueprints of their own flagship hotel in Versailles, but via holographic technology they weren’t likely to see anywhere else any time soon. Last but not least, she did it all in flawless French.

“Mademoiselle Michaels, vous êtes une vraie merveille!”

Leconte regarded her with delighted blue eyes from behind a pair of thick purple and black glasses that she could not decide were for show, or because he really needed them. With his wild blond hair and impeccable white suit, he reminded her of Elton John. Next to him, his fashionably thin partner was all decked out in Chanel from head to toe. A nod to their brand, no doubt, and vice versa.

“You are the only designer we’ve consulted so far who was able, and happy, to speak to us in French,” she approved in her own attractively accented English.

“We had one head of marketing try his best, didn’t we?” Leconte chuckled. “In London. We had to beg him to switch to English so we could understand. He was quite offended, but… C’est la vie, hey!”

“Well, it’s a pleasure for me,” Grace assured them both. “I lived in Paris for a year when I was a dancer.”

“A dancer? Ou-la-la!” Charpentier laughed. “Were you a professional?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Bachata. Latin style. Sensual dance.”

“I like the sensuality very much,” the woman declared. “In everything. Oui, oui, j’aime beaucoup.”

Oui, oui, Grace thought. Gotcha.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

She had sent Libby out shopping with instructions to bring back a sultry, seductive, and full-bodied vintage red. French, of course, and with a proper cork instead of a plastic screw. And because she adapted to her customers whenever she had to, for maximum results, she asked Leconte if he wouldn’t mind doing her a favor and opening the bottle for them.

“Oh, mais bien sur!” he agreed with a flourish and amused her further by producing an old-fashioned twisted metal corkscrew out of his pocket.

How so very French . Leconte then reclined on the sofa with his glass of wine and crossed his legs elegantly to reveal a flash of purple socks under his trousers. There was a definite theme there, which Grace’s in-depth research had uncovered. She had made sure to include a few dashes of his favorite color in strategic places in her presentation.

“I am very happy,” he declared. “And you, ma chère?”

“Yes,” Charpentier confirmed. “I just have a few questions. If you wouldn’t mind, Mademoiselle Michaels.”

“Of course, go ahead,” Grace invited.

Clearly, Charpentier knew her stuff when it came to design .

Over the next twenty minutes or so, she grilled Grace pretty hard on all aspects of the proposal. Grace enjoyed the exercise and answered intelligent questions on technical details. Charpentier looked thoroughly satisfied by the end of it.

“Maybe you can prepare a draft contract for us to look at,” she said. “Oui?”

Smelling sweet victory in the air, Grace was about to tell her she’d be delighted to do it when raised voices on the outside caught her attention. Before she could do more than frown, the door to her office flew wide open. Olivia strode in, followed by a red-faced and desperately apologetic Libby.

“Ms. Michaels! I am so sorry! She—She just came up and went right past me!”

“Grace. We need to talk,” Olivia announced.

Well. Fighting a natural urge to swear out loud, Grace just raised a calming hand.

“It’s okay, Libby. I’ll handle this.” Then dismissed her with a subtle wave.

“Oh, dear. So sorry.” Libby bowed on exit.

Grace focused on Olivia for all of a micro-second, but it was enough to ascertain a few things. She must have dressed for the occasion again, to crash one of the most important meetings of the year. Or was it perhaps to embody her butch spirit, and give herself more courage? Whichever, she did look impossibly good in threadbare jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a white flannel shirt open to reveal a black tank top underneath. Not the sort of look Grace appreciated all that much on a woman before. Too butch, indeed. On this particular woman, though, it all struck her as the height of sexy and taste. Even so, as Olivia opened her mouth to speak, she shut her down quickly with another sharp hand gesture .

“Is Charlie okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. I just—”

“Has someone died or been injured?”

“No. No, it’s not that at all. Grace, listen—”

“Now is not a good time, Olivia. I need you to go and wait for me outside.” In the background, Grace could see her two clients exchanging puzzled looks. She had been leaning against the front of her desk when Olivia made her theatrical entrance, and they were both across the room on the sofa. As Olivia was facing her, it occurred to Grace that she must have no idea they were not alone. Which could turn things tricky, very quickly. “Look, I’m in the middle of an important—”

She never got to finish. As she took her arm, with the firm intention of turning her around to reveal their audience, Olivia stuck her ground. Then she landed a surprisingly commanding hand on the back of her neck, covered her mouth with hers, and proceeded to kiss her as if the world was about to end. Humph. Grace stiffened at first, then her mind went blank. She forgot... Just forgot. Every damn thing. This was pure bliss. These hot lips pressed against hers? Absolute joy. Why fight it? Though Grace did not consciously ask herself that question, her unconscious mind certainly did not supply any good reasons. She may have grunted as she righted herself, grabbed hold of her lover, and kissed her back. It was brief, but hard. Intense as they come. Olivia pulled back, breathless. Her dark eyes were huge.

“I came to tell you that I love you, Grace. I don’t want us to break up.”

Grace could only stare, speechless. Then, a giggle sounded from the other side of the office, and she looked past Olivia to find both Leconte and Charpentier on their feet. Damn if they did not start clapping...

“Magnifique!” Charpentier declared with a hand over her own heart. “So romantic! Mademoiselle Michaels, you are in a love story? Oui? J’adore!”

◆◆◆

Olivia could not get out of there fast enough after realizing her faux pas. To be fair, the assistant had not been at her desk to stop her when she arrived. Then, when she caught up with her… Had Libby really told her that Grace was in a super-important meeting, and should not be disturbed? She must have done it; Olivia just could not remember a word. She’d had only a single thought in mind at the time, and it was to see her lover. When she walked into the office, she only had eyes for her. So, there. Grace looked so alluring in her black suit, and that white shirt with the high collar. Blond hair slicked back, her blue eyes sparkling… Stunning. But of course, the stunned look on her face, the sharp eyebrow she raised in disapproval, and, now that Olivia reflected on it, a clear warning not to proceed should have been a clue. But she had so wanted to kiss her… To tell her how she felt! So, she did. Sue me. Ha! That was the spirit, though she also cringed at the realization that she may have cost Grace a crucial deal.

“Here.” The forgiving assistant handed her a glass of water. “It is Ms. Bianchi, right?”

“Olivia. Please.”

“Okay. I’m Libby.”

“I’ll tell Grace it was my fault. You won’t get into trouble for this.”

“It’s alright.” Libby smiled and she patted her gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

They both glanced up as the door to the office opened and the two visitors, the guy with the weird glasses and the woman who looked like a fashion model, exited and made their way to the elevator. Grace remained standing in place with both hands planted firmly on her hips, glaring menacingly. Looking a bit paler than she had before, and quite a bit pissed, too. Like it might not be fine at all, actually.

“Um…” Olivia started.

“In here,” Grace snapped.

As she spun on her elegant heels and stalked back into her office, Olivia’s own temper began to simmer. Surely she did not deserve this kind of attitude? She made sure the door was closed properly before voicing her displeasure out loud.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But it’s no reason to make me feel like a kid being called into the principal’s office.”

“How you decide to feel is none of my doing.”

“Okay. Right.” Good point. Then again… “You’re in a mood. I get it.”

“In a mood?” Now Grace added a snarl to her furious glare. “In a mood? Olivia, do you have any sliver of an idea how much I despise drama?”

“You hate not being in control. Yes. I know.”

“Drama!” Grace’s eyes fired dangerously. “You think you can waltz in here without my permission, interrupt me every time I open my mouth to speak, then go right ahead and kiss me like… Like you did? Makes me look like I’m not in charge of my own office in front of important clients. And—”

“You kissed me back,” Olivia pointed out.

“I did not. ”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“You most certainly—”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Grace hissed.

Before Olivia could react, she fisted both hands in her shirt and pushed her roughly against the wall. Pinned her good and proper, to Olivia’s delight and confusion. The kiss that ensued was even fiercer than the previous one. Demanding. Ravenous. Gorgeous! Oh, how Olivia had missed this way Grace always had to kiss her as if she truly ached for her! All she could do was let herself melt under that seeking mouth. She would not have it any other way, really. Her lips parted with a sigh, allowing her full access. And her knees turned to water.

“Now.” Grace pulled back suddenly, with her eyes flashing and color riding high across her cheeks. “Now consider yourself kissed.”

“Uh… Yeah.” Olivia sighed, chuckled, and could not help a smile she knew must look totally destroyed and overly mushy to a woman who did not like ‘Drama’. “Grace, I really am sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting. In the middle of a crucial deal. Libby explained, but...”

“Too late, obviously.”

“Well, I didn’t give her much of a chance.”

“I did try to tell you but you kept interrupting.”

“I know. I’m sorry for not letting you speak. Is it off, then? Did I kill it?”

“The deal?” Grace finally smiled and looked faintly amused with it. “No, I believe we are totally on. They loved your little scene.”

“Really?”

“French.” Grace snorted. “You know what they’re like, uh.” Olivia had no clue, but she let it pass. “They thought it was just great. Utterly romantic. Made me cringe, but… ”

Olivia could not let her get away with this one. She did not hesitate even briefly before confronting her. After all, two could play this silly game of tit-for-tat, and she had nothing to lose at this point.

“You know I can see right through your act; don’t you?”

Again, an arrogant eyebrow lifted in challenge. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I think my little scene, as you call it so coldly, and probably only to protect yourself against the effect of such drama… ” Ironically, Olivia used her fingers for air quotation marks. “I think this is the most romantic thing that’s happened to you in a very long time.”

“How very presumptuous of you.”

“Uh-huh. I think you loved it. And that’s why you kissed me back so fiercely in front of your clients.” Olivia held her own under her icy stare. She knew Grace did not mean it. That it was, indeed, only for protection. She allowed her own gaze to soften. “Anyway. We could dance around the topic all day, but I would rather not. Grace, I meant what I said to you before. I am in love with you.”

She watched the declaration hit for a second time. Grace no longer appeared so stupefied, but she still looked frozen. Numb. Or… Maybe not. Because at the same time, Olivia spotted a rush of emotions racing behind her eyes. In shock, she concluded. Yes, it was more like it.