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His expression brightened. “Yes…hmm.” He scanned me from head to toe. “Your dress is nice. A higher heel would have worked better. But for today, you need shoes you can walk in with leisure.”
I blinked. Thanks for the critique. I had higher heels, but I didn’t want to risk falling on the cobble streets if I was sent out. “I’ll change.”
“No bodysuit.” His lips twitched, and he walked off.
I scrunched up my face, and Wyatt laughed. “It’s like having a drill sergeant.”
“Quoi?” he asked.
“Big boss, ordering you around to do things.”
“Yes, but it will be fun,” Wyatt’s tone turned suggestive.
I grimaced. “Not that kind of fun.”
Still, I was intrigued. An afternoon with the Hayden Madsen in Paris? It was more than a dream come true.
A while later, Anne and Philippe came over to Wyatt, and I could see them chatting and making plans. They had a natural ease with him. Was I being too rigid? I heard them mention going to dinner and now I understood that hanging out outside of work was necessary to being a part of the team.
“May I come?” I asked in French.
Wyatt beamed at me. “Yes, of course. Please come.”
I called Laurence, and he had one of the staff send over a pair of slacks and a printed shirt for me to change into along with heeled boots for my outing with Hayden and to ride on his vespa. Hayden’s earlier fashion scrutiny was on my mind, but the style of clothing I chose was on trend. It was still Paris, and I was spending time with the designer that was probably going to be crowned best of the year. Intimidating.
My nerves jumped when the clock struck the time Hayden set for us to meet. I packed up my station and headed out to meet him.
Hayden was waiting out front. He had on a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. His hair waved in the wind. He looked like he was posing for a photo shoot. Instead of his regular scowl, he smiled, and even I had to say it made him look gorgeous.
“Nadia.” He held out the helmet and secured my bag. “Next time, don’t bring anything.”
My brows rose. Next time? But I didn’t question him.
I climbed on the seat behind him, and lightly placed my hands on his sides.
“You need to hold on tighter, or you will fall off. Place your palms here.” He took my hands, laid them flat against his chest. I did my best to ignore the bunch of his abs as I tried to find a comfortable hold that didn’t…hold him too much.
Hayden snorted. “Just hold me, Nadia.” He sped off from the curb, and I gripped him tight enough to hear him cough. Good. But we were flying.
My pulse jumped in my throat, and my body vibrated as he sped through traffic with absolute precision, weaving through cars as if he already had a path paved for him. I held on tight, leaning into the turns. And I couldn’t help but think about Paul driving in Italy, and my heart twinged. But then the sight of The Louvre came into view, with the sun shining on the windows like jewels, and I was in awe. Hayden slowed down as we passed and drove into an underground parking lot, stopping in a reserved spot.
I trembled as I climbed off, and he quickly moved to steady me. “How was that for you, Nadia?” His hands warmed my waist and lingered.
“Exhilarating,” I murmured and stepped back, handing him the helmet. “Thank you.”
His blue eyes pierced into me, and he grinned broadly. “Bien sur. It gets better.”
He led the way to the Tuileries Gardens. Even in the park, I didn’t spot leggings. Everyone was dressed to impress. Dress with heels. Suits. Even casual clothes well accessorized. Hayden took out a polaroid camera from his saddlebag and took a photo of me.
“Why waste photos on me? I’m not the subject.”
“It’s how I get to know you.”
“Oh…okay,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Come on.”
I followed him as we stopped periodically to watch people, and for Hayden to point out the beauty of the architecture and gardens. There were plenty of tourists that were easily spotted with maps and bags. But with more people-watching, a pattern emerged. Numerous women wore white baggy shirts, crop tops, wide-legged dress slacks, cargo pants, and pumps. I noticed bold colors, elegant suits, which I had been wearing, and tailored separates—something I had added to my style of timeless classics. Exaggerated sleeves and oversized clothing were on the scene. The wild-patterned fabric was eye-catching. The chunky heeled boots also made me think that I should have raided the attic closet when I returned home to take some of my mom’s old clothes. Hayden watched me more than the people. Though he took numerous photos of strangers.
