After losing her fiance, Boris in a horrific car accident, Claire packed up and left Montreal and moved to Paris when her company opened a new office there. It took a while but she soon settled into her new life and immersed herself in the Parisian culture. On the weekends, she went sightseeing and to museums and art galleries. It wasn’t long before she fell in love with the city.
One Saturday, she was standing in the Place de Furstemberg when she felt someone staring at her. She glanced up from the guidebook and her eyes met those of a very fine looking black man. He looked familiar. She was sure that she had seen him somewhere before but couldn’t remember where.
As they continued to stare at each other, a slight smile tugged at his perfect looking mouth. She felt her heart flutter. That never happened to her before–not even with Boris.
A man with his looks couldn’t be unattached, could he? Several women threw admiring glances his way as they walked by but he was oblivious to them. She was flattered and flustered at the same time. Dressed in a yellow tee shirt and denim Capri pants and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she didn’t think she looked all that but he was just staring at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She wasn’t sure what to do. It feel a bit awkward just standing there locking eyes with a perfect stranger albeit a drop dead gorgeous one. Part of her felt guilty for being attracted to another man but it had been three years since Boris died. Boris, sweet guy that he was, would want her to move on with her life and be happy again.
Okay, I getting ahead of myself, she thought. For all I know this guy may be married and is looking for a summer fling. Maybe I should just turn right around and walk away with my pride still intact.
Perhaps he had read her thoughts or her body language but the next thing she knew he was walking over to her. She watched him get closer, trying to appear calm when she was anything but. He had a graceful, unhurried walk and the denim jacket, white vest and jeans looked good on him. It was then that she remembered where she had seen him before. It was in a double page spread in the January issue of Vogue. He was a model. If anyone had told her that she would meet him in person…He was standing in front of her now and holding out his hand, he smiled. “Laurent Baptiste.”
She shook his hand. “Salomé Leblanc. I saw your two page spread in Vogue.”
“Yes. I’m in Paris for Fashion Week.”
“Are you from Martinique?”
“Yes. Saint-Pierre. Don’t tell me you’re from Martinique too.”
She laughed. “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m from Fort-de-France.”
“Are you here on holiday?”
“No. I live here. I moved here about five years ago. I left Fort-de-France after I graduated from university and moved to Montreal, Canada.”
“Do you mind if we continued this conversation over lunch?”
“No, I don’t mind at all. It isn’t every day that I bump into someone from Martinique.”
He smiled making her breath quicken. “Let’s go.”
Over Roasted rack of lamb and Home made duck confit, they got to know each other better. Before they parted company, she had an invitation to the Fashion Show he had mentioned earlier followed by dinner for two at Le Jules Verne restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Source: The Culture Trip