French Kissing (Restless Hearts) Read Free Page A

past on silver platters, and naked models peered down at us from the art display.
    “These are all done by Evan Carter,” Macy explained as I stared open-mouthed at a full-frontal photo of an intimate couple. “Where I’m from, they call this pornography. In Paris, they call it art.”
    I laughed and took the champagne flute she handed me. Hopefully, no one else could notice my shaking hand. “It certainly is different.”
    “Yeah, different.” Macy turned away from the wall of art. “I’d much rather worry about the hot men in the room than the ones in the pictures.”
    “Good plan.” With a glass of champagne down, I felt slightly less panicked.
    Macy used her questionable knowledge of the French language to introduce me to a group of the models from the show. They acknowledged us with faint head nods before resuming their conversation in French. Any words that I might have understood were quickly swept away by dozens of words I didn’t know. Macy nodded and laughed along with them even though I was certain she didn’t understand much more than I did.
    Less than ten minutes later, I was ready to move on. Macy was still listening attentively, so I mouthed that I needed to pee and scampered away. Two wrong turns later, I was nowhere near a bathroom. But I had managed to find even more scandalous artwork.
    “Oh my,” I gasped, not sure of what I was actually seeing. If I had to guess, it was the reverse cowgirl.
    “You like?”
    Alarmed, I whirled around, my face bright red. “It’s, um… I thought…”
    “I startled you. My apologies.” The man who had interrupted my immersion in the arts smiled. “I couldn’t help myself.”
    “That’s okay.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. “You weren’t nearly as startling as the exhibit.”
    His laugh was deep and warm. “It’s very contemporary.”
    I was surprised to realize that I was having a conversation in my native language. So far, Evelyn and Macy had been the only Americans I had met in Paris. While most of the other people I had met spoke at least some English, it was usually reluctantly offered only after I displayed my own terrible knowledge of French.
    “Is contemporary another word for pornographic?”
    “I’ve seen way worse,” he said, then winced. “That came out wrong.”
    “Did it?” I challenged.
    He stuck out his hand. “Let’s start again. I’m Jake.”
    “Camryn.” His hand was warm and calloused, his grip strong. “Do I know you?”
    “I have a familiar face,” he said. “Are you hiding from someone or do you just have a social disorder?”
    “Neither. I got lost.” I shrugged helplessly. “I have a bad sense of direction.”
    Jake grinned. “But an excellent sense of art.”
    “That remains to be seen.” The truth was that I had only stepped a few feet inside the room. The cowgirl photo had stopped me from seeing more. I gestured to the empty room. “Shall we?”
    He nodded. “I don’t see how we could possibly turn away.”
    So we took a slow lap of the room, stopping in front of each piece and surveying it with what we determined was the appropriate amount of respect. I had a hard time judging just how seriously Jake was observing the art. His face was impossible to read, serious eyes and tightly pressed lips.
    “This one looks…” I paused to think of a suitable word.
    “Painful,” he finished decisively. “That is not something I will be adding to my repertoire.”
    “As opposed to the other ones?” I said, an eyebrow shooting up in surprise.
    His eyebrows waggled mischievously. “I may have made some mental notes.”
    “Hopefully your girlfriend is flexible.” I stopped in front of the next photograph, head tilted as I took it in.
    “If you play your cards right, it could be you.” Jace’s arm brushed mine as he stepped next to me.
    My checks flushed hotly and my arm tingled where it pressed against his. So far, our banter had been light and harmless. In fact, I hadn’t even thought of