As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (30 page)

I crossed the bridge near Champ de Mars, the gateway that led to the upscale avenue of Champs-Élysées. Through the waving branches of the trees, I could see in the distance the tip of the iconic Eiffel tower.

This clued me in that I was reaching my destination. Suddenly, my adrenaline kicked up a notch. My palms were moist and my heart was pounding fast with the sweet anticipation of spending the huge amount of money I’d been saving.

Nearly five hours later and arms chock-full of packages stuffed with new goodies; my feet were beginning to hurt, and felt as if I were walking on a tightrope.

I fortuitously clambered down a narrow alley, discovering the sweetest little boutique; when out of nowhere, an unnaturally strong wind coiled around my petite frame, almost sweeping me off my feet.

The wind gust was trapped beneath my skirt, swirling it up and down like a parachute, similar to the famous pose of Marilyn Monroe. I laughed out loud, trying to hold it down, but the wind was determined to sneak glimpses of my favorite, barely there, pink lace panties.

I was defenseless against this powerful force. Finally, after a struggle, my skirt slowly settled back into place, down around my legs. As the air stream flowed past my ears, I clearly heard a man’s voice.

“Brielle,”
a haunting whisper filled my ears.

I stopped dead in my tracks, inhaled deeply then slowly peered over my left shoulder to see the source of this mysterious voice. There was no one in sight. I felt a bit spooked and scurried towards the door of the store with my packages in hand.

I clumsily pulled the large scrolled brass handle of the door toward my direction. It opened slightly then slammed shut hard against the thrust of the wind. I tugged the handle again, but the wind pushed even harder against the door, preventing me from entering.

Another stream of wind whipped around the hemline of my dress. I suddenly felt the oddest sensation, as if cold fingers were crawling up my legs, sending mind-numbing goose bumps from my head to my toes.

My instantaneous thought was that a huge critter was seconds away from sinking bared teeth into my flesh. I leapt into the air like a crazy bird that flew over the cuckoo’s nest, flapping and waving my arms like wings against my skirt. I could only imagine how ridiculous I must have looked to passersby.

When I landed, to my horror, the hemline of my skirt was flipped up around my hips and lying flat up against my back. I swiftly pulled it down around my slender hips, but not before exposing my lace panties and ivory ass cheeks to the two gentlemen who approached me from behind.
Behind
—there’s a word.
Em-bare-assed
is another word to describe the total scene.

I just wanted to get inside quickly before another wind gust violated me again. I paid no attention to the two men that had gotten a flash of my GQ buns.

As I gathered up my packages, I heard a man whistle at me. How rude, I thought, wasn’t catching a glimpse of my bare ass enough entertainment? Couldn’t he tell I was a damsel in distress and didn’t need to hear his catcalls? Another annoying whistle rang out in my direction. I abruptly swiveled around to see who found me so amusing. The two same gentlemen were now a few feet away. They seemed deeply engaged in their conversation and not paying a whole lot of attention to me. I didn’t see anyone else nearby, so I quickly shifted my weight around and reached for the handle.

Out of nowhere, I saw a white tunnel of air gradually entering into the keyhole; similar to the same way Jeannie, in the series
I
Dream of Jeannie
entered her bottle. I loved those old reruns. I rubbed my eyes and wondered if I had been roofied by the cute waiter at Café Le Mar. The thought of this caused me to hyperventilate. I felt as if I was going to have a full-on panic attack. I quickly reasoned with myself that I’d had way too much caffeine earlier that day.

To my surprise, the gilded door mysteriously opened on its own as if commanding me to enter. Out of breath. I gingerly stumbled with my packages in hand into the corner of the foyer.

The same two gentlemen entered within seconds behind me. I felt my face turn red and couldn’t make eye contact with them. Instead, I peered through the strands of my hair that had fallen into my eyes, watching them pass me by. One of them stopped in his tracks and turned directly toward me.

He gawked at me then flashed a huge toothsome grin that was covered in dark coffee stains and in dire need of dental work. I quickly pretended not to notice him as I fiddled with my packages. I felt my eyes zoom in on his teeth. I know the look on my face was none other than that of utter disgust, screaming silently: how could anyone let their teeth get so bad, and then use them to smile? He apparently got my message, by the expression on my face, and turned away quickly.

Still feeling somewhat embarrassed, I choked back a huge guffaw of laughter. It appalled me that he believed he stood a chance with any woman. Ewww! His teeth looked like wood chips. The effects of the wind must have made me look like a mad, desperate woman in need of any man’s attention.

Well, at least, I knew it was “old yellow” that whistled at me. For a minute, I thought I was losing my mind. I guess he liked the view from behind me—or should I say the view of my behind.

Before I pulled out a small compact from my purse, I waited for the two men to disappear behind the curtains that led into the store. I then quickly reapplied some fresh lipstick. In the larger reflection of the store’s window, I could see random strands of my hair had taken flight from the nimbus crown of locks arranged high on my head.

Cumbersomely, I pulled all the bobby pins from my hair and tossed them into one of my bags. I shook my head slightly and ran my fingers through my hair. It cascaded to my waist like a waterfall of smooth waves and then I did a once over of my reflection in the glass window, for double measure, and retreated inside.

-31-

Echoes

When I crossed the threshold, beyond the dark velvet drapes that hung between two large columns, a cool breeze swirled around my legs. My high-heels echoed up against the marble floor, announcing my arrival to several smiling salespeople who were waiting to lunge at me. I acknowledged their presence with a half-assed smile, and followed up with an imperial wave that implied:
I don’t want to be bothered.

I so needed to unwind and digest the gorgeous surroundings before getting cornered by some quick-talking sales guru. After all, having been accosted by the wind, I was only just beginning to feel like myself again.

My eyes immediately darted to the center of the store. Hovering high on a marble pedestal was a young lady dressed in a diaphanous Grecian robe. She softly strummed subtle tunes on a golden harp. The harmonious music blended with the gentle swishing sounds of the water that swirled in the plethora of bathing spas below. The woman’s eyes seemed to follow my every move across the floor.

I stood still in awe over the aesthetics of the store.

The assembly was dimly lit with an array of candelabras strategically scattered about the area. There were cloudlike chandeliers that softly illuminated the celestial bonnet of spas. Some spas were running over with frothy bubbles, and others had rose petals floating in a gentle stream of water.

Who would go through such effort just to market bathing spas? I wondered if I would get the opportunity to meet the eccentric person that owned the boutique. I figured he, or she would be a hopeless romantic, much like me.

Arranged beautifully, on tables dressed in gorgeous ivory linens were fluted glasses of champagne and chocolate strawberries for the taking. I helped myself to a few strawberries, and a glass of the sparkling aged wine. It was delicious, and burst with flavors of honey in my mouth and had an ultra rich fragrance; it had to be extremely expensive.

A gentle mix of rose, spearmint and eucalyptus soothed my senses. It was a very intoxicating, yet witty sales technique. I felt sure it was their fragrance-marketing tool that was working on me!

The further I entered into the gallery of spas, the stress of my battle with the wind diminished, and my spirit lifted, lightened by the loveliness of the place. I felt as if I had just passed through the gates of Heaven...or at least my interpretation of what Heaven would be like.

I wandered through the gallery. After several minutes of exploring I sensed an audience of curious eyes gazing upon me. My body stiffened, causing me to spill a bit of champagne, when in the dark my eyes caught an image of a god. That was what he looked like to me.

Was he perfect? Okay, maybe he wasn’t perfect in terms of without a single flaw, but since there were none that my naked eye could see he was flawless. Certainly, I wasn’t the first woman who’d lost her breath upon seeing him. He was breathtaking, literally!

His eyes burned into me from across the room. The urge to flee immediately shifted into gear. It was either depart now, or bow at his feet!

After I had shopped all day, I didn’t feel as if I could run in heels, nor did I look presentable enough to attract the likes of him.
He can’t be staring at me
, I thought,
impossible!

I glanced over my shoulder behind me, convinced that I would find a long-legged gorgeous honey-haired gazelle approaching him. His wife perhaps. I suspected that they both were staring at each other and through me as if I were invisible. To my surprise, there wasn’t anyone within ten feet of me. Was it my lucky day?

My plan was to turn back around, drop my chin to the floor and secretly peer at him from beneath my lashes as I browsed around. With my plan in motion, I turned back around, dropped my chin, and cast my eyes downward.
So far so good.

Without sense of sight, I reached into my bag and pulled out my dark Ray-Bans and put them on. Incognito I could get a better look at him from behind my glasses, without him noticing what I was up to.

Nothing ever goes off without a hitch. My damn sunglasses fell off my face. When I swiftly bent over to retrieve them, my eyes aligned face to toe with a pair of man’s shoes standing inches from mine. I grabbed my glasses and slowly pushed up. My eyes traveled upward, ever so gradually, without looking perverse, examining his long strong legs, narrow hips, trim waistline, broad chest, and then a little higher, stopping on his gorgeous face.

Oh God...it’s you!

He was definitely a god, or a man that looked like one.

So much for my plan, it was an epic failure. I stood there like an idiot that couldn’t speak, breathlessly dazzled by his face.

Up close, I retracted any thoughts that he may possess a single flaw. I froze in my footsteps as his eyes drew me in.

“
Can I help you? You seem lost.” His deep voice penetrated my eardrums.

“
Uh. No.” I shook my head, smiling yet trembling inside. “I mean yes,” I said, gushing nervously.
What did I mean?
“I mean
no
, I’m not lost. But
yes
, I could use some help.” It was obvious at that point I needed more than just help. I was mentally impaired and needed my brain to kick into gear. He appeared amused.

I soon found myself engaged in an actual two-way, sensible conversation with him. Well, sort of sensible.

He shifted his weight closer to me and extended his hand. “Greyson Rain de’ Bluche.” Our eyes locked into a lingering stare. What an interesting name; very regal and cosmic. I wondered if his lineage was noble; perhaps, he was an aristocrat. I would’ve allowed him to reign over me any day.

Time seemed to stand still. I glanced down at his extended right hand. First I noticed his gold ring, sexy buffed nails and intimidating long masculine fingers that were rather thick, reached toward me. My eyes traveled upward to white cuffs that framed the sleeve of his black designer jacket. Pure elegance. Manly elegance.

Things were going well, until it was my turn to react.

He asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oui, bonjour...Je suis enhante,” I said, flustered, feeling my cheeks turning red at the attempt of using French. It was embarrassingly obvious that I’d paused to check him out. I reached out to take his hand, before realizing I still held the sunglasses.
Dumb ass!
I inwardly scolded myself, shifting my sunglasses and shopping bags around.

“
Here let me help you, Miss Eden.” He reached toward my packages. Within a few seconds, I’d blown my chance to touch him or to be touched by the likes of him. Our handshake moment had passed.

My blood rushed back to my brain cells, kicking in my ability to separate fact from fiction. God himself, or merely just a god, stunned me. Then it dawned on me that he’d called me by my name, something only God himself would have known unless I had told him, and I hadn’t.

“Wait. How do you know my name?” I blanched, stepping back, feeling slightly anxious.

“
It’s written on this. I believe it belongs to you.” He held out a slip of white paper.

“
Is that mine?” I asked, batting my lashes. It looked like a receipt.
I didn’t buy anything from here.
I lowered my head, focusing on the letterhead. It was my receipt from Chanel, there was no doubt about it.