Follow Your Star, Jennifer Bohnet [best fiction novels to read txt] 📗

was still smiling when Jean-Claude joined her a couple of minutes later.

‘Shall we go? I booked a table for eight o’clock at my favourite fish restaurant on Boulevard Grande Bretagne.’ He stopped suddenly and looked at her anxiously. You do like fish, don’t you? I didn’t think to ask!’

‘Yes, JC, I do,’ Nanette laughingly reassured him.

A crowd of paparazzi had gathered on the pavement outside the hotel and flashbulbs started to pop as they walked past. Nanette, glancing briefly across to see if she recognized the blonde celebrity posing in the Casino entrance, thought ‘rather her than me’ and failed to notice a lone photographer moving backwards.

Jean-Claude’s warning shout, ‘Hey, mind where you’re going,’ and his attempt to pull her out of the way, was too late. The man collided with her heavily and they both fell over the small hedge that separated the pavement from the parkland grass in the middle of the Place du Casino.

Dazed, Nanette sat on the ground taking deep breaths for several moments and trying in vain to ignore the cameras that were now aimed in her direction.

‘Are you all right?’ asked a concerned Jean-Claude. ‘Do you think you’ve broken anything?’

Nanette shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just winded. But I could do with a hand to get up.’

Gently Jean-Claude helped her to her feet.

‘Mademoiselle, I am so sorry,’ the photographer said.

‘It’s OK.’ Nanette said. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going either.’

She looked at Jean-Claude. ‘Could we just get to the restaurant please? I’d like some water.’

‘Hey!’ the photographer said suddenly. ‘I recognize you. Aren’t you the woman who nearly killed Zac Ewart?’

CHAPTER THREE

Days later, the words ‘Aren’t you the woman who nearly killed Zac Ewart?’ were still ringing in Nanette’s head as she kept going over and over the incident.

She’d known it was inevitable that someone from the past would recognize her, but somehow she’d expected it to happen during Grand Prix week when people she’d worked with years ago would be in town.

As she’d stared at the photographer, shocked into silence by his words, Jean-Claude had stopped a passing taxi, helped her into it and taken her back to his villa. He had comforted her, telling her that it was an isolated incident.

‘You might have a certain notoriety for a few days now the press have realized you’re back. Especially’ – he hesitated before continuing – ‘when Zac Ewart arrives. But I promise you it will pass.’

He had poured her a small brandy, encouraging her to sip it, while he phoned the restaurant and cancelled his reservation. He’d then cooked them pasta for supper before driving her back to the apartment.

Mathieu had been in when they arrived and Jean-Claude had quickly told him about the evening’s incident before wishing Nanette ‘Goodnight.’

As Mathieu saw JC out, Nanette opened the patio doors and stepped on to the balcony. Standing there watching the lights and looking over the harbour she was deep in thought when Mathieu joined her.

‘I see Pole Position is back,’ he said, looking down towards the yachts. There was a pause before he added, ‘Zac is planning a big party on board in a couple of weeks I understand.’

‘Of course he is,’ Nanette said shortly, remembering when she’d done the organizing for on-board parties. ‘And, knowing Zac, he won’t stop at the one.’

Mathieu looked at her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently.

Nanette nodded. ‘Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that photographer tonight.…’ She sighed, shook her head and didn’t finish the sentence.

‘Don’t let it worry you,’ Mathieu said. ‘A couple more weeks, there will be so many famous people in town the paparazzi will forget about you.’

‘Hope you’re right,’ Nanette answered. She looked at him hesitantly before asking, ‘Are you in touch with Zac?’

Mathieu nodded. ‘He’s getting some pit lane passes for me.’

‘Does he know I’m here?’

‘Yes. I told him you were coming to look after the twins for me.’

‘How did he react?’

Mathieu shrugged. ’He didn’t say anything so I can’t tell you.’

Mathieu was the first to speak again after a short silence.

‘Talking of parties. We’ve got the Vintage Grand Prix this year the weekend before the main one and I’m giving a lunch on the Sunday. Just friends and a few business contacts.’ He glanced at her. ‘I hope you’ll join us?’

‘Thanks. What about the twins though? Pierre will be keen, but Olivia will find the whole thing totally boring.’

Mathieu smiled. ‘Maybe when she hears a certain pop star is on the guest list she’ll come round.’

‘Of course, you’re directly above the start line here,’ Nanette said, leaning on the balcony watching the cars moving along the Boulevard Albert 1st below. ‘You’ll have a great view. People will be begging to come.’

‘The sound effects will be pretty awesome too,’ Mathieu said. ‘Nanette, I meant what I said the other evening about us getting to know each other better – I’m aiming to be home more in the next few weeks so I hope we can spend some time together. I’m sorry I had to cancel our date to see the tennis, but I hope you won’t hold that against me.’

‘Of course not. I was busy helping Jean-Claude sort out his office anyway.’

‘I’ve promised the twins I’ll take them out next Monday as it’s a fête. I’ve got some friends who have a place up in the country near Grasse who’ve invited us for the day. Olivia and Pierre love it up there. Will you come, too?’

Before Nanette could reply his mobile rang and, with an apologetic smile, Mathieu turned from her and answered it. Nanette closed the balcony doors, mouthed ‘goodnight’ to a distracted Mathieu and went to bed with her thoughts.

A dishevelled Mathieu appeared the next morning as Nanette was getting the twins ready to leave for school.

‘Morning,’ he said, helping himself to a cup of coffee and joining the twins as they ate their pains au chocolat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen.

‘I’ve got to go away again this morning for a