"Sanders?"
"Yes...Anne?"
"Can I be frank with you?"
"Yes of course"
"Well, you are going to the party tomorrow and...I...well..."
I was stuttering like a complete fool. I don't know what had gotten into me.
"I...was hoping that you would ask me to dinner. After the party of course."
"Miss, that would be lovely! I apologize for not asking you sooner."
"No no! It's alright, Sanders. I should be the one asking. You are a very handsome man."
The conversation came to a stop and he looked at me, eyes wide open. For Pete's sake, why did I say that? He must think I'm some hopelessly romantic failure. My love life and career looked like it would end after this conversation.
"Well why don't we go out tonight?"
"Tonight? Why tonight?"
I had some more paper work to do from Stephens and had to package the portrait for tomorrow's party.
"It is almost a crime to not take a beautiful lady out on a fine day like this."
I looked up at him and agreed to the dinner.
After I got out of my cab, I decided to take a half hour nap. I brewed myself a coffee after it and started working on paperwork, sincerely from Stephens. Great. As I got to my last page, something caught my eye. The document had an outline of Stephen's profile. A profile of his criminal record. Why on earth was it in this pile? I could not read the words on the paper because it was all in another language. German, I concluded. The only person in France that I really knew who spoke German was Sanders. Gosh...he was so versatile...and smart...and witty. Why was I thinking of him again? I am way out of his league. Wow stop thinking like that...stop. Stop. Urgh whatever.
After contemplating whether or not to show this to anyone for ages, I finally decided that it was only right to share it with my trusty coworker.
I put the document away for later and got up to get ready for the dinner. Sanders had told me that he would be outside with a car at 8:00 PM. I slipped into a gorgeous size 3, retro halter top dress in the color navy and topped the outfit off with a pair of black Chanel high heels. And then It was time for my hair. The best part. I turned the curling iron on and prepped my dark brown hair. It was then when I realized that it was...already 7:55. I tried to whiz through the sections of my hair but it kind of turned out to be a big, poofy blob. I tried fixing it by going over the sections one last time. Worse. I looked out the window. Sanders was waiting by a slick black car and I knew it was time to really panic. My sweat broke through my foundation and I ran to my door. Oh! Almost forgot...I ended up throwing my hair all on one side and clipped it nicely on the back.
I scurried out to the lobby and stopped to walk slowly out to the steps. I nonchalantly strutted my way down as Sanders gingerly received my hand. I saw his gold-speckled, green eyes scanning me inch by inch and I knew he wanted me. He wanted me so bad. But...who doesn't?
To be continued...
YOU ARE READING
Be Good To Me, Paris
Romance"It was actually almost the first time I've ever really scanned Sanders' face. His cheeks perfectly flushed, his nose pretty and precise, his jaw smooth and sharp, and his green eyes completely compatible with his brown hair. "
