One Week With The French Tycoon

It brought it home to her how much she’d missed being touched, being held, just being physically close to someone since Gavin had left her. Now she had the time and space to think about it, the after-effects seemed to be coming out in the strangest of ways.

She turned the key decisively in the lock, hearing it click.

Flinging herself at Julien was definitely not the way to deal with things.

Okay, time to put the sexy Frenchman out of her mind and get practical.

Striding purposefully away from the door, she dropped the small rucksack she’d used as hand luggage on to the bed. Thank goodness she’d had the forethought to pack a few essentials into it for just such an occurrence.

Even so, after spending a lot of time planning for this trip, it was unnerving to find herself without all her carefully thought-out trekking gear. She didn’t even have her walking boots with her, so she would have to walk for at least five hours each day in the trainers she’d changed into at the last second at the airport because her feet were so hot. What an unfortunate decision that had been.

Hopefully the airline would find her bag soon and send it to one of the hotels on the route. She’d left her details and itinerary with the lost luggage desk at the airport and they’d promised—after what seemed like hours of form-filling—to send it on once it had been located.

The biggest problem she faced was that she’d put half of her money and her emergency credit card into the lost backpack too, not wanting to carry it all in her hand luggage in case that was stolen. At least her breakfasts were already paid for, so she could eat heartily in the morning and maybe skip lunch in order to eke out what little cash she had to feed herself in the evenings. Just until her backpack turned up. Which would be okay. She was used to budgeting and eating frugally.

It would all be part of the adventure.

Emptying out her rucksack on to the bedspread, she took an inventory of what she had with her: one extra pair of knickers and one pair of socks—that she’d have to alternate with the ones she had on and wash each day—a toothbrush and a tiny tube of toothpaste, a spare T-shirt and a short cotton skirt which she’d interchange with the shorts and vest she had on, a pack of mints, a mascara that promised to give you ‘Hollywood eyes’ and her trusty liquid eyeliner, a packet of painkillers, her wallet and passport and a book on walking the Amalfi coast. She didn’t even have her mobile phone with her, she realised with a lurch, because she’d packed that into her missing luggage too, determined to only use it for emergencies on the trip so that she’d make the most of the scenery and social life and not be constantly diverted by the online world.

After packing everything carefully back into the bag, she took a refreshing shower in the floor-to-ceiling marble bathroom, lathering herself with the zingy-smelling complimentary shower gel, before sliding between the crisp cotton sheets of the bed.

What luxury!

Stretching herself into a starfish shape, she brushed her fingertips over the smooth mahogany headboard and sighed hard, painfully aware of how much empty space there was on either side of her.

The cruel irony of staying in the honeymoon suite had not been lost on her.

In a parallel universe—where Gavin hadn’t fallen in love with another woman—she’d be tumbling into bed with him right about now.

What would he have said about staying in this room? She pictured them laughing about it, ribbing each other about how much sex they should be having to keep up with all the former inhabitants. Out of nowhere a feeling of utter desolation hit her right in the chest. It had been three months since they’d split up and she’d not allowed herself to fall apart since the day it had happened, keeping herself busy and using this holiday as a bright spot to look forward to when she felt glum. But the realisation that this was it—that she was here now, on her own, and this was the reality of her situation suddenly brought her low.

She thumped the mattress on either side of her. She was not going to let it get her down.

As she’d learnt from an early age, crying and whinging didn’t get you anywhere. That was what growing up in an all-male household and having four smart, alpha, and now highly successful older brothers would teach you. She’d never won an argument or topped a challenge by turning on the waterworks or asking for special dispensation, and that was the way she preferred it. Everything she’d achieved had been on her own merits. She’d fought just as hard—if not harder—than her brothers for her successes and she was proud of what she’d achieved.

Unfortunately, Gavin hadn’t understood that drive to succeed on her own, and had cited her desire to pour too much time and energy into making her café a success and ‘excluding him from parts of her life where he wasn’t necessary’ as the catalyst for their breakup. According to him, she treated him like one of her projects and acted as if she had more love for the strangers who frequented the café than for him. That had been particularly gutting to hear because she liked to think of herself as a perceptive and caring partner.

Pushing away the threatening gloom, she sat up and punched her pillows back into shape before flopping back down and wriggling further into the sumptuous bed.

Well, from this point on she was looking after herself.

Whilst she was here she was going to get some fresh air and exercise, meet people outside of her small sphere of work and recharge her batteries before returning home feeling refreshed and more positive about her future.

As she lay there, willing away the lingering tight feeling in her chest, something about her earlier head-to-head with Julien suddenly occurred to her. He’d conducted his whole conversation, even the bit with the receptionist, in English. Had he done that so as not to exclude her? Or was he just better at English than Italian? From her experience with him so far, she got the impression he’d be good at everything he did—he certainly exuded that kind of confidence.

Except for that moment when he’d talked about how intense his day had been. There had been a vulnerability to his voice that hadn’t been there for the rest of the time.

Whatever could have affected him so deeply? Could it have something to do with his failed marriage?

Perhaps he, too, was here to get a new perspective on life after a bad breakup.

She knew first-hand how demoralising it could be going through a divorce. Gavin, her ex, had been an utter mess when he’d first moved into her spare room—which she’d offered to him as a favour to a friend of a friend after his wife demanded they separate. At that point it had been six months since her father had passed away and she was finding it very lonely living in their empty family home without him, so it had been nice to have the company.

She’d found comfort in taking care of Gavin: making him healthy meals when she discovered he wasn’t eating properly and sitting with him, listening to him talk through his pain and humiliation for hours and hours.

At the time, she hadn’t anticipated it turning into a relationship, but there it was. In retrospect, it seemed inevitable now that something more would have developed between them, especially when they’d grown so emotionally close.

A prickle of disquiet ran up her spine.

She really should have asked Julien if he was okay when he’d mentioned his divorce. In her experience, whenever people brought up things like that it was usually because they wanted to talk to someone about it, but she’d blithely ignored his prompt, more concerned about rebutting his teasing. It was possible she could use her experience to help him out in some way, though. As one concerned human being to another. Considering he was here on his own, she wouldn’t be surprised to find he didn’t have anyone at home he could talk to about what he was going through.

Turning over and letting out a huge yawn, she told herself that if she saw Julien again on the walk she’d make an effort to check that he was okay, just to set her mind at rest. But that would be it. The whole experience with Gavin had made her very wary of getting romantically involved with a divorcee again—she never wanted to be someone’s rebound relationship ever again.

So for now, she was going to put the sexy Frenchman—unnervingly close on the other side of the door—out of her mind.

CHAPTER TWO

The Ravello Circuit. A tricky walk with lots of steps. We recommend breaking the walk at the magnificent Villa Cimbrone gardens before visiting Ravello, then stopping for a scenic lunch break in Pontone...

JULIEN MOREAUX AWOKE to find the sun streaming in through the large windows of the honeymoon suite. He rubbed a hand across his bleary eyes, forcing his thoughts into some kind of coherent arrangement.

He was here, in Amalfi. Finally.

It hadn’t mattered to him exactly where he’d end up when he’d asked his PA to book this break for him—all he’d stipulated was that he wanted somewhere where he could move from one place to another so he didn’t feel trapped into having to see the same people in the same place every day—and he was pleased with her choice.

This walking holiday had been marked in his mind for some time as the beginning of the return to the way things used to be, and he’d been looking forward to losing himself in the monotony of hard exercise and self-imposed solitude.

Not that the solitude part had worked out well so far.

He grimaced as the events of the previous evening came back to haunt him. Sharing his suite with a bohemian idealist with an overblown zeal for life had not been an ideal start, but after sensing Indigo’s desperation to fix the situation amicably and seeing the earnest pleading in her eyes, he’d known there was no way he could refuse her suggestion.

And he was tired of being the bad guy.

A huge yawn hit him and he rocked his head back against the soft cushions of the sofa, giving his body a long, hard stretch to wake up his cramped muscles.

Considering the way he was feeling this morning, he suspected, if he allowed himself, he could easily spend the whole week sleeping. Not that he was going to do that. He’d come here for a change of scene and a reprieve from the pressures of life and there was no way he was wasting his time in Italy staring at four walls. Even if they were as magnificent as the ones in this hotel.

This observation led his thoughts back to Indigo’s wry comment about him being familiar with staying in the honeymoon suite.

A cold prickle ran across his skin.

The last time he’d been in a room like this he’d thought his life had been on the up and up, but look at him now, barely two years later, holidaying alone only hours after signing his divorce papers, with the ink of his signature still drying in his mind.

Swinging himself into a sitting position on the sofa, he stifled another yawn behind his hand and rubbed his face hard to get the blood circulating.

He really needed to get up and out before Indigo emerged; he didn’t think he had the mental energy this morning to deal with another awkward scene with her.

Glancing towards the bedroom door, he was surprised to see it standing wide open.

Huh, weird. He checked his watch. Seven o’clock. So she hadn’t been joking when she said she’d be up and out early too.

Hauling himself off the sofa, he went to investigate further.

‘Indigo?’ he called gently, so as not to startle her in case she was still in there.

There was no reply.

Poking his head around the doorway, he saw that the bed was empty, with the sheets pulled haphazardly back and the door to the en suite bathroom flung open.

She was gone.

That was a relief.

Feeling the tension leave his shoulders, he went back into the living area and pulled out the clothes he was going to wear for his walk today, before heading off for an invigorating shower.

There had been something about her that intrigued him, though, he mused as he felt the soothing water cascade over his aching back—her determination and bolshie confidence perhaps. She certainly wasn’t his usual type, with her leggy, voluptuous figure and short, feathery bobbed hair in a shocking shade of red, which had reminded him of the colour of the sea of poppy fields behind the house in Provence where he’d grown up. Historically, he’d always been attracted to petite women, usually blondes, with more of a delicate air about them, but there was something incredibly alluring about Indigo, with her wide, open smile and playful gaze.

She was sexy.

He shut off the water and reached for a towel, drying himself vigorously. If he was being honest, she’d probably only captured his interest because it had been refreshing to meet a woman who didn’t want to take something from him and just walk away for once. He was used to being the one to sort out other people’s problems, and it had been a long time since someone had done something benevolent for him.

It would be better if he didn’t see her again, though, he told himself, flinging the towel into the bath. He wasn’t in any state to be sociable at the moment.

After shaving off his morning stubble, he pulled on shorts, a light breathable T-shirt and the brand new walking boots that his PA had sourced for him, and gave himself a nod in the mirror.

Okay. Now he was ready to face the day and whatever it might bring.

He checked his email on his phone as he travelled down in the elevator ready to grab some breakfast in the restaurant, pleased to find there wasn’t anything that needed his urgent attention. That was sure to change by the end of the week, though.

After dropping by the reception desk to confirm they’d have the suite that he’d booked available for him when he returned from his hike, he was about to walk away to get his breakfast when curiosity about Indigo’s situation stopped him. He should probably check whether he was likely to come across her again, just so he could prepare himself for it.

He turned back.

‘Did you find another room here for the woman I shared the honeymoon suite with last night?’ he asked the receptionist.

Confusion flickered across her face, until recollection seemed to strike her. ‘The lady from your suite checked out, Signor.’

That must mean she wasn’t doing the Ravello circuit and coming back to Amalfi today, which meant there wasn’t any danger of bumping into her again.

Good, that was good, because he’d feel compelled to acknowledge her if they saw each other again, which would encroach on his much anticipated alone time.

‘Okay, thanks,’ he said, giving the receptionist a nod before heading over to the breakfast room at the other end of the lobby.

Considering it was still pretty early, the place was already buzzing with guests, and he grabbed the only spare table near the back wall. After seating himself, he took a look around him, soaking up the animated vibe. Quite a few of the guests seemed to be dressed in walking gear, like him. Clearly the coastal walk was a big draw to the area. Hmm, perhaps it wouldn’t be as solitary an experience as he was hoping, he reflected with a twinge of annoyance.

A flash of bright red on the other side of the room caught his eye and, heart thumping, he quickly leant back, using the couple sitting at the table next to him as cover. Grabbing the menu in front of him and holding it to hide most of his face, he gradually leant forwards again to take another look. As he suspected, it was Indigo, standing at the breakfast buffet with her back to him, her hair damp and gleaming and her small rucksack slung over one arm.

She looked refreshed and energised this morning, her skin glowing with health and her posture relaxed. His gaze followed her as she moved smoothly along the buffet, seemingly checking over her options before making her choice. She grabbed an apple and a couple of bread rolls from the display and he stared in baffled amusement as she slipped them into the gaping opening of her bag. After a quick check around, she seemed to discern that no one was watching her and popped a couple of slices of Parma ham and a small bottle of mineral water from the cooler section in there too. Next went in a pat of butter and a little package of cheese.

Evidently deciding she had enough food stashed away, she strolled nonchalantly away from the buffet, slinging her bag over her shoulder and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her shorts. He half expected her to start whistling Food, Glorious Food as she made her getaway.

She was staying in a five-star hotel, but she was too cheap to buy her own lunch? What was that about?

He allowed himself one last look at her long, shapely legs as she disappeared out of the room, then turned to gesture for the waitress to bring him some coffee.

And that, he guessed, feeling an odd twinge in his chest, would probably be the last he’d ever see of Indigo Hughes.

* * *

Indigo had thought she was in pretty good shape. She went to the gym at least a couple of times a week and opted to walk around London as much as possible instead of jumping on public transport, but by the time she’d climbed what seemed like a thousand steps leading away from Amalfi—pausing on her journey to walk through the ancient brick-walled walkways hung with canopies of vibrant greenery in the Villa Cimbrone gardens—then on to the quaint little town of Ravello, she realised her fitness levels were nothing like as good as she’d imagined.

Still, she’d made it here without incident, and after wandering around the quiet streets crammed with cool artisan shops and visiting the simple but atmospheric cathedral, it was a relief to walk downhill to the little village of Pontone and stop for a rest and to eat her lunch.

Sitting on a wide grassy viewpoint which looked out over the dramatic drop down to the coast, she was just about to take the final bite of the sandwich she’d made out of the food she’d filched from the breakfast buffet when she noticed a familiar figure making his way across the grass in the direction of the trattorias that, according to her guide, were favoured by walkers on the route because of the incredible views from their balconies.

After spending the whole morning trying not to think about the sight of Julien lying bare-chested on the sofa, looking utterly divine in repose as she tiptoed past him, she was disconcerted to see him again in the flesh. Not that she was going to let that stop her from being friendly. She’d made that promise to herself to check he was okay here on his own, so that was what she was going to do. Just because he was ridiculously sexy and ever so slightly intimidating it didn’t mean she couldn’t have a friendly chat with him.

‘Hi there,’ she called as he came level with where she was sitting.

He didn’t appear to hear her.

‘Julien! Hey, Julien, over here!’ she shouted this time. She could have sworn she saw him flinch before turning to look over to where she was sitting. He raised a hand and gave her a nod of acknowledgement, before turning back and continuing on his journey.

Huh.

Perhaps he assumed she wouldn’t want to be disturbed whilst eating her lunch. Yes, that must be it; he couldn’t be deliberately avoiding her.

Could he?

No—she was being paranoid.

Jumping up and grabbing her daypack, she made after him, having to pick up her pace in order to catch up with him before he strode out of sight.

‘Hey, Julien, wait!’ she called, a little out of breath by the time she reached him.

He turned around and gave her a look of expectant concern. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his gaze flicking behind her as if he was worried she was being pursued.

‘I’m fine,’ she panted, ‘just wanted to check you’re enjoying your day. You seemed a little—er—’ she flapped a hand at him ‘—stressed yesterday.’

He took a small step backwards and let out a sharp snort. ‘Yes, I’m enjoying it so far.’ A small frown flickered across his face. ‘Thank you.’

There was a pause while she waited for him to ask if she was having a good time too.

He didn’t.

‘Okay, good.’ She clapped her hands together awkwardly. ‘Well, I just wanted to say hi. So, hi!’ she blurted, sincerely hoping he’d assume the blush travelling up her neck was a flush from the sun and her mad dash across the grass.

‘Hi,’ he replied flatly, folding his arms across his chest.

There was another heavy pause where he blinked at her, as if waiting for her to make her excuses and leave. Well, she wasn’t going to. She’d learnt over the last year whilst working at the café that just because someone seemed unfriendly when you first spoke to them, it didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t want to talk to you. They were probably just distracted by something they’d been thinking about, or they were hungry, or concerned about the tightness of their trousers or something. Not that it appeared as though any of his clothes weren’t fitting him perfectly. In fact, he looked as if he’d just stepped off a page in one of the hiking gear magazines she’d pored over whilst preparing for the holiday, before realising she could afford exactly none of the items in it.

‘Did you like Ravello? All those steps up to it nearly killed me!’ she joked, cringing inside at the hint of desperation in her voice.

He didn’t even break a smile. ‘Yes, it was an interesting place.’ His brow creased into a frown. ‘They told me at the reception desk you’d checked out. I didn’t expect to see you on this circuit today.’

She stiffened, wondering why on earth he seemed so irritated about her walking the same route as him.

‘I have another hotel in town booked for tonight. A better organised one, I hope,’ she said, shrugging off her discomfort and forcing a smile on to her face.

‘Okay. Bon.’ He took a deliberate step backwards, then froze as her words seemed to sink in. ‘Do you mean you’re staying in Amalfi again tonight?’

Another wave of warmth began to creep up her neck. ‘Yup.’

His brow crinkled in confusion. ‘Then why are you moving hotels after only one night?’

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I like to change things up. It keeps me on my toes.’

And I can’t afford to stay in that hotel again, not that I’m admitting that to you, Monsieur Moneybags.

He nodded slowly, his gaze searching hers as if he was trying to rootle out a lie.

She just raised both eyebrows at him, determined not to give in and blurt out the truth, trying to ignore the way her pulse had sped up.

Letting out a sharp huff of a laugh, Julien broke eye contact and glanced behind him as if looking for an excuse to leave. Not that she could blame him; the conversation wasn’t exactly flowing well and she was tempted to slink away herself. But she wasn’t going to; she was going to see this through to the bitter end, as a matter of personal fulfilment.

‘So, are you going to try one of those trattorias for your lunch?’ she pressed, nodding in the direction he’d been heading.

He closed his eyes for a second and pulled in a sharp breath, then smiled politely. ‘Oui. I didn’t have the forethought to bring any food with me.’ He gestured towards the remains of her sandwich, which was still clutched in her hand. ‘Where did you get your lunch today?’ The dry irony in his tone suggested there was more to his question than a simple polite query.

He must have seen her take the food from the buffet. The realisation sent a prickle up her spine. Normally she would never have done such a thing, hating the idea of stealing anything from anyone, but with the limited funds she had available until her bag turned up, it was necessary to bend her rules a little.

‘I purloined it from the breakfast buffet,’ she admitted, forcing herself to keep her chin up and her gaze locked with his. ‘I thought the least the hotel could do was gift me a lunch after their mess-up with the room last night. Anyway, a place like that always puts out more than is consumed. I was helping with their wastage problem,’ she finished, aware that her tone was edged with defensiveness.