One Week With The French Tycoon

His eyes crinkled at the corners as his wry smile deepened. ‘Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me,’ he murmured, leaning closer and enveloping her in his delicious scent.

It was all she could do not to take a great gulping breath of it through her nose. What was it that made his smell so enticing to her? Was this what people called the pheromone effect? She’d never experienced it before.

‘Thanks,’ she deadpanned.

He gave her a curt nod. ‘Well, I’m going to go and eat.’

‘Okay, enjoy,’ she said, disappointed that he was leaving now. Despite his standoffishness, she’d enjoyed chatting with him after spending her morning alone. All the other English-speaking walkers she’d encountered on the route seemed to be part of a group, which she hadn’t had the courage to try and break into yet.

She watched him stride away, trying not to stare at the way he moved his large, fit body with such powerful grace.

Judging by his troubled mood, she guessed he must be struggling with some serious emotional turmoil, which she knew from personal experience could make for a pretty lonely existence. She hated to see people in pain, especially if she thought she could do something to help.

Well, she’d just have to keep an eye out for him, just in case he fancied some no-strings company later.

CHAPTER THREE

Back in Amalfi. Make sure you take advantage of the wonderful selection of restaurants and eateries after visiting the imposing cathedral in the centre of the town...

AFTER THOROUGHLY ENJOYING the solitude of his walk earlier in the day, Julien had been looking forward to finding a place to grab a peaceful lunch when Indigo had run over and accosted him.

It had taken everything he’d had not to be rude and pretend he hadn’t heard her calling out to him, then continue with their stilted conversation when it became clear she wasn’t going to let him get away without extracting some kind of information out of him.

He wasn’t sure why she’d been so keen to chat. Perhaps she was lonely and hadn’t found any other English speakers to buddy up with. He hoped she’d got the message that he preferred to holiday on his own now though, and wouldn’t bother coming over to talk to him should their paths cross again.

A niggle of shame twisted in his gut. He felt bad about being so unfriendly, but she’d picked the wrong time to try and get to know him.

If that had been her objective.

Perhaps she was looking for something more. If that was the case, she was bang out of luck. After the train wreck of his marriage, he wanted nothing to do with women and relationships again for a very long time.

Even spirited ones with legs that went on for miles and eyes you could get lost in.

When he got back to the hotel, he took a long cooling shower then a refreshing nap before striking out for dinner, strolling through the centre of Amalfi on the way to the restaurants on the marina that the hotel receptionist had recommended he try.

Diverted by the magnificence of the Duomo in the town centre, he climbed the wide steps and walked through the Arabic style Cloister of Paradise, looking out through the grand archways at the panoramic view of the town, with its pastel-coloured stone buildings wrapped with iron balconies.

He knew what he was looking at should have blown him away, but ever since his life had fallen to pieces he’d had trouble finding pleasure in things. He felt desensitised to beauty, as if he was viewing it from inside a plastic bubble. Nothing seemed to touch him any more.

Shaking off the building tension at the base of his skull, he was just about to turn and walk back to the steps when a bright flash of red caught his eye.

Was that Indigo again?

Craning his neck, he tried to see past a crowd of tourists blocking his view and catch another glimpse of her so he could make sure to walk in the opposite direction, but she seemed to have disappeared. Was his brain playing tricks on him? No, it must have been her. That hair colour was so unusual it couldn’t be someone else with the exact same shade—and he knew for a fact she was staying in Amalfi tonight.

Walking slowly down the steps, he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax, telling himself it was unlikely they’d cross each other’s paths when it was so busy.

Reaching the Popolo fountain in the middle of the piazza, he sat down on the stone edge of it and ran his fingers through the water, enjoying the cooling effect on his skin. What was wrong with him today? His heart seemed to be racing and his palms felt sweaty.

The heat must be getting to him.

Someone sat down next to him and on impulse he glanced round to see who it was.

‘Fancy seeing you here,’ Indigo said, with a mischievous lift of her eyebrow.

He snorted and shook his head at his terrible luck. What was it about this woman that kept drawing them together?

‘It’s a small town centre; I guess we were bound to bump into each other at some point,’ he said wearily.

She leant back on her hands and studied him. ‘Are you off to forage for some supper?’

He raised his eyebrows, bemused. ‘Forage?’

‘Looking for a place to eat.’

‘Oui.’

‘On your own?’

‘Oui.’ He tensed, anticipating what was coming next.

‘You’re welcome to join me if you’d like,’ she said brightly, confirming his fear. ‘I was just about to grab a slice of pizza at one of those small family-run eateries just off the square.’

‘You mean the cafés with the plastic tables? Non—’ he began to say, but she cut him off.

‘You’d be doing me a favour,’ she said. ‘I’ve been on my own all day and I’m beginning to have conversations with myself out loud, which is never a good sign. If you don’t come and have dinner with me there’s a good chance I’ll be arrested by the end of the night and taken to a secure facility.’ She sat up and folded her arms. ‘Anyway, you owe me.’

He frowned, perplexed. ‘What for?’

‘For letting you share my room.’

‘Your room?’

‘I was there first, remember?’

He sighed, fighting a smile. ‘How could I forget?’

‘So what do you say? Can I tempt you with a slice of pizza?’ She looked so hopeful it made something twist in his chest. But he needed to stay strong.

‘I’m going to try out one of the restaurants down on the marina,’ he said, giving her an apologetic look. ‘Apparently they have fantastic à la carte menus with a good selection of locally caught fresh fish and seafood. Word has it the lobster spaghetti is not to be missed.’

Her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was picturing the food he’d described. ‘Sounds awful,’ she joked, flashing an impertinent grin. ‘Anyway, those places are a total tourist rip-off.’

‘And the pizza joints aren’t?’

Spreading out her hands, she gestured around the square. ‘They’re part of the local colour. You can eat overpriced gourmet food in Paris, or wherever you’re from. Come and support the underdog for once.’ She stared at him hard, like she’d done the previous night, dipping her head to one side and looking up at him through her thick black lashes, and something twisted again inside him—then broke.

Despite his earlier determination to keep to himself tonight, he realised he had no choice but to go and eat a huge greasy slice of pizza with this woman. Maybe then she’d leave him alone.

‘Sure.’ He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘Pizza sounds good.’

‘Great!’ she said, breaking into a huge smile.

He hoped she wasn’t going to read too much into this. Whilst he was prepared to spend the next hour with her, he didn’t want her thinking he wanted to buddy up for the whole week.

As they walked away from the piazza towards one of the back streets that housed the pizza outlets, they passed a homeless person slumped on a filthy-looking rug next to one of the souvenir shops. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Indigo reach into her pocket, then discreetly drop a handful of coins into an empty hat by the side of the man, before strolling on as if nothing had happened.

* * *

As soon as they’d ordered their slices of pizza and drinks from a very jolly waiter at a café with red plastic tables and chairs arranged out on the pavement, Indigo excused herself and went inside to find the bathroom and splash some cool water on to her face.

Maybe insisting on bringing Julien here had been a little extreme, she deliberated as she patted her face dry with a paper towel. He’d not exactly been enthusiastic about taking her up on the offer of company—but she couldn’t shake the concern that it would have been a miserable experience for him, eating dinner on his own, and she was pretty sure if she was patient he’d thaw out eventually.

Sometimes people put up barriers for whatever reason and you had to coax them out of their shell. She’d seen it a lot throughout her time running her café and evening classes. People could appear to be confident on the outside, but when you dug a little deeper it became apparent they were dealing with some tough issues and putting a brave face on things. Often they just needed someone to ask if they were okay, then listen to them.

Which was exactly what she’d done for Gavin, she remembered with a lurch. Not that he’d appreciated it in the end.

Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face. Was she setting herself up for more trouble here, getting involved in Julien’s drama?

She stared into the mirror, looking deep into her own eyes. No. Because this wasn’t going to turn into anything more than a brief encounter—hopefully just one of many connections she’d make during her week here. She was here to socialise and have fun, new experiences this week after all, but that was all it would be.

Pulling a face at herself, she smoothed down her hair then pushed back her shoulders, wishing she’d had something other than her walking clothes to put on tonight. It wasn’t that she wanted to impress Julien exactly, but she felt scruffy next to his overt sophistication, and less confident because of it.

Returning to the table, she saw that the waiter had brought their slices of pizza, as well as a beer for Julien and a glass of tap water for her.

Julien looked so strikingly out of place—sitting there on his cherry-red plastic chair in his designer jeans and beautifully cut open-necked shirt, with his golden hair swept back from his face and aviator sunglasses perched on his head as he read something on his smartphone—that she couldn’t help but smile.

Taking her seat, she gave him a friendly nod as he looked up to acknowledge her return.

‘Great, the food arrived while I was away; I love it when that happens,’ she said, picking up her glass and taking a sip of water to cover a sudden bout of nerves at being there with him.

He just looked at her as if she was slightly loopy.

Swallowing hard, she put her glass down and leaned forwards, propping her arms on the table. ‘So, tell me, Julien, why did you choose to walk the Amalfi coast?’ she asked brightly in an attempt to get the conversation started.

He took his sunglasses off his head and slid them on to his nose so all she could see now was her own reflection in the lenses. ‘It seemed like a good place to get away from it all.’

‘Apart from all the tourists.’ She gave him a smile, which he didn’t return.

‘I didn’t realise how popular this place was.’

‘You mean you didn’t do your homework? Somehow I find that hard to believe,’ she said.

He frowned. ‘Really? Why?’

‘I don’t know... You just seem very—together. Very—businesslike.’

He huffed out a dry laugh and picked up his beer bottle, taking a long pull. ‘Why did you choose to come here?’ he asked, gesturing to their surroundings with the neck of the bottle.

She paused, arranging her answer in her mind. ‘I’ve wanted to do this walk for ages and I finally got round to booking it this year,’ she said, uncomfortably aware of a jolt of sadness in her chest. She and Gavin had talked about coming here since they’d got together, when things had been good between them. Before he’d started to resent her.

Julien leant back in his seat and studied her. ‘Do you often holiday alone?’

‘No, just this time.’ She took a breath, deciding she might as well be straight with him.

‘Actually, I was supposed to come here with my boyfriend, but we split up three months ago. He didn’t want to come with his new partner, so I figured, since it was non-refundable, I may as well use it as a chance to get away for a bit.’ She was aiming for a breezy and upbeat tone of voice, but from the look on Julien’s face she suspected she must have fallen well short.

Still, perhaps her confession would open up an opportunity for him to talk about his own situation.

‘How about you? Were you supposed to come here with someone?’ she asked, perhaps a little desperately.

He avoided her gaze, looking instead at the waiter who was busying about nearby. ‘Non,’ was all he said, picking up his slice of pizza and taking a large bite.

‘Oh.’ She tapped her toe gently against the plastic leg of the table, then picked up her own slice and studied it, uncomfortably aware that she’d lost her appetite now.

‘Well, it’s really nice to be here, anyway,’ she continued, to cover the now rather prickly silence. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in a couple of years—if you don’t count the four days I spent at my oldest brother’s house over Christmas, which wasn’t exactly a relaxing break. Three of my brothers have kids—one of them has four boys—so it was more like staying in a soft play gym crossed with a zoo.’

Picking up his beer, Julien took another long pull. ‘You don’t have your own kids?’ he asked.

There was a sharp spasm in her chest. She’d fantasised about her and Gavin having kids, once upon a time. Another thing to mourn the loss of. ‘Not yet. Hopefully one day. I’m sure it’ll happen when it’s the right time.’

He grimaced as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘The right time,’ he repeated flatly.

‘Yeah, I firmly believe that kids turn up when you most need them to.’

Looking over the top of his sunglasses, he gave her a withering stare.

Irritation pricked at her skin. ‘So I’m guessing you don’t have kids either?’ she asked, determined to ignore his negativity.

‘Non.’ The word was terse and had a definite full stop at the end.

‘But you’d like to, one day?’

‘Can we change the subject?’ he said levelly, but with an undertone of steel.

‘Um, sure.’ Clearly she’d hit a nerve.

Perhaps it was for the best that they talk about something else anyway. The subject wasn’t exactly an inspiring one for her now that she was single.

Indigo nibbled at the crust of her pizza while she thought of a new topic of conversation.

‘Your English is very good. Where do you live?’

‘In Paris, but I conduct a lot of business in the English language.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

For the first time that night he seemed to relax, pushing his sunglasses up on to his head again and sitting back in his chair. ‘Oui. My business acquires and renovates high-end holiday homes in France for clients all over the world. We also source and maintain corporate Parisian apartments for executives to live in whilst they conduct business in France.’

‘Nice.’

‘I enjoy it.’

‘Lucrative.’

‘Oui.’

‘Good for you.’

‘What about you? What do you do?’ He took another large bite of his pizza.

‘I run a café that uses mostly surplus and past best before date food from supermarkets and restaurants. We sell affordable meals for people on low incomes so they can come and get a square meal at least a couple of times a week. Since we opened, we’ve had a lot of elderly gentlemen come in who’ve lost their wives and have no idea how to cook, so I started running cookery lessons in the evenings aimed specifically at people like them, to give them a grounding in making basic, healthy meals for themselves at home. It’s going well so far, but it’s been hard work. We rely a lot on donations and public grants so there’s loads of form filling and face-to-face negotiating, and quite a bit of pleading on bended knee.’

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