French Escape: From Daredevil to Devoted Daddy / One Week with the French Tycoon / It Happened in Paris...

“A totally unrealistic thought since I’ve never sailed by myself. I think I’d like a competent crew and big boat that could handle anything the sea throws at us. Then maybe.”

“Have you done any long distance sailing?”

“Around the Med a few summers ago as part of a crew. But my father was living then and in charge of the winery. Now, it falls primarily to me. The appeal of being on the water would be the total lack of communication. And that’s unreal—decisions have to be made, plans implemented.”

“So work up to a sabbatical like professors have,” she said, falling into step with him.

“Hmm. In the meantime, climbing’s a strong leader for most desired escape.”

She laughed. “What happened to quiet, safe hobbies like stamp collecting or photography?” She felt almost giddy around him.

He tilted his head slightly. “I might consider taking a picture from the top of a climb.”

“If the camera didn’t get banged up on the way.”

“Never happen.”

“Have you ever fallen?” she asked.

“Slipped a few times. No harm done.”

“That’s a blessing.”

“Not all climbers fall,” he said.

“I know that. But there have to be less scary hobbies.”

“Sure, but what could compare?”

“Travel, for one.”

“Where would you like to travel?” he asked.

“London,” she answered promptly.

“And what’s there?”

“Everything. From Westminster Abbey to the London Eye.”

“Would you be brave enough to ride in it?” he asked.

“Hey, I’m adventuresome. I came to France from America, didn’t I? I climbed a cliff yesterday. I imagine the view from the top of the Eye would be spectacular.”

“Probably. The view from the top of the cliffs is spectacular. I’d hardly call what you scaled yesterday a cliff.”

The teasing tone in his voice startled her. She looked at him suspiciously.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No.” But his lips twitched.

She remembered the grin he’d given her yesterday when she’d complained about the strain on her arms and legs. It would be worth being mocked to see him laugh.

The walk back took far less time than she expected. Alexandre was playing on the veranda and jumped up to run to her when he saw her.

“I’d like to take you and your son to dinner,” Matt said just before the child reached them.

“What? You don’t have to take us to dinner,” she said quickly. Her interest couldn’t be that blatant, could it?

“If you knew me better, you’d know I rarely do things I don’t wish to. It would be a … a good ending to the day,” Matt said as if choosing his words carefully.

“Mama, where were you? Rene said you’d be back but you’ve been gone a long time,” Alexandre said when he reached her.

“I went for a walk. I thought you’d still be asleep. Now I’m back. Matt asked to take us out to dinner. Won’t that be fun?”

“Shall we leave in about a half hour? That’ll give me time to clean up a bit.”

Jeanne-Marie nodded. She wanted to clean up a bit herself.

Once in her room, she debated what to wear. She loved the way her blue dress fit and showed off her figure. But was it too much when she’d been wearing khakis all day? Maybe the pink top, which gave color to her cheeks. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment. Who was that staring back? A widow living without her husband. A mother who loved her son.

But, just maybe, a woman on the brink of something different. Would it be wonderful or end up leaving her mourning what could never be? Funny, she hadn’t thought about making a life with any other man. She’d loved Phillipe. She was trying to make her life what she thought he would have wanted. But he was gone. Maybe it was time to look for other ways to spend the future. Alexandre wouldn’t be with her forever. He would grow up, go off to college and marry. He could live on another continent as she did, so far from where she grew up.

What would the years after that hold?

Right now was not the time to grow philosophical.

She chose the pink top to go with the khaki slacks. She would wear nicer shoes. Every restaurant would be mobbed because of the holiday. Casual was the dress of the day.

The excitement shining in her eyes couldn’t be ignored. Was she ready for this?

“Do you like growing grapes and making wine?” Jeanne-Marie asked once they were finally seated in Le Chat Noir. The wait had seemed interminable, with Alexandre complaining every two minutes he was hungry. Most of the people waiting, however, had been in high spirits. The festive air permeated the village. Matt hadn’t minded the wait. For the first time in a long while he felt connected with others.

“Is that something you always wanted to do?” she added.

“Ever since I was a kid, I knew this was my role in life. I enjoy it. And when I can take a vacation, it seems the best part is returning home. I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather do. I suspect you never yearned to be an innkeeper.” He thought of the acres of vineyards, the constant worry about the weather or pests. The heavy, laden vines just before harvest, the purple grapes looking almost frosted. He missed being there.

She laughed. Matt was struck again by the sound of her laughter. He let his gaze settle on her for a moment. She looked lovely tonight with color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. He would like to hear that laughter more. He suspected that she didn’t laugh nearly enough.

“Not at all. Before I met Phillipe, I planned to be an art historian, maybe teach. I enjoyed my classes at university and wanted to have others find the same delight in studying paintings by the masters. But once I fell in love, all I wanted was a family and a happy life. Strange how things worked out. Phillipe hadn’t wanted to run the inn, but refused to sell it when his grandfather died. Even his mother suggested selling and it had been her childhood home. I never expected to own it myself and run it. Still, look how fortunate I am.”

“Indeed.” Making the best of the situation. Which he struggled to do as well.

After their order had been taken, he leaned back as Alexandre chattered away, talking about his day, the rides he’d gone on and the fact he’d seen all the parade since Matt had held him so high.

“Definitely a wonderful thing,” Jeanne-Marie said, wishing Phillipe had had more time with his son. Alexandre had been a baby when he died. He’d never known the joy of his conversation, his enchantment with life. And Alexandre would never know his father except by what Jeanne-Marie and his grandparents told him.

Matt leaned forward slightly. “No time for sadness. This is a celebration.”

She looked up. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about his father and how much he missed. I really appreciate your coming today. Look how much he liked it.”

Matt looked at Alexandre. “My son was that age when he was killed. Think of all he missed.”

“Oh, you’re right, this is not a time to grow melancholy. Thank you for inviting us to dinner. Afterward, we’ll head back, grab a good seat on the veranda and watch the fireworks. They are the highlight of the day for me. You’ll love them.”

Matt pushed away thoughts of another woman, another fete, and focused on the woman with him tonight. One evening didn’t mean he’d forgotten his family any more than Jeanne-Marie had forgotten hers. They were both alive. Life was meant for the living.

Several of the guests at the inn were seated on the veranda by the time Jeanne-Marie, Matt and Alexandre returned. A few chairs were empty, which she asked him to stake out for them while she went to get the cookies and cakes she’d prepared earlier in the week for just this occasion. Soon everyone on the veranda was sipping iced lemonade and munching on the desserts.

The bursting of colorful fireworks was the perfect ending to the celebration. Jeanne-Marie couldn’t remember a happier day since Phillipe died. She was growing more comfortable around Matt and appreciated his attention to her son. He must have been a great father to his own child. Would Phillipe have been as attentive and involved? He’d worked long hours, and gone climbing every chance he got. He hadn’t curtailed his activities after Alexandre had been born, but as an infant, he wouldn’t have been much company to his father. As he’d grown older, would Phillipe have included him?

No sense worrying about what might have been. Phillipe was gone. Never to return. And Matt? He was here today. Beyond that, she didn’t care to look.

CHAPTER SIX

JEANNE-MARIE put Alexandre to bed, but she felt too restless and keyed up to sit quietly after the fireworks. She went back to the common area, straightening cushions and pillows here and there. Rene had taken off and she’d close up in another hour or so. Several of the guests had gone back to the village to enjoy dancing at one or two of the places that offered a band.

Wandering out onto the veranda a few minutes later, she was surprised to see Matt still sitting there. Feeling her heart lurch a bit, she went to join him.

“Not going back to town?” she asked as she sat beside him.

“Nothing there for me. Does the town always have such an amazing display of pyrotechnics?”

“A lot of the annual budget goes to them. Fabulous, I think.”

There was a muffled boom in the distance and a faint glow in the sky.

“Marseilles is finishing up,” she commented. “I remember a few years ago we were amazed with their display. But this suits me fine. I like not being in the midst of a huge crowd,” she said, gazing out across the dark sea. In the distance a ship’s lights could be seen, gliding toward the east.

“Do you go to Marseilles often?” he asked.

“Not as often as I probably ought to. Alexandre’s grandparents live there and he visits them from time to time. I’m taking him over on Monday for a couple of days. I’ll do some shopping while I’m there, but pretty much St. Bart suits all our needs.”

“What time are you taking him?”

“In the afternoon. Why?”

“I could drive you both and then take you to dinner.”

Jeanne-Marie tried to see his expression in the faint light spilling from the French doors. But his face was in shadow. Another dinner? She swallowed hard. They would drop Alexandre off at his grandparents. It would just be the two of them. No matter how she thought about tonight, a dinner in Marseilles, just the two of them, would be a date.

A touch of panic. Was she ready for such a step? Not that it meant more than two people enjoying a meal together. He hadn’t asked her to run away with him.

“Why?” she blurted out.

“As a thank-you for your hospitality.”

“I’m an innkeeper, you’re a guest. Nothing beyond payment for your room is needed.” She felt deflated. It was merely a thank-you. She’d thought he meant more.

“Then, because I’d enjoy sharing another meal with you. I’d like to spend a bit more time together before I head for home.”

Her heart sped up a little. “Just you and me?”

“Unless you wish to take Alexandre to his grandparents later. Then he could eat with us,” Matt said easily.

It would be less like a date if Alexandre were with them. But—there was nothing wrong with having a meal with a guest. Especially on his last day. She would view it as the thank-you gesture he said initially.

“He should go to his grandparents first. And yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.” The minute she said it, she wished she could snatch back the words. It was a date! She hadn’t dated in years. She never thought she would again, at least not until she was over Phillipe’s death. Which she wasn’t. Yet. Or was she?

“Maybe I’ll extend my stay another few days,” he said.

She tried to remember future reservations. “I think I’m booked,” she said finally, feeling disappointed. This seesaw of emotions confused her. Did she want to see where a relationship between them could lead or not?

She did. She’d have to double-check reservations. If there was a way to keep a room for Matt, she would find it.

“Ah, I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I’ll have to look for something elsewhere in the village.”

“I can double-check.” She made a move to stand, but his hand caught hers and tugged her back down. The tingling that shot through her arm was pleasant, tantalizing. She looked at him, feeling his hand imprinted as if she’d never forget.

“Time enough in the morning. Let’s just enjoy the evening. If the rooms are all booked, so be it. I’ll take you to dinner and then head for home.”

“That would be so late.”

“Or we could get rooms in Marseilles and I’ll drive you back in the morning and then head for home.”

That raised all sorts of concerns. Jeanne-Marie took a deep breath and shook her head, much as she was tempted. Not that he was suggesting a single room. She caught her breath at the thought. His kiss had knocked her off her senses; what would making love be like?

She grew warm thinking about it, glad for the darkness to hide her face. She was probably beet-red by now.

“No, I have to prepare breakfast for my guests. I have to return home Monday night, no matter how late.”

“Of course.”

It was a beautiful evening with a soft breeze blowing from the sea and she was sitting with a gorgeous man. His hand had slid down her arm and now held her hand loosely in his. The focal point of her existence was on their linked hands. She couldn’t think about anything else except Matt and the wild feelings that exploded in her when he touched her. A million women would trade places with her in a heartbeat. How had she been so lucky?

In a desperate attempt to stop thinking about unlikely possibilities, she asked, “What was your favorite part of today?” Her entire body seemed attuned to Matt. She could stay here forever. The darkness sheltered them. The gaiety in the town was a sweet background melody that mingled with the soft sighing of the sea as it brushed the sand. For a time, cares seemed forgotten. The past faded away, the future was unknown. She had only this moment.

“The food. I bet we sampled two dozen different dishes. How that boy of yours kept eating is amazing to me.”

“He has his moments. I hope it all goes to making him a tall man. My father isn’t very tall. I want Alexandre to be tall like his father.”

“Tell me about Phillipe,” Matt invited.

She hesitated. She disliked the way people tiptoed around the subject, but now that it was broached, what could she say? She didn’t want to talk about him to Matt. Yet, he was such an important part of her life. “He was tall, with brown hair, looked a bit like his father, whom you met. He had the most amazing vitality. He was always on the go. I used to wonder how he had the patience to scale the sheer cliffs he did. It takes careful study and patience to pick out the best route. He always seemed antsy, always looking for things to do. He didn’t sit still very often.” She didn’t bother to reveal he had also been a bit of a show-off, talking about exploits he’d done, bragging about future climbs he planned. The more daring, the more he liked talking about them.

“Did you two have a house?”

“No, a large flat near the water in Marseilles. He made a good living and supported us well. The place seemed so empty after he died. I sold it when we moved here.”

“What was your favorite holiday?”

Jeanne-Marie thought about it for a moment. Did none stand out? “We usually went wherever he was going to climb. I don’t climb, as you saw the other day, so I found things to do in the towns or villages where we stayed. I liked Italy. He climbed in the Italian Alps one time and I enjoyed the village he used as base. He never wanted to spend the time sightseeing when he could be climbing.”

“And that suited you?”

“Well, a real dream holiday would be pampering, breakfast in bed, then a day of shopping, maybe a play in the evening or a fabulous dinner somewhere with dancing,” she said dreamily. “But for the time being, I think Alexandre and I will be content to stay here. You have to admit, it’s beautiful right on the sea. I do love living by the water.”

“You should come visit the Loire Valley sometime. Especially in spring. It’s beautiful, as well.”

Matt hoped when she checked the reservations tomorrow that he’d be able to stay. Paul would be returning home soon. Not that it mattered much to him. The one climb they’d done together hadn’t been as relaxing or challenging as the others this week. Paul’s idea of recreation was more clubbing and less climbing.

He thought about Jeanne-Marie’s husband. Granted, he understood the appeal of taking vacations to climb. But surely at one point in their marriage he would have wanted to go where she wanted. Not that Matt was going to pass an opinion on their marriage. Jeanne-Marie had loved the man and grieved his death.

Not liking the trend of his thoughts, he glanced at her. She seemed so serene. He liked that the most about her, he thought. Not that her laughter wasn’t infectious. Or the special way she looked at a person when he talked, like he was the only other person in the world. Her hand was smaller than his, felt delicate and warm in his. Contentment seeped in. It was comfortable sitting on the veranda in the dark.

Then the thought of kissing her rose and wouldn’t be pushed away. Would she be willing? One way to find out.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it. “I’m heading for bed. I’m making another climb tomorrow. You can let me know when I get back if I can stay another few days.”

She jumped up, almost pressing against him she was so close. “I’d better get some sleep myself. Dawn comes early and breakfast doesn’t make itself.”

“Before we go in …” he said, drawing her into his arms, slowly so as to give her time to back out if she wanted. She didn’t.

When his mouth found hers, her kiss was sweet. Her lips were warm, opening to his without hesitation. Deepening his kiss he felt her response, passion with passion, pressing against him with her body as if wanting to get as close to him as he wanted to get to her. Desire spiraled, senses went into overload. Her curves inflamed him. Her softness made him that much harder. Matt could only feel the hunger increase. He wanted her. She was all he wanted right now. The rest of the world faded until only the two of them existed in the darkness. Would she come to his room with him?

The thought shocked him. He pulled back, trying to see her in the faint light. She gazed up at him, her expression impossible to read. Kissing her on her cheek, trailing down to her neck and back up the other side to that cheek, he breathed in the scent of her, tasted that soft skin, heard her ragged breathing as she held him tightly in her embrace.

Reluctantly he rested his forehead against hers. He didn’t know what he wanted. Making love with her would take him in a direction he never thought to go. Was it too soon for him? For her?

He’d vowed never to be a hostage to fate again. The solo path was safer. If he could only clamp down on the roiling desire that rose.

“I need to go in,” she said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “I had a wonderful time today.” When she pulled away, he let her go. And watched her walk into the inn.

He stared after her long moments after she left. His own breathing slowed.

He’d kissed her again, over and over, actually. And she’d responded.

Had she ever!

With a groan, he relived every second. She’d felt so feminine and utterly desirable. He’d thought that aspect of life was over, but her kisses proved him totally wrong.

Matt was down the next morning before the sun rose. The kitchen was still dark.

He continued on to his car, not wishing to meet up with Jeanne-Marie this morning. He needed some time to get his head on straight. He stopped by the bakery on his way to the base of the cliffs. Once the car was parked, he quickly walked along the path until he came to the one he planned to try. He paused at the base and scanned the face. No other climbers out yet, which could make the climb more dangerous in case of trouble.

Yet wasn’t that why he pushed himself? Taking harder and harder climbs as if determined to triumph in one area of life. If fate had a different ending in mind, it would only end the sorrow that much sooner.

Dipping into his resin bag, he coated his fingers. He didn’t feel as driven today as the previous days. A challenging climb, not a dangerous one, was what he was seeking today. The pamphlets he’d obtained from the inn and the sports shop in the village rated the climbs. This one promised to be only moderately difficult.

Reaching for the first handhold, he thought about Jeanne-Marie. Would last night’s kisses have changed things between them? Did he want them to?

Pausing for a moment between reaching for handholds, he leaned his forehead against the cool stone. He was not getting entangled with anyone ever again. He’d made that vow when he’d buried Marabelle and Etienne. So what was he doing kissing Jeanne-Marie?

The sun hadn’t yet risen high enough to show every nook and cranny of the cliff face, but there was more than enough light to choose the best way up the seemingly flat face. He wanted a short climb, to get back to the inn. See her again.

Climbing took concentration, an awareness of where he was and what his next move would be. Forcing other thoughts away helped him remain focused. Yet from time to time his attention lapsed and he wished he’d found out before he’d left this morning if the room was available next week. If she would have been glad to see him, or was feeling awkward.

This was as bad as being a teenager with overzealous hormones. He kept thinking about Jeanne-Marie. Last night had not been enough. He wanted more.

Reaching the summit sometime later, he lay back on the warmed rock and closed his eyes, immediately seeing her face. Maybe staying longer wasn’t the wisest move he could make. But for the first time in a long while he felt alive. He didn’t want to cut it short. The aching pain of loss had diminished. He would never forget, but he could move on. Just like people had said.

He remembered some of the comments Alexandre had made at the fair and laughed out loud. Then he remembered kissing Jeanne-Marie and almost groaned. Just thinking about her had him longing to get back to the inn to see her. He sat up and began eating lunch, gazing across the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean.

Despite his best intentions to segregate himself from the world, Matt was being brought out of the past and into the present. Each time they were together, Alexandre said something funny. And the hero worship he had was special. Matt dared not do anything to tarnish that. It was healing to find he could be a role model to an impressionable child.

It was Jeanne-Marie who had him thinking of kisses and caresses and wanting to spend time together, at dinner, sitting on the veranda. Wherever she was.

Jeanne-Marie sat at the desk, totaling all the figures for the past week. Three couples had checked out. Two more were due to arrive before dark. And the couple in the suite had left a huge tip, which she put right into Alexandre’s college fund. When he grew up there’d be money for university, or whatever else he might wish to do. In the meantime, they were comfortable.

The numbers blurred and once again she was on the veranda reliving the kisses she and Matt had shared last night. Looking up and out to the sea, she again felt the sensations that had swamped her. Desire, heat, longing. She loved his kisses. She loved the feelings she had when he held her. Feeling as if she’d wakened from a long sleep, she relished every tiny aspect. She had thought about those kisses far into the night, unable to sleep as she fretted about her reaction. She’d been late with breakfast, barely having the first batch of warm bread out of the oven when guests came to the dining room.

Now she was alone and again the memory of his warm lips demanding a response from her captured her thoughts and wouldn’t turn loose. She was still surprised at the delight that had splashed through her. Unable to wrap her mind around her own response, she brushed her fingertips across her lips. Was she ready to look beyond her life with Phillipe and into a different future than she’d once thought she’d have?