A Loving Man. Cait London
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dipped his hands in the lake and washed them as would an experienced fisherman. He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. It was a devastating, boyish grin that took her breath away. “I learned so much.”
Rose turned back and promptly missed the dip of her red bobber in the water as a fish nibbled on her lure. It was difficult to concentrate when Stefan spread his blanket, sat upon it and began opening the basket he had brought. “My mother likes you, too. She was excited that I had a date with you and packed this meal for us.”
Rose pivoted to him, temper flashing. “This isn’t a date, Mr. Donatien.” She leveled her words at him, not wanting him to get any flashy, upscale ideas about a country girl.
“But I am with a very fascinating woman and I am enjoying myself. Surely that is a date.” He began unpacking, carefully placing a wine bottle that looked very costly, onto the blanket. He opened the bottle with a flourish and poured the wine into two very expensive-looking stemmed glasses. He unwrapped cheese and studied it. “My mother thinks she will make cheese here. She is happy and reliving her young life on a French farm, I think. My daughter is…happy in one way, not so in another.”
Rose watched as he sliced the cheese and a very-hard looking sausage, placing crusty bread rolls beside it. She couldn’t resist the temptation to ask, “Why isn’t your daughter happy?”
He shrugged a broad shoulder and looked out at the peaceful lake. His features were unreadable. “She is happy to be here. She is not happy with me. It is a hard passage from the girl to the woman. A boy I do not like wants her.”
Rose stared at him; the unlikely, worldly Donatiens moving to Waterville suddenly made sense. “You maneuvered this whole move to Waterville, didn’t you? Just to get her away from—”
Stefan scowled and handed her one filled wineglass. “From Louie The Freeloader. Estelle wished to live in an average, small town and I merely arranged her wishes. Perhaps I was ready for a change, too. My mother had been speaking of her homeland and selfishly, I wished to keep my family—what there is of it—together. Waterville was selected after very thorough research. We will spend the summer here. The farm was a compromise to make them both happy. It had been up on the market since the Smiths decided to see the West in their camper. There is a college some miles away, which might suit Estelle’s needs, if she wishes to transfer.”
“I hate to tell you this, Pops, but there are hot-blooded boys here in Waterville, too.” Rose sipped the wine and studied him. “You left everything to prevent Louie and Estelle from—”
His scowl deepened. “They have not consummated. I would know.”
“Maybe they are in love,” she suggested, fascinated by his absolute confidence. “How would you know?”
“I am her father,” he said roughly with an arrogant tilt to his head, that accent more distinct. “You think I do not know my own daughter? That I have been so absorbed in business that I would not recognize the change?”
Though she’d been angry with him, and had found his tender spot, Rose recognized the troubled road between father and daughter. She sympathized with both of them. “I was engaged about that age,” she said gently.
“But it did not last,” he prompted as another bass rolled in the lake, turning a silver side in the dark, shadowy water. “That is why you and I are here together. A good husband would have kept you happy.”
The crickets and frogs chirped as Rose shook her head. She munched on the crusty bread Stefan had torn apart and handed to her and thought about how romance wasn’t for her.
“What happened?” Stefan asked softly.
A flat-shelled water turtle crawled up onto a log, half sunken in the still water, and looked at the humans. Stefan was just passing through her life; it was a moment in time that meant nothing, she told herself. There was no reason not to share with him something that happened long ago. “It seemed only natural to marry Henry. We were lifetime friends and everyone else was getting married at the time. It’s contagious, you know. He came into the store today and got paint. Henry is like a comfortable old shoe, all broken in and fitting just right. We did the engagement party thing, but as the wedding date came closer, neither one of us wanted to go through with it. Not really. We sort of got caught up in the engagement fun, the party and excitement. But he wasn’t happy and I knew it, because I wasn’t, either. So I pinned him down one night—sat on him—and we had an honest chat. He married my best friend, Shirley MacNeil. They’ve got two great kids…boys. They’re hoping for a girl next time. I am godmother to their children, and others in Waterville. I guess that’s as close as I’m going to get to motherhood.”
Stefan’s dark brows rose. “The man you hugged so intimately? You remain friends with him?”
“Sure. No hard feelings. It just wasn’t right between us. I can always count on Henry to help me in a tight spot.” She shrugged and munched on the cheese and meat he handed her.
“Good old Henry, right?” Stefan said tightly as he refilled the wineglass she had just emptied. “Who was the man you leaned against as if you trusted him?”
She eyed Stefan, considering him. They were strangers sharing a quiet moment on a lovely, peaceful evening. The wine was relaxing her after a hard week of work. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t tell you, everyone else knows. Waterville’s quiet country life will bore you soon enough and you’ll be back to the city’s society set soon. That was Larry. We were engaged for a time. He rented a motel room away from Waterville for our first—” She raised her wineglass, toasting the moment when neither could become aroused enough to make love. “Happening. It didn’t happen. End of story. He and Mary Lou are expecting their first baby. Everything turned out fine.”
Stefan’s dark eyes cruised the body she had just spread full-length upon his blanket. He lay down, sharing the blanket, the food between them. He propped his head in one hand and placed a bit of cheese into her mouth with the other. His eyes darkened as she ate. He asked, “Why didn’t it happen?”
“I laughed when I saw him naked for the first time. And my bony mystique seemed pretty funny to him, too. Our batteries just weren’t charged. We decided we were better suited to be friends than lovers. We used to come here, my friends and I, when we were young. We used to tell ghost stories and—I don’t know why, but the attraction just wasn’t there, not enough to…to do it, or to marry. Then there was Mike. He hadn’t been in town very long when we started dating. He was a super pitcher on the team. He was a good mechanic—could fix anything. We got engaged and then one night, I caught him tuning someone else’s engine and he left town soon after…. I’m sorry about your wife. Your mother said you loved her deeply.”
“I still do. Claire will always be a part of my life. She lives in my daughter. She had the same straight black hair.”
Rose studied Stefan’s broad, blunt cheekbones, that square chin, and wondered about his wife. What kind of woman could take his heart? A gentle woman? Feminine and pretty? A quiet woman, who understood? A fascinating woman, full of life? A corporate wife, all glossy and perfect? Or was she a woman like Rose’s mother—who loved and captivated every man and left them mourning her as she moved on? “Estelle will have to make up her own mind, you know. You can’t protect her from life forever.”
“Who protects you?” he asked softly and ran a finger slowly down her cheek.
Her skin heated at the touch and she shifted away, uneasy with a man who seemed too intimate, too soon, too foreign, too unique, too exciting—and just “too.” She looked at the clouds floating gently across the sky, just as her life seemed to be doing. “I’m way, way past that age.”
“So old.” Humor hovered in Stefan’s deep voice.
“Well, let’s just say I’ve settled in for the long run. No surprises, no problems—”
She stared up at the man leaning over her, looking deeply, intimately into her eyes. “What? Is something wrong?”
“You