French Escape: From Daredevil to Devoted Daddy / One Week with the French Tycoon / It Happened in Paris.... Barbara McMahon
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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?
She heard a car in the parking lot and involuntarily her heart rate increased. Was it Matt? Wiping her hands on her khaki slacks, she watched the corner of the veranda, anticipating the moment she’d see him again. She’d missed him that morning. Almost laughing at herself, she remembered going straight to the reservation book before even starting breakfast.
He came around the corner onto the veranda and strode toward one of the open French doors. Stepping inside, he spotted her instantly. Jeanne-Marie caught