French Escape: From Daredevil to Devoted Daddy / One Week with the French Tycoon / It Happened in Paris.... Barbara McMahon
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him.
“Good climb?” She was pleased her voice sounded normal. She hoped he didn’t see signs of her rapidly beating heart.
“Excellent. Did you check reservations?” The intense way he looked at her convinced her he was also thinking of those kisses. No second thoughts. His dark eyes searched hers, his gaze touching on her lips.
She licked them nervously. “Yes. I was booked, but amazingly, around ten this morning, one of the reservations was canceled. You can stay another few days if you still want to.”
He walked to the counter and leaned over it slightly. Jeanne-Marie saw the tanned face, the dark eyes focused on her with faint lines radiating from the edges. She could smell sunshine on him. Was he going to kiss her again?
“I do want. And we’re on for tomorrow night?” His voice was low and vibrant. His gaze held hers and it was all she could do to respond to the question. Her fingers ached to reach out and trace those firm lips, test the strength of that strong jaw, feel the warmth of his suntanned skin.
She nodded. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “I thought we’d leave around three, drop Alexandre off and then have an early dinner?”
“Works for me. Where is he?” He surveyed the room, then glanced out to the beach.
“He’s at Pierre’s house for the afternoon. Michelle and I trade back and forth having the kids. Today they’re building a ramp for their cars to race. Marc’s into woodworking and said he’d help the boys. I suspect it’ll be more he’ll do it and they’ll be the ones clamoring to help.”
“He likes those cars. Think he’ll be a race driver?”
“I want him to be an accountant or something,” she murmured. She couldn’t look away. His eyes still held hers. She wished she didn’t have the counter between them.
He laughed and her breath caught again. His laughter was rich and masculine and made him look younger, definitely happier. It was the first time she’d seen him laugh. Her heart ached to think how little he’d had to laugh about in the last two years. She smiled in delight, hoping he would find more to bring happiness in the future.
“He’ll be what he’ll be,” Matt said. He reached out and touched her nose. “You can’t keep him from doing what he wants, even if it’s racing. If that makes him happy and being an accountant doesn’t, which would you choose?”
“I want him to be happy. But preferably happy for a long, long time.” She liked Matt’s familiar touch. It made last night seem less like an aberration and maybe the beginning of something.
Two of the new guests arrived on the veranda. Jeanne-Marie could have screamed in frustration. Matt glanced over his shoulder, then told her he’d see her later and took the stairs two at a time. Jeanne-Marie turned to watch him before she greeted her guests. She wished she could shift into full innkeeper mode. But part of her couldn’t let go of Matt.
She walked over to Michelle’s house to get Alexandre before dinner. Visiting briefly with her friends, she and her son then walked home, with him talking a mile a minute about the ramp Pierre’s father had built for their cars.
“And mine won almost every time. Pierre’s going to get a new one so he can beat me, but today I won,” her son explained on the way home.
“That’s good. Next time maybe Pierre will win.”
“Is Matt at home?” Alexandre asked when they reached the inn. “I want to tell him about the ramp.”
“Yes, he’s back from climbing.” She wondered what he’d been doing since he returned. He had not come back downstairs after she’d checked in the new arrivals. “He’s in his room, but you wait until he comes downstairs before talking to him. Do not disturb him in his room,” she said.
“I won’t ‘sturb him, but he’ll want to know about my ramp,” Alexandre said earnestly.
“Nonetheless, you wait for him to come down.”
Alexandre pouted and walked over to flop on one of the sofas in the lounge area.
JEANNE-MARIE prepared a thick soup and crusty bread for their dinner. By the time dinner was ready, Alexandre was in a better mood, but still impatient to see Matt. For that matter, so was she. She hoped it didn’t show as much as it did with Alexandre.
“Tomorrow you’re going to your grandparents’ house for the night,” she said as she set the small table in the alcove for their dinner.
“Can I take my cars?”
“Of course. Your grandfather will want to see them race side by side.”
“Maybe we can go climbing. Do you think Matt would take me again? “
“Maybe.” She wouldn’t mind trying it herself again, as long as it was with Matt. Who would ever think she’d find anything redeeming in climbing rocks?
“Matt!” Alexandre scooped up his cars and ran to the kitchen doorway. “We builded a ramp and our cars went really fast.” He hugged the man’s leg and looked up at him, his eyes shining.
Jeanne-Marie looked as well, wondering if she had that same look of adoration her son wore.
“Fantastic, I want to hear all about it,” Matt said, stooping to be on eye level with Alexandre. “Did yours win?”
“Yes. But Mama said next time maybe Pierre’s will win. But mine’s really fast.”
“Life is not always about winning, but it’s great when we do,” Matt replied, his gaze moving to Jeanne-Marie.
“We’re having soup and bread for dinner,” she said. “There’s plenty if you want to eat with us.” She held her breath, hoping he’d say yes.
The faint flush of color on her cheeks could have been from the stove’s heat, or it could mean something else. Matt nodded and rose, walking with Alexandre to the small square table, three chairs on three sides and the fourth side pressed to the wall beneath the window that overlooked the garden.
In only moments, Jeanne-Marie had served them all and sat down opposite Matt, Alexandre in the center.
The boy talked as fast as he could until his mother said, “Enough. Eat before the soup gets cold. Then you can finish telling Matt about your racing adventures.”
Alexandre scowled but picked up his spoon. “But Matt needs to hear.”
“When you’re done eating,” Matt said. He looked at Jeanne-Marie. “Are you full again? I heard people climbing up and down the stairs.”
“More than full. One couple has a baby they didn’t tell me about. I hope it doesn’t cry in the night.”
“Do you not let rooms to babies?” Matt asked.
Jeanne-Marie nodded, watching to see if he liked the meal. The soup had been simmering all afternoon, so thick with vegetables and beef it was almost a stew. The fresh, crusty bread had been made that morning. It was a simple meal, but one she took pride in. He seemed to like it.
“If I know in advance, I usually give families with small children the end room above the kitchen. There’s a small storage room separating it from other rooms in the back, so crying babies aren’t so noticeable. But they have the room smack in the center of the front, flanked by two other rooms.” She shrugged. “I’ll have a better idea if it’s going to work by tomorrow. Here’s hoping the baby sleeps through the night.”
“I’m all done,” Alexandre said, tipping his bowl slightly so his mother could see it was empty. “Now can I talk?”
Matt smiled at his impatience. Just like Etienne had been. He flicked a glance at Jeanne-Marie,