French Escape: From Daredevil to Devoted Daddy / One Week with the French Tycoon / It Happened in Paris.... Barbara McMahon
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like talk about Alexandre’s climbing. Too often his grand-père encouraged him by telling him all about climbs he’d done with Phillipe. She didn’t think she’d ever like the thought, but realized Alexandre would be his own person when he grew up. If he took up the same hobby as his father, she hoped he wouldn’t come to the same end. It scared her just thinking about it.
“He’s not pestering me. Actually, I had already taken my son on a couple of easy rock climbs by the time he was Alexandre’s age.”
“I could go. I’m big now. I’m five.” He looked at Matt with a mixture of admiration and entreaty.
Jeanne-Marie felt her heart drop. He had a son. All the more reason to remember he was merely a guest and she the hostess of the inn. And to stay away.
Jeanne-Marie didn’t like that look on Alexandre’s face. He’d better not get a hero fixation on this guest. Matt was only here another six days. Once before, a year or so ago, Alexandre had latched onto a guest who had been staying at the inn with his wife and daughter and who had kindly included her son in some of their activities. Alexandre had moped around for weeks after their departure, not truly understanding why they didn’t come back.
“Alexandre, do you want to help me dish up the dessert?” she asked, standing quickly, anxious to put some distance between her son and guest. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality. She didn’t want Alexandre to pester him until he snapped something out that would hurt her son’s feelings. Though if he had a son, he was probably used to little boys.
“Sure. We waited for you,” he said, placing his cars on the table and running into the house.
Jeanne-Marie hoped Matt wouldn’t think she had deliberately waited to be included when he ate the dessert. He was obviously married and with a child. Where was his family? Had they stayed home since he wanted serious climbing, beyond the level of a child? Had they made other plans, separate vacations? She couldn’t imagine it, but some couples liked that.
Matt watched as Jeanne-Marie followed her son at a more sedate pace—but not by much. He thought of her that way, seeing her name on the brochure for the inn. He had trouble picturing her as Madame Rousseau.
She certainly hadn’t had to feed him; he knew the inn didn’t offer dinners. Maybe tomorrow he’d make a later start and sample both the breakfast and box lunch she offered.
Taking another deep drink of water, he watched the brush of the Mediterranean against the white sandy beach. He couldn’t believe he’d mentioned his son so casually. The world hadn’t ended. The searing pain had not sliced. Instead a kind of peace descended. His son had been so proud climbing the small hills they’d scrambled up together. He could remember his boasting to his mother.
He finished the simple meal and leaned back in his chair. For the first time in ages he felt almost content. He was pleasantly tired from the climb and replete with the excellent stew. And he had liked speaking of Etienne. He never wanted himself or anyone to forget his boy.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and flipped it open to respond.
“Hey, man,” his friend Paul said.
“What’s up?” Matt responded. He knew—Paul was partying already. He could hear the background noise of a club.
“Having a great time. You should come over. It wouldn’t be that long a drive, would it? I’ve got some hot babes lined up. We can party until dawn.”
Over the last year Paul had tried to set him up with several women. His friend felt enough time had passed for Matt to get back into the dating scene. Never having married himself, Paul really didn’t understand. There was no magical time to stop grieving. No magical moment when a man said forget the past, marry again. Matt couldn’t see himself deliberately putting his heart and emotions at risk. Once shattered, he wasn’t willing to take the risk of getting involved again. The fear of another marriage ending suddenly and horribly couldn’t be ignored. He’d had his shot at happiness. Now it was time to come to terms with the hand life had dealt.
“Party until dawn and then go climbing?” Matt asked. A sure formula for disaster.
“We could sleep in a little, then hit the cliffs. I got in a climb today. Beat my own record for going up and back,” Paul said.
Even in climbing Paul couldn’t lose his competitiveness.
“Did you like the view?” Matt asked.
“What view? Water below me, rock in my face. Hey, I could show you that climb tomorrow, race you to the top.”
Jeanne-Marie and her son stepped out onto the veranda, three bowls on a tray. Alexandre proudly carried spoons.
Another time Matt might have skipped dessert, but he was tempted by the novelty of eating with her and her son. Now it also provided a good excuse to end the call.
“You have a drink for me, Paul. I’ll skip tonight but be in touch. We’ll meet up later in the week and scale something together.”
“Ah, man, you’ll be missing some kind of fun.”
“My loss,” Matt said, not believing a word. He flipped the phone closed as Jeanne-Marie placed one of the bowls in front of him. Alexandre solemnly handed him a spoon, then scampered around to sit in the chair across from him. Jeanne-Marie placed a bowl with a smaller serving in front of Alexandre. Jeanne-Marie sat to Matt’s right, throwing him an uncertain look as if not sure of her welcome.
He was momentarily taken aback. Giving in with poor grace, he accepted they would sit with him until each had finished their dessert.
The apple crumble was warm and cinnamony, the rich vanilla ice cream a delicious addition. The dessert almost melted in his mouth.
“This is delicious.” Even his own cook rarely had a dessert as tasty as this.
“Thank you.”
“You should offer dinner to your guests. They’d enjoy your cooking.” He had enjoyed it. And the fact he didn’t have to leave the inn.
She smiled shyly and shook her head. “I have everything going the way I like. There’s such a thing as too much, you know.”
“Such as?”
“Trading my afternoons with Alexandre to cook for as many as fifteen people day in, day out would be too much. I try to be creative with my breakfasts, though. You’d know if you try them.”
“I plan to sample one in the morning. If I can still get an early start.”
“I can provide breakfast as early as six-thirty if I know ahead of time. Sometimes people go diving or out on one of the cruise ships and need an equally early start. I also fix the box lunches for them to take.”
“Six-thirty it is.”
Matt savored the dessert. He watched Alexandre scrape every bit of it from his bowl and lick his spoon as if hoping more would appear. It reminded him of Etienne. He almost smiled, then felt a pang at his loss. Was that a trait of all little boys? Etienne would have loved this dessert.
Alexandre looked up at Matt, dropping his spoon in the bowl with a clatter. “Can you go for a walk with me now? And can you take me to climb a mountain?”
“Monsieur Sommer is too tired to go walking with us,” Jeanne-Marie said quickly. “And there are no mountains nearby.”
Truth was he would relish an early night, but the look of disappointment on the boy’s face and the quick way she’d tried to shut him out perversely caused him to agree to the walk. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to spend more time with them, but the less she wanted him around, the more he wanted to stay. There was nothing in his room but memories he’d just as soon forget.
“I’m not eighty. A good meal and I’m ready to go. A short walk sounds like just the thing before bed,” he said, holding her gaze for a moment in challenge.
“It becomes rocky