French Escape. Barbara McMahon
Читать онлайн книгу.
far too old to feel this way.
“I’d like the box lunch special,” he said, leaning almost close enough to kiss her.
Kiss her? Where had that thought come from?
For an instant the words didn’t register. Jeanne-Marie was mesmerized. She could smell his scent, fresh and clean like the forest after a rain. She saw the tiny lines radiating from the edge of his eyes, the smooth cheeks recently shaved. She could feel the leashed energy that was appealing and fascinating in the same instant. And still see that hurt in his eyes. Now she knew what caused it; she’d seen a similar pain in her own.
Suddenly aware of the seconds that had ticked by she slid a step to the side, breaking eye contact. “Of course,” she said, turning to take one of the fresh baguettes from the rack. Her hands trembled slightly and her breathing still felt off. Every inch of her skin quivered with awareness. He still stood too close. He unnerved her. Made her aware of her own femininity as she hadn’t felt it in years.
Quickly making a sandwich, she wrapped it. Then she assembled the cookies, apple and packaged juice, stashing them in one of her lunch boxes, with a picture of her inn and the sea wrapping around the edges. She turned and thrust it at him.
“Don’t litter,” she warned. “The conservationists will know exactly where it came from if you do.”
“Is that the reason for the picture?” he asked, studying the box a moment, then looking at her again.
“Some people like to take the boxes home and use them for keepsakes—a reminder of their stay here. I had one couple buy a dozen empty boxes to take home to use when giving gifts to family.”
“Good idea. I’ll see you later.” He turned and left without another word.
Jeanne-Marie felt a sudden relief. She was alone again. Quickly clearing his place and rinsing the dishes, she tried to get her mind in gear for the coming day, and erase all traces of her recent guest. But she lingered on the memory of his strong presence. She would make sure if he came tomorrow morning for breakfast to serve him in the dining room!
Matt returned to the inn earlier than the previous day. He’d climbed another ghost of a trail up a west-facing cliff with three others attempting it whom he’d met at the bottom. It was easier than yesterday’s climb had been and he’d not lingered as long at the top as the previous day. The lunch Jeanne-Marie Rousseau had made caused him to think about her bustling around her kitchen that morning. He had a cook at the château, but he rarely spent any time there now that he was grown. As a child, he’d loved to invade the kitchen anytime she was making cookies.
Parking his car in the graveled lot, he grabbed his gear—including the trash from lunch which he had packed out—and headed for his room. There were three women sitting in the shade of the veranda. In the middle, Jeanne-Marie. Laughter filled the air when the ladies raised their glasses in some kind of toast. Taking a sip, Jeanne-Marie spotted him.
She spoke softly and the other two women turned to watch him walk toward the wide-open French doors. Then he spotted four children playing in the doorway, Alexandre with his cars, another little boy wearing glasses and two girls—obviously twins. A domestic scene he’d once had at his own home.
“I see you made it through another day climbing,” Jeanne-Marie said. He nodded and headed inside. Halfway up the stairs he heard Alexandre following him. Turning, he looked as the little boy raced up the stairs to join him.
“Can I go with you?” he asked, tilting his back so far Matt was afraid the boy might lose his balance and tumble down the stairs.
“I’m going to shower and change.”
“When you go climbing. Can I go with you? I want to learn.”
“That’s something your mother has to decide.”
“I’m big.”
Matt nodded gravely. “I can see that.”
“She can’t take me. She doesn’t know how. But you could.”
Matt started to turn away, but the pleading look in those warm brown eyes held him. So different from Etienne’s bright blue eyes, yet the same trust and faith in adults. He didn’t know this child or the mother. But he could recognize yearning. “We’ll ask your mother later.” He expected Jeanne-Marie would refuse, so that let him off the hook.
“Okay. Do you want to go swimming with me now?” Alexandre asked. “You can change and then you can come play with me in the sand. Mama won’t let me go out on the beach by myself. I need a grown-up. I want to play by the water.”
“Your mother knows best,” Matt said. The little boy looked so earnest. He resumed walking up the stairs.
“She would let me go with a grown-up. Can you be the grown-up? Please?”
Matt hesitated. Children required so little to make their worlds happy. What would Etienne have done had the situation been reversed and Matt had lost his life, leaving his son behind? Who would have spared some time for his son?
“I’ll be good and not go into the water unless you tell me I can,” Alexandre said, running up three more steps.
Matt looked at the beseeching face and considered the possibility. He’d want someone to be there for his son. A swim in the sea sounded good. He could shower afterward.
“I’ll take a quick swim and then if it’s okay with your mother, you can come on the sand with me,” he said.
Alexandre beamed his smile and raced down the stairs to go ask his mother.
Matt continued to his room wondering if he were losing it. He was here to forget the constant pain; now he was subjecting himself to more? Seeing Alexandre play on the sand would remind him of Etienne. Yet, oddly enough, the ache he normally felt when thinking of his son was not as strong. He was convinced Etienne was in a better place. Another man’s son needed some attention. How odd Alexandre had chosen him.
Matt entered his room and quickly exchanged climbing clothes for swimming attire, pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed one of the large fluffy bath towels from the rack before heading back outside. He could hear the women as he descended the stairs but they hadn’t heard his bare feet on the wooden steps.
“Honestly, Jeanne-Marie, if you don’t explore possibilities, I’ll disown you.”
“He’s just a guest.” Matt recognized his hostess’s voice.
“If he’s taking Alexandre for a swim, I’d say he was looking to make points,” the second woman said.
“No, he’s only a guest being polite. You know I don’t socialize with my guests,” Jeanne-Marie protested.
He continued walking closer, unabashedly eavesdropping. So she didn’t socialize with her guests. He wondered why. Some might demand more, like dinner in the evening, he thought. Seems as if he had been lucky she’d spent time with him last evening, even though her son was there as well.
Sidestepping around the children, Matt walked out to the veranda. Alexandre spotted him immediately and rushed over. “Mama says I’m not to bother you. I won’t be a bother, will I?”
“No. I would not have agreed if I hadn’t meant it,” he told Jeanne-Marie. Glancing at the other two women, he saw them look first at him and then at their friend, smiles showing.
Feeling like he was on some kind of stage, he walked out to the sand and to the water’s edge. He wished he’d heard more about Jeanne-Marie. What was she to do lest her friend disown her?
He pulled off the T-shirt, dropping it and his towel near the water, and plunged into the sea, trying to drive away the thoughts that were coming to mind. He had been happily married. Then torn by tragedy. Less involvement in everything would keep further pain at bay. He went to work, avoiding the long evening walks in the vineyards that reminded him of the times Marabelle and Etienne had accompanied him.
He dutifully