French Escape. Barbara McMahon
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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 her breath, forced herself to exhale and then smiled. The memory of their kisses sprang to the forefront. It was all she could do to bravely meet his eyes. He didn’t have second thoughts, did he? She didn’t know what to think when she realized he’d left this morning before she could see 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.
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