French Escape. Barbara McMahon

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      “Have you climbed together before?”

      “Once or twice. I know, I should have expected it. He’s always like that. Only this time, I was feeling differently about things. It’s the first time I’ve gone with him since Marabelle and Etienne’s deaths.”

      “Your family?” she asked gently. She hadn’t known their names.

      He nodded.

      “Did they share your love of climbing? Your son must have, if he went with you.”

      “As long as it was a gentle ramble around hills and lakes. Once serious rock climbing came into the picture, Marabelle always found other pursuits. I had hoped Etienne would like to climb when he got older.”

      “Phillipe’s father taught him. They had lots of treks together. I think it was a bonding time; they were very close.”

      “Any shared activity would draw parents and children closer. Etienne liked to walk around the vineyard with me. That’s what I miss most, I think.”

      “Tell me about him. Would you like something to drink? Brandy? Coffee?”

      He hesitated so long, she was sure he’d refuse. Then he nodded once and said, “I’ll take a brandy if you have it.”

      Jeanne-Marie went back into the kitchen and drew out a bottle of fine brandy and two snifters. She carried them back to the lounge, pleased to see Matt standing near one of the comfortable sofas with a coffee table in front of it.

      She set the glasses down and offered him the bottle. He poured them each a small portion of brandy and lowered himself beside her on the sofa once she sat.

      “How old was Etienne?” she asked. She hoped he wanted to talk about his son. She often wanted to talk about Phillipe, to remember the good times, to share his life again with friends. It had been hard at first, but now it brought comfort.

      “He was five. Alexandre’s age. His hair was blond and his eyes blue. Even if he was my own, I thought he was engaging. Funny. Inquisitive.”

      “What was his favorite thing to do?”

      “Follow me around.” Matt thought for a few moments, then told her about some of the daily trips around the vineyard, or about shopping at one of the local farmers’ markets. Once, he and Marabelle had lost him for a few seconds. He remembered the panic.

      As he talked, Jeanne-Marie envisioned the happy family who had thought everything would go on forever. Much as she and Phillipe had done. Her heart ached at the loss of such a sweet little boy. How much more so must he feel?

      Matt glanced at his watch. “It’s late. I’ve bored you enough.”

      “I’m never bored hearing about children.” Now or never, she thought. They’d spent almost an hour together, and her interest was as strong as ever. She could do this.

      “We will be going to watch the parade for the fete on Saturday. Would you like to join us?” She held her breath.

      “I don’t think I’m up for celebrating.” He put the empty glass on the table and rose. “I’ll take off for my room now and let you get some sleep.”

      She stood next to him, realizing too late how close she stood. Before she could take a step back, however, he reached out and traced his finger down her cheek. “I enjoyed talking about my son. I’ll always miss him. He was a part of me that I will never completely get over losing.”

      “I enjoyed hearing about him. I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine.”

      “Most people can’t, I guess.”

      He leaned over and kissed her. For a moment it was the mere brush of lips against lips, but then he moved his hand to the back of her head and held her while his other arm reached around to draw her closer. The kiss deepened.

      Jeanne-Marie was caught off guard and before she could protest or push away, he’d released her. She stared up into his eyes, afraid of the tumultuous feelings that exploded.

      “Thank you,” he said, and after releasing her he swiftly crossed to the stairs and took them two at a time.

      She stood still, bemused, confused. “Good night,” she said a moment later, feeling stunned with that kiss. She wasn’t sure what to think. Had he picked up on her reaction to being around him? He had not shown any particular interest. Why a kiss?

      And what a kiss. Did he do that all the time? Slowly she sat back down on the sofa still staring off toward the stairs. Her heart pounded. Licking her lips, she was still shocked. She had not seen it coming.

      It had merely been a thank-you for listening. He hadn’t meant anything else by it.

      Matt went to the window and stared out at the night. He could still feel the imprint of Jeanne-Marie’s body against his. She was not as tall as Marabelle had been. But sweet, soft, enticing. How could he have kissed her? There was nothing between them. She’d kindly listened to him talk tonight, that was all. He was lucky she hadn’t slapped him silly.

      He’d felt a release sharing his son, remembering their normal routines, taken for granted at the time, so precious in memories now. She understood because of her own loss and her own son. She’d shared a few funny incidents involving Alexandre, and he’d been able to counter. The time had flown by.

      The room was dark, the night was dark, his thoughts were dark. How could he kiss another woman?

      Yet Marabelle was gone.

      She wouldn’t hold it against him.

      He turned and began to strip his clothes in preparation for bed. He’d never thought to kiss another woman, but there was something about Jeanne-Marie that had him momentarily forgetting who and where he was. He’d have to apologize. If she didn’t kick him out of the inn first.

      Lying in bed a short time later, he threw an arm over his head and clenched his fist. Instead of giving an apology, he wanted another kiss. One in which she kissed him back. How dumb could one man be?

      Matt came down for breakfast later than the previous days. He was going to do some exploring around the easy marked trails and then come back for Alexandre’s ramble. That is, if Jeanne-Marie would let him. There were some places where the incline was almost gentle enough to walk up. Those would be perfect for a small boy.

      He came down the stairs and went to the dining room. Two tables had guests eating. One was still cluttered with dirty dishes and two others were set. He took one to the side and sat down. No sooner had he pulled out his chair than Jeanne-Marie came from the kitchen. Did she have magical powers?

      “Chocolate or coffee?” she asked, coming to his table. She balanced a plastic bin on one hip.

      “Coffee today.” She nodded to the stack of newspapers on the buffet. “Today’s papers if you care to read. I’ll be right back.” Swiftly she stacked the dirty dishes in the СКАЧАТЬ