Barbara McMahon - French Escape

She nodded, relieved he understood. And for her, nothing was more important than letting her son enjoy himself.

Except—today she wanted Matt to enjoy himself as well. He’d lived with heartache too long.

“You and I know the truth, so what does it matter what others think?” he asked, leaning closer so she could hear him. Feeling the brush of his breath across her face, her eyes grew even wider as she stared right back at him. Matt was shocked at the sudden spurt of awareness and desire that shot through him.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she instinctively licked them. He felt another shot of desire deep inside. Time seemed to stand still. Alexandre had nothing to do with the sensations he was feeling now.

Clearing her throat, Jeanne-Marie dragged her gaze away and turned to look at the booth they stood in front of. “This is a fine example of local wood carving,” she said, her voice husky.

It took a moment for him to be able to move. He was stunned he could feel anything after Marabelle’s death. He took a step back and gave his attention to the vendor, who tried to convince them they needed an assortment of wooden animals. Blood pounded in his veins. He glanced around, but no one else in the crowd noticed anything unusual. No one picked up on his reaction. No one could condemn him for normal male reactions to a pretty woman.

“We don’t buy, we just look,” Alexandre said. “Too much stuff to carry,” he said gravely.

Glad for the boy’s comment, Matt drew in a deep breath, avoiding looking at Jeanne-Marie. “Maybe on the way home we can find a memento of the day,” Matt told the boy. Keep things impersonal. And keep Alexandre between them. He’d focus on the little boy and make sure he had a good time.

They met Jeanne-Marie’s friends at the designated corner shortly before the parade was to begin. Michelle couldn’t hide her surprise when she saw Matt accompanying Jeanne-Marie and Alexandre, but she tried to cover it up, rushing to introduce her son and husband. Alexandre and Pierre were friends and began talking about what they hoped was going to be in the parade.

When more and more people pressed in around them, Matt knew the parade was about to begin. He lifted Alexandre into his arms so he could see more than waists and legs. As a defense mechanism it wasn’t foolproof, but it kept his attention focused on the parade and the boy and not the woman standing beside him. When others moved to crowd into the remaining space, Jeanne-Marie had to step closer. He could smell her perfume, light and airy, and as much a part of her as her dark hair. She was no longer so distant, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. At least when she wasn’t talking to him, he had been okay. Now he grew more aware of her every second.

“I’m up high,” Alexandre said gleefully, leaning over to see Pierre, whose father had also lifted him.

“Me, too,” Pierre said with laughter.

The first entry in the parade was an eclectic band, the national anthem played at the midway point of the parade route. Then the musicians played marching music as they continued down the street.

Following were homemade floats, decorated cars with people waving, a dancing group from a local school. A high school band, and assorted veteran companies dressed in uniform, cheered by the spectators. A fire truck followed, blowing its siren from time to time and spraying the crowd with a fine mist of water.

When the parade ended forty-five minutes later, Michelle and Marc invited Jeanne-Marie and Matt to join them for lunch.

“No. I need to get back to the inn,” Jeanne-Marie said.

“Why?” Michelle asked. “You have Rene to keep an eye on things, and all your guests are surely here.”

Jeanne-Marie turned slightly so Matt couldn’t see her face and rolled her eyes in his direction.

Michelle grinned and leaned closer. “To be alone with him?”

“No!” Jeanne-Marie said, horrified. This was just the kind of conclusion she was afraid her friend would jump to. “I can’t tie him up all day,” she said softly.

“I want to ride the merry-go-round,” Alexandre said.

“We usually do let the children ride,” Michelle said, her eyes dancing at Jeanne-Marie’s discomfort.

“Is there a carousel?” Matt asked Jeanne-Marie. She turned and nodded, giving up on her plan to flee back to the inn and barricade herself into her private rooms.

“There’s a traveling carnival at the edge of town, in one of the lots set back from the sea. It’ll be jammed with kids, though.”

“I’m a firm believer in letting children enjoy life as much as they can while they can.” And it would delay return to the inn. He would spend the entire day surrounded by the crowd if he could. He did not want to be alone with either Jeanne-Marie—or his thoughts.

“Okay, thank you, he’ll love it.”

Time passed swiftly. Despite his best efforts to remain distant, Matt caught himself darting glances her way. Her laugher was contagious. Her delight in mundane things had him looking at the world in a new light. Everything seemed lighter than before, more colorful. Even the heightened sense of awareness that did not diminish as the day went on. He wondered if she picked up on it. She was careful to keep out of touching distance. Though once or twice the crowded walkway jostled her so she bumped into him. He let his fingers linger just a second when steadying her. Her skin was soft as silk.

Jeanne-Marie knew most of the people in town and was frequently greeted. She in turn introduced Matt, mentioning only that he was visiting to climb Les Calanques. She ignored the occasional look of speculation.

By three o’clock Alexandre was definitely tired. He rested his head on Matt’s shoulder and stopped talking.

“You all right, Alexandre?” he asked.

“I’m tired,” he said.

“He usually naps most days. I’ll take him back to the inn. It’s been wonderful. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Thank you, Matt, for seeing it with us. I hope you enjoyed it as well,” she said, her eyes darting to his, then back to Alexandre.

“I’ll go back with you. This little guy isn’t going to be wanting to walk and he’s too heavy for you to carry all that way.” There was still time to get in a short climb. Preferably very steep and strenuous. Something to take his mind off the woman at his side.

“Thank you.”

The three of them headed for the inn. To a casual observer they probably looked like a young family, husband, wife and child. For a split second Matt felt a pang that it wasn’t so. Then reason returned. He was not looking to replace his family with another. He was not going to fall in love again. Life was too uncertain to risk everything by falling in love, having his life on edge awaiting another fateful outcome.

When they reached the veranda, Matt let Jeanne-Marie take Alexandre, who was almost asleep.

“Thank you,” she said again.

“No problem.”

He handed off the boy. When she went to their quarters, he took the stairs to his room.

Quickly changing into climbing clothes, he headed out.

She was talking to Rene when he descended. She looked up.

“Going for a climb? Isn’t it a bit late?”

“I’ll find a short climb, check out the view from another vantage point,” he said, and kept walking. He would drive himself to the point of exhaustion so he’d sleep. And he’d get his head on straight. He might find some physical attraction to the pretty innkeeper, but he wasn’t going there. She was a forever-after kind of woman, and he’d not risk his very soul again on ephemeral love.

Jeanne-Marie watched as he left, a spring in his step, his look anticipatory.

She brushed her fingertips across her lips, remembering their kiss. She’d pushed the thought away during the day, but now the memory returned. She had felt a pull of attraction that was as strong as any she’d ever had for Phillipe. Once when he’d leaned over her to say something, she’d thought he was going to kiss her again.