“Not going back to town?” she asked as she sat beside him.
“Nothing there for me. Does the town always have such an amazing display of pyrotechnics?”
“A lot of the annual budget goes to them. Fabulous, I think.”
There was a muffled boom in the distance and a faint glow in the sky.
“Marseilles is finishing up,” she commented. “I remember a few years ago we were amazed with their display. But this suits me fine. I like not being in the midst of a huge crowd,” she said, gazing out across the dark sea. In the distance a ship’s lights could be seen, gliding toward the east.
“Do you go to Marseilles often?” he asked.
“Not as often as I probably ought to. Alexandre’s grandparents live there and he visits them from time to time. I’m taking him over on Monday for a couple of days. I’ll do some shopping while I’m there, but pretty much St. Bart suits all our needs.”
“What time are you taking him?”
“In the afternoon. Why?”
“I could drive you both and then take you to dinner.”
Jeanne-Marie tried to see his expression in the faint light spilling from the French doors. But his face was in shadow. Another dinner? She swallowed hard. They would drop Alexandre off at his grandparents. It would just be the two of them. No matter how she thought about tonight, a dinner in Marseilles, just the two of them, would be a date.
A touch of panic. Was she ready for such a step? Not that it meant more than two people enjoying a meal together. He hadn’t asked her to run away with him.
“Why?” she blurted out.
“As a thank-you for your hospitality.”
“I’m an innkeeper, you’re a guest. Nothing beyond payment for your room is needed.” She felt deflated. It was merely a thank-you. She’d thought he meant more.
“Then, because I’d enjoy sharing another meal with you. I’d like to spend a bit more time together before I head for home.”
Her heart sped up a little. “Just you and me?”
“Unless you wish to take Alexandre to his grandparents later. Then he could eat with us,” Matt said easily.
It would be less like a date if Alexandre were with them. But—there was nothing wrong with having a meal with a guest. Especially on his last day. She would view it as the thank-you gesture he said initially.
“He should go to his grandparents first. And yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.” The minute she said it, she wished she could snatch back the words. It was a date! She hadn’t dated in years. She never thought she would again, at least not until she was over Phillipe’s death. Which she wasn’t. Yet. Or was she?
“Maybe I’ll extend my stay another few days,” he said.
She tried to remember future reservations. “I think I’m booked,” she said finally, feeling disappointed. This seesaw of emotions confused her. Did she want to see where a relationship between them could lead or not?
She did. She’d have to double-check reservations. If there was a way to keep a room for Matt, she would find it.
“Ah, I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I’ll have to look for something elsewhere in the village.”
“I can double-check.” She made a move to stand, but his hand caught hers and tugged her back down. The tingling that shot through her arm was pleasant, tantalizing. She looked at him, feeling his hand imprinted as if she’d never forget.
“Time enough in the morning. Let’s just enjoy the evening. If the rooms are all booked, so be it. I’ll take you to dinner and then head for home.”
“That would be so late.”
“Or we could get rooms in Marseilles and I’ll drive you back in the morning and then head for home.”
That raised all sorts of concerns. Jeanne-Marie took a deep breath and shook her head, much as she was tempted. Not that he was suggesting a single room. She caught her breath at the thought. His kiss had knocked her off her senses; what would making love be like?
She grew warm thinking about it, glad for the darkness to hide her face. She was probably beet-red by now.
“No, I have to prepare breakfast for my guests. I have to return home Monday night, no matter how late.”
“Of course.”
It was a beautiful evening with a soft breeze blowing from the sea and she was sitting with a gorgeous man. His hand had slid down her arm and now held her hand loosely in his. The focal point of her existence was on their linked hands. She couldn’t think about anything else except Matt and the wild feelings that exploded in her when he touched her. A million women would trade places with her in a heartbeat. How had she been so lucky?
In a desperate attempt to stop thinking about unlikely possibilities, she asked, “What was your favorite part of today?” Her entire body seemed attuned to Matt. She could stay here forever. The darkness sheltered them. The gaiety in the town was a sweet background melody that mingled with the soft sighing of the sea as it brushed the sand. For a time, cares seemed forgotten. The past faded away, the future was unknown. She had only this moment.
“The food. I bet we sampled two dozen different dishes. How that boy of yours kept eating is amazing to me.”
“He has his moments. I hope it all goes to making him a tall man. My father isn’t very tall. I want Alexandre to be tall like his father.”
“Tell me about Phillipe,” Matt invited.
She hesitated. She disliked the way people tiptoed around the subject, but now that it was broached, what could she say? She didn’t want to talk about him to Matt. Yet, he was such an important part of her life. “He was tall, with brown hair, looked a bit like his father, whom you met. He had the most amazing vitality. He was always on the go. I used to wonder how he had the patience to scale the sheer cliffs he did. It takes careful study and patience to pick out the best route. He always seemed antsy, always looking for things to do. He didn’t sit still very often.” She didn’t bother to reveal he had also been a bit of a show-off, talking about exploits he’d done, bragging about future climbs he planned. The more daring, the more he liked talking about them.
“Did you two have a house?”
“No, a large flat near the water in Marseilles. He made a good living and supported us well. The place seemed so empty after he died. I sold it when we moved here.”
“What was your favorite holiday?”
Jeanne-Marie thought about it for a moment. Did none stand out? “We usually went wherever he was going to climb. I don’t climb, as you saw the other day, so I found things to do in the towns or villages where we stayed. I liked Italy. He climbed in the Italian Alps one time and I enjoyed the village he used as base. He never wanted to spend the time sightseeing when he could be climbing.”
“And that suited you?”
“Well, a real dream holiday would be pampering, breakfast in bed, then a day of shopping, maybe a play in the evening or a fabulous dinner somewhere with dancing,” she said dreamily. “But for the time being, I think Alexandre and I will be content to stay here. You have to admit, it’s beautiful right on the sea. I do love living by the water.”
“You should come visit the Loire Valley sometime. Especially in spring. It’s beautiful, as well.”
Matt hoped when she checked the reservations tomorrow that he’d be able to stay. Paul would be returning home soon. Not that it mattered much to him. The one climb they’d done together hadn’t been as relaxing or challenging as the others this week. Paul’s idea