Chapter 2
This woman curses like a pirate, Maxim thought, and that amused him to no end. He loved the idea that he had been able to stand there for several seconds before she noticed him, listening to her rail against the fates in that strong, husky voice. Surely, a woman with such an exquisite vocabulary was worth knowing.
Maxim also like the fact that he was afforded a few seconds to enjoy the sight of her, in a perfectly tailored suit, the color of whipped-butter, and heels that were certainly not suited to the task, bent over and contemplating the mess of tools she’d dumped out onto the ground.
The woman had more curves on her than a Grand Prix racetrack, he observed, and all of them in the right places. Wide hips and an exquisite derriere, shooting in sharply to a narrow waist, and then back out again to voluptuous breasts.
When she had spun around to face him, he was delighted to note that her face was as fetching as the rest of her. Cocoa-colored skin, dark, flashing eyes, and flowing straight black hair. Hair that had been whipped wild by the roadside wind, while her cheeks flushed burgundy with frustration, though that made her prettier still.
What would it be like if he were to put that flush back into those cheeks, all by himself?He wondered.It certainly would be pleasant to try.
Standing next to her car with one hand rested on it, she looked at him uncertainly.
Maxim did have some misgivings, wondering what could have possessed this American woman to be driving alone down a secondary road this late in the afternoon. Should he ask where she was going? Would she perceive that as a threat?
Sienna brushed the hair out of her eyes, and it was immediately blown back in by the wind. She struggled to hold it back again, and he noticed how perfect and elegant her manicure was. It would have been a shame for her to ruin it by struggling with thatpneu.
“I, uh, better be going,” she said almost apologetically. “Merci.”
“De rien,” he answered politely, but couldn’t help himself. He asked, “Are you going to be okay?”
Smiling widely, she seemed to have gathered her confidence around her. “Yes.” She volunteered further information. “I’m heading just past Aix. I’ll be staying there with some friends of mine.”
“Good. It’s not too distant in that direction.” He pointed down the road with his chin. “Two hours, maybe. You’ll be there before dark.” When she seemed to be waiting, he added, “I don’t live too far. I’m just on the outskirts of Aix. I work at a bar in the city.”
Sienna brightened. “Oh, nice!” Then, almost shyly, she continued, “If you tell me the name of it, maybe I could pass by. Maybe buy you a drink as a thank you?”
The kid in him began jumping up and down in excitement, but the man that he was said calmly, “I would like that.” Gracefully, unwilling to betray his eagerness, he fished out his wallet and withdrew a simple card, which bore the name of a bar and a phone number. “I’m there most evenings. Come by whenever you’re free.”
Taking the card, she studied it, then looked up at him as her lips curved upward. “I certainly will.”
Max watched as she turned gracefully on those six-inch heels and slid back into the driver’s seat. A weird sense of loss came at him out of nowhere, as if something inside him longed to keep her talking. To tell jokes, wax poetic about the flora and fauna of the area and juggle roadside pebbles. Anything to stop her from leaving.
But leave she did and when she was gone, he straddled his bike, strapped on his helmet, and peeled out.
∞∞∞
Maxim parked in front of the large stone house, taking his time to make sure the bike was properly stationed, and then dismounted, removing his helmet and allowing it to dangle from one hand. The entire trip home, his head was filled with the memory and scent of that beautiful woman. Sienna.How odd, he thought,the little encounters we have that threaten to leave an indelible mark.
Many promises were made out of gratitude, but that didn’t mean they would be kept. He doubted he would ever see the lovely Sienna again.
He shook his head ruefully. Pity.
As he approached the front door, the beats of his boots on the flagstones grew slower and heavier. He was willing to admit to himself that the reason he’d been dallying out in the hinterlands was that he was reluctant to come home. He knew what was waiting for him there, and the longer he could stave off yet another encounter, the better.
But no, his free pass was torn to shreds and tossed back into his face the moment he stepped into the entrance hall and hanged his helmet up on its hook. Éloise was there even before he made to turn around. He could sense her.
When he fully turned, Éloïse stood there wearing a floral pinafore that would probably better suit some spunky preadolescent girl in a movie for tweens. The kind in which the kid had a lot of one-liners, popped gum, got into scrapes and did some sleuthing on the side. Certainly not the kind of clothing a grown woman would usually wear, but Max knew that this was part of her window-dressing. Part of her efforts to come off as youthful, vulnerable and needy. He wasn’t buying it for a second, but his mother had swallowed it—not only hook, line, and sinker, but the whole damn fishing boat.
“Hey, Max,” Éloise said in that sweet simper she usually reserved for him whenever his mom was nearby.
Nodding in her direction, he tried to smile. Tried to be nice. “Éloïse.”
He wanted to slip past her and head to his room for a shower, but she had planted herself dead in the middle of the hallway, and he figured it would be rude to barge past.
“Nice ride?”
“Great.”