“And what does ‘scan your body’ mean?” Didier asked. “Is that sex? Because sex is relaxing.”
“It’s not sex,” she said. Unless it was some new age code phrase for it, which she doubted.
“Dommage,” Didier replied. Then he stood up. “I know what we will do today. Come.”
“Where?” she asked, standing up. She glanced at the time on her phone. She had a couple hours allotted for their meeting. She hoped it wasn’t going to run over. She had a lot to do, especially if she wanted to get out of there in time for dinner with Danny.
“We will get ice cream,” Didier declared.
“Ice cream?” She looked at Jamie.
Grinning, Jamie got up too. “Sounds like fun.”
As she stood there confused, Didier took her coat and held it for her to get into before he reached for a scarf from a coatrack, winding it with expert ease around his neck. Then he put on a knee-length brown velvet coat that looked like something a pirate going out for an evening of plundering would wear.
“Now we go.” Didier took her arm and put it inside the crook of his. He said something to Jamie in fast French.
Jamie just kept smiling. “Have a good time, kids.”
“Ice cream?” she repeated as they left the office. “It’s morning, and winter.”
“It’s not winter until the twenty-first,” he replied. “Non?”
She shook her head as they got into the elevator. “You’re going to be literal about that?”
“Oui.” He grinned at her.
He was a very attractive man, but not as attractive as Danny.
Didier had to know Danny. They were both soccer players. Maybe she was looking at this ice cream outing in the wrong light. Maybe this was a good opportunity to learn a little more about Danny too.
“Mymaman, when I was little, would take me to get ice cream no matter what the weather,” Didier said as they strolled down the sidewalk. “She said to me,Didier, la glace réchauffe le cœur.Ice cream warms the heart.”
“How is that?” she asked.
“I’m still trying to figure it out.” He shrugged as he gestured her toward an old-school diner. He opened the door for her and followed her inside. They sat in a booth, and Didier ordered them two scoops of ice cream each—chocolate and strawberry for them both.
He chatted about random things until the waitress brought their dishes. She watched him dive in with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old. Shaking her head, she tasted a spoonful.
Didier licked his spoon with a pleased hum. “Why not sex?” he asked suddenly.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Why not sex to relax?” he asked again, his gaze frank.
“I don’t understand why you believe that relaxing is going to help me face my father.”
“When I wanted to become a footballer, I practiced all the time. I had my ball with me, and I kicked and dribbled it everywhere. The ball became a part of me, until it didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing; if the ball came to me, I took charge of it without thinking.” He sat back. “It is practice that becomes habit, that becomes second nature. So the more relaxed you are all the time, the more of a habit it becomes, until you are relaxed always.”
“I’m relaxed most of the time and it hasn’t helped me when I’m around him,” she said.
Didier raised his brow, clearly skeptical. “You are not relaxed now.”
“Yes, I am.” She sat up straighter, lifting her chin.
He snorted. “No one can be relaxed wearing all that clothing.”
“I can’t exactly take my clothing off here,” she said in exasperation.