A French Affair (2 page)

Chapter Three

‘So,’ Sydney said as they emerged from the Métro station, ‘where are we going?’

‘Where do you want to go, beautiful lady? Here, we’re near The Louvre, the Notre-Dame, the flower markets … Hey, what? What did I say?’

His flirtatious comment had made her turn her face away from his in an attempt to curb her irritation. She couldn’t make her mind up what had happened with his wife, but either way, the fact he still wore his wedding ring meant something, so he should definitely not be flirting with her.

She sucked in a deep breath and decided to let him have it. If he stormed off in a huff, she was resourceful enough to find her way back to Monthiers. Eventually. ‘It’s just … I don’t appreciate you making those kinds of comments.’ That part wasn’t strictly true. If he was free and single, she’d have been returning the compliments with enthusiasm. ‘You’re married, and it’s not right.’

‘Married?’ There it was again, the confused look, the face that told her he had no idea what she was talking about. After a pause, he glanced down at his left hand. Comprehension finally dawned and he gave a curt nod. ‘OK, Sydney, I think we need to talk. Let’s go and sit down somewhere.’ He took her arm and led her down to the edge of the Seine. As luck would have it, there was an empty bench. They walked over to it and sat down.

Harry twisted his body slightly to face her, then gave a wry smile. ‘Look, I’m sorry you got the wrong impression of me just then. I should probably have realised back in the house when you mentioned my wife … Sydney, I’m widowed. Shelly, my wife, died four years ago. She had cancer; it was quick …’ He shifted his gaze from her to his hands, then began to fiddle with the gold band on the third finger of his left hand. He remained silent for several seconds, then pulled in a breath and released it, shakily.

Sydney didn’t know what to say. She looked out across the river, taking in all the beautiful sights and wondering how the two of them could get from this awkward conversation to having a nice time. There was no point turning around and going back to the village – they’d be travelling for a good couple of hours and the silence would be excruciating. No, much better to clear the air now and hopefully move on.

She reached out and placed her hand on his. ‘Harry, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Well, obviously I had no idea otherwise we wouldn’t be in this mess. You still wear your wedding ring, and I just got the wrong end of the stick. I never thought for a moment that you might be widowed. I can’t apologise enough.’

He looked up, and twisted his hand, grabbing hers and giving it a squeeze. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Sydney. It’s not your fault she got cancer, and not your fault you assumed what someone naturally would with the presence of a ring on someone’s wedding finger. It’s me who should be apologising – I should have told you there was no one in the picture before making that remark. Even before inviting you out for the day. Paris is kind of a romantic city, and I can see why I gave you the wrong impression. I’m not a sleazebag, Sydney, I never have been. I was faithful to Shelly from the moment we met until the moment she left us. In fact, I’ve been faithful ever since. There’s been no one else, and I’ve never wanted there to be, really.’

‘Wow,’ Sydney breathed, squeezing his hand. ‘No one else, in four years?’

He shook his head. ‘She was a very special woman.’

Sydney nodded. ‘I can tell from the way you speak about her. She was a very lucky woman, to have a man like you adoring her.’

The smile he gave her was a touch watery, and she had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch his face. He might misconstrue her compassion – she’d lost her mother to that dreadful disease – and think she was making a move. Which would be wildly inappropriate, considering the conversation they were having.

‘Thank you,’ he finally said, dragging his free hand through his hair. He puffed out a breath. ‘OK, at the risk of sounding unfeeling – which I suspect you already know I am not – shall we change the subject to something happier? I brought you here to have a good time, not to hear my sob story. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you, but shall we just have a lovely day in the city first?’

‘Yes,’ she said, decisively. ‘It’s far too beautiful a day to feel sad. So, where are we going?’ She stood up and took a couple of steps closer to the river, admiring the view once more.

A couple of seconds later, Harry joined her. ‘We’re not too far from the Notre-Dame, if you’d like to see that? I know the Eiffel Tower is an obvious choice for a Paris first-timer, but we’d be in the queue for ages. If you want to come and see it, pre-booking is the best option.’

‘The Notre-Dame would be lovely, thank you. And I totally understand about the Eiffel Tower. I’d much rather spend time exploring than standing in a queue.’

‘We can still go and see it later, if you want.’

‘Yes, maybe. Let’s just see how we get on. Lead the way, kind sir.’

Harry held out his arm. ‘M’lady.’

She took his arm with a giggle. ‘We sound like 1950s throwbacks.’

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I promised you fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to have.’

With that, he led her along the bank of the Seine, past the stalls selling second-hand books, paintings and drawings, souvenirs and much more. After passing a large and very beautiful building, which Harry explained was the Palace of Justice – otherwise known as courts of law – their destination came into sight. Sydney gasped. She’d seen photographs of the cathedral, of course, but now she came to the conclusion that they simply did not do the building justice. The towers stretching into the sky, the intricate patterns, the beautiful windows, the commanding presence – the Notre-Dame was truly stunning.

The crowds milling around it clearly agreed with her. People passed by on the square in front of the cathedral, stopping to look and take photos, while others sat on walls soaking up the atmosphere. A fairly small number queued to get in. Sydney and Harry headed over to join the end of the line.

‘Wow,’ he said, looking around, ‘I was expecting a bigger queue. There aren’t many tourists around today. Though, I hasten to add, this line moves a damn sight faster than the one for the Eiffel Tower.’

She smiled. ‘Good. Do we have to pay to get in?’

‘Yes, but I’ll get it.’

‘No, it’s OK. I can pay for myself.’

‘I know you can. But I invited you out for the day, so I’m paying.’

‘Harry, we’re not on a date.’

He turned to look at her, and held her gaze for just a second too long before turning away. He hadn’t spoken, but he didn’t need to – the way he’d looked at her told her plenty. As far as he was concerned, it seemed, they
were
on a date. A date that had begun with a misunderstanding, had included a conversation about his dead wife and was now leading them into a place of worship. It was officially the strangest date she’d ever been on – even stranger than Richard, the guy who’d kept snakes and spiders and done little else but talk about them. She gave an involuntary shiver.

‘Hey,’ Harry said, his gaze upon her once more, ‘you all right? You cold?’ He pulled his arm from hers and went to shrug out of his jacket.

‘No,’ she said, placing her hand on his arm to stop him, ‘I’m not cold. And I have a jacket anyway, thanks. I dunno, I just shivered. One of those weird things, like someone walking across my grave.’ She wasn’t going to tell him her innermost thoughts – especially about weird blind dates.

He narrowed his eyes at her, as though assessing whether she was telling the truth. She gave him the brightest smile she could summon without hurting her face, then tucked her arm into his once more.

‘OK,’ he said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet as they neared the front of the queue, ‘but you might need your jacket inside. It could be chilly.’

‘I’ll definitely grab it if I need it. I’m not a fan of being cold. Hence heading south for a fortnight.’

They shared a glance, one that warmed her both inside and out. The realisation that her crush had come back with a vengeance hit her hard. She’d shied away from it, understandably, when she thought he was spoken for. But now, knowing he was free and single – and seemingly liked her – she allowed the feelings in, examining his back view as he temporarily turned away from her to pay their entrance fee. His dark hair tapered at the top of his neck, which then swept out to wide shoulders. His body nipped in again at the waist. She’d seen him in a T-shirt, so she knew his arms were fairly muscular, and the way his jeans hung on his arse and thighs indicated that his legs would be similar. Maybe she’d get to find out before the fortnight was up.

Harry turned quickly, very nearly catching her in the act of eyeing him up. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘What for?’

‘For everything – bringing me here for the day, paying for me … I appreciate it.’

‘Just part of the service of making it up to you,’ he replied, a glint in his eye indicating that he knew she’d realised it had gone beyond that. For him, anyway. She had no idea if he had an inkling that the attraction was mutual, but she’d make sure he knew soon enough.

They headed into the relative gloom of the cathedral, moving over to one side and pausing for a few seconds to let their eyes adjust to the muted light. When they did, Sydney was instantly impressed. ‘Wow. This place is gorgeous.’

She continued to look around, rapidly coming to the conclusion that she could stand there for days on end and still not fully appreciate the beauty. The inside was even more intricate than the outside; with decoration of some kind everywhere – but so well done that it didn’t look too busy, or tacky. It just looked amazing. When she finally tore her gaze away, Harry was watching her with an amused expression.

‘I can see I got it right, bringing you here. Come on, there’s lots more to see. This place is pretty damn big. Oops, I shouldn’t swear in here, should I?’

She held her hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to emerge. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, removing her fingers, ‘I won’t tell.’

‘Thanks. Just for being so kind, I’ll buy you lunch when we’re done here.’

It was a statement, she knew, not a question, so she simply flashed him a grateful smile and continued to explore the beautiful building. They hadn’t been in Paris for more than an hour and a half, and despite the false start, already she was having the most fun she’d ever had on a date – even though, despite Harry’s look earlier, it wasn’t a date.

Or was it?

Chapter Four

They blinked rapidly as they emerged into the sunlight. Immediately they were swallowed into a crowd, at the front of which was a stern-looking woman holding an umbrella high in the air and speaking rapidly in a language Sydney didn’t understand. Harry reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close.

‘Hold on tight. I don’t want to lose you. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

She nodded and shuffled after him as he got them through the bunch of people unscathed. Once they were clear, she moved up next to him but didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t let go either, and they walked together away from the Notre-Dame and off to the left. Sydney was too busy looking around her, at the streets, the architecture, and the people, to take much notice of where they were going, so when they suddenly stopped, she turned to Harry with a frown.

He inclined his head, indicating the building in front of them. She shifted her gaze and gasped.

‘Shakespeare and Company! I’ve definitely heard of this place – it’s meant to be one of the best English bookshops in Paris.’

‘Well, why don’t we go and have a look?’

‘Are you sure? Letting me loose in a bookshop is never a good idea.’

‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m a book lover too. Wait until you see the library at my place in Monthiers. Anyway, in case we lose each other in this warren of bookish goodness, shall we say we’ll meet back here in half an hour and go and get something to eat? We can always come back after lunch.’

Sydney glanced at her watch to make a mental note of the time. ‘Deal. See you then.’

With that, they headed into the shop, staying fairly close to one another to start with, then gradually drifting apart as the various sections caught their attention. Sydney picked up, flicked through, and replaced several books in turn, enjoying the experience of being in the famous shop as much as she was the contents themselves. She moved on, and spotted the stairs heading to the next level. The entire shop was endearingly higgledy piggledy and the staircase was no exception. Fortunately, the climb was worth it. Another, albeit smaller, level awaited her and she enjoyed perusing weighty tomes and more manageably-sized paperbacks until something made her check the time. Damn – her half an hour was up. She could scarcely believe it had gone by so quickly, but at least it meant it was time to go and get something to eat and spend some more time with Harry.

The thought of him hurried her on, and she moved through the shop as fast as she could without looking like a shoplifter, emerged into the daylight. Harry stood with his back to her, looking out at the side view of the Notre-Dame. She couldn’t resist – she crept up behind him and grabbed his waist, digging her fingers in and tickling him.

He swore loudly, then turned and grabbed her, only releasing his hold when he realised it was her. ‘Sydney, you crazy woman. I thought you were a pickpocket.’ His face softened, and he gave her a playful jab with the end of his finger. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t rugby-tackle you to the ground.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought a self-respecting pickpocket would have announced their presence by tickling you. You knew damn well it was me.’

‘After a second I did. My first instinct was to put up a fight.’

‘Then you grabbed me anyway.’

‘Can you blame me?’ He winked at her, then held out his arm. ‘Come on, we’ll head into the Latin Quarter for lunch, if that’s all right with you. Did you enjoy it in there?’

She mock-sighed. ‘You’re a very bad man. Yes, the Latin Quarter is fine. And yes, I definitely enjoyed it in there. I could have stayed there for hours.’

He began to walk away from the bookshop, with the Notre-Dame on their right. ‘Me too. It’s just as well we had a time limit, huh? Plus I didn’t fancy carrying a load of books around. Though I think you can buy stuff and have them ship it to you, which saves a load of hassle.’

‘I can imagine it does.’

They fell into a companionable silence as they made their way deeper into the Paris streets, before eventually moving into a very narrow street lined with shops and restaurants. Harry stopped outside an establishment which had very bright signage, proclaiming it to be a French restaurant.

‘Wouldn’t you think they’d just call it a restaurant, since we’re in France?’

Harry laughed. ‘I never thought of it like that. You OK with eating here? They’ve got a pretty good variety, and it’s delicious too. I come here quite often.’

‘No problem. I’m not fussy.’

Harry raised his eyebrows, and she quickly added, ‘About what I eat.’

He grinned and led her into the restaurant, greeting two of the staff with familiarity. Sydney trailed behind, smiling shyly at the people he’d spoken to and murmuring a barely audible “Bonjour”.

‘Where do you want to sit?’ Harry asked, turning to her.

‘I don’t mind. Here is fine.’ She indicated the table they stood next to.

Harry gave a nod then moved around to pull out a chair, gesturing her into it. She thanked him and sat down. He helped her push the chair under the table, and only then did he go and sit down opposite her. A waiter came over and put down a carafe of water and two glasses, leaving them with a menu each and saying something before he left.

‘What did he say?’ Sydney asked. ‘My French is very basic.’

Harry looked up. ‘He just said he’d be back in a few minutes to take our orders.’

‘Oh, fair enough. Can you recommend anything in particular?’

‘That’s a tough one. I like pretty much everything on this menu. What do you like? Meat? Pasta? Salad?’ His gaze flicked over the menu, and Sydney found herself staring at him once more, the harsh lighting showing that his hair wasn’t quite as dark as she’d previously thought. At his temples were the lightest touches of grey beginning to show, and she suspected that in a few years he’d be sporting a very fetching salt-and-pepper look, much like George Clooney.

It was only when he looked up and met her gaze that she realised she hadn’t answered his question. She cleared her throat hastily, and replied, ‘I like them all, but definitely prefer meat to salad.’

‘OK,’ Harry replied decisively, seemingly unaware of, or unaffected by, her pause. ‘Then you’ll like the Boeuf Bourguignon. Shall I order that for you?’

She nodded, happy to let him take over, rather than her stumbling over pronunciation and having to resort to pointing at items on the menu.

After a few minutes, the waiter left with their order and returned with the wine Harry had requested.

‘I can only have one glass,’ he said, pouring hers first, ‘because I’ll be driving us back home, but they’re pretty relaxed here. What we don’t finish, they’ll let us take away with us.’

‘Really?’ she said, taking the glass he handed to her. ‘Thank you. That’s excellent – it seems the restaurants are as laidback as the builders in this country.’

Harry nodded emphatically. ‘Yes. In a restaurant, it’s a good thing. In builders, not so much. I’ll be honest, the whole renovation of the barn has been a pain in the arse and I’ll be glad when it’s over and done with. Especially since I can start making the money back that I’ve spent.’

‘Well, it’s definitely been worth your money and agony. My half of the building is very comfortable, pretty and spacious. I’d definitely use it again – as long as you can promise there will be no more workmen.’ She winked to show she was teasing – a little.

‘If it means you’ll come back, I can definitely promise no workmen. Even if it means leaving it unfinished. Or you could just come and stay with me – for free.’

‘W-with you? Do you have a spare room?’

‘Yes. The place is pretty big – even when the children are with me. But I didn’t mean in the spare room.’

Her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying?

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you’re not really surprised, are you? Now you know I’m not attached, surely you realise I’ve been flirting with you because I like you, not because I’m some kind of two-timing scumbag?’

‘Um … have you been flirting?’

‘You know damn well I have! Come on, Sydney, don’t be all coy. At least put me out of my misery and let me know if the feeling is mutual.’

Sydney remained silent for a few seconds, her mind reeling. Once she was alone, she’d been planning to spend some time figuring out how to tell Harry she liked him. But that idea had been for the future, maybe for that evening when she went to bed. And now it seemed that he was saving her a job, and for some reason she couldn’t answer him. Mentally berating herself, she picked up her glass of wine and downed a couple of mouthfuls. Placing it down again, she sucked in a breath.

‘Yes, Harry, the feeling is mutual. Very much so.’ She didn’t say anything else, mainly because she didn’t know
what
to say.

‘Well.’ He paused, taking a sip of his own drink. ‘That’s good. Excellent. I’m sorry I was a little direct, but as you’ve probably realised, I’m extremely out of practice when it comes to flirting with women. Since Shelly passed, I’ve never even wanted to. Until you came along, that is. It’s crazy, I know, since we barely know each other. But I’d like to get to know you better, see if there’s something between us. I probably didn’t say it very well, but you get my meaning, right?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned. ‘I understand you perfectly, Harry. Now I know you’re not attached, I’d like to get to know you better too. I think we’re doing a pretty good job already, don’t you? I think I’ve talked more to you in the past few hours than I have to anyone for … I don’t want to think how long.’

‘Why is that, Sydney? You can’t have been single for long, surely? I’m ashamed of the rest of the British male population if no one’s asked you out on a date.’

She shrugged. ‘You don’t need to be ashamed. I have been asked out – probably a couple of months ago now, but since my last relationship I just haven’t felt that, you know, spark with anyone. The guys who have tried to chat me up have been nice enough, but I haven’t felt anything beyond platonic. It hasn’t bothered me too much, really. I’d rather have no relationship at all than one I feel “meh” about.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Though if you don’t mind me asking, what happened in your last relationship?’