CultOfTheBlackVirgin (2 page)

Being the lover of one of Seattle’s most eligible bachelors—being wined and dined and taken shopping in places like Paris—was a lot more exciting than what would come after the wedding, she knew.

“I know you’re upset, James. And I’m so sorry if I hurt you. I certainly didn’t mean to. You know I love you. But please try to understand this from my side. I need more time.” She could feel the familiar tears start to pool in her eyes.

Am I crying for him, for how I’ve hurt him? Or are these tears for myself?

She really didn’t know.

Confused, she began to babble.

“I think I was awfully lucky to find a walking tour leaving today, and I’m sure that hiking in the country will be the best thing for me right now. I’m planning to do some research while I’m there, too. When I emailed Brenda to tell her I needed another two weeks off, I explained I’d be researching the area for the magazine’s new travel issue.

“So I’ll have plenty to do,” she mumbled as she saw James’ handsome face begin to turn an unpleasant red colour. She knew he was going to lose his temper if she didn’t stop talking.

“So Brenda approves, does she? I’m surprised she hasn’t invited herself along on your little countryside ramble. I’m sure she’d be beside you in a flash if you so much as nodded her way.”

The vehemence in his voice was barely contained, and Jo blanched.

Not this again. Not now.

“Oh James! Please don’t hate Brenda. She’s my boss, not your rival. I love
you.
But my career is important to me too. You know that. I just wish it didn’t make you so unhappy that I love what I do.”

He looked right through her as he said, “We should go. Are you ready?”

It was clear he wasn’t going to relax into an adult discussion. In fact, he hadn’t been able to talk to Jo since the night before last, when she’d crushed his expectations in front of fifty strangers. She blotted her tears with yet another tissue and gathered her things.

I wish I knew why I’m so afraid of this. I do love him. But do I love him enough to give him what he wants?

Jo took a sip of wine. Then another. It was delicious, with the added benefit of steadying her nerves. By the time she emptied her glass and chatted with a few of her fellow travelers, she felt more like herself.

Luc had moved away, so now she could watch him as he worked the room. Tall and strongly built, he seemed confident and at ease in his words and gestures, moving with the toned elegance of an athlete. Her first response to him had certainly flustered her. But maybe it was just low blood sugar. She knew she should have eaten something during the afternoon, but she’d felt nauseous on the train.

Now she needed food.

She was ordering another glass of wine when she heard Luc’s voice calling out across the room.

“Hello! Hello everyone with the
French Escapes
tour. May I have your attention, please? Hel-lo!”

The room quieted and he continued. “It’s my pleasure to call you to what I hope will be the first of many pleasant dinners together. Please, right this way.”

Jo dutifully followed the others into the dining room and took a seat. Luc sat at the head of the long table to play the role of host, clearly enjoying the role. But she quickly found she wasn’t happy sitting at his table. He was radiating sexuality, like nothing she’d ever felt before. She grew uncomfortably warm again, even though she was wearing only a light cotton dress.

More wine was poured all around and everyone began talking at once. But Jo didn’t want conversation, she wanted to eat and run. She had to will herself to sit still as she contemplated checking the schedule for the next day’s train back to Paris once she got some food into her. The more she tried to appear calm, the more violently she twisted the ring James had given her last Christmas round and round on her finger.

It was a large ring, set with an aquamarine stone and a cluster of brilliant cut diamonds. The pale blue stone was exactly the shade of James’ eyes—that was why he’d chosen it. When they were apart, all she had to do was look at her hand to be reminded of him and how much he loved her. A fine sentiment, some women might think. But the ring unnerved Jo.

First of all, it was large and flashy. Her taste ran to more simple jewelry. But it also made her feel as if James were watching her. As if she had no privacy. She had to wear it, though, even though he was on the other side of the planet. Keeping such a valuable piece of jewelry in her luggage was a security risk. She knew it would be safest on her finger.

After a few moments Luc tapped his wineglass with a fork to get the group’s attention again. They were eager to give it, Jo noticed. Especially the half dozen women sitting around the table.

* * * *

Putain alors!
Why did I let Oscar talk me into this?
Luc fumed.

When he agreed to take this group on a Dordogne walk he had a premonition he’d made a bad decision. First of all, Simone had already planned a weekend away in Carcassonne. Just the two of them. They needed some alone time and when he told her he couldn’t make it, she’d been understandably upset.

“Luc! Do you really have to do this? You’ve known about Carcassonne for a month! It’s not your weekend for Daniel, and I put a deposit on the room.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry,
ma chérie.
But I don’t see how I could get out of it. Oscar needs me. His best guide has mono and he’s already left for Mount Blanc with a full group. He won’t be back for another week. That leaves me—or else he’d have to cancel twelve paying customers. I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Well
I
could,” Simone grumbled. “Oscar owes you for this. And you owe me, too.”

Luc saw the look on her face and sighed. He hoped she wasn’t going to going to cry.

“Of course. I’ll pay you back for the deposit. And I’ll make it up to you. You know I always pay my debts.” He moved towards her for a hug but she slipped away, obviously upset. He heard the bathroom door bang closed.

Merde. This will take awhile to fix, but pas maintenant—not now. When I get back.

He sighed again. Simone was turning out to be more high maintenance than his ex-wife had ever been.

“
I’ll be home on the twenty-fifth,” he called out loudly. “Maybe we can find something in July.”

Silence from the bathroom. They both knew everything would be booked up by then.

So here he was, on vacation from his regular job, and instead of leading a group of climbers through the mountains—which he loved to do—he was stuck on a boring-as-shit ramble along a river he’d walked a hundred times. All to help out his friend Oscar.

And now, sitting at a table with a dozen strangers in a Souillac dining room, he again felt, unreasonably, that something bad was going to happen.

C’est la maudite Américaine. That damned American woman.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. Right now she was playing with the food on her plate. He realized he didn’t feel like eating, either.

It wasn’t just that she was attractive. As soon as he saw her, he felt that he knew her. And that she was made for him. He didn’t know how he knew this. It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe it’s pheromones, or something.

But he hadn’t been within sniffing distance when he first saw her walk up to the bar. Then he remembered reading that male moths can pick up a female’s scent from miles away. Yes, there was something unconscious and animal in his response to her.

He was looking at her now. Her summery dress was printed with African motifs—little shields and spears, masks and jungle cats in black, ivory and browns. It suited her perfectly—her shiny brown hair, her dark brown eyes and creamy complexion. And it suited the type of woman he wanted at this moment.

And it was only at this moment that Luc realized he wanted a woman at all. He had Simone. He didn’t need anyone else.

When Jo glanced up at him from her plate of pulverized food, he realized he’d been staring not so much at her dress but at her tits.

Oh fuck—Get a grip, man. C’est pas cool, ça. Not cool.

He looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then he forced a smile and began to address the expectant faces seated around the table
.

* * * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to interrupt your talk for a few moments. We’ll have plenty of time for conversation later.”

Two middle-aged women at the table tittered, heads together. Luc smiled indulgently and continued.

“Over the next ten days, we’ll take most of our meals together, spend most of our days walking—more or less—together, and socialize together—as it suits us, of course.”

Hearing the humor and good will in his voice, most people laughed appreciatively.

“So let us begin the pleasant process of getting to know each other.

“Our group is a small one—thirteen, counting me. We have a couple from Australia, Carol and Peter.” He swung a hand to introduce the Stewarts, tanned and middle-aged. “And Duncan here is a Scot,” he continued as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the young man sitting next to him. “But the majority of us are English. That would be Sarah, from London, sitting at the other end of the table.” A young Indian woman blushed as all eyes turned her way. “Iris, from Bristol, is sitting to her left.” A sullen young woman scowled at her plate as heads swiveled toward her. “Marcie and Ron are also from London.” Another of the middle-aged couples raised hands in greeting. “And Glenda and Edward are from Manchester.”

“Ah, Birmingham, actually,” Edward corrected as his wife gave a small wave.

“Yes, pardon me. Birmingham. We also have Ellen and Thomas, from Oxford University.” The older couple nodded pleasantly to the group.

“And last but not least we have a newly-arrived American with us, Joanna, from Washington State.”

Jo smiled woodenly as everyone checked her out her once again.

A waiter hovered nearby, and spotting his signal Luc changed the subject to one nearer everyone’s heart. “Ah. Dinner is about to be served, I’m told. I wish you all a
bon appétit.”

Over the first course, a plate of succulent
charcuterie
and salad, Luc conversed amicably and answered questions. Everyone learned that he was born and raised in the southwest of France, in nearby Cahors, where he still lived. He worked for the French federal government as an archeologist, but each summer he helped out a friend, who owned
French Escapes,
by guiding walking tours or mountain treks.

“I enjoy guiding,” he explained. “It gives me a break from my desk job and gets me out into the countryside I love so much. I am very proud of my
département
. Lot is one of the most unspoiled and beautiful areas of the country. I’m sure you’ll agree with me by the end of the tour.”

His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he looked around the table. Jo caught his glance and as she held it for a moment, her body began to tingle. She didn’t know if she was pleased or alarmed at this visceral response to a man she’d met only an hour ago, but now she was beginning to think that it was pretty silly to even consider catching the next day’s train back to Paris.

As she took in Luc’s story, she ate automatically, not tasting her food, washing it down with more wine when it stuck in her throat. For some reason her appetite had disappeared.

After the first course was cleared and fresh bottles of wine passed around, Luc told them how much he looked forward to the start of each tour.

“I’ve been guiding for five years now, and I’ve met people from all over the world—Japan, the U.S., Germany, Canada, Australia, Britain, New Zealand. I especially enjoy the first day of a tour. It’s exciting for me because I never know who I’ll meet this time.”

His glance met Jo’s again as he made this confession, and another pleasant rush of adrenaline made her smile. He smiled back, causing waves of excitement to surge through her body.

“But you haven’t told us how you feel by the last day,” pointed out the Australian named Peter. “You’re probably good and ready to shed the whole bloody lot of us by then. Am I right?”

Laugher and conversation swelled around Jo as she struggled to join in.

Luc spoke in a way that made each person at the table feel as if he or she were especially interesting, and Jo recognized this as the trait of a good leader. But she knew she was interesting to him in a way she shouldn’t be. He was wearing a wedding ring. She’d noticed it as he handed her that first glass of wine.

Seeing the ring had relieved her, at first. And now she used it as a rationale to go ahead with the tour, despite her mixed feelings. The fact that there was a Mrs. LaPlante somewhere meant that nothing was going to happen between Jo and Luc. Despite her body’s response to him, she would never allow herself a liaison with a married man. Even if she didn’t love James—which she did.

End of story.

The main course was crispy roasted duck
confit
with a morel mushroom sauce and thick slices of fried potatoes. Even though it smelled wonderful, Jo felt uncomfortably full. She allowed one of the Englishmen sitting nearby to refill her wine glass and poked at the food with her fork.