Unexpected Blessings (37 page)

He chuckled as he went back to the bathroom and returned a moment later wearing a navy-blue silk robe. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘A little bit. But I don’t think those omelettes will still be hot.’

Laughter tugged at his mouth again, and walking over to her he put his arms around her, held her close. ‘I think I can rustle up some sandwiches. However, I want to talk to you first.’

‘What about?’ she asked, pulling away slightly as the seriousness of his tone registered. Staring up at him, she hesitated for a moment, then said quickly, ‘Is there something the matter?’

‘Sit there,’ he said, sounding a little imperious, indicating the sofa. She promptly did as he said, knowing he was serious.

He turned around, pulled a chair closer to the sofa, and sat down opposite her.

For a moment he remained silent, sat in the chair pondering, looking contemplative.

She studied him surreptitiously, thinking what a good-looking man he was. No wonder women fell at his feet. Well, hadn’t she also? He was handsome, with a strong hard body, long legs and broad shoulders. His dark-brown eyes were soulful, and at times brooding as well as mesmeric, while his gaze could be piercing. There was a sensuality to his fine mouth and yet it was kind as well. Yes, that was it. That elusive thing about him was the kindness reflected in his face. But now, as he stared back at her and very intently so, she saw a graveness settling over him, and once more she asked rather worriedly,
‘Is
there something wrong?’

‘No.’ He took a long swallow of the water, put the glass on a nearby side table, settled himself in the chair. ‘I’m a fifty-three-year-old man, a grownup man. This–’ he paused, waved his hand between them airily–‘is not a sport for me. This is not a game I’m playing.’

‘I think I know that, Jean-Claude.’

‘I’ve seen too much, done too much, lived too hard in many different ways. Pain, heartache…they’re old familiars. I have grappled with disillusionment and despair, I have borne many sorrows and I suppose you could say I’ve experienced most things. There are those in Paris who think I am weary, jaded even, and in some ways perhaps I am.’ He reached for the water again, obviously as thirsty as she had been.

‘And so now, at my age,’ he went on, ‘I cannot afford to squander my time because I still have much to write, to study, to achieve, and to do. Do you understand what I’m saying, Tessa?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Last night when I came home after dinner I felt
bludgeoned.
That’s the only word I can think of…
bludgeoned.
And by you. By our meeting. You had an enormous impact on me. And I believe I had the same impact on you. Am I not right?’

‘You are. And I feel exactly the same way you do. Haven’t we just proved that to each other, Jean-Claude? But–’ she cut herself off.

‘But what?’

‘I’m a bit frightened.’

He smiled at her. ‘And I am
terrified.’

Clearing her throat, she said, ‘What you meant a moment ago is that you don’t want
me
to waste your time, isn’t it?’

‘That is correct. I’ve managed to waste a lot of my time over the years, and quite often with women who turned out not to be the women I thought they were.’

‘What about me then? What do you think I am?’

‘The woman I’ve been searching for all of my life.’

‘In your book, the one you inscribed for me, you wrote,
“Je suis là.”
What did you mean when you wrote
I am here?
It’s enigmatic’

‘What do you think I meant?’

‘I am here for
you…waiting
for you.’

‘That’s very perceptive of you, Tessa.’

‘Lorne said he’d never seen me behave like that. He told me I was swooning at your feet, and I was. At least that’s how I felt.’

He nodded, but made no comment.

She went on, ‘He said he’d never witnessed you behaving like that either.’

‘Lorne is right, I don’t think I ever have.’ He suddenly chuckled as if amused by his behaviour of the night before. ‘I just wanted to grab you, bring you here and take you in my arms, hold you close to me forever. And it was such an overwhelming feeling I was stunned.’

‘You said you didn’t want me to waste your time…What is it you expect of me?’

‘A fair shake, as my American friends would say. At this moment, right now, I would like to know if you are ready to embark on a relationship with me? But there is one other thing…I must know that you will always be honest with me, always truthful.’

‘I would never lie to you,’ she exclaimed, and then said in a softer voice, ‘As for a relationship with you, of course I want that. Haven’t we just started one?’

‘There are some who might consider it…a one-night stand.’

‘A one-afternoon stand,’ she corrected and began to laugh.

He had the good grace to laugh with her, shaking his head, amused.

Tessa adopted a very low voice, when she pointed out, ‘We live in different cities. I have a three-year-old child. And I also have a career, responsibilities.’

‘I know all of those things, Tessa. But let us try, shall we?’

When she did not answer, he pressed. ‘Are you willing?’

‘I’m willing,’ she answered.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

B
rushing the hair away from her face with her hand, Tessa remained seated on the sofa, staring at the door. Jean-Claude had gone downstairs to get sandwiches. She was wondering why she felt suddenly out of sorts. Within the space of a few seconds it hit her…she missed Jean-Claude’s presence most acutely. His absence made her feel deprived. And he had only been gone for a few moments.

This knowledge amazed her, and then instantly she remembered last night, how she had not been able to sleep, how thoughts of him had crowded out everything else in her head. And because she had been restless she had finally turned on the light, picked up his book and begun to read it. Apart from making her feel closer to him, it told her a great deal about him, gave her an insight into his mind; the brilliance of his writing had amazed her. He was a remarkable thinker, philosopher and writer, and she had been bowled over by the first few chapters she had read.

Last night she had silently thanked her mother for insisting she learn to speak French and making her stick at it. Once again she felt a sense of gratitude to Paula, because if she couldn’t understand his language she wouldn’t be able to read his books, and that, it seemed to her, was imperative.

He’s larger than life, she thought, clever and accomplished, not to mention charismatic. It struck her that when he was in a room he dominated it with his physical presence and personality, and that was why she missed him now. His office was quiet, lifeless without him in it.

It was the same in a public place; she had noticed that last night. He took over the space when he walked in, and without doing anything spectacular. Of course,
he
was spectacular. He displaced the air around him, made gigantic waves.

He also made love in a way she was not accustomed to, had never experienced before. There had only been one other man before she had married Mark, and he had been a disaster in bed. As for Mark, he was a bit rough, always in a hurry: never considering her, never satisfying her. And then he had turned violent, had actually hurt her during sex, and had finally raped her in such an ugly and violent manner she had left him, lucky to have escaped with her life.

Don’t think about Mark, she instructed herself, and immediately blocked him out. Think about Jean-Claude Deléon instead. She lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes, relived their lovemaking…an hour of such bliss…and he was bliss…

She knew how serious he was about her, he had made that perfectly clear, had spoken to her in the most open and honest way, and with enormous clarity. Well, he
was
a communicator, wasn’t he? He wanted a long-term relationship. And so did she, she understood that already. Did that mean marriage? She wasn’t sure. How could they make it work? He lived in Paris; this was his domain where he was one of the philosopher kings. He rushed off to cover wars and uprisings, to interview politicians and presidents all over the world…he put himself in danger. Could she handle
that?
His being in constant danger?

And then there was
her
life…and her darling sweet Adele. Wherever she went, Adele came too, but that did not present a problem. Jean-Claude would immediately fall in love with Adele, everyone did. Her child was irresistible.

But there was her career to consider, her job at Harte’s, her responsibilities. How could she work in London and live in Paris? And she would have to live here if their love affair progressed the way he wanted–no, actually expected it to. Certainly he would never move to London, at least not on a permanent basis.

After Mark had abducted Adele a couple of weeks ago she had suffered so much pain she had truly understood that her daughter came before everything else in her life. And she still felt the same way. Her career had been moved to second place in her own mind. Might it now take third place because of Jean-Claude?

She sat up.

She had fallen in love with him.

Instantly, last night.

She had looked into that face, so handsome yet full of character and kindness and gravity, and she had fallen heavily. Just like India fell for Dusty Rhodes, she suddenly thought, and with a rush of clarity she understood about her cousin and the artist.

Jean-Claude said he had felt bludgeoned; she had been dumbstruck. And the emotions he had aroused in her were manifold. There was no question that she had never felt like this before, and she acknowledged that this was because of Jean-Claude and all the things he was as a man.

Once again needing to understand more about him, she got up and began to wander around his office, looking at a selection of photographs on another wall, finding a long line of books on a shelf, books bearing his name as the author. Twenty-five in all. Then she noticed that some of them had been translated into English, and other languages as well, and this pleased her. She laughed to herself. Why had she felt that sudden stab of pride? After all, she had only met him last night. It didn’t seem possible…
only last night.
Yet her life had been turned upside down, changed irrevocably. It would never be the same, nor would she.

Unexpectedly, Tessa experienced a rush of panic. What was she going to
do?
How was she going to
handle
all of this? For a moment she felt overwhelmed, and then she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. The only possible thing she could do was to let it happen and deal with everything one day at a time.

Now her eyes swept around his office, and she understood why he had said it was unique. A gallery encircled the entire room and fronted bookshelves rising to the ceiling on several walls, and there was a polished steel-and-brass circular staircase that twisted up to the gallery.

It was a spacious airy room, with a high ceiling and a tall window at the far end, and the colours were warm and masculine, a deep brick-red and fir green mixed in an arresting combination. A brick-red woollen fabric upholstered the walls, a matching velvet covered the sofa, and the rug was a combination of red and green. His desk was spectacular, a huge slab of heavy glass set on thick polished steel-and-brass legs, and the two lamps on the desk were made of stainless steel with dark-green shades.

She glanced at the desk with enormous interest, saw that the surface was empty except for a blotter, an inkstand and several metal trays for papers. Instantly she knew he was a tidy man with a tidy mind, and she liked that. She was a neat person herself, and couldn’t stand mess.

Along another wall, off to one side of the desk, there was a work table and on this stood his typewriter, computer and printer, and two steel lamps matching those on the desk. Serious work goes on here, she thought, nodding to herself. She had the feeling he was fast and efficient.

Tessa meandered back to the centre of the office and glanced at her watch as she did; to her amazement she saw that it was almost three o’clock.

At this moment the door opened and Jean-Claude was standing there. ‘I am sorry it took so long,’ he muttered, bending to pick up the tray on the floor. He came into the office, walked down to his desk and placed the tray in the middle.

Beckoning to her, he said, ‘Come, Tessa, come here, sit in this chair behind the desk. You will be more comfortable.’

Bossy, as well, she thought, but gave him a wide smile and hurried to join him at his desk. He put his arms around her, hugged her to him.
‘Chérie,’
he murmured, stroking her hair, and then releasing her, he went and brought a chair over, sat down facing her.

The tray had been beautifully set, she noted, obviously by Hakim. There was a sparkling white organdy cloth on it, matching napkins and pretty china. Tessa took a plate and a napkin, and sat back until Jean-Claude insisted she started to eat, which she did. He poured the tea, took a sandwich himself, and they were both silent until they had finished.

After drinking his tea, Jean-Claude looked across at Tessa and smiled. ‘So preoccupied was I with you I didn’t realize how ravenous I was.’

‘I know, I was starving myself,’ she replied. Then she cocked her head on one side thoughtfully, staring back at him intently.

‘What is it?’ he asked, alerted by her expression, putting his cup down.

‘I’ve just had the most curious thought. Do you think my brother set us up?’

Jean-Claude was startled and his eyes narrowed slightly, and then he began to laugh, obviously highly amused by her suggestion. After a moment, he said, with another chuckle,
‘Mon Dieu!
What a thought that is, and I must say this to you, if he did then I shall be eternally grateful to him.’ He shook his head, still amused. ‘What made you think this?’