by Mia Sheridan
Whatever evidence had led her to that conclusion was obviously lost on me. “Well, it definitely had a nice view.” I looked out to the river, where the blue-green water moved peacefully by, the trees that grew along the shore casting light green and yellow reflections. Sunlight sparkled on the surface as if a handful of diamond shards had been casually tossed into the water. For a moment I was lost in it, lost in the beauty. When I tore my eyes away and glanced at Jessie, she was smiling softly at me. “What?”
She shook her head, the smile remaining. “Nothing.” She turned, setting the bag of food she was carrying near some rocks, and I followed suit. Apparently her hunger was momentarily forgotten as she explored the area, picking up tiny pieces of rock and rubble and examining them for a moment before carefully replacing them on the ground. She squatted and ran her finger along a piece of broken tile, leaning in to look more closely.
“So, tell me about the work you’re here to do.”
She looked my way and stood, walking toward a pile of rocks that might have once been a piece of wall. “There were some documents found in a cave in the area that are thought to have been written by someone close to Joan of Arc.”
“Joan of Arc?”
“Hmm,” she hummed, running her finger along a rock sitting at the top of a pile. “Do you know anything about her?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
She looked out to the river, her finger continuing its movement. She had always been tactile like that, always exploring things with her hands, her fingertips. I wondered now if she’d express herself in bed like that, too, and just the thought was so exciting I almost groaned. I suddenly remembered her as a young teen and the way she would find my hand as she read and trace a fingernail with the pad of her thumb. She hadn’t even known she was doing it, and I’d found it so arousing, I’d all but come in my pants. I took a deep breath, willing myself not to get hard, not to let her know how sexy I found her as she picked up a pebble and rubbed it slowly between her thumb and index finger. I instinctively knew letting her know how turned on I was would scare her off and she wouldn’t respond well. At least not in this moment. Maybe never.
“Joan of Arc was a French peasant girl who believed she was acting under divine guidance when she led the French army in a victory over the English during the Hundred Years’ War.”
“Divine guidance?”
“She reported hearing voices sent from God.”
“Ah. Lucky girl.”
She looked at me, raising a brow, obviously hearing the sarcasm in my voice. “You think?”
“Don’t you?”
She appeared to really consider the question for a moment. “I think it sounds like an incredibly heavy burden to bear.”
“Why?”
“Because if God calls you to do something, you better do it. And do it well. No matter what it is. Joan claimed God’s mission for her was to save France from its enemies and ensure Charles the Seventh was crowned as rightful king.”
“No pressure though.”
Jessie laughed, and my heart gave a small jump. “I don’t think God messes around when he’s doling out missions. Joan, a seventeen-year-old girl, set out from her village with not much more than the clothes on her back to follow his instructions. And in this circumstance, the thing God called her to do ended up getting her burned alive at the stake.”
I made a show of shivering. “No thanks. God can keep his divine missions.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Exactly my point.”
“Did others believe she, uh…?”
“Heard heavenly voices?” She smiled. “Many did. According to popular prophecy of the time, a virgin was destined to save France. It’s said that when she first gained an audience with Charles and asked him to give her an army, she revealed things to him that only God could have known.”
“A seventeen-year-old peasant with no military training walked into court and got an audience with the king, who then gave her an entire army? Just like that?”
“He wasn’t the king at that time. He’d actually been disinherited by his father, who was known as the Mad King, and needed a different way to inherit the throne he felt was rightfully his. But yes. Whatever Joan said to him to get him to give her an army, it was obviously very convincing. At her trial, she asked not to be pressed about it because she wouldn’t tell. She only said that he received a sign that what she said was true. It’s one of history’s great mysteries. In any case, she led the army that had, up until then, only known defeat and humiliation to immediate and repeated victory.”
“Huh. That’s pretty unbelievable. The Mad King? I can see why history fascinates you. It’s like a real-life fairy tale.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” She blushed and looked down. “And to be here, where it all happened, is just…” She turned her face to the sky suddenly and smiled before looking back to me. “Do you want to eat or fly that kite?”
I was taken off guard by her change of topic and tilted my head, my brow furrowing. “I thought you were really hungry.”
“I can wait. I feel a breeze we should take advantage of.”
I paused, tilting my head upward as well, and felt the wind ruffling my hair and flowing across my skin. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”
I unwrapped the kite quickly and unraveled the string. It seemed pretty straightforward, but I’d never flown a kite before. “Come on, we need room,” Jessie called, jogging toward the wide-open field. I followed her, letting the kite drift into the sky, caught by the breeze now coming off the water. I let out a half laugh, half holler when the kite suddenly whipped higher into the sky, dragging me along with it and causing me to have to jog to keep up.
I passed Jessie as the wind blew harder, and I began to run, my baseball cap whipping off and flying away, the kite leading me as I ran along behind it. I could hear Jessie’s breathless laughter behind me, and a sudden, sweeping joy filled my body. I let out a loud whoop of delight, the wind in my face, the high grass swishing against my shins, the kite above my head making me feel like I was flying along with it.
I looked ahead and saw the edge of the field was coming up quickly and attempted to turn, but the wind was in charge and it wasn’t changing course. “Oh, shittttt,” I yelled, having no choice but to let go of the kite as it whipped higher and moved out over the river. I collapsed on the ground, laughing and trying to catch my breath.
Jessie’s shadow came over me, blocking out the sun, and I grinned at her, my breath still coming out in sharp pants. She was laughing, too, and shaking her head. “You lost our ship, Captain.”
I squinted my left eye, peering up at her with only my right. “Aye, matey. But it was worth it.”
She reached out her hand and I took it, rising. I came to my feet directly in front of her, so close that I could feel the soft exhale of her breath. Our laughter dwindled, and for a moment we stood staring at each other before she stepped back, glancing behind me toward the water. I turned so I was standing next to her, and we both looked out over the river, our ship only a bare speck on the horizon now, off to sail to warmer seas.
After a few minutes we looked at each other, smiling as we made our way back to the ruins where we’d left our picnic, Jessie ribbing me about letting the kite take charge. I didn’t regret it, though. It’d been exhilarating. I felt happy and alive and…so hungry I could eat a horse. “Over there?” I asked, and Jessie nodded as we collected the food. I walked to the edge of what had once been the church floor, sitting down on a low wall of stacked stones that still looked sturdy. I let my legs dangle over the edge, placing the bags next to me.
I could smell the river, sort of like minerals and mud, but it wasn’t unpleasant as I breathed it in. Jessie sat down beside me and pulled a light sweatshirt out of her purse, opening the food and laying it out on top of the makeshift tablecloth on the portion of flat rock between us.
For a few minutes we ate in silence, and I enjoyed the sun on my face, the gentle sounds of
the river lapping the shore below, and the occasional bird cry. A distant melody seemed to swirl softly in the air, dancing off the sparkling water, moving quickly from leaf to leaf, but it soothed me rather than making me desperate to catch it, and when I went to put a strawberry in my mouth, I realized my lips were pressed together and the snippet of music hummed in my throat.
I bit down on the bright red fruit, the sweet taste bursting across my tongue, relishing the fresh, delicious food. The strawberries were perfectly ripe, the ham rich and salty, and the cheese creamy as I spread it on the bread. I’d eaten in the finest restaurants all over the world, yet I’d never experienced a better meal than this. Jessie moaned softly as she bit into the soft bread, and my blood heated in my veins. I glanced at her, and her eyes widened as if she hadn’t realized she’d made a sound that I could hear, but then she laughed softly, sort of bashfully. “This is so amazing.”
Everything’s amazing. The food, the day, this moment. You.
I smiled, reaching over and using my pinky finger to wipe a bit of cheese from the corner of her lip. She stilled, our eyes meeting and a flare of electricity moving between us before she lowered her eyes and brought the tip of her tongue to the place I’d just touched. My cock hardened, pressing against the zipper of my jeans, and it was a welcome ache, slightly painful but laced with a steady throb of pleasure. I wanted her. Jessie. What surprised me the most was that I didn’t just want sex, didn’t just crave the mindless oblivion of my own release. I wanted her. I wanted to smell her skin, to know the particular scent between her legs. I wanted to taste her everywhere and hear the sounds she made when she came. I wanted to feel her shiver and throb around me, and I wanted to hear my name on her lips when that happened. I wanted, and the feeling swelled inside me like an entire orchestra as it neared the crescendo, just beginning that heart-soaring rise. “Jessie…”
“Yes?” she whispered, a note of something in her voice that almost sounded like fear.
“I…You were my first kiss. Did you know that?”
She blinked, her lips parting. “No. I didn’t know.” Her delicate brows drew together, and she tilted her head. “I was?”
I smiled at her obvious surprise. “Yeah. I wasn’t always…” I grimaced, not knowing how to end that sentence without reminding Jessie exactly who I’d become.
“Callen Hayes, international gigolo?” she asked, a glint of teasing in her tone.
I let out a laugh mingled with an exhale, squinting at her as my smile faded. “I thought about kissing you for a year before I worked up the nerve. All those days we’d sit in that boxcar as you read. I’d stare at your lips moving and…” I groaned, shooting her a small smile.
She offered a shy smile in return. “I thought one of the reasons you didn’t come back was because you hadn’t enjoyed kissing me.” She glanced away, out to the horizon.
“No, Jessie. I did enjoy it.” I shook my head. “I enjoyed it too much.”
The sun shifted above, and when Jessie’s eyes met mine again, they appeared gold, ringed in deep, twilight blue. Eyes like sunset. Beautiful. “I enjoyed kissing you too much, and I wanted to do it again and again. I want to do it now.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with the desire pulsing through my veins. Jessie must have heard it because she looked down, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. A faint pink color rose in her face. A blush. God, she was innocent and sweet, possibly even inexperienced—a saint, whereas I was a sinner. And I wanted her anyway. I wanted her more than I’d wanted anyone in a very, very long time.
She didn’t say no. Her eyes fluttered closed as my lips touched hers. I moved in closer, weaving my fingertips into her hair, my thumbs brushing the smoothness of her cheekbones as I swept my tongue over her lips and entered her mouth. She let out a sigh, and I moaned as her tongue touched mine, dancing, exploring. Our kiss deepened, and my lust grew, but I wanted to draw this moment out as long as she’d let me.
Jessie broke from my lips, turning her face downward, and my hands dropped with her movement. She used her thumb to wipe at her lip and shook her head, just a small movement, before she glanced back at me, looking beautiful and uncertain. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be sorry. I heard what you said earlier. I just couldn’t resist.” The truth was, I hadn’t kissed anyone else’s lips since our kiss in Paris. I hadn’t considered why…didn’t even think it’d been a conscious choice. I’d done…other things, but my lips hadn’t touched anyone’s since hers.
I felt her eyes on me as I looked out at the river. “Callen, do you remember anything about my family?”
I turned my gaze to her, surprised, trying to remember the things she’d told me so long ago. “Your parents had a bad marriage.”
Her lips, still swollen and pink from my kiss, tipped up in a sad sort of smile. “To say the least. My dad was a chronic cheater. He couldn’t stop, or he didn’t want to. Maybe both—I don’t know. My mom used to drag my brother and me with her to catch him in the act—sometimes very literally.” She cringed at some memory, and I felt a pinching sensation in my chest at the sorrowful look on her face. “In the end, I resented them both.” She shook her head and looked out at the water. “I promised myself I’d never be like her. Not ever. One of many, competing constantly for the attention of someone who was never going to love her the way she deserved.”
My eyes moved over the pretty lines of her profile—the feminine sweep of her jaw, her slightly upturned nose, her delicate cheekbones, and I felt a thickness in my throat.
She saw her father in me, a womanizer, a man who didn’t have the capability or desire to be faithful to one woman. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell her she had the wrong idea about me. Hell, I even considered lying to her. But that wasn’t fair, not to either one of us. There were things about me I didn’t ever want anyone to know, secrets I’d gone to great lengths to protect, so getting that close to anyone was impossible. And there were a hundred more reasons anything other than friendship, or maybe a casual affair, wasn’t in the cards. Couldn’t be.
I let out a gust of breath. “I realize I’m not relationship material, Jessie. I know that better than anyone.” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling surprisingly sad to say the words out loud. But they were true, and I couldn’t deny them, not to myself and not to Jessie. “I just…We’re only in the Loire Valley for a short time. Do you think we could enjoy each other while we’re here? Just for the next couple of weeks. No promises, so no regrets. And then we’ll go back to our lives.”
She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as she looked away. “You want me to be a temporary plaything?”
I leaned back, remorse causing a burning sensation in my throat. “No, Jessie…that’s not what I’m asking for. I’d never think of you like that. I’m attracted to you. I can’t help that. But…whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s all I want. Just to spend time with you while we’re here.”
She bit at her lip, staring at me, her expression seeming to reflect the mixture of sadness and possibility I felt inside myself. Finally, she let out a sad-sounding sigh. “I don’t know, Callen. I’m here to work. I need to focus on that. And…I don’t think getting involved in any way is going to be good for either of us. It seems you have plenty of company to keep you occupied without me. How was the hot tub last night, by the way?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she grimaced. “No, don’t answer that. See? This is what would come of us spending time together—”
“I didn’t use the hot tub last night. I went to bed, alone, so I could wake up early and follow you to a museum where I managed to make an ass of myself and break priceless relics.”
She looked surprised for a brief second and then laughed, shaking her head. After a moment, she sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Just you and me, Jessie. Like old times.”
“We’re not kids anymore, though, Callen. Things aren’t as…simple.”
“We can make them simple. Because this has to be tempora
ry. We live on different sides of the world.”
“As friends, then? Is that what you’re proposing?”
I shrugged, wanting to say no, but knowing I’d been honest when I told her I’d take what I could get. Anything. I wanted more moments—more days—like this one. When I didn’t feel empty. Detached. I felt desperate for anything Jessie would willingly give me. If she insisted I keep my hands and lips to myself, I’d do it. I hoped she wouldn’t, but I’d respect it if she did. “Like I said, whatever we’re both comfortable with. We can take things as they come. You lead the way. If it stops being enjoyable for one or both of us, we end it, whether two weeks is up or not.”
She looked so torn, and I held my breath. “And will you have other…friends while you’re here?”
I shook my head. “No. Just you.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself not to twitch, not to say anything as she considered her decision. “Okay. When and if I have free time from work. And only while we’re here.”
My face broke into a smile. “Only while we’re here.”
CHAPTER TEN
Jessica
The shower water rained down on me and I turned, letting the water pressure massage my shoulders. My body was still sore from all the walking Callen and I had done earlier that day. Callen. Oh God, had I made a huge mistake by agreeing to spend time with him while he was here in France? Two weeks. Just two weeks, but why did I have the feeling they were going to alter my life in some way I couldn’t even imagine right now?
He’d told me he was willing to take whatever I was comfortable with. But was I strong enough to spend even a couple of weeks with Callen—under any circumstances—without falling for him? And if I wasn’t, would I regret it? If I decided not to give him the two weeks, would I come to regret that?
I was pitifully inexperienced when it came to men. I’d dated a bit, but no one seriously and no one long-term. I’d been a focused student, and the knowledge that I’d be moving to France after graduation kept me from getting too involved with anyone. At least that’s what I’d told myself. And then I’d been busy trying to get my life in order when I’d moved to Paris. But I also had to admit that I was probably more hesitant than most when it came to relationships. From my experience, love resulted in tears and loneliness, heartbreak and despair. So yes, I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin who’d never shared my entire body or my entire heart.
