Harry put his cutlery down and swiped at his lips with a napkin. Then he reached for his water once more and drained the glass, letting out a satisfied sigh when he was done. ‘Hmm, you’re right. There really is lots to do. OK, indoors or outdoors?’
‘Umm, I guess it depends if it’s still sunny outside. If it is, I vote for outdoors.’
‘Good choice.’ He gestured to the member of staff behind the bar for the bill. The Frenchman gave a nod of understanding, then busied himself with some pieces of paper stuck on a spike, before eventually bringing a small leather folder over and placing it next to Harry.
‘Merci,’ Harry said. Directing his words at Sydney, he asked, ‘Do you want to take that bottle of wine? Maybe we can share the rest of it together at some point when I’m not driving.’
‘Yes, if you like. Though it’ll be a nuisance to carry.’
‘I’m sure they’ll give us a plastic bag or something.’
‘In that case, OK. But you’re carrying it.’
He chuckled. ‘No problem. But you might want to finish what you’ve got. I’m not pouring it back into the bottle!’
She narrowed her eyes at him and picked up her glass. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’
‘Absolutely not. I don’t want to have to carry an inebriated woman on the Métro. Why, you’re not a lightweight, are you?’
‘Fortunately for you, no.’ She sipped at the remainder of the golden liquid as Harry pulled Euros out of his wallet and placed them inside the leather folder. Instead of waiting for it to be collected, he stood and took it over to the bar. Sydney watched as they exchanged words – they weren’t audible across the room – and then the man produced a carrier bag from underneath the counter and passed it to Harry. Nods and smiles were given, then Harry returned to their table, triumphant.
‘Here we go, now we can enjoy the rest of it at our leisure. I’m pleased, as it’s bloody good wine.’
‘Agreed.’
‘OK, ready to go?’
She took a sip of her water, checked she had all her possessions with her, then moved to stand. Harry was beside her in the blink of an eye, helping her out of the chair. ‘Thank you,’ she said, flashing him a smile.
‘You’re welcome. Come on then, let’s go and see what the weather is doing. It’s just as changeable in Northern France as it is in Britain, so for all we know it could be snowing right now.’
Chapter Six
Fortunately, it wasn’t snowing. The sun was out and shining brightly onto the Paris streets, and they made their way to the nearest Métro station. A couple of changes later, and they emerged from Concorde station and out into a massively busy area with roads that looked more like car parks, where cars, bikes – both motorised and with pedals – and Segways zipped around.
‘Christ,’ Sydney said, taking in the crazy scene. ‘Where exactly are we going, and how are we going to get there alive?’
‘We’re going to walk through the Tuileries Gardens down to The Louvre, if that’s OK? Maybe grab an ice cream and soak up some sun on the way down? And as for getting there, we’re going to use the crossings, and still run like hell.’
‘Oh, OK.’ She glanced down at her feet. ‘Thankfully I can run in these, because I don’t want to be road kill.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen to you. OK, come on, let’s go. I promise it’ll be worth it.’
They moved over to the nearest zebra crossing, and stood, hand in hand, at the edge of the pavement. Sydney soon realised just how insane it all was – some drivers stopped at the crossings, some didn’t, some went so fast that it appeared they weren’t going to stop, then braked at the last minute …
‘Fuck,’ she said, ‘are you sure we’re not going to end up as road kill?’
‘No, it’ll be fine. Just wait until there are a few more people waiting to cross, then hopefully the drivers will stop.’
‘OK,’ she said, though it was obvious she was going to do whatever he said. She didn’t want to be wandering alone in Paris – she had no idea where she was going, for starters. Plus it was much more fun exploring with someone else – particularly if they knew what they were talking about, and where to go.
‘Ready?’ he said, tightening his grip on her hand and leaning forward.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘OK, go!’ With that, they scurried across half the road, then did the same again at the next crossing. A few minutes later they were free of the concrete jungle and heading into the Tuileries.
‘Wow,’ Sydney said, as they stood on the centre path that led further into the gardens. ‘This is gorgeous. And what’s that?’ She pointed at a huge stone arch right at the other end of the path.
‘Hang on, hang on. I’ll tell you what I know – which, I warn you, isn’t a great deal – as we go along.’
It was only when he squeezed her fingers she realised they were still holding hands. She, for one, couldn’t see any reason to stop either. ‘OK. You’re in charge, then.’
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and they started walking. There was so much to see – bars and cafés, statues, beautiful plants, and of course, lots of people. The place had a very laidback vibe; the men, women, and children they passed didn’t seem to be in a rush to get anywhere, and indeed, many had blankets or deckchairs and simply laid or sat soaking up the sun. Sydney decided it wasn’t a bad idea. She tipped her head back, enjoying the warming sensation on her skin. She’d always been a fan of that great big ball of fire in the sky, and had hoped to squeeze in some sunbathing or, at the very least, reading in the garden while she was away. She wondered if Harry had a decent garden at his place, because she certainly wasn’t going to get any peace and quiet at the barn.
‘Hey,’ Harry said gently, ‘want to stop and sit down for a bit?’
She looked back down and turned to him with a smile. ‘Yes, sounds good. I’m enjoying this sunshine.’
‘OK. We’ll see if there are any seats available at the pond.’
She didn’t know what he meant, but didn’t ask either. She figured she’d find out soon enough.
After a few minutes, as she’d expected, she discovered exactly what Harry had been talking about. For there, in front of them, was a large raised pond, surrounded by deckchairs. A pretty fountain sat in the middle, spurting water into the air. As it was such a beautiful day, predictably, many of the deckchairs were taken. But Lady Luck must have been shining down on them because a couple packed their bags up and left, and Sydney and Harry took their places immediately.
‘Phew,’ he said as he sunk into the seat, putting the carrier bag carefully on the ground, ‘that was lucky.’
‘It was. Anyone would think you had used the force to get them to move.’
Harry waggled his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps I did. You’ll never know. And if you try and tell anyone, I’ll use the force to stop you.’
She gave him a playful swipe on his arm, and he stuck his tongue out. Then, their silliness temporarily over, they sat back in their chairs and watched the world go by. The sun continued to beam down on them, people continued to feed the ducks and the pigeons in and around the pond, and the din of the surrounding city was muted, somehow, making it easy to forget it was there. Easy to think she was sitting beside a pond on a grand estate, right out in the countryside, at the end of a long drive and far away from everything.
Sighing contentedly, she shifted her bottom forward so she lay slightly flatter in the chair, clutching her bag to her stomach – Harry’s earlier comment about pickpockets had not gone unnoticed. Which is why she jumped so forcefully when a hand grasped hers. She jerked upright, squealed, her heart pounding painfully beneath her ribs. Even as all the reactions crashed through her, her brain realised just who had taken her hand, and it certainly wasn’t unwelcome.
Harry looked at her, an amused expression on his face. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump, but who the hell did you think it was?’
She pulled in a
shaky breath. ‘It’s your bloody fault. All your talk of pickpockets has made me paranoid!’
‘All my talk? I mentioned it in passing, as a joke. And anyway, nobody would be able to pickpocket you with me sitting right here. They wouldn’t dare.’ He sat up straight and squared his shoulders. ‘See? I’m terrifying, me.’
‘Yes, I’m positively quaking in my boots,’ Sydney replied dryly. ‘But thanks anyway, I feel much better knowing you’re looking out for me.’
‘I’m doing more than that,’ he said quickly.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I’m wishing I could kiss you.’
‘Oh …’
‘Can I?’
‘Now? Here?’
‘Why not? It’s pretty romantic.’
‘But people will see.’
‘No one will care. This is Paris – they’re all smutty and sex mad.’
‘Really? In that case, that would be lovely.’ She twisted her upper body to face him, leaning to meet him halfway. She kept her eyes open a little while, wanting to see his expression, but he quickly got so close he grew blurry, so she squeezed her lids shut. Opening her mouth slightly, a thrill ran through her as she felt his breath against her lips, then finally his mouth on hers. It was tentative at first – she remembered he was as out of practice as she was; even more so, in fact – then he grew more comfortable, more confident. His gentle movements grew more passionate, his lips taking hers as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to be kissing her. She certainly hoped that was the case, as it was the way she felt.
Eventually, the relatively chaste kisses were not enough. Harry slipped his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her harder onto him, and plunged his tongue between her lips. She had to work hard not to let a moan escape – she was sure the people around them were getting enough of a show without her making noises like she was in a porno. Instead, she shifted her own hand to mirror his, tangling her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck and tugging it slightly.
He reacted by kissing her harder, his tongue slipping sensuously against hers, doing a little dance and exploring every sensitive millimetre of her mouth and lips. She was in serious danger of melting into a puddle of lust and being soaked up into the Parisian soil beneath them. Determined to hold her own, she kissed with as much fervour as he, forcing his tongue back into his mouth with hers and returning the favour.
Soon, she grew horribly aware that if they continued, they’d be likely to get carried away and end up being arrested for indecent exposure. Certainly, if they were in a private dwelling, she’d be itching to shove his jacket down his arms, then curl her fingers under the hem of his T-shirt and tug it off over his head. She was eager to get a better view of the slice of stomach and the dark hair that bisected it than the fairly distant peek she’d got from the barn conversion’s window the day before.
God, had it really only been a day since she’d met Harry? A day since her plans to write most of her planned novel had been blown to smithereens by the arrival of a bunch of noisy French builders? A day since he’d come into her retreat and apologised profusely, and made her uncomfortable with her attraction to him since he was married?
The swirling thoughts gave her serious pause, and she moved her hand to Harry’s shoulder and gently pushed him away.
‘W-what’s the matter?’ His pupils were dilated, grown large with lust, and his lips were swollen, showing serious signs of the kissing they’d just given and received.
‘N-nothing, it’s just …’ She tailed off and looked around, convinced they’d have a crowd standing around them, taking photographs and recordings on their mobile phones and broadcasting them to all the social networks. ‘I think things are probably going a little fast. We only met yesterday!’
A tiny line appeared between Harry’s eyebrows. ‘We were only kissing. There’s no law against it, is there?’
‘There was more intent behind what we were just doing, and you know it.’
He flopped back into the deckchair and ran his fingers through his hair, returning it to the crazy state it had been in when she’d first laid eyes on him the previous day. ‘You’re right.’ He offered her a sheepish grin. ‘What can I say? It’s been a while, and I fell upon you like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. But I’m not going to apologise. Maybe we are going too fast, but for some reason my heart and body lead my head when it comes to you, and I can’t help it. And honestly, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. We’ve both had a rough time of it, and we deserve some happiness, don’t you think?’
Chapter Seven
Sydney woke up feeling as far away from bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as it was possible to be. After the impromptu snog in the Tuileries Gardens yesterday, they’d grabbed an ice cream – which hadn’t done much to cool her down – and headed to look at the pyramid at The Louvre, which had been made even more famous than it already was by Dan Brown’s best-selling book and the resulting film. After that, they’d wandered back down to the river and walked alongside it, hand in hand, before heading back to the car, and finally, back to Monthiers.
Once they’d arrived at the barn, Sydney had told Harry she’d rather he didn’t accompany her inside, just in case they got carried away again, adding that they should both sleep – separately – on what had happened between them and see how they felt in the morning. Harry had departed reluctantly after a brief kiss on the lips, leaving her to crawl into bed, tossing and turning and wishing she’d not been so cautious and had just let him come in with her.
A knock at the door elicited a snarl from her parched throat, until her sleepy brain kicked in, and she realised that the only person it could be was Harry. The builders didn’t start quite this early, and besides, they had no reason to disturb her.
Panic hit her like a tidal wave, and she froze. Her natural instinct, of course, was to go and answer the door, but the fact that she’d literally just woken up and probably looked a fright was preventing her from moving. Maybe he’d think she was still asleep and go away.
He rapped again. ‘Sydney, it’s me!’ Then, pointlessly, ‘It’s Harry.’
Forcing her limbs to move, she rolled out of bed and over to the window. Opening it a little, she replied, ‘Just a minute. You woke me up.’ She closed it again before giving him chance to reply, then went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, scraped hasty fingers through the birds’ nest that was her hair and decided that would have to do. Perhaps her terrifying state would scare him off and mean she could avoid having a difficult conversation at such an early hour.
Grabbing her robe from the hook on the bedroom door, she slipped into it, tied the belt tightly around her waist, and left the room. As she got halfway down the stairs, she could see Harry though the pane of glass at the top of the door. He looked as though he’d had a sleepless night too. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disturbed by this information.
Sucking in a breath in an attempt to steady her nerves and push some oxygen to her brain, hopefully kick-starting it, she opened the door.
‘Morning,’ she said, standing back to let him in.
‘Morning,’ he replied, regarding her with a sheepish expression. ‘Sorry. I slept really badly, then woke up at half six and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I thought I’d come over and deprive you of sleep too.’ His grin told her he was only half-joking. ‘Anyway, these are for you.’
She took the proffered flowers and box of chocolates with a frown. ‘What are these for?’
‘Well,’ he said, heading into the kitchen, filling the kettle and switching it on, ‘I did what we agreed. I slept on it. As I said, I slept really badly, but you get the gist. And this morning I still think we should go for it – more than ever, actually. Yes, we’ve both got baggage, and at home there’s a bit of distance between us, but that’s even more reason to give it a go. If things don’t work out, at least we won’t bump into each other in the street! And as for bringing flowers and chocolate, well, I did
n’t know which you’d prefer, so I decided to hedge my bets. I’m determined to impress.’
The mischief in his eyes and the smile threatening to take over his lips were infectious. Sydney couldn’t help it – she laughed. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. When she eventually calmed down enough to take a breath, she put the gifts he’d brought her on the worktop and stepped over to where he stood by the boiling kettle. She slipped her arms around his waist, and he quickly reciprocated.
Harry leant down for a kiss, then paused, seemingly thinking better of it. ‘Does that mean you’re going to give us a chance?’
Standing on her tiptoes, Sydney pressed a kiss to his lips. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’ With that, he captured her mouth with his, and they quickly became lost in one another, this time with no reason to stop.
Sydney felt much better about their kiss this time. Firstly, she too had spent time during the night thinking about their potential relationship. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that it was pointless trying to guess what would happen. The only way to find out if things would work out between them was to try. She couldn’t punish him – and herself – for her ex’s deceit. If she never trusted another man again, then she’d never be happy. And she deserved happiness – everyone did.
She pulled away, feeling pleasantly dizzy and sucking in a much-needed deep breath. Harry took her hands and pressed kisses to her knuckles, and it was then she realised he’d removed his wedding ring, leaving a band of pale skin in its wake.
‘You’ve taken it off,’ she said, though it was stating the obvious.
‘Yes, I have. It felt like the right thing to do. I’ll always love and miss Shelly, but she’s gone and there’s bugger all I can do about it. And I figured that as I’m asking you to give me a go, to let go of your past and trust me, the least I can do is let go of my past too. I have no doubt in my mind that it won’t be plain sailing, but I genuinely think it will be worth it.’
A French Affair Page 4
