Foreign Affair

by Shelli Stevens

  “Yes, I am.” Lena moved to sit across from the woman. “My name is Lena. I’m from a city just outside of Portland, Oregon.”

  “Wonderful to meet you, Lena. I am Claire Ames. I live in Paris.” Claire offered a delicate hand for Lena to shake.

  “That’s where I’m headed. I’ve never actually been there, but I send my clients all the time.”

  “You will love Paris.” Claire touched her immaculate, black, pinned hair. “Have you been traveling since you arrived in Europe? Where are you coming from now?”

  “I’ve been in Amsterdam.”

  “Amsterdam? I love Amsterdam.” Claire gave a wistful smile. “It really is such a charming place to visit. Are you traveling alone?”

  “No.” How did she explain Tyler? Hmm. Ambiguous would work. “I’m traveling with a friend.”

  “And you are married?” Claire’s gaze dropped to Lena’s hand in question.

  Keith. The blood drained from her face. God, she’d almost forgotten about him altogether.

  She shook her head and then glanced toward the doorway, checking to see that Tyler hadn’t decided to follow her, but she and Claire were the only two occupants.

  “Engaged. We just set a date.”

  “Ah, true love.”

  Ha. If she only knew.

  “You are very young still, no? To marry someone you have a deep love for is a beautiful thing.” Claire gave her a knowing look.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  Claire’s statement had put a spotlight on her ever-changing feelings toward her fiancé.

  “I am sure you both will have a wonderful life together.” Claire’s expression became curious, as if she sensed Lena’s lack of conviction.

  “Yes, I am sure we will.” Lena cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject. “What about you? Are you married?”

  “Yes, I am. I have been married for twenty years now.”

  “That’s wonderful. And how did you two meet?”

  “It is a bit shocking.” Claire gave an awkward laugh. “At the time we first met, I was introduced to him through my husband.”

  Lena blinked. Whoa, didn’t see that coming.

  “I know what you are thinking. It is not as romantic as you would expect, nor very ethical. And I have been judged my entire life by my decision.” Claire gave a soft sigh. “Maybe I should explain to you. My first marriage was not a bad one. My husband did not mistreat me. But I did not love him.”

  Lena attempted an understanding nod.

  “You see, I married very young, at eighteen. My husband traveled frequently, always I was so lonely.” Claire’s expression grew distant. “I met Luc when my husband was away at a weekend seminar. My husband had arranged to have us attend a dinner party together. Luc would go in his place to represent the company.”

  Lena stared at her. Wow, the poor husband must have been pissed when he found out his coworker moved in on the wifey.

  “Sometimes I wonder if he wanted me to meet someone else.” Claire fidgeted with an out-of-place hair that didn’t exist. “When I knew I was in love with Luc, I told my husband I wanted to divorce. And he let me go. He kissed my cheek, and told me to be happy.”

  Lena stared at the other woman in amazement. Maybe the ex wasn’t all there in the head.

  “That must have been a hard decision for you to make.”

  “It was very difficult.” Claire’s voice cracked for the first time. “Being raised in a devout Catholic home, divorce was not even a word to be spoken. And when I fell in love, real love, I knew I would sacrifice almost anything to be with Luc. In the end, I did. My parents and siblings no longer speak with me.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Lena whispered. “And you feel you made the right decision?”

  “But of course. I have never once regretted my decision. I put my own happiness before what other people wanted for me.” She smiled, her expression softening. “I have been married for twenty amazing years to a wonderful man. I gave my heart to him, and he gave his to me. We have three children together, one who I just sent away to college.”

  Warmth stirred in Lena’s heart from those words and an ache in the same place that she couldn’t explain. “Do you think your ex-husband ever got over you?”

  Claire burst into laughter. “I would guess it took a few months at the most. He is now married and happy. No children, however. He never wanted children. But we still send cards to each other on occasion.”

  Lena’s smiled. “That’s amazing. It’s just so great to hear that something so painful could turn out so good.”

  “Sometimes the most difficult choice is also the most obvious.” Claire gave a shy smile. “I am sorry. I am a very open person. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable with my tirade.”

  “Not at all,” Lena replied honestly. “I’m so glad I met you. I know I’ll always remember this moment. Sitting on a train on my way to Paris, talking to a very fascinating woman who’s made me…”

  “Made you…?”

  Question my own life. Lena smiled. “Think. You’ve made me think.”

  “That is so very sweet of you, Lena.” The older woman gave her a brief smile. “I hope you will be happy in your own life.”

  “Hmm. Me too.” Easier said than done.

  “Just make sure you do what you want, and not what everybody else expects you to do. Go with your heart, and you will be fine.”

  Lena stood up and scooped her food off the table. “Claire, it’s been lovely chatting with you, but I should probably get back to my friend now.”

  “Have a wonderful time in Europe, Lena. I wish you the best.” Claire gave a small wave, and Lena waved back before returning to her car.

  When Lena arrived, she spotted Tyler right away. He had his back against the window, one knee drawn up into his chin. His lips parted a bit and, as she sat across from him, she listened to the sound of his heavy breathing.

  Now this man could tempt her to give up everything. More than just a nice guy, he was also so damn good looking. His long lashes veiled those rich, brown eyes. Why should a man have such long lashes? She scowled. It was enough to make a woman jealous as all hell.

  “What are you finding so interesting to look at?” he drawled without opening his eyes.

  “You’ve got the prettiest eyelashes.”

  His eyelids snapped opened. “Tell me you didn’t just call my eyelashes pretty.”

  “Well, they are. They’re so long and curved. Do you have any idea how long we women stand in front of a mirror, stabbing ourselves with hazardous mascara wands?”

  “Please.”

  “Makeup is a dangerous thing. If you saw an eyelash curler, I’m sure you’d run screaming.”

  Tyler sat up and swung his feet onto the floor, shaking his head. “That’s why I’m glad I’m a man.”

  Lena tossed him a sandwich and leaned back against the window on the seats across from him. “That’s not why you’re glad you’re a man. But that is an entirely different argument, and we don’t even want to get into that.”

  “I’d be curious to hear your point of view.” Tyler unwrapped his sandwich while she did the same, and then he glanced up her.

  “No, you wouldn’t.” She took a healthy bite and gestured toward his food. “It’s not exactly a conversation that goes well with eating.”

  “Try me. I was raised with two sisters.” He mirrored her by taking a huge bite of his sandwich.”

  “Okay, you asked for it. The way I see it…” She paused to take a sip of water. “Men get all the money and all the respect, while we women are stuck fighting it out just to get somewhere in this world.”

  “And you really believe that? You don’t think things have changed?”

  “Oh, sure, we’ve come farther than the days where women sat at home popping out kids and scrubbing the floors all day, but there’s still things women have to deal with that men can’t even begin to understand.” She licked her fingers and set down the other half of her
sandwich.

  Tyler watched her in amusement. “And that would be?”

  “Here’s my theory. There’s at least three Ps that women endure, and they all boil down to the big P.”

  He cocked his head. “You’ve lost me. Please elaborate.”

  “Period, pantyhose and pregnancy. Three Ps. And they all come out to the motherlode P of them all. Pain.” She lifted her hands and grimaced. “It’s just something you men will never understand.”

  “What, is that written in the latest Cosmo or something?” Tyler’s laugh was a bit fearful. “The three Ps?”

  “Of course not, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize this. I mean, look at pantyhose. You have this piece of nylon that would barely cover a zucchini, and you expect it to slide over a woman’s leg?”

  “It’s a challenge.” He nodded in agreement, then his eyes brightened. “But think about all the extra support.”

  She snorted. “Support, my butt. I walk around just trying to breathe for the next hour. But I will admit that it helps smooth out all the little imperfections.”

  Tyler gave her a slow smile. “You don’t have any imperfections, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t try and charm me. Every woman has imperfections. We’ve just gotten great at disguising them. So, beyond the nylons and onto the other two Ps.”

  “The other two,” he interrupted quickly, “I’m guessing are not something we want to delve into.”

  “I thought you were up for it? What happened? Oh, is your stomach getting a little queasy?”

  He held up his sandwich and made a wry face. “Well, I’m just not quite finished eating.”

  “Hmm, yeah. Sorry about that.” Lena gave him a thoughtful look, picked up her sandwich, and took another bite. “I just think it’s funny that men can’t handle words like blood and menstruating.”

  The sandwich paused halfway to his lips, and his eyes narrowed as he looked back at her. “Okay, you need to stop.”

  “Wait, wait. I just thought of another P word. You’re going to love this one. Placenta. Come on, Tyler, say it with me. Placenta.”

  Tyler’s face contorted into a mask of disgust, and he thrust his sandwich into his backpack. “Excuse me while I go puke.”

  “Have fun,” she called after him and cheerfully polished off the last bite of her sandwich. “Raised with two sisters, my ass.”

  When he’d disappeared out of their car, she let out the stream of laughter that had been building up. Sitting back on the seat, she propped her feet up on his side and glanced out the windows.

  The lush, green land sprawled out for miles, and she stared out, one hundred percent enchanted. Everything was so foreign.

  At home there were large evergreen trees for miles around, and mountains. Both of which were extremely beautiful, but there was something charming about the simplicity of the countryside she looked at now.

  Her thoughts strayed toward Keith again, and guilt stabbed at her.

  Hey, he’s still banging some chick in Maui. Have your own fun and worry about tomorrow when it comes.

  Lena nodded, more inclined to listen to the little devil on her shoulder.

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes closed, resting her head against the cool glass of the window.

  One thing had become all too clear, though. There would be no going back. No matter how much she tried to convince herself she could go home to Oregon and try and work things out, nothing would ever be the same. Not after Tyler.

  Chapter Eight

  When Tyler returned to their car, Lena’s attention was too focused on the view outside the window to notice him.

  She was so passionate in everything she believed in. That aspect of her personality drew him to her almost more than the physical attraction. Things were so comfortable with her he had no problem just being himself. And neither did she, apparently.

  He winced, remembering their mini talk on females. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had amused him so much.

  Lena must have seen his reflection in the window because she turned to him with a sheepish grin. “I hope I didn’t really make you sick.” The apology came in her tone rather than in words.

  “Nah, you’re okay. I lost my appetite a bit.” He rubbed a hand across his stomach. “Your shock factor test made a little dent, but my appetite will return full throttle in a bit.”

  “Just a little dent?” She shook her head and grinned. “I’ll have to do better next time.”

  “Please don’t.” He came and settled next to her, laying his head in her lap and stretching his legs out across the other seat.

  She reached out to play with his hair. “You have two sisters, hmm?”

  Tyler’s lips twitched. He wouldn’t call her on the “no information” rule. This time. “I have two sisters. One younger, she’s twenty-five, and one older, she’s thirty-six.”

  “Ah, you had those kind of parents.” Lena gave him a knowing nod. “The ones that just kept going like the Energizer bunny and have kids that are ten years apart.”

  “Yeah, well, those days are over.” Tyler grimaced. “Fortunately they’re a bit too old to be getting it on.”

  “Oh, you are so wrong. It’s not like you hit fifty and give up having sex. I mean, come on. It’s sex.”

  “Okay, even if you’re right, I’d rather not sit around and discuss my parents’ sex life,” he drawled. “How about you? Do you have a parade of brothers at home ready to kick the ass of any guy who touches you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Lena let out a loud laugh. “I am an only child. I always beg my parents to tell me if I was an accident, and they insist I wasn’t. But I’m pretty sure Mom got knocked up and they lived together for a few years before actually getting married.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I don’t know. My parents both went through the hippie phase after the hippie phase had already ended. My mom was only seventeen when she had me.”

  “That’s pretty young. Hippies, huh? So, you were raised in a relatively modern, relaxed environment then?”

  “Oh, just a bit.” She rolled her eyes. “I remember one time I came home from a school dance and found my parents smoking pot. It was a total role reversal. I swear, I must have lectured them for at least a half hour.”

  Tyler laughed and shook his head. “I can’t even imagine. My family is your classic, cookie-cutter, sitcom family. I have two sisters, and they both were homecoming queen. My mom is a motivational speaker, and my dad teaches middle school band. The combination is just about as Brady Bunch as you can get.”

  “And you?” Lena glanced down at him with a teasing glance. “Were you the quarterback scoring all the women as well as the points? Do you have an old homecoming king crown floating around somewhere back in New York?”

  “Me? Nope. I would have been hanging out with your parents.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She tugged playfully on his hair. “You were the black sheep of the family?”

  “Baaah.”

  “It sounds like you would fit in well with my parents.”

  “I’ve changed a lot, though. I was a rebel in school, skipping class to get high and play my acoustic guitar, but I gave it up once I got out of college. Started my grown-up job.”

  “Ah.” She went quiet for a moment. “And I still have no clue of what you do.”

  “By your choice,” he pointed out.

  “This is true.”

  “Even though we’ve gone slightly beyond the rules in the past hour.”

  He waited, knowing she was thinking about all the boundaries they’d crossed.

  “Do you want to know what I do as a career?” he prompted when she didn’t reply.

  She tilted her head as if taking a moment to consider it. Then she looked down at him with a sly grin. “No, I don’t. You see, right now I can pretend you’re a linebacker for a pro football team. Or I can imagine you’re on vacation from the Secret Service. I mean, I do have to wonder whe
re you got that really tight…ahem.” She cleared her throat. “Shall I say…behind?”

  “You like my derriere?”

  “I love your derriere.” She gave him a light pat on the forehead.

  He chuckled. “I will inform you that my tight, oh-so-enticing behind comes from playing soccer. And as for the career, I’ll keep that part about myself quiet as you wish.”

  “Soccer? Hmm, I took you for a swimmer.”

  “No thanks. Too wet of a sport.” He grinned. “Lena…”

  “Yes?”

  “Nothing. That’s just not a name you hear every day.” He yawned. “What is it short for? Thumbelina or something?”

  “No, and if that’s a joke on my height, I’m going to deck you.” She shifted in her seat. “My parents are huge jazz fans. They named me after Lena Horne, the jazz singer.”

  “I’ve never really listened to her.”

  “That’s okay. A guy from New York who grew up in an overly functional family wouldn’t be listening to jazz anyway.” She nudged his shoulder.

  “Hey, you’d be surprised. And I don’t recall calling them overly functional. I said they were perfect.” He scowled. “And you know, I like jazz. Miles Davis is a staple for anybody’s CD collection.”

  “I like Miles Davis. More points for you.”

  “Am I being scored?”

  “Of course not. I was just teasing.”

  “Gotcha. All right. I’m going to try and take a nap here.” Tyler closed his eyes.

  “And why is it that you get the comfortable position and I end up with a stiff neck?”

  “Because women are meant to suffer, remember?” he murmured, feeling a little drowsy.

  “Yes, I think we established that. Hey, I met the most fascinating woman when I went to the dining car.”

  He gave a grunt of acknowledgment.

  “You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just know that they’ve somehow made an impact on your life? Like you will never forget them, no matter how insignificant they seem at the time.”

  He knew exactly what she meant. It struck a chord. He didn’t answer, though. His energy had been sapped. She didn’t seem to expect an answer, because she grew silent. A few minutes later, he was asleep.