by Serena Janes
But he could still take her to Nice.
The LaPlante family house sat on a premier piece of high bank Mediterranean waterfront, walking distance from the city’s main beach, but boasting a peaceful little strip of beachfront all its own. The property had been bought by Luc’s paternal great-great grandfather, and it was his vision that had built the lovely grey stone house, with its airy rooms and spectacular views over the sea.
Luc loved the house. His entire family loved the house, and they took turns using it for vacations, special occasions, and weekend get-ways. Because Luc had only one parent left—his mother having died a decade earlier—and one brother, the house sat empty most of the time. But Luc took Daniel there whenever he could. He was proud of the house and anxious to show it to Joanna.
He crept out of bed, careful to not disturb his sleeping beauty, and went outside to phone Evie, who acted as caretaker. He asked her to ready the house for Friday. He wanted fresh flowers in every room, he said, and enough fresh food for two people for two days.
Then he climbed back into bed, waking his fiancé, who embraced him, muttered something into his chest, and promptly fell back to sleep.
He was smiling at the ceiling as he, too, drifted off.
Chapter Four
While Daniel grew stronger each day, Luc and Jo made love every chance they could, much to the dog’s distress. His master’s moans and cries, and Joanna’s squeals, confused Otis. The fact that the lovers laughed at him didn’t help, and Jo felt slightly guilty at the poor dog’s distress. She hoped he and Sammy would become buddies.
Luc still spent most of the day at the hospital, because Anna had gone back to work at her busy dental practice. Then she sat the evening shifts with Daniel, so Luc was free to come home to Jo.
When they weren’t in bed making Otis quiver with anxiety, Jo and Luc were out enjoying the autumn weather. Luc showed off his home town, with its magnificent bridge and medieval centre. They ate late, leisurely dinners at his favorite restaurants, sharing bottles of Cahors’ famous black wine, roamed the dark streets at night, talking, planning, plotting the next phase of their lives. They decided to get married sooner, rather than later, some time early in the new year.
Their original plan, hatched in Vancouver, had Luc returning to Seattle to meet Jo’s family and help her pack her belongings. Because of Daniel’s accident, Jo insisted that it wasn’t necessary for Luc to make the long trip. She could manage on her own, she said. And her family could wait until the wedding to meet him.
Jo would still make her final move, with Sammy, in November. Although that was only a few weeks away, Luc would have time to find them a house to rent and, ideally, have another talk with Daniel about the fact there would be a new woman in their lives.
Jo was good with this. Now that Luc was in his right mind, she trusted him. And now that she was certain he wanted more children—children with her—she felt differently about meeting her new step-son. And differently about her move to France. France was going to be her new home, and Luc and Daniel would be her new family.
Near the end of Jo’s visit, Luc took her to Nice. She was excited about seeing the LaPlante family home for the first time—the home that would be hers, too. And she was doubly excited because this was going to be her first trip to Provence—arguably the loveliest part of France.
They stopped for lunch in Arles, the weather warm enough to eat outside at a sidewalk cafe. Jo loved the wide city streets overhung with gnarled old trees, dropping their yellow leaves everywhere. Now that she and Luc were getting so much regular exercise, she was hungry all the time.
“What should I eat, love?” she asked as she scanned the menu, smiling at the almost-lascivious stares of two middle-aged women sitting at the next table.
“Well, I think you should know by now that I’m ordering the eggplant,” he said. “Do you want to try it?”
Jo nodded. This week she’d learned many things about her fiancé. One was that he could eat pussy for hours, and enjoy every minute of it. The other was that he was partial to eggplant any way he could get it.
When their food arrived she said to Luc, a little shyly, “Anna was kind enough to offer to give me the recipe for her stewed eggplant and peppers. She said it was your favorite.” Talking to her lover about his first wife still seemed weird to Jo. She supposed she’d get used to it.
A broad smile lit up his entire face. “Excellent!”
“But I think I need to take some cooking classes once I get settled. There’s so much I don’t know.”
He nodded. “I noticed.” Then they both laughed. Some of the food she’d prepared while he was busy at the hospital had been awful. He’d insisted on doing the cooking from then on.
“And I’ll enroll in some advanced French conversation classes. Maybe I’ll read up on gardening, too. I know almost nothing about plants.” Jo was concerned that, next to Anna, she would prove to be a bit deficient in the domestic arts department.
After lunch, Luc wanted to show Jo the magnificent Roman amphitheater. They strolled through the enormous stone structure, blue skies and calling birds high above their heads, on a perfect autumn afternoon. She clung onto her fiancé as he told her about the town’s Roman heritage, impressed by the scope of his knowledge, letting his deep, seductive voice lull her into a state of bliss.
The LaPlante house wasn’t particularly impressive from the road. Luc stopped his SUV to open the wide iron gates, then parked in front of the rather austere stone house with its steeply-pitched roofs and white wooden shutters. Tall trees overhung the lower roofs, and Jo could see the bright blooms of pink bougainvillea peeking through some of their branches. As she looked closer, she began to appreciate the details. Two short, wide palms flanked the front porch, which was graced by a freshly-painted blue door. Red geraniums in pots added more color. The brass hardware on the wooden door gleamed in the late afternoon light.
Luc let them in, carrying their bags into the tiled hallway and shut the door behind them. With a shy smile, he turned to Jo and said, “Come in here.” He took her hand and pulled her into a kind of sitting room. It was tastefully furnished with antiques and oriental carpets, and its large windows opened onto an exquisite view of a garden and the sea.
Now Jo was impressed. She hadn’t realized the house was so close to the water. “It’s beautiful, Luc. Truly beautiful.”
“Come outside,” he said, unlocking the double leaded-glass doors to the garden. She followed him onto a stone-flagged patio furnished with an old concrete table and several heavy wrought iron chairs. Vines, palm fronds and late-blooming flowers competed with each other to create a jungle atmosphere. Luc lead her over to the edge of the garden wall where they could look down to a narrow strip of beach.
“It’s the LaPlante family’s slice of the Mediterranean. This is where I learned to swim,” he said, pride evident in his voice.
“Oh, Luc! I had no idea! And this is where you would have brought me if we’d actually been able to run away together last spring?”
“Mais oui. I told you we could swim naked in the sea and make love all day. Remember?”
“Oh yes—I remember very well,” she said, wrapping her arms around his big body.
She turned and looked back at the house. Now she could appreciate the beauty of its lines. The steep roofs were softened by large bay windows and two balconies on the second floor. A multitude of leaded glass panes winked in the sunlight, and the bright colors of the bougainvillea softened the stone facade. She was delighted.
“Let’s go back inside. I’m going to ask you to consider doing something very special for me, mon amour.” He bent to kiss her softly, and she inhaled the delicious scent of his shaving cream. It never failed to catch at her heart, or make her belly quiver.
“You know I’d do anything you want. Anything!” Her arms reached around his neck and she pulled his head down to hers. She opened her mouth and took his in a kiss that was every bit as intoxicating as their very first.<
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“Well,” she said, breathing hard now. “What is it?”
“Non, non. Not here. Inside.”
Arm in arm they walked back into the beautiful room. Then he hugged her again, and laughed.
“What? What are you laughing at?”
He broke their embrace and, smiling that endearing smile of his, swung an arm around the room. “What would you think about getting married here?”
Jo looked at him in amazement, her face breaking into a big grin. “You want the wedding to be here? In this house?”
He nodded, uncertainty clouding his face.
“I’d marry you any time you want, any where you want,” she said, crushing him in a bear hug. “Of course we can get married here. It’s perfect!”
Suddenly a dark thought appeared. “You and Anna didn’t…?”
He laughed at the look on her face. “Non. Non. We had a quick civil ceremony. I want this to be different. With both of our families here. At Christmas.”
“This Christmas?”
“Mais oui. Is that a problem?”
“B-but that’s only two months away!”
“Oui.”
“Is that reasonable? I mean I don’t really know what needs to be done, but…” A million details swirled in front of her eyes. She needed to sit down.
“I think it’s enough time. Our families are both small, and I don’t plan to invite more than my closest friends. And maybe a few people from the office. What about you?”
“I, uh, I guess I wouldn’t really have anyone but my mother and my sister’s family. That’s five.”
Brenda would have made it six, but that’s not going to happen.
“Fine. We can put them all up here.” He swung his arm upwards to indicate the upper floors of the house. “I’ll probably have another twenty-five or thirty people, if I invite the cousins. But only a few will stay with us. The rest can go to hotels, or stay with my aunt and uncle. They have a big house not far from here.”
“You’ll probably have to make most of the arrangements yourself, seeing as I’m not going to be here, at first. Are you really up for that?” She lowered herself in a pretty bentwood chair upholstered in petitpoint.
“I am,” he said, bending over to kiss her.
“Are you sure?” she asked softly, looking up into his eyes. They seemed to be shining. He looked pretty damned sure.
“I am,” he said, and kissed her again. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. I love you.”
* * * *
Luc could hardly wait to show Joanna their room. With the blessings of his father, he’d been granted possession of the front bedroom. The big one on the second floor, the one with the leaded doors that opened onto a large balcony, the one with the best view of the sea. His parents had occupied that room for decades, and his grandparents before that. Now his father had turned it over to him and his new bride. He didn’t mind using one of the smaller rooms, he’d told his younger son.
Earlier that month, as soon as Luc had arrived home from Vancouver, he’d ordered a new bed, window coverings and bed linens for the room. Evie and her band of elves had thoroughly cleaned and rearranged it in preparation for its new tenants—expected to arrive for their engagement party.
Luc couldn’t control the circumstances that led him to cancel the party, but he sure wasn’t going to waste the effort he’d already put in to make their new bedroom ready for the soon-to-be Mrs. LaPlante.
He made Joanna wait downstairs while he ran up to check the room. He knew it would be fine. Evie was dependable and she had excellent taste. He looked around the room, impressed with what he saw.
Yes! Everything is perfect. Tres bien, Evie. Salut!
He liked the new king-sized bed with its simple curved wooden frame, plump and inviting with layers of all-cream linens. He was glad to see that it didn’t look out of place beside the rest of the furniture in the room, which was antique. He’d asked Evie to clear out what had been his mother’s favorite dressing table—he hoped Joanna would use it—and empty the wardrobes. Then he’d sent down some ornate candle holders, thick beeswax candles, a large oriental vase and bedside carpets in pale shades to match the new drapes and bedding.
Yes, Evie and I have done a great job. I hope Joanna likes it.
He went back downstairs and found her in the dining room, exclaiming over the heavy oak table.
“Never mind the table. Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
He led her up the stairs, asking her to close her eyes when she got to the top. He couldn’t stop laughing when he saw her face scrunched up as she tried to keep her eyes closed. He knew she was dying to peek, and he placed his hands over her eyes.
“Don’t look yet.”
“What is it? What?”
“Okay—now!” He pushed her over the threshold, removed his hands and let her drink it all in. “Welcome to your new room.”
“My new room?” She asked in astonishment, looking around her, mouth open, then into his face for clues.
“Our new room, I should say.” In a fluid motion he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. She squeaked as he plopped her down and rolled on top of her.
“I’ve just had it redecorated. This was my parents’ room, and after my mother died, my father’s room. He was gracious enough to turn it over to us. It’s our wedding present.” He looked deeply into her dark eyes, round with astonishment. “This is an important room in my family’s history. My father said he was conceived here. So was I.”
Not breaking eye contact, he dropped one hand to her waist and slid it under the band of her jeans, then under the silky fabric of her panties, stroking her smooth belly. “Can you guess what I’m going to say next?”
The light in her eyes changed as her pupils dilated. Instead of waiting for an answer, he dove in for a deep kiss.
When he broke away he saw that her eyes were shiny with tears.
“What’s wrong, ma biche?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t you recognize a happy woman when you kiss one?”
“I want to stay this way forever,” Jo whispered into Luc’s ear, an hour later. They were both slick with sweat, their clothes in a tangled mass on the floor. She lay underneath him, hips raised, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Motionless, he felt the overwhelmingly sensation of his cock buried deep inside her, her cunt hot and slick.
“So do I,” he said, sighing. “Don’t move, or it’s all over.”
Keeping her body still, she kissed his neck, his face. “I love you so much,” he heard her say as if from the bottom of the sea. A roaring filled his ears and without knowing how he found himself rocking into her, pounding into her, like waves crashing onto the shore. And then there was the flood…
It was far, far beyond his control.
A few moments passed before he could catch his breath. “I couldn’t help it, my sweet,” he said, still panting. “Were you with me?”
“I’ll get you next time,” she laughed and kissed him again. He closed his eyes.
“Do you want me to finish you?” He offered, hoping he could just drift off. He was so deliciously spent.
“Not really. I really do just want to stay here like this forever.”
Excellent. He felt his cock softening, but he didn’t want to fall out of Joanna’s warmth.
Not quite yet.
“Luc?”
“Mmm?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Putain de merde! What now?
He opened one eye carefully. He knew from experience that when women said something like this, bad news usually followed. He rolled off her and onto his back. The air in the room was cool on his damp skin, so he leaned down to pull a cover over them.
“What is it, ma biche?”
“Umm. Well, remember Brenda?”
“How could I not?”
He’d met her only the once, in an upscale bar at her Vancouver hotel. She made it perfectly c
lear that she didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. But she was Joanna’s boss, and her best friend. He had to be polite.
“Well, the reason she won’t be at our wedding is kind of complicated.”
Luc felt his body tense. He had a funny feeling that he wasn’t going to like what he would hear next. He remembered when Joanna told him she didn’t want to meet Brenda that night, but had to. He hadn’t really thought about her hesitation until now.
What’s going on between the two of them?
“So tell me.” He stared at the ceiling as he waited.
Joanna didn’t speak for a moment, as if trying to decide which direction to take. Then she said, “I haven’t told you before, but we went to Spain last summer.”
“We?”
“Brenda and I.”
“Go on.” This wasn’t sounding good.
“I saw you. In Ronda.”
His eyes widened and he turned to her. “When?” He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He saw the tears in her eyes, and cringed a little as she said, “You were with that blonde woman. On a motorcycle. I just fell to pieces when I saw the two of you together like that, and I’ve been trying to put it out of my head ever since.”
Hilda. Putain alors! She saw us together. And she’s been holding back on me all this time?
“But why are you waiting until now to tell me this?”
Sometimes he had no idea how women worked. He should have had a sister. That might have given him a little more insight into the female psyche.
“And what were you doing in Spain, anyway?” he added.
“We were working,” she said between sobs. She got out of bed to get a piece of toilet paper from the bathroom. He watched her magnificent ass cross the room. When she came back she was modestly draped in a towel.
“Actually, the reason we went to Spain was you.” She perched on the side of the bed, looking down at him. “But why were you in Spain? And who was blondie?”
