Was that Indigo again?
Craning his neck, he tried to see past a crowd of tourists blocking his view and catch another glimpse of her so he could make sure to walk in the opposite direction, but she seemed to have disappeared. Was his brain playing tricks on him? No, it must have been her. That hair colour was so unusual it couldn’t be someone else with the exact same shade—and he knew for a fact she was staying in Amalfi tonight.
Walking slowly down the steps, he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax, telling himself it was unlikely they’d cross each other’s paths when it was so busy.
Reaching the Popolo fountain in the middle of the piazza, he sat down on the stone edge of it and ran his fingers through the water, enjoying the cooling effect on his skin. What was wrong with him today? His heart seemed to be racing and his palms felt sweaty.
The heat must be getting to him.
Someone sat down next to him and on impulse he glanced round to see who it was.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ Indigo said, with a mischievous lift of her eyebrow.
He snorted and shook his head at his terrible luck. What was it about this woman that kept drawing them together?
‘It’s a small town centre; I guess we were bound to bump into each other at some point,’ he said wearily.
She leant back on her hands and studied him. ‘Are you off to forage for some supper?’
He raised his eyebrows, bemused. ‘Forage?’
‘Looking for a place to eat.’
‘Oui.’
‘On your own?’
‘Oui.’ He tensed, anticipating what was coming next.
‘You’re welcome to join me if you’d like,’ she said brightly, confirming his fear. ‘I was just about to grab a slice of pizza at one of those small family-run eateries just off the square.’
‘You mean the cafés with the plastic tables? Non—’ he began to say, but she cut him off.
‘You’d be doing me a favour,’ she said. ‘I’ve been on my own all day and I’m beginning to have conversations with myself out loud, which is never a good sign. If you don’t come and have dinner with me there’s a good chance I’ll be arrested by the end of the night and taken to a secure facility.’ She sat up and folded her arms. ‘Anyway, you owe me.’
He frowned, perplexed. ‘What for?’
‘For letting you share my room.’
‘Your room?’
‘I was there first, remember?’
He sighed, fighting a smile. ‘How could I forget?’
‘So what do you say? Can I tempt you with a slice of pizza?’ She looked so hopeful it made something twist in his chest. But he needed to stay strong.
‘I’m going to try out one of the restaurants down on the marina,’ he said, giving her an apologetic look. ‘Apparently they have fantastic à la carte menus with a good selection of locally caught fresh fish and seafood. Word has it the lobster spaghetti is not to be missed.’
Her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was picturing the food he’d described. ‘Sounds awful,’ she joked, flashing an impertinent grin. ‘Anyway, those places are a total tourist rip-off.’
‘And the pizza joints aren’t?’
Spreading out her hands, she gestured around the square. ‘They’re part of the local colour. You can eat overpriced gourmet food in Paris, or wherever you’re from. Come and support the underdog for once.’ She stared at him hard, like she’d done the previous night, dipping her head to one side and looking up at him through her thick black lashes, and something twisted again inside him—then broke.
Despite his earlier determination to keep to himself tonight, he realised he had no choice but to go and eat a huge greasy slice of pizza with this woman. Maybe then she’d leave him alone.
‘Sure.’ He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘Pizza sounds good.’
‘Great!’ she said, breaking into a huge smile.
He hoped she wasn’t going to read too much into this. Whilst he was prepared to spend the next hour with her, he didn’t want her thinking he wanted to buddy up for the whole week.
As they walked away from the piazza towards one of the back streets that housed the pizza outlets, they passed a homeless person slumped on a filthy-looking rug next to one of the souvenir shops. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Indigo reach into her pocket, then discreetly drop a handful of coins into an empty hat by the side of the man, before strolling on as if nothing had happened.
* * *
As soon as they’d ordered their slices of pizza and drinks from a very jolly waiter at a café with red plastic tables and chairs arranged out on the pavement, Indigo excused herself and went inside to find the bathroom and splash some cool water on to her face.
Maybe insisting on bringing Julien here had been a little extreme, she deliberated as she patted her face dry with a paper towel. He’d not exactly been enthusiastic about taking her up on the offer of company—but she couldn’t shake the concern that it would have been a miserable experience for him, eating dinner on his own, and she was pretty sure if she was patient he’d thaw out eventually.
Sometimes people put up barriers for whatever reason and you had to coax them out of their shell. She’d seen it a lot throughout her time running her café and evening classes. People could appear to be confident on the outside, but when you dug a little deeper it became apparent they were dealing with some tough issues and putting a brave face on things. Often they just needed someone to ask if they were okay, then listen to them.
Which was exactly what she’d done for Gavin, she remembered with a lurch. Not that he’d appreciated it in the end.
Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face. Was she setting herself up for more trouble here, getting involved in Julien’s drama?
She stared into the mirror, looking deep into her own eyes. No. Because this wasn’t going to turn into anything more than a brief encounter—hopefully just one of many connections she’d make during her week here. She was here to socialise and have fun, new experiences this week after all, but that was all it would be.
Pulling a face at herself, she smoothed down her hair then pushed back her shoulders, wishing she’d had something other than her walking clothes to put on tonight. It wasn’t that she wanted to impress Julien exactly, but she felt scruffy next to his overt sophistication, and less confident because of it.
Returning to the table, she saw that the waiter had brought their slices of pizza, as well as a beer for Julien and a glass of tap water for her.
Julien looked so strikingly out of place—sitting there on his cherry-red plastic chair in his designer jeans and beautifully cut open-necked shirt, with his golden hair swept back from his face and aviator sunglasses perched on his head as he read something on his smartphone—that she couldn’t help but smile.
Taking her seat, she gave him a friendly nod as he looked up to acknowledge her return.
‘Great, the food arrived while I was away; I love it when that happens,’ she said, picking up her glass and taking a sip of water to cover a sudden bout of nerves at being there with him.
He just looked at her as if she was slightly loopy.
Swallowing hard, she put her glass down and leaned forwards, propping her arms on the table. ‘So, tell me, Julien, why did you choose to walk the Amalfi coast?’ she asked brightly in an attempt to get the conversation started.
He took his sunglasses off his head and slid them on to his nose so all she could see now was her own reflection in the lenses. ‘It seemed like a good place to get away from it all.’
‘Apart from all the tourists.’ She gave him a smile, which he didn’t return.
‘I didn’t realise how popular this place was.’
‘You mean you didn’t do your homework? Somehow I find that hard to believe,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘Really? Why?’
‘I don’t know... You just seem very—together. Very—businesslike.’
He huffed out a dry laugh and picked up his beer bottle, taking a long pull. ‘Why did you choose to come here?’ he asked, gesturing to their surroundings with the neck of the bottle.
She paused, arranging her answer in her mind. ‘I’ve wanted to do this walk for ages and I finally got round to booking it this year,’ she said, uncomfortably aware of a jolt of sadness in her chest. She and Gavin had talked about coming here since they’d got together, when things had been good between them. Before he’d started to resent her.
Julien leant back in his seat and studied her. ‘Do you often holiday alone?’
‘No, just this time.’ She took a breath, deciding she might as well be straight with him.
‘Actually, I was supposed to come here with my boyfriend, but we split up three months ago. He didn’t want to come with his new partner, so I figured, since it was non-refundable, I may as well use it as a chance to get away for a bit.’ She was aiming for a breezy and upbeat tone of voice, but from the look on Julien’s face she suspected she must have fallen well short.
Still, perhaps her confession would open up an opportunity for him to talk about his own situation.
‘How about you? Were you supposed to come here with someone?’ she asked, perhaps a little desperately.
He avoided her gaze, looking instead at the waiter who was busying about nearby. ‘Non,’ was all he said, picking up his slice of pizza and taking a large bite.
‘Oh.’ She tapped her toe gently against the plastic leg of the table, then picked up her own slice and studied it, uncomfortably aware that she’d lost her appetite now.
‘Well, it’s really nice to be here, anyway,’ she continued, to cover the now rather prickly silence. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in a couple of years—if you don’t count the four days I spent at my oldest brother’s house over Christmas, which wasn’t exactly a relaxing break. Three of my brothers have kids—one of them has four boys—so it was more like staying in a soft play gym crossed with a zoo.’
Picking up his beer, Julien took another long pull. ‘You don’t have your own kids?’ he asked.
There was a sharp spasm in her chest. She’d fantasised about her and Gavin having kids, once upon a time. Another thing to mourn the loss of. ‘Not yet. Hopefully one day. I’m sure it’ll happen when it’s the right time.’
He grimaced as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘The right time,’ he repeated flatly.
‘Yeah, I firmly believe that kids turn up when you most need them to.’
Looking over the top of his sunglasses, he gave her a withering stare.
Irritation pricked at her skin. ‘So I’m guessing you don’t have kids either?’ she asked, determined to ignore his negativity.
‘Non.’ The word was terse and had a definite full stop at the end.
‘But you’d like to, one day?’
‘Can we change the subject?’ he said levelly, but with an undertone of steel.
‘Um, sure.’ Clearly she’d hit a nerve.
Perhaps it was for the best that they talk about something else anyway. The subject wasn’t exactly an inspiring one for her now that she was single.
Indigo nibbled at the crust of her pizza while she thought of a new topic of conversation.
‘Your English is very good. Where do you live?’
‘In Paris, but I conduct a lot of business in the English language.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
For the first time that night he seemed to relax, pushing his sunglasses up on to his head again and sitting back in his chair. ‘Oui. My business acquires and renovates high-end holiday homes in France for clients all over the world. We also source and maintain corporate Parisian apartments for executives to live in whilst they conduct business in France.’
‘Nice.’
‘I enjoy it.’
‘Lucrative.’
‘Oui.’
‘Good for you.’
‘What about you? What do you do?’ He took another large bite of his pizza.
‘I run a café that uses mostly surplus and past best before date food from supermarkets and restaurants. We sell affordable meals for people on low incomes so they can come and get a square meal at least a couple of times a week. Since we opened, we’ve had a lot of elderly gentlemen come in who’ve lost their wives and have no idea how to cook, so I started running cookery lessons in the evenings aimed specifically at people like them, to give them a grounding in making basic, healthy meals for themselves at home. It’s going well so far, but it’s been hard work. We rely a lot on donations and public grants so there’s loads of form filling and face-to-face negotiating, and quite a bit of pleading on bended knee.’
She took a large bite of her food to punctuate her monologue, not wanting to think about what would happen to the café if the next lot of funding didn’t come through.
‘I imagine you’re very good at the negotiating part,’ he said with a twist in his smile.
‘Usually,’ she said through a mouthful of pizza, smiling back at him with her eyes. It felt good to finally hit on a subject he wanted to talk about.
‘It’s hard work to keep a project like that adequately funded, though. There’s a constant threat of grants being pulled or reduced, so I spend a lot of my time looking for new sources of cash. It’s hand to mouth in every way, but we make it work.’
‘Did you set it up by yourself?’ The last of his pizza disappeared into his mouth.
‘Initially, but I have a dedicated team of both paid workers and local volunteers now.’ She took another bite of her own food, aware that she needed to eat quickly now to catch up.
‘That’s impressive. No wonder you need a holiday.’
‘Yeah, I’ve put in some very long days this past year. It’s never going to make me rich, but it makes me happy.’ At least it had, until her relationship with Gavin ended because of it.
Julien studied her again, this time with a small pinch between his brows.
‘What?’ she asked, swiping at her chin, worried that she had cheese strings dangling from it.
‘I was just thinking it’s good to meet someone with such drive and ambition.’
She smiled back in gratified surprise, feeling warmth pool in her belly. Putting her food back on the plate, she wiped her greasy fingers on the paper napkin next to it. ‘Thanks. I’ve always wanted to run my own business—I hate the idea of working for other people for my entire life.’ She took a breath. ‘I think I was meant to do what I do.’
He snorted gently. ‘You’re a strong believer in fate. I suppose you’re one of those people who think everything happens for a reason?’
‘Sure am.’ She stared at her pizza, wondering whether she could force down another bite. ‘You’ve just got to keep positive and everything will work itself out in the end.’
When she looked up at him she was disturbed to see his expression had switched to a mixture of amusement and derision.
She frowned, riled by his change in attitude. ‘What’s so wrong with that?’
He shrugged and stared off into the distance. ‘It’s total claptrap.’ He enunciated the word claptrap with some relish.
‘It’s not claptrap. It’s called having a constructive outlook on life.’
Julien grunted and took another long sip of his beer. ‘I suppose you believe in fairy tales too.’
‘You must believe in happy-ever-afters if you got married,’ she pointed out.
His gaze snapped back to hers. ‘Maybe. Once. But divorce will knock that kind of naivety right out of you.’
She jumped as he thumped his beer bottle down on to the table between them, and there was an edgy pause as th
e word ‘divorce’ buzzed in the air between them like an irritating fly.
‘Why did the two of you split up?’ she asked gently, relieved they were finally getting to the crux of the matter.
He sighed and folded his arms. ‘You know, I don’t really want to talk about it. I came on this walk to forget about what went wrong in my life and look forward to a future on my own.’ He over-enunciated the word ‘own’ this time.
Indigo bristled at his bluntness. ‘That sounds kind of lonely.’
‘Lonely sounds pretty good to me right now.’
The hollow look in his eyes disturbed her.
‘You know, if you did want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen,’ she said.
His expression flashed with exasperation. ‘I don’t need some amateur psychoanalysing me this week, thanks.’
The stab of hurt she experienced must have shown on her face, because he gave a guttural sigh and shook his head.
Pushing his chair back from the table, he stood up and pulled a handful of notes out of his pocket, tossing them on to the table. ‘I don’t think I’m the kind of company you’re looking for right now, Indigo,’ he said tersely, dropping his glasses back down to cover his eyes. ‘It’s better if we don’t spend any more time together. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.’
Without even glancing back, he strode away, his shoulders hunched and his arms hanging stiffly by his sides.
The whole surface of her skin felt hot and prickly with indignation as she stared after him, his words echoing cruelly through her head.
How rude! She’d just wanted to check he was okay here on his own.
Not feeling lost and alone and isolated.
But okay. Fine! If that was the way he wanted it she wouldn’t bother trying to be friendly any more.
Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat, she rummaged around in her bag for her purse.
What was wrong with her? She didn’t seem to be able to step away from other people’s problems, even on holiday.
She shouldn’t be spending her precious free time with someone who had such a cynical view about love either, she told herself, yanking the money out of the notes compartment. She needed to surround herself with positivity and optimism right now.
One Week with the French Tycoon Page 4
