Just A Summer Romance

by Karen Abbott

  Instead, Xavier lessened the pressure … but he ran his lips along her jaw line and down her neck, making her shiver with delight. As they drew apart, Xavier smiled.

  “That was exquisite pain!” he joked. “A reminder that some pleasures are off the menu at the moment!”

  She wasn’t sure if he was referring to his relationship with Jocelyn or the tenderness of his body … and didn’t want to know if it were the former.

  “That’s okay,” she said lightly, just in case he was thinking of Jocelyn. “I enjoyed it, anyway!” She grinned impishly. “We can test it daily to gauge how you’re recovering!”

  They casually linked fingers as they splashed back through the warm shallow water and headed back up the beach to where they had left their few belongings. Lys felt exhilarated by the swim and by the physical contact with Xavier. He was slightly older than other young men who had kissed her and made them seem like schoolboys in comparison... and she felt a sensuous longing to repeat the experience.

  She dropped onto one of the beach mats and rubbed at her hair with her towel, glad she had thought to put it in the car.

  Xavier flexed his muscles and, although he winced, he pronounced them easier than before.

  “You were right about the sea being good for my bruises. I feel better already!”

  Lys’s heart leaped with pleasure.

  “We must do it again tomorrow, then! That is …”

  Her voice tailed away as Xavier’s eyes broke contact and he lowered himself carefully onto the other mat. Lys handed him a sandwich, wishing she hadn’t assumed too much.

  “I got you tuna. I thought it would be easier for you to eat. Is that all right?” she babbled, hoping to distract him.

  “Fine! Mmm! It’s good.”

  He leaned on one elbow and turned towards her.

  “Lys?”

  She knew she had to face it.

  “Mmm?”

  “Don’t get serious about me. I like you and you’re fun to be with … but I’m here to work. I’ve set myself a heavy schedule and I can’t afford to mess it up. D’you know what I’m saying?”

  She felt she knew. He didn’t mind a bit of ‘fun’ but no strings attached. Well, so what? Maybe that was all she wanted? She certainly wasn’t looking for anything long-term, not with her restoration project on the go.

  “That suits me!” she said lightly. “I’ll be pretty busy myself. Is that why you sent Jocelyn away?”

  “Jocelyn? … Yeh, you’ve got it. Great girl, isn’t she?”

  There was something in his tone she wasn’t quite sure of but, when she looked straight into his eyes, they were tender … and it made her realise that he must feel a great deal for Jocelyn.

  “Yes,” she agreed, reluctantly acknowledging the truth of it. Jocelyn was nice—though Lys wished she weren’t! But, Jocelyn wasn’t here—and she, Lys, was! And she felt a strong feral attraction to this man. She was aware of the masculinity of him and was sure he felt attracted to her … in spite of Jocelyn.

  She decided to be frank.

  “I like you. I didn’t at first! I was annoyed at the way you said you thought I didn’t have enough about me to be independent from my rich step-father. Maybe I’ve never had a purpose before. I have now! And I’m going to make it work!”

  She then grinned with disarming honesty.

  “I also liked being kissed by you … even though it was only at half-voltage! I can’t wait for the real thing!”

  “Half-voltage, indeed! That kiss cost me!”

  “Yeh? Well, you owe me a proper one!”

  He grinned and trickled a handful of sand down her the length of her body. It was as intense as if he had touched her.

  “We could have a holiday romance … with no strings attached, eh?”

  He placed his sandwich carefully on the beach mat leaned over her as he spoke and Lys knew he was going to kiss her again … no matter how much it hurt him!

  “That’s right!” she breathed softly, hardly daring to move in case he changed his mind.

  He didn’t!

  The kiss was tender, tantalising and full of promise. Lys felt her mind was spinning out of control … and, with it, her agreement that it would only be a holiday romance—but she would face that when the summer was over! Until then, she’d enjoy every minute!

  Eventually they ate their sandwiches, kissed some more and then agreed to continue the tour of the area. They were physically relaxed together and walked back to the car with their arms around each other’s waist. Lys felt she had known him all her life … or was it that her life had begun when she first met him?

  As she drove the car up the coast through Le Grand Village, past Vertbois, to La Perroche and then the port of La Cotiniere, she was aware that he was seated partly sideways, his eyes smilingly resting on her face, as if he were memorising every detail.

  He was. Her features fascinated him. Her skin was smooth and soft to the touch … and he now he touched her with his eyes. Her hair was swept off her face by the breeze through the windows and her eyes were full of life and love.

  He knew she felt a physical response to him … and he did to her—but he had meant what he said. His summer work was important. He didn’t want to get sidetracked … but he was too attracted to Lys to lose touch with her.

  The more he saw her, the deeper was his desire to paint her.

  The afternoon was drawing on. Neither wanted to part but Lys knew her grandfather would be expecting her back home again.

  “Would you like to come for something to eat?” she asked suddenly. “I bought some prawns and mussels from the market this morning. There are plenty for three. And we’ll have some of Madame Giraud’s fresh bread and a salad.”

  Xavier’s heart eased with pleasure.

  “That’s an offer I can’t refuse!”

  Grand-père decided he wanted to join them in the main living room and, after some consideration, Lys and Xavier helped him through. Lys decided that, tomorrow, she would ask Madame Giraud if she had a spare single bed that they could set up in the kitchen for him to rest on during the daytime. It was good to see him wanting to be involved again.

  Xavier helped to scrub the mussels and pull out the beards, while Lys peeled, deseeded and chopped some tomatoes and crush some garlic. Along with a glass of white wine, a good squeeze of tomato purée, some parsley and some ‘fines herbes’, they made a tasty sauce for the mussels. With the prawns lightly sautéed in butter and chunks of fresh bread, it made a wholesome meal.

  They discussed various options of how to go about renovating the windmill and Grand-père said he knew the very man to renew any woodwork.

  “He re-laid the upper floor just before Marlène died,” he said, with a far-away look in his eyes. “I have since thought I had wasted my money—but not now!” he added with resolution. “I shouldn’t have given up so easily … but it’s time to move on! I’ll see those sails turning again before I die!”

  Lys took Xavier back to Le Chateau and arranged to pick him up at ten o’clock in the morning to continue the tour of the island.

  It was another enjoyable day and it passed all too quickly. When Lys and Xavier parted, they made only general plans as to when they would next see each other.

  “Let me know how you get on at the municipal office tomorrow,” Xavier said.

  “I will … and I hope you no difficulty setting up your studio again.”

  Lys woke early on Tuesday morning. She ate a hasty breakfast and saw that Grand-père had his tray to hand. Then she drove to St. Pierre, the municipal centre of the island and managed to get the first appointment in the Clerk of Works’ office.

  Their application for a grant was received with some surprise.

  “But there is already an application for demolishing the windmill and building a supermarket on the site!” the man told her. “You are sure you have the correct information, mademoiselle?”

  “Of course I have. My Grand-père owns the mill. He still lives in
it. It’s been in the family for over a hundred years!”

  “And he has not sold to m. Fayau?”

  “No! There has been some pressure on him to make him do so … but we have had our own independent survey done and the windmill is in good condition. We want to apply for a grant to renovate it and make it into a working museum of the trade over the past century. I’ve made enquiries and there isn’t a working windmill on the island that is open to the public. In fact, there isn’t a working windmill on the island at all! We are confident that it will bring more tourists to the area ... and that will a boost to the economy, won’t it?”

  The clerk was reading Jocelyn’s report as Lys talked and was comparing it to another report already in his file.

  “There seem to be some discrepancies here, mademoiselle. Leon Boudot does not seem to share your optimistic view of the situation. Wait here whilst I make some enquiries.”

  Lys waited anxiously. She knew their application was sound … but would m. Boudot’s exaggerations of the defects take precedence over Jocelyn’s since he was one of the authority’s surveyors?

  When the clerk returned, he was frowning.

  “You say that m. Dupont still lives at the windmill … and has no intention of selling it, mademoiselle?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Well, there seems to be some confusion here. The area surveyor seems to have overstepped his brief. This is quite irregular! Quite irregular!”

  “Will our application for a grant be considered, do you think?”

  The clerk read the survey again, pursing his lips.

  “I don’t see why not. There are forms to fill in, of course … and it could take some months … unless, of course, it goes onto the priority list because of its potential … and to offset its mishandling,” he added as he noticed the disappointment in Lys’s face.

  “I will do what I can do for you, mademoiselle … and will send another surveyor around as soon as possible. We can’t have irregularities like this! Dear me, no!”

  “Will it be all right for us to start work on things that we can do ourselves?” Lys thought to ask.

  “By all means. If I remember the place correctly, it was always a well-kept, attractive concern. That was in madame Dupont’s time, of course … before Etienne let it go.”

  “Grand-père is very keen to see it restored now,” Lys was pleased to tell him. She bestowed a beaming smile on him. “With your help, it shouldn’t take too long.”

  “I’ll do my best, mademoiselle! I’ll do my best!”

  With that promise ringing in her ears, Lys drove back to the windmill. The sight of Leon Boudot’s car sobered her excitement somewhat but she was determined not to let the man know it.

  She could hear his raised voice as she opened the door.

  “This is your last chance to sell at a good price, you old fool! m. Fayau won’t be repeating his offer, I can tell you! He has his eye on other sites as well as this one!”

  “Then tell him to make his offer on one of those!” Etienne replied with spirit.

  “You’re forgetting my claim for recompense for personal injury caused by neglect of your property!” m. Boudot snapped. “The fine will ruin you!”

  “I doubt that very much!” Lys said quietly behind him.

  He whirled round to face her, sneering at her words. “What do you know about such matters? I already have a doctor’s certificate to prove my injuries!”

  “Then you either exaggerated your injuries … or misled him as to the cause!”

  “You were there, mademoiselle. You saw the stairway collapse. It was unsafe … and demolition is the only answer!”

  “Not according to our surveyor’s report I have just lodged at the municipal building in St. Pierre, monsieur! Our independent surveyor gave the windmill an excellent report!”

  “Impossible! It has been the holiday weekend! No-one works over the holidays!”

  “It was done by a friend of a friend.”

  “I shall challenge it! It has been done in your favour!”

  “Don’t worry! The clerk at St. Pierre is going to send an independent surveyor to check! And, curiously, our surveyor found evidence of crucial wood-screws having been removed shortly before the collapse of the steps!”

  She watched his face and was pleased to see a shadow of apprehension darken his eyes.

  “Nonsense!” he sneered. “You’re lying!”

  “No, monsieur Boudot, I’m not lying … and you know it!”

  “This is ridiculous! Let me see this so-called evidence!”

  “Contrary to what I heard you call my Grand-père, we are not fools, monsieur Boudot. The evidence is lodged in a secure place. If you persist in your false allegations and do not withdraw your false survey, we will show the evidence to whomsoever we must!”

  Her legs were shaking but her voice was firm.

  “You’ll regret this, mademoiselle!” m. Boudot threatened.

  “I doubt it, monsieur Boudot. Now, I must bid you good day! My Grand-père and I have plans to make.”

  M. Boudot snapped his lips together and, after a momentary hesitation, he swung on his heels and stalked back to his car. Lys watched in satisfaction as he drove away. That was the end of that! And the start of their new venture1

  She relayed to her Grand-père all that the municipal clerk had said to her and was pleased to see the light of excitement glow in his eyes.

  “And we can start some of the work straightaway, Grand-père. We’ve only to leave the bits that we need the grant for … like rebuilding the sails and renewing the stairways. Oh, and building public toilets and a car park … apparently, that is required by law—but we can get someone to re-point the stonework, redo the rendering and do all the paintwork, only we’re to keep the bills to show how much money we are putting into the venture. So, as soon as we’ve had a cup of coffee, you can make a list of people to contact to give us some quotes … and I’m going to start pulling up some weeds. I’ll just get some gloves I keep under the passenger seat of my car.” She grimaced. “I keep them there because my step-father insisted I learn how to change a tyre! I ask you!”

  She wasn’t really grumbling. Oscar had been very generous with her … with little appreciation shown in return, she had to admit.

  She went out to her car, opened the rear door and felt under the seat for the protective gloves she knew were there. As her fingers identified the texture of them, she also felt the unfamiliar texture of a tightly wrapped package … and she drew it out.

  It was something enclosed in a clear plastic bag that had been folded over many times and secured with elastic bands. She had never seen it before and was puzzled as to how it had become lodged under the passenger seat of her car.

  Maybe its contents would throw light on the matter?

  She removed the elastic bands and unrolled the bag. A slim black leather box was inside. The sort you would expect to find a necklace in. Curious to see if she were right, she undid the clasp and opened the box.

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  She was no expert at identifying precious jewellery … but she had no doubt in her mind whatsoever that what she held in her hands was the most exquisitely beautiful diamond necklace she had ever seen.

  Chapter Seven

  Lys was bewildered. What was it doing in her car? It hadn’t been there when she had packed her belongings in Paris. She’d had the garage do a full valet service. They wouldn’t have missed this.

  The only other person who had been in her car since then was Xavier. But what would he be doing with such an expensive item of jewellery? And why hadn’t he asked her for it? Surely, if it were his, he would have wondered where it was by now? Unless the attack on him had pushed it out of his mind?

  A sudden thought struck her mind.

  What if this were what the thieves were after? What was it he had said they kept shouting at him? ‘What have you done with it?’ Or, ‘Where is it?’ Did Xavier think they had eventually
found it? Was that why he hadn’t mentioned it? He knew it was missing but thought the thieves had taken it?

  He’d be relieved to have it back again, then, wouldn’t he? Or, would he?

  She looked at it spread across her hand. The rainbow of colour from its many facets took her breath away. It must be worth a fortune! What would a penniless artist be doing with a piece of jewellery like this?

  A frown darkened her face. Had he come by it dishonestly?

  She instinctively shied away from the idea … but how much did she know of him? Not very much, if the truth were known. He had shared far less of himself than she had shared with him. She knew nothing about his past, his family, his friends … apart from Jocelyn … and that was an incongruous friendship. One so obviously well-to-do, wearing top designer clothes … and one living on the edge of poverty, compelled to paint for his living. A friend from home, he had said. Maybe Jocelyn was a daughter of the local gentry and Xavier a tradesman’s son? Had they met by chance and fallen in love?

  And why did that thought displease her? She’d liked Jocelyn. Jocelyn had treated her as an equal.

  Did the necklace belong to Jocelyn? But Jocelyn hadn’t been in her car. She couldn’t have dropped it.

  Maybe Xavier had it in his possession to give to Jocelyn? Maybe it had needed some attention that Xavier could provide through his contacts?

  No, there was more to it that that? He would have missed it! It would surely have occurred to him to suspect it was in Lys’s car! Unless, for some reason, he didn’t want to mention it … didn’t want Lys to know anything about it!

  Which brought her back to the thought that he had come by it dishonestly!

  She sighed in exasperation. What was she to do? If she returned it openly, he might feel compelled to give a false reason for it being in his possession … and she didn’t want him to have to lie to her! She couldn’t bear to think of there being an air of restraint between them.