Falling for Her Mediterranean Boss

by Anne Fraser

  Trudi was looking at her expectantly. Julie realised she was still waiting for an answer.

  ‘Of course I’d love to come to your wedding,’ she said. Instinctively she knew that Trudi loved Tom enough to cope with whatever the consequences of Tom’s injuries might be. Whatever he would look like on the outside was immaterial to Trudi. Julie doubted if she’d even notice the scars.

  ‘And your boyfriend, Dr Favatier, you think he’ll come, too?’

  ‘What on earth makes you think he’s my boyfriend?’ Julie spluttered.

  ‘You were both at the nightclub that night. I just assumed…And the way you look at him. Oh, dear,’ Trudi finished limply. ‘I’ve put my foot it in, haven’t I? Tom’s always telling me I don’t think before I speak, aren’t you, honey?’

  Julie felt her cheeks blaze. What did Trudi mean? How did she look at Pierre?

  ‘Dr Favatier’s my boss,’ she said quietly. ‘Nothing more.’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry…’ Trudi stumbled. ‘Please forget I said anything.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Julie said. ‘I suppose it was an easy mistake to make once you knew we were both at the nightclub. But we were there separately, for different reasons.’ She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t help herself. She kept thinking of Trudi’s words. Good God, did other people think the same thing? What about Pierre? What did he think? It was too embarrassing for words. If it had been possible, Julie would have avoided Pierre for the rest of her life. As it was she was going away with him for the weekend. She suppressed a groan. Why had Dr Pierre Favatier come into her life now? Why couldn’t he have stayed in France and left her life the way she liked it? Calm, uneventful, and—she admitted reluctantly—ever so slightly boring.

  By the time Julie arrived home, she only had enough time to take a quick shower and throw a few things into an overnight bag. She jumped when she heard the doorbell. After what Trudi had said, she wanted more than ever to cancel the trip, but, short of being admitted to hospital herself, she knew there was nothing else that would justify cancelling at such short notice.

  She answered the door still in her bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel.

  ‘Not quite ready, then?’ Pierre asked, striding into her flat before Julie had time to suggest he wait for her in the car. His powerful frame seemed to dwarf her tiny sitting room. Hastily Julie shoved her cat, Toto, off the armchair and onto the floor, where he landed with a squeal of protest.

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ she offered. ‘I won’t be long.’ She peered past Pierre to the door. ‘Where’s Caroline?’

  Pierre sat down, reaching down to stroke Toto, who immediately sprang into his lap. Julie was surprised. Toto didn’t like strangers. She had rescued him as a kitten and he barely tolerated anyone besides Julie. Even Kim, who fed him when Julie was away, had experienced the odd scratch.

  ‘She’s in the car. Listening to her MP3 player.’ Pierre said. Toto stretched luxuriously as Pierre looked around. ‘I like your flat. It’s exactly how I expected it to be.’

  Julie glanced around her home with its mish-mash of furniture and objects she had collected from her travels around the world. She loved it, especially in the winter when she would light the gas fire, draw the curtains against the winter weather and curl up on her old but comfortable sofa with a good book. But somehow she didn’t think it was Pierre’s style. She imagined him more minimalist. All sleek lines and no clutter. And what did he mean, it was how he’d expected it to be? Was he suggesting she wasn’t cool and sophisticated? Well, in that respect at least he was right. She wasn’t and would never be.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, retreating into her bedroom. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  By the time she returned five minutes later dressed in jeans and a black polo neck with her still damp hair tied in a braid, Pierre seemed to have dozed off. For a moment she stood looking down at him, taking in the thick lashes hiding his sharp blue eyes and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Toto was still curled up in his lap, purring contentedly. Asleep, Pierre looked almost human, she thought. He must be exhausted. She had seen first hand how hard he worked. When he wasn’t on the wards or operating she had heard him tell one of the other doctors that he was writing up some research for a paper in a leading medical journal.

  As she reached forward to shake him awake, his eyes opened. For a second he looked dazed.

  ‘Iona,’ he said, so softly Julie wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. He reached out and trailed long fingers along her arm. Then he seemed to come to. A flicker of terrible sadness crossed his features and he let his arm drop to his side before struggling to his feet. Toto jumped off his lap with a meow of protest.

  ‘Bon,’ Pierre said shortly. ‘You are ready to go?’

  Julie thought she must have imagined the look on his face. His eyes were hooded and his mouth in a straight line. He seemed almost brusque as he picked up her overnight bag and headed for the door. Had she imagined that he had said his sister-in-law’s name? Why would he have had Iona’s name on his lips? And why that awful look of loss? Had there been more to his relationship with his brother’s wife than anyone knew? Julie shivered. No, she was jumping to conclusions. Whatever she thought of him, she had never imagined him the kind of man to have an affair with his brother’s wife. But it would explain why Caroline was so antagonistic towards him. She pushed the unsettling images from her mind. What on earth was she doing? Allowing herself to get caught up in the messy lives of these two wounded people? Hadn’t she promised herself that she would never get too involved again?

  The journey to the Cairngorms passed quickly. Pierre had hired a four-wheel-drive for the journey north, a wise decision as it turned out as the roads were almost obscured by the falling snow. His sports car would never have made it. As it was, the conditions required Pierre’s full concentration and as Caroline was still plugged into her music, Julie was left to her own thoughts as they progressed northwards. Despite her best efforts they kept returning to the comment Trudi had made about the way she looked at Pierre. Whatever happened over the next day and a half, she needed to ensure that Pierre didn’t make the same incorrect assumption.

  ‘The landlady said she’d keep us some supper,’ she said. ‘She knows we might be held up.’

  ‘Good,’ said Pierre. ‘I didn’t have time to eat earlier. And neither did Caroline, I’m sure.’

  ‘It won’t be much. Just sandwiches and a flask of coffee, I suspect.’

  ‘Is there a restaurant near by?’ Pierre asked. ‘Where we could get something more substantial?’

  ‘No, the place where we will be staying is pretty remote,’ Julie apologised. ‘I did warn you it might not be what you’re used to. Besides, I didn’t think we’d need anything more than a snack.’

  ‘Sandwiches will be fine, as long as there’s somewhere we can get a drink,’ came Caroline’s voice from the back seat.

  Julie glanced at Pierre. In the light from the dashboard she could see that he was annoyed.

  ‘Back with us?’ Julie asked, turning around in her seat to address Caroline. Pierre’s niece had removed her earphones.

  ‘I don’t think we should be concerning ourselves with getting a drink,’ he said sourly. ‘As long as there is something to eat, it’ll be just about time for bed.’

  Out of sight, Caroline stuck a tongue out at her uncle’s back. Julie suppressed the desire to giggle. He did sound a little pompous. Still, she wondered at the girl’s blatant desire to needle her uncle. And his reaction to his niece was equally strange. Sometimes it was as if he could hardly bear to be in the young girl’s company. And if Julie sensed that, surely so would Caroline.

  ‘It’s the weekend and I am almost eighteen, Pierre,’ Caroline said. ‘I wish you would stop treating me like a child. Soon I’ll be able to live on my own.’

  ‘But you’re not eighteen yet,’ Pierre said quietly, ‘and until you are, it was your parents’ wish that I look after you. And one
way or another, that’s what I’m going to do.’

  ‘You know Pierre stole my father’s inheritance?’ Caroline burst out bitterly.

  Pierre’s expression was thunderous.

  ‘You know that’s not correct. Anyway, I don’t think Julie is interested in our family business, Caroline.’

  Julie was curious. What was going on between these two? Instinctively she knew Pierre wasn’t the kind of man who would take something that didn’t belong to him. Well, not material things anyway. She wasn’t too sure about women. But he was right. It was none of her business. The awkward moment was broken as they drew up in front of their accommodation. They were barely out of the car before Mrs Fletcher, the landlady, was at the door.

  ‘Come away in.’ She gesticulated. ‘It’s a bitter night.’

  Julie went over to her and kissed her cheek. ‘Doris, it’s lovely to see you again,’ she said.

  ‘And you, pet. But let’s not stand here. Let’s get you inside. I’ve a fire on in the sitting room. You must be hungry after your journey. Leave your bags in the hall. Johnny will take them up for you.’

  Pierre looked bemused as Doris, still chatting ninety to the dozen, took their coats and ushered them into the sitting room. True to her word there was a blazing fire in the grate, and in front of the fire a coffee-table groaning with sandwiches and home baking.

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, Doris,’ Julie protested, even as her stomach grumbled in anticipation.

  ‘I know you doctors don’t get time to eat properly, and you’ll need your strength for skiing tomorrow,’ Doris said, hovering over them.

  ‘It looks delicious,’ Pierre replied, looking at the spread hungrily.

  As they warmed themselves by the fire, Julie made the introductions. Doris eyed Pierre with interest.

  ‘A Frenchman, are you?’ Doris said. ‘I’m afraid I have nothing fancy. I know how you French like your food.’

  Julie and Pierre exchanged glances and Julie had to bite down on her lip to stop herself laughing out loud. She had known Doris for years and was well used to her ways, but suddenly she could see that to a stranger, she might appear curt—rude even.

  ‘I’m sure everything will be delicious,’ Julie said as soon as Doris stopped for breath. ‘On my part anything that doesn’t come from a hospital canteen has a head start.’ As Doris frowned, Julie added hastily, ‘Not that your food bears the remotest resemblance to anything from the hospital dining room.’

  Doris appeared reassured. ‘Well, sit yourself down while I fetch your soup. That little one doesn’t look as if she’s had a proper meal in days,’ she added disapprovingly, taking in Caroline’s slender frame. ‘Indeed, she looks as if she’ll just snap in the wind. The soup’s cock-a-leekie, by the way—a Scottish specialty.’ With a brief challenging look at Pierre, she hurried out of the room. Catching Caroline’s expression of astonishment and chagrin, Julie could no longer hold back her laughter. Soon they were all laughing, trying desperately to smother the sound before it reached Doris’s ears.

  ‘She is quite a character, your Doris,’ Pierre remarked, before wolfing down a sandwich.

  ‘Was she suggesting I was too thin?’ a smiling Caroline added. ‘Just wait till I tell my friends. They are always telling me I should lose weight.’

  ‘I hope you don’t pay them any attention,’ Pierre said, his features becoming sombre once again. ‘You barely eat enough as it is.’

  This time it was Caroline and Julie who exchanged looks. Increasingly Julie was feeling caught in the middle.

  ‘Men don’t understand these things,’ Julie offered. ‘C’mon, let’s get stuck in, and then,’ she added, noting Caroline’s yawn, ‘I’m for bed.’

  After finishing their supper under the watchful eye of Doris, who was somewhat mollified when Pierre insisted on having two helpings of her clootie dumpling, protesting it was the best he had ever had. Julie suspected he had never had any before, so even if it hadn’t been up to Doris’s usual standards, he was still telling the truth.

  Doris had managed to find them a bedroom each as there were no other guests. Caroline and Pierre had politely insisted that Julie take the larger double while they each took one of the singles. As Julie sank into the bed, pulling the feather quilt up to her chin, she wondered why, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt happy. Even as she told herself it was the combination of good food and a soft bed, along with the prospect of a day’s skiing on new snow, she knew she was kidding herself. Being in Pierre and Caroline’s company felt good. It was almost as if they were a family. As soon as she had the thought, she dismissed it. She would do well to remember the reasons for this trip. Any daydreams she might have belonged just there. In her dreams.

  Following an enormous breakfast from Doris, they found themselves at the foot of the mountains before nine the next morning. The snow was still falling gently, but the wind had died down. The sky was blue and the sun shone. It was a perfect day for skiing, Julie thought happily, although, as she eyed darker clouds to the west, she wondered if the weather would hold.

  They had discussed their plans over breakfast and agreed that Julie would give Caroline some private tuition in the morning while Pierre skied higher up. After lunch, if the weather held, the two of them would take Caroline down some of the gentler red runs.

  ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ Caroline had said nervously. ‘If my skiing is as good as the last time I tried, then it’ll be the green runs all day for me.’

  ‘Let’s just wait and see,’ Julie said soothingly. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for.’

  They waved Pierre off and, after getting Caroline fitted with some skis and boots, they headed onto the nursery slopes. At first Caroline kept falling down, but under Julie’s careful tutoring she gained in confidence. Soon she was ready to try the tow bar to the higher runs.

  Julie hid her amusement as Caroline landed in a heap several times before successfully managing to hold on long enough to reach the top. She knew it was unfair for her to laugh. Just because she couldn’t remember a time when she couldn’t ski, just as she couldn’t remember a time when she couldn’t walk, it didn’t mean she wasn’t impressed at the younger woman’s determination and resolve. She was beginning to see that Caroline was more like Pierre than either of them wanted to acknowledge.

  After a few runs, Caroline was even beginning to get to grips with parallel turns. Julie could tell it wouldn’t be long before she could manage the trickier red runs. Not wanting to exhaust her pupil, she thought it would be best if they stopped for a bit.

  As they stood at the top of the gentle slope, preparing to descend, Julie turned to her companion.

  ‘Didn’t your parents ski?’ she asked. ‘Pierre said he’d been skiing since he was very young. That must have been true of your father, too?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Caroline agreed. ‘Papa was a great skier. Not as good as Pierre, but almost. Mum said they were always really competitive. Apparently he and Pierre used to go to the mountains every time they got the opportunity and race each other.’

  ‘Didn’t he teach you, then? He must have taken you in Scotland sometimes?’

  ‘My mother hated skiing,’ Caroline said. ‘She thought Papa was too reckless and wouldn’t let him take me. She said she had once watched Pierre and Papa skiing together and it had scared her out of her wits. Papa told her he’d never take risks with me, but she wouldn’t take the chance. I think he was disappointed I never really learned. I think there were many things about me that disappointed him.’

  ‘Oh, no, Caroline, I’m sure you’re wrong. I suspect your dad was very proud of you. You’re a beautiful, bright girl who shows a lot of courage.’

  ‘How can you say that? You hardly know me! Anyway, it’s easy for you to say. You’ve been successful at everything. I bet your parents were really proud of you.’

  ‘They weren’t always proud,’ Julie said
quietly. She thought for a moment, remembering the weeks after the accident. ‘Look…’ She pointed to a hut a few metres down the slope. ‘There’s a restaurant down there. Let’s stop for a hot chocolate and then we can talk properly.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Caroline agreed enthusiastically. ‘I could do with a rest. My thighs feel as if I’ve run a marathon! Not that I’d know what that feels like.’ She grinned at Julie, before setting off tentatively in the direction of the hut.

  Julie skied in front of her, indicating that the girl follow her path. That way she could ensure that Caroline took the easiest route.

  As they stopped in front of the café, Caroline was smiling. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I really think I’m getting the hang of this. You make it seem so easy. I don’t know why I found it so impossible before.’

  As the two women settled themselves at a table with their steaming mugs of hot chocolate, Julie picked up the conversation where they had left off. She was becoming very fond of Caroline and she wanted her to know that she too had had to struggle with demons.

  ‘After the accident, when I knew that I would never ski competitively again, I reacted badly. I guess I was angry. My dreams had been taken from me, and then my boyfriend left. When I first looked in the mirror—when they finally let me—I cried for days.’ Caroline was looking at her with interest. Julie shifted in her seat, taking another gulp from her mug.

  ‘I thought no one would ever want me again. And with my skiing career over I believed there was nothing left for me. No future.’ She paused and looked over Caroline’s shoulder out onto the hills. She hated remembering those dark days and how she had pushed her family and friends away. She still felt ashamed.

  ‘I suppose you could say I went off the rails a bit. Not in the way most teenagers do. If I hadn’t felt so self-conscious about the way I looked, I probably would have hit the bars and nightclubs. Instead, I stayed in my room, refusing to see anyone. Not even my best friends.’ She laughed bitterly at the memory. ‘They tried to get me to go out with them, but I refused even to see them. Eventually they stopped calling. My parents would beg me to come out of my room, to go out with my friends, if not with them, but I wouldn’t. I’m ashamed to say I took all my anger out on my folks. They really had a rough time.’