Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2

by Laurette Long

  Yes, she bloody well did realise, and she also realised that her precious week with Claudio was slipping past at an alarming speed. All she wanted to do was be with him, feel that surge of adrenalin each time she slipped out for a tryst, each time she stood outside the door of his suite, trying to get her feelings under control, trying to compose her features into a look of icy indifference, the look that turned him on, that awakened the hunter, that signalled the struggle was ready to begin. She would tilt her head, raise her eyes in challenge, see the glint of his teeth as he began his slow, sexy smile, brace herself as he raised his hands, ready to slide them silkily around her throat, gently, then tighter, fastening her in a grip of iron as he bent to take her mouth.

  She was turning into a vampire, beginning to live only for the nights, when he had finished his endless business meetings and the pair of them could finally see each other, the moment when her life really began.

  And one of these nights she would be the one who stood tall as he knelt before her, she would be the one who imposed the rules. Claudio would only remain interested if he found a partner as strong as he was. She could sense a turning of the tide already.

  Today, for example, he’d allowed her an extra treat. He was meeting her for lunch, it would only be for a brief hour, but already the thought of what would pass in that hour, the looks, the touches, the whispered words, she could feel herself growing faint with desire. She blinked. She needed to be ready. She needed to be strong, dominant, indomitable.

  ‘I’ll let you know tomorrow.’

  She terminated the discussion abruptly, swivelling on her Manolo Blahniks and leaving the Great Chef and his elves open-mouthed.

  In the taxi taking her to the restaurant she made a decision. The envelope that Susie had given her was tucked into a pocket of her handbag. She slid out a pill, looked at it, then dry-swallowed it quickly before she could change her mind. She had to be on top of her form, today and in the precious time remaining.

  As she stepped inside the restaurant the maître d’, noticing her arrival, glided over immediately and led her to a table in a discreet alcove at the back of the restaurant.

  It was set for one.

  He bent close to murmur in her ear.

  Due to unforeseen circumstances, Monsieur Claudio had been detained. He deeply regretted he would not be able to join her for lunch. But he wanted Madame to go ahead as planned, and had chosen the dishes himself, which he hoped she would enjoy.

  He pulled out a chair for Annabel, beckoned to a waiter, who placed a glass of Cristal in front of her, and wished her bon appétit.

  She almost burst into tears.

  She reached for the glass, her face a mask. As she raised it to her lips, she heard the ping of a text arriving on her phone.

  ‘Scusa amore mio, stuck in a meeting all afternoon. I will make it up to you tonight. Wear the red.’

  Annabel sat up straight in the chair and drained her glass.

  He’d ordered the red. He’d get the black.

  21 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  ‘You know what we need, Jillian Benedicta?’

  ‘More sex?’

  Caroline threw a withering look at her friend, slumped over a cup of coffee on the terrace, eyes hidden behind giant sunglasses. Antoine had dropped her off just before nine, on his way to work.

  ‘You’re no fun, do you know that? I wish I’d never come up with that stupid matchmaking idea. I was looking forward to a nice girly holiday with lots of shopping.’

  Caroline leaned close and spoke loudly next to Jill’s ear.

  ‘Lots of shopping!’

  ‘Ow!’

  Jill raised her sunglasses and tried to summon a glare.

  Caroline leaned back in disgust.

  ‘What time did you get to sleep last night?’

  ‘Sleep?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘That’s why I came back here, to sleep.’

  ‘Right. Well if you’re not up to it, I shall just have to go with Nadia. I spotted a divine polka dot bikini in a little boutique near the market the other day. Very Hollywood. And they had an adorable filmy caftany thing to slip over the top. All shimmery green and gold. And just down the road–’

  ‘Fifteen minutes Torquemada.’

  Jill grabbed another cup of coffee and tottered off.

  Caroline smiled smugly and went inside to inform Julian and Edward they were on baby-sitting duty this morning.

  ***

  It was eleven o’clock and Nadia was still empty-handed.

  Jill and Caroline had had trouble persuading her to come shopping in the first place and practically had to restrain her by force when Caroline presented her with an envelope.

  ‘This is from Julian. He wants you to buy yourself a present. No–’ she cut off Nadia’s protests. ‘He’s really grateful for everything you’ve done, everything you’re doing. He’s absolutely thrilled with the swimming lessons for Joshua which are all down to you. He was going to buy you something himself, but I talked him out of it. Disaster avoided.’

  Nadia looked at her doubtfully.

  ‘Nadia, you’ve seen his taste in clothes. Come on! He’d probably have bought you a twinset.’

  ‘Twinset?’

  ‘Yes, you know a jumper and cardigan, Home Counties, the Queen, Duchess of Windsor.’

  Seeing Nadia’s look of incomprehension she patted her on the shoulder.

  ‘Forget it. What I’m trying to say is he grew up in a family where the women had a certain dress code. He’d have bought you something absolutely dire, and you’d have been forced to wear it because you’re too polite to say no. Now, Jill and I are your fashion gurus for the day. Take the envelope and follow your leaders.’

  They had a great time exploring the trendy boutiques in the town centre. Jill and Caroline were soon clutching an assortment of bags but Nadia glanced, hovered, touched, hesitated. They ended up in the women’s fashion department of Galeries Lafayette and there they spotted it immediately, on a mannequin. The perfect Nadia outfit.

  A button-through denim skirt and sailor top. Not too dressy, very French, very chic, totally alluring. Very Marion Cotillard at the seaside.

  As Nadia came out of the dressing room, Jill and Caroline gave a collective ‘ah!’

  The sailor top was demure, yet fitted enough to follow the curves of Nadia’s breasts. The short skirt showed off her pretty legs, toned from years of swimming and now turning an attractive shade of peachy gold.

  ‘You look lovely! What do you think?’

  In the mirror, a big smile spread across Nadia’s face.

  Next was the shoe department.

  ‘She’s got the bug,’ said Caroline, watching her make a bee line for a pair of sandals on display near the beachwear. They were hot pink, decorated with a delicate row of beading. Nadia had a faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘Smack bang in love,’ said Jill, seeing her expression. ‘Oh Nadia, what I’d give for a pair of pins like yours.’

  ‘Pins?’ asked Nadia.

  ‘Legs, girl, lovely long shapely legs. Those sandals are going to add the perfect finishing touch. Try them on. The boys aren’t going to be able to take their eyes off what you’ve got between those hot pink feet and the hem of that cute little skirt.’

  Nadia’s face lit up in another beaming smile.

  ‘Right then,’ said Caroline, as the assistant handed over another bag. ‘Where’s the lingerie department? How much is left in that envelope?’

  22 LONDON, ENGLAND. JUNE

  Annabel had slept in all morning, then had lunch. Two Bloody Marys and a handful of paracetamol. Her stomach was all over the place and her head was pounding. She didn’t know how Claudio was managing, hardly getting any sleep at night, then stuck in meetings all day. He was probably on something. She was beginning to see the logic.

  She checked in her bag for Susie’s little envelope. One pill left. Better save it for later, damn, if only she’d known she could have got Susie to give her more. It would have to be a
nother vodka pick-me-up. She glanced at her watch. God, was that the time? She needed to get over to North London for the dress fitting, maybe it would be faster to use the Tube. She grabbed her jacket and rushed out of the flat.

  When she arrived, late, for her appointment with Creara Wade, she was still more than a little tipsy. Or hung-over. And hot and bothered and rumpled after her close encounter with London public transport.

  The meeting did not go well.

  This was the woman used by all the beau monde. Annabel had practically had to beg on bended knees last summer when she had approached with her request. They had gone over the whole event, the theme–exotic, sea, nature–the way the outdoor ‘chapel’ would be decorated, the magnificent gardens and hacienda where the reception would be held. Creara had been making preliminary sketches as Annabel spoke.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Annabel had clapped her hands in excitement as she looked at the sketch and Creara explained.

  A stunning silk dress. A strapless, draped bodice, tight to the waist, decorated with a flower and seashell motif in encrusted crystals which started at the top of bodice on the left, then ran down to circle the waist. The skirt fell close to the hips then widened into something more fluid, slightly transparent, dropping to a divine scalloped hem which echoed the shell theme. It was all quite modest, not much flesh on display, but there were clever erotic hints created by the cut of the material, the slight transparency, which would be highlighted as Annabel moved. Virginal, but sexy, promising virgin. It had been just what Annabel wanted.

  Creara had agreed with her idea of a pre-Raphaelite hair style. If Annabel let her hair grow long, had it coloured a pale reddish gold, styled in a loose plait falling over one shoulder, with tendrils framing the face, all she would need instead of a veil and head-dress was a simple circlet of roses.

  The early fittings for the dress had been over-generous as Annabel had been pregnant with Joshua at the time, so the appointment today was to check for necessary adjustments. She’d promised Creara to get over earlier in the year, April, May, but with one thing and another she’d kept putting it off.

  Now, looking at her reflection in the mirror, Annabel was less than thrilled.

  Instead of the breath-takingly innocent beauty she’d pictured in her mind, Venus in her pearly shell but with a dress on, she saw an older, still beautiful but definitely more mature woman, who after all had gone through the rigours of childbirth. Was this the Annabel of today? Scrutinising herself she realised that what she would feel more at home in was something more modern, more daring, more...Italian.

  Creara was standing back, head on one side.

  ‘It’s very nice Creara.’

  Creara’s head snapped back and her eyes narrowed.

  ‘What’s the problem Annabel?’

  ‘Oh...’ Annabel gave a little laugh, which she intended to be self-deprecating and came out as a whinny.

  ‘I was just thinking Creara, so much in my life has changed since we first thought about things. I mean, I am a mother now, practically an old married matron, I’m just worried this looks a bit...’

  ‘Virginal?’

  Creara’s voice was like a whip crack.

  The two women stared at each other. Creara was the first to break the silence.

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, you’re the bride. But I have to tell you Annabel, that according to the terms of our contract, there is no way I can wave a magic wand and transform this dress into something for a dowager duchess. If you remember, I did ask you to come and see me earlier. And if you’ve changed your mind, and this is not the dress you want, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for it all the same. And another thing I can tell you is that you haven’t a hope in hell of getting another top designer to do something for you in time for the wedding. So if you want another dress, you’d better walk out of this door, hit the shops and hope you can find something more suitable for your current non-virginal state.’

  Annabel had gasped, but managed to keep her temper in check. She still wasn’t sure of her plans, what she wanted. And of course there was the bloody bridesmaid dress. Caroline had been for her final fitting in May. It was now finished, hanging there in the atelier like a reproach, a vaporous creation in off-white.

  She’d left the premises hands clenching and unclenching. That cow Creara, how dare she talk to her like that? She was only a dressmaker, when all was said and done. Some East End upstart who knew how to use a needle and work a sewing machine. Imagine throwing an artistic tantrum as though she was Coco Chanel come back from the grave to stamp her foot. The way she had spoken to Annabel, it was like the Queen reprimanding a servant who’d put out the wrong hat to wear to the royal wedding.

  It really was too much. Here she was, having to organise everything on her own while Julian was lying in the sun in Biarritz. She was in two minds whether to cancel the whole thing right there and then, the dress, the cake, the reception, the invitations, the wedding, everything. That would show him.

  She spotted a taxi, flagged it down.

  ‘Where to love?’

  She gave the driver a malevolent look. She hated these familiar cabbies with their ‘loves’ and ‘darlings’. With their stupid jangling prayer beads and Madonnas and St Christopher charms wound round the rear view mirror, it was a wonder they could see who was behind them. And the car stank of cheap air-freshener, she could feel her stomach lurch uneasily.

  ‘When you’re ready darling...’

  Now the moron was trying to be ironic.

  She gave him her most icy stare.

  ‘The Ritz.’

  The last couple of days had been one long nightmare. She needed a drink. She needed civilised surroundings. She needed some ‘me’ time, some time to think, to weigh her options. She slipped the last pill out of the envelope, swallowed it.

  23 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  ‘He’s going to be the best-dressed diner in the place, aren’t you handsome? Joshua Bond, I presume?’

  Jill leaned down and nuzzled Joshua, suitably attired for his night out in the outfit that Caroline had bought him. With his little painted bowtie and dark jacket, he looked irresistibly cute and irresistibly funny. All the adults hanging admiringly over his Sweet Pea were unanimous.

  ‘Babies these days,’ said Edward. ‘The world is their oyster. I’m sure my mother never bought me a dinner jacket when I was six months old, how about you Jules?’

  ‘Mine used to dress me up in a sort of frock as far as I can tell from the photographs,’ said Julian. ‘I had a lot of curls, looked like Shirley Temple. She was very keen on Shirley Temple, my mother. Very impressed by all the Hollywood stars from that era, the age of glamour she used to call it. Think she would have preferred a girl first. It all got itself sorted out when Sukey was born, thank God. Then I got packed off to school, out of the way. ’

  ‘You’ve been keeping that under wraps, Shirl,’ said Edward, earning a laugh.

  He and Caroline exchanged a look. It was nice to see Julian so relaxed.

  They’d had a lazy couple of days lounging round the villa, eating, drinking, going out for walks. Plus the daily swimming lessons for Joshua. Jill joined in with them during the day, and disappeared each night in a swish of skirts and a cloud of Chanel No 5.

  Tonight was a special occasion. Dinner at the Arantxa family restaurant. Antoine’s parents had known Edward since he was a boy. He, Antony and the Parisian cousins got fussed over like members of the family. Everyone was looking forward to it, even Jill, in spite of misgivings at the thought of meeting the entire Arantxa clan for the first time.

  ‘It’s going to be loud,’ said Edward. ‘Do you think Baby J is going to be OK?’

  ‘Oh he sleeps like a log when it’s noisy,’ said Julian. ‘It’s when it’s quiet he wakens up. I say, you look nice, Nadia.’

  Julian had turned and stood up as Nadia came out on to the terrace.

  Edward turned as well.

  Jill and Caroline exchang
ed a high-five. Everything was set for a perfect evening.

  24 LONDON, ENGLAND. JUNE

  Annabel was ensconced in a comfortable chair at the Ritz. It was such a relief to be in elegant surroundings after all her frustrations with Creara. The taxi drive had taken ages, if she’d not felt so tired she’d have told the stupid driver to let her out, and walked the rest of the way.

  But now, feeling the effects of a couple of her favourite cocktails on top of Susie’s magic pill, she felt her shoulders relax. The bar was filling up with the evening crowd, the atmosphere was becoming animated. Glamorous women perched on bar stools, Annabel had spotted a divine handbag she’d earmarked for her ‘must-have’ list, a Marc Jacobs. A sense of anticipation was building as couples met and embraced, looks were exchanged, the ballet of seduction starting its opening moves, the promise of the evening lying ahead.

  This would be her fifth night with Claudio. Decision time was looming. It was a bit like roulette, really. She had two options. Stay with Julian, that was the safe bet. She repeated her mantra: money, situation, prestige. Julian had money, a high flying job, the Courtenay name could open doors, the family were in Debretts. They were bores, but aristocratic bores, with a huge estate in Bucks. And she had produced the first heir, male, to boot.

  Germany...well she hadn’t really been looking forward to the move, but she had to admit it was almost as exciting as being in London. A different set, older for the most part, but into different things. More exciting things. Dangerous things. She gave a little shiver.