Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Edith again?” He didn’t feel like smiling anymore. “Would it help if I tell you she’s history and will not be allowed to sleep in my chateau again?”

  “Help what?” Cheryl shrugged as she averted her eyes. “I’m really not interested in your complicated love life. I have a statue to find.”

  How could he appease her and restore a friendly status quo? “You’re talking about my statue, Cheryl. I want to find it as much as you do but how do we know it’s not broken under the rubble of the chapel?” She was too incensed to listen to him. “Tomorrow we’ll start digging at the chapel site.”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “We’ll see if we find some debris indicating its existence.”

  He stretched a hand to touch her arm in a soothing gesture. “Meanwhile, we—”

  She backed up as if bitten by a snake. “Meanwhile, you stay away from me, Monsieur le Comte.” She rushed toward the hallway without another look back.

  She was upset all right…because he’d done his best to protect her. His mouth twitched at the irony. To think he’d never worried about any of his dates and yet they’d never refused him a kiss or a night of bliss. And now this inexperienced young woman was giving him a hell of a time at every turn.

  Why was he so attracted to her?

  Chapter 7

  “Good morning.” Cheryl stepped into the breakfast area.

  François stood to greet her and the five grad students followed suit.

  “Coffee?” He poured a cup of steamy coffee and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She took the cup, surprised at his cheerful mood after their last night’s disagreement.

  Wearing a white collared tennis shirt, François oozed a healthy male charm that twisted her heart into knots. She’d bet he didn’t have trouble sleeping last night while she spent a good hour punching her pillow and tossing around at the thought she ordered him to stay away from her.

  “Can I help you?” He waved to the buffet covered with plates of pastries, cheeses, fruits, eggs and sausage.

  “Thank you. I’ll help myself.” She lowered her eyes away from the intense greenish-brown gaze, unwillingly scanning the rest of him. A pair of blue jeans snuggled his powerful thighs. Was he planning to dig the chapel ground with the students?

  She filled her plate with scrambled egg and fruit and settled next to Adriaan. Determined to get better acquainted with the other students, she asked them how they spent their free time.

  “We looked for you last evening, before we left for sightseeing,” Adriaan said. “It’s not fun to be on your own in a foreign country.”

  She nodded and smiled although she hadn’t exactly been on her own last night. François’ lips curled in an ironic twitch. She averted her gaze, still resenting him about last night’s fiasco. If he’d told her he planned to pursue the man in the fields they could have devised a plausible plan and caught the marauder.

  “We visited a couple of castles. Splendid art and architecture. We missed you.” Roberto shot her a beguiling smile that earned him a stern glance from François.

  “It sounds wonderful.” Cheryl wished she’d gone with the students to discover some of the Loire Valley’s marvelous chateaux.

  “Later we dined in Tours. But don’t worry, tonight we’ll make sure we take you with us.” Adriaan reported the fun evening he’d shared with Juan-Pablo and Roberto in the neighboring city.

  Cheryl laughed at the accounts of their adventures but didn’t comment on her own night. She savored her breakfast and ignored the unnerving looks the count darted her way. Karl seemed to assess his companions while Lee concentrated on his breakfast. Was one of these two the man stalking in the fields last night?

  Chatting with her colleagues would help her know them and find out if they had their own agenda for being at the chateau.

  “If you’re done eating, we can go to the chapel grounds?” François’ curt question interrupted Juan-Pablo’s description of their last night’s entertainments.

  “Of course.” Turning her back on Francois, she proceeded toward the hallway and the front door flanked by her new friends.

  François watched her strolling between Juan-Pablo and Adriaan. Her head tilted up and her laughter chimed in the corridor, echoed by her companions’ chuckles. François repressed an exasperated sigh.

  As soon as she’d stepped in the breakfast room he’d noticed she avoided looking at him. Not to mention her flirtatious attitude toward the students. Cheryl was upset with him. He shook his head with disgust. He’d done his best to protect her from danger. And even from himself.

  He could play her little game and let her stew. Except he didn’t trust her companions to behave like true gentlemen if goaded beyond endurance. Merde, they’d better behave. Cheryl was his responsibility and he’d make sure everyone under his roof was in line with his rules of proper conduct.

  “Let’s go. Bernard and Albert, the chauffeur, are waiting for us with plows and carts. Are you ready for real work? Cheryl, do you have your notepad?”

  Without answering, she lifted her folder. The others nodded and voiced their agreement.

  “Let’s go.”

  “We’re ready.”

  “It’s a good day to work outdoors. Not a single cloud in the sky.” Karl shoved a hat on his balding head.

  They strolled across the terrace and the landscape. With Adriaan, on her left and Juan-Pablo and Roberto on her right, Cheryl resumed a light conversation peppered with chuckles and exclamations.

  Following with the German student, François focused his gaze on her gently swaying hips, then forced himself to ask Karl, “You seemed more interested in the chapel than these guys.” He tilted his chin toward the young group.

  “I am. Yesterday, I went back by myself to examine the ruins. Admit it, François, the statue exits somewhere. We need to find it.”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up.” François chuckled and slapped Karl’s back. “If it was there, don’t you think someone would have found it by now?”

  Karl raised a dubious eyebrow. “Maybe they haven’t looked in the right place.”

  “Maybe. Now I don’t want useless tales and publicity.”

  “Rest assured none of us will spread a word about it.” Karl added with a scoff, “Except maybe the girl. You’ll have to keep an eye on her and prevent her from blabbering too much.”

  “Cheryl? Why?” His attention waning away from the pretty derrière, François glanced at the German student. What was he up to? He hadn’t denied, nor explained his particular interest in the ruins and the statue.

  “She’s too curious and she talks too much. With anyone and everyone.”

  Too curious. So Karl had seen Cheryl at the ruins the day before when François had pulled her back into the tunnel.

  At the site of the chapel, Bernard and Albert handed the men plows. Deciding to separate Cheryl from her new friends, François ordered, “Juan-Pablo, start at this west corner, on the right. Adriaan, take the east area, on the left. Lee and Albert will handle the other two corners. Karl and Bernard cover the back side. Cheryl, stay at the entrance with me. You—”

  “According to my plan, it would be more efficient if all the diggers start at the entrance and proceed together toward the end—”

  “Miss Stewart, I’m the one giving orders here.”

  “Count François, I came here to substitute for the professor. I’m supposed to organize the work on his behalf.”

  Her arms crossed, the little spitfire stood her ground. He didn’t need a public confrontation. Hardly suppressed smiles told him the men had trouble containing their hilarity. Controlling his impatience, he forced a calm he didn’t feel at the moment.

  “Can you explain why you don’t like my plan?”His soft tone should prompt Cheryl to curb her temper.

  “Your plan may be good but mine is based on proven techniques. We are not using a crane because we don’t want to crush a precious stone or miss a spot. I sugge
st the diggers line up at the entrance at equal distance from each other and start moving forward. They’ll remove and sort every rock and pebble in their paths.” Cheryl stepped inside the chapel’s ground and demonstrated how she wanted the cleaning to proceed. “With the men aligned, it is less likely they’ll miss a spot than if your guys are scattered at the four corners of the chapel’s ground.”

  Fascinated, François listened quietly. He rubbed his chin, imagining the procedure she described. She had a point. Mulling over her suggestions, he mumbled a non-compromising, “Huh.” He’d have to retract his orders without losing face.

  Cheryl raised her hand. She wasn’t done detailing her plan. “Then you and Bernard can follow behind the men and inspect the cleaned areas. A sort of quality control. This system will provide thorough and efficient results.”

  François stared at her with a newfound respect. Professor Howard was right. She did know her job. And she had enough confidence in her own capabilities to impose her decisions. His fingers froze against his jaw. “Huh.”

  “Well, do you agree?”

  Being a good sport, he smiled. “You made your plan crystal clear. We’ll follow it. You’re in charge…for the moment.”

  The violet blue eyes glittered with triumphant joy. To see them widen and sparkle as she gazed at him was worth the embarrassment. Hopefully, she’d be grateful enough to stop flirting with Adriaan.

  Not that François was jealous. He just worried she’d land in more trouble than she could handle.

  Cheryl spun toward the students. “Well, my friends, let’s start. Adriaan, take the left end of the work line and Juan-Pablo the right. Karl and Albert you will work in the center.” Both men mumbled something about the world going wrong but didn’t protest her orders.

  Was Cheryl thinking it would be easier to supervise the German if they surrounded him? He and Bernard would be right behind. Good thinking. A keen brain inside her pretty package.

  For the time, he’d hope she could be more amiable. God only knew he’d never exercised so much restraint in his life. Why did he have to act the conscientious, generous lord? He’d given her blazing kisses and had perceived the passion she buried under a cool façade. He could have treated her the way he treated a hundred women before her. They left his bed, happy and eager to come back. But he suspected Cheryl would not be content with kisses and passion. She might want more. He was afraid to even think about it.

  Bernard rolled several carts near the entrance of the chapel. While the students waggled their plows between the stones, Cheryl asked them to sort the rocks according to their size and deposit them into the appropriate cart.

  François noticed her quiet concentration as she examined each stone, marked it with a small number and categorized it in her notepad. The male students became as intense in their search as their pretty leader.

  Three hours later, they were still proceeding through the rubble, beads of perspiration glistening on their temples. Adriaan rolled up his sleeves as high as his shoulders. Juan-Pablo took off his shirt. Roberto chugged on a bottle of water. François debated whether to call off the work for the day or give them a break. He threw a look at Cheryl. She seemed tireless. Her pencil in hand, she continued to draw and make notes. If he let her have her way, she could easily become a slave driver.

  Karl straightened his back and stretched his arms. Pushing his hat away from his forehead, he reached for a bottle, poured water in his hands and dabbed at his crimson face. “Hey, François. It’s getting quite hot.” He flipped his sticky shirt away from his chest.

  “Of course, time out, my friends.”

  They came back to work at the ruins every day for four to five hours. At the end of the first week they had cleared quite a good part of the chapel ground.

  The men threw down their plows and gathered around the van stationed under the oak tree. Wiping their shiny foreheads, they muttered about the heat and dust. Albert distributed bottles of water and pop. Ignoring them, Cheryl crouched next to a large stone that resembled a marble stool.

  “Cheryl, come have a drink,” Adriaan shouted.

  François gritted his teeth. Adriaan’s concern for Cheryl seriously annoyed him. Abandoning the men to their drinks and complaints, he strolled toward Cheryl. She still squatted down close to the ground.

  He stooped toward her. “Don’t you want to take a break?”

  Her shoulders jerked up. “Not now.” She didn’t raise her head.

  “Cheryl, the guys are tired.”

  “Well, tell them to rest.”

  She didn’t even seem to notice the work interruption. What interested her so? He crouched beside her, craning his neck to peek around her head. She furiously dug next to the big stone, scouring the piece of marble she partly unearthed.

  “What are you up to? Have you found something?”

  “Shh, for someone afraid of publicity, you’re not very discreet.”

  François’ hand fastened to her shoulder, forcing her to turn around. In a barely audible whisper, he mumbled in her ear, “For heaven’s sake, are you going to tell me what you found?”

  Cheryl shrugged and eased her shoulder out of his grasp.

  “Look at the stone I’m scraping. Does it remind you of something?” As she kept stroking the dirt away, a specific shape appeared.

  Peering at the ground, François suddenly exclaimed, “Mon Dieu, it’s a hand. I can see the fingers. How did you find it? You weren’t even digging with the others.”

  “They haven’t reached this far. While they worked at the entrance, I walked around one of the carts.” Cheryl pointed toward a cart already filled with debris. “From here, I noticed an odd-shaped stone of a different color. I didn’t say anything. I wanted to study it before raising anyone’s hopes. It was a thumb.”

  “A whole hand actually.” Adriaan’s delighted voice boomed above them.

  Surprised, François sprang to his feet but Cheryl fell backward, immediately rescued by Adriaan’s eager arms. He helped her to her feet. “Why don’t you take a rest? I’ll continue the digging.”

  Adriaan didn’t wait for approval. He brought his plow and delicately yet thoroughly cleared the ground around the discovery. The rest of their team soon joined him. Karl and Lee knelt beside Adriaan, digging in a frenzy, removing the dirt with their bare hands. Soon, they uncovered a whole arm.

  A glance at François convinced Cheryl of his anxious impatience. He tapped on Karl’s back. “Careful, mes amis. Don’t pull on it, my friends. We don’t want to break it.”

  Cheryl studied the arm’s thickness, the hand’s width and the fingers’ size. Too thick, too large, too long. The arm belonged to a full height sculpture. According to her references, the missing statue didn’t exceed three feet. Her excitement faded. She walked away toward the van and grabbed a bottle of water.

  A heavy silence hovered over the group. The students and Albert kneeled to scrape the ground. Bernard and the count bent to supervise their efforts. No one complained about the heat or the effort anymore.

  Talk about an incentive. Cheryl shrugged. Let them believe they’d already found the precious statue. Sitting on the ground scattered with leaves and small branches, under the protective shade of an immense oak tree, Cheryl watched the men’s exhaustive effort with amused indifference.

  “Oh merde,” Albert mumbled between his teeth. The favorite expletive of French people.

  “You broke it, you fool,” Adriaan shouted as Karl raised the half arm.

  “Fool yourself, can’t you see it’s been broken for years.” Karl glared at Adriaan and handed the sculpture to Bernard.

  “Calm down, you’ve just started to work on the project,” François lashed at the men, his disappointment evident.

  “I’m sorry. I lost my temper.” Adriaan stood and wriggled his shoulders. “Evidently, it must have lain broken for years. Do we still need to continue?”

  “Even if it’s broken, we need to unearth the rest of the pieces,” Karl insisted. />
  But they seemed to have lost their enthusiasm. Wiping his hands against his dusty jeans, Adriaan joined Cheryl next to the van. He eyed her with a glint of suspicion. “You don’t seem disappointed? Hey, beautiful, d’you know something we don’t?”

  She chuckled. “Have you ever entered a Catholic church?”

  “Long time ago. Why? Explain yourself. In return, I promise to serenade you with my guitar.”

  Cheryl burst out laughing. He was so funny with his reddish frizz and his eager gaze. “Usually, there is more than one statue in these churches.”

  “So… Oh I see… You mean we found the wrong one. Our statue may still be there. Intact under the rubble. Smart thinking, Cheryl. How did you get to your conclusion?”

  Pleased with the admiration she read in his eyes, Cheryl explained, “Our statue is only three feet tall. This hand is way too big.”

  Adriaan frowned. He turned around to look at the broken piece of sculpture that Bernard had carefully deposited on a sheet spread on the ground.

  “You’re right. Absolutely right. Beautiful, you earned your serenade and more.” He laughed and stretched his arm behind her back.

  “We still have an hour of work before we break for lunch,” the count called, chilling their laughter with his icy tone. “If you’re rested, Adriaan, do you mind going back to the cleaning?”

  Adriaan threw him a blank look and jumped to his feet. He turned toward Cheryl and raised his hands, palms open. “We’ll talk later,” he said and sauntered to the working line.

  Cheryl abstained from comments. Reaching for her notepad, she assumed an indifferent pose while throwing a curious glance toward François. A few lines creased his forehead as his gaze followed Adriaan’s departing back. Scribbling on her sheet, she mused about his foul mood. Was he disappointed about their discovery? But why direct his anger at Adriaan? Could it be…

  A smile curled her lips. It was poetic justice that he’d be upset because Adriaan paid attention to her.

  Standing in front of the van, his brows gathered in a deep scowl, François stared at her, seeming at a loss for what to say or do. His hand raked his hair back and forth, smoothing it, then mussing it in a nervous gesture. His cool indifference of the last few days had certainly deserted him.