by Klaire, Jody
Rebecca tutted. “She bought me them for Christmas, our first Christmas together.”
That was sweet and soppy, bless her luminous hair. “But it’s important you keep her interested, keep her infatuated. You know, wine and dine the woman.”
Rebecca’s cocky grin made her eyes twinkle. “I am, at Pont D’Arc later.”
Ah, Pont D’Arc. Excitement wriggled through me with memories of Berne and I on the river: the candlelight, the way she looked at me, the lapping water.
“I need to go even if she’ll be late... like always.” Rebecca muttered.
Who’d she think she was fooling? Babs could do as she liked and we both knew it. I flashed a plea Berne’s way, hoping that she could help out the numbskull.
“Babs is a beautiful woman, non?” Berne smiled as Rebecca nodded, a dreamy smile on her face. “And such a woman deserves to be treasured, non?”
“Yes and I do.” Rebecca furrowed her brow. Her eyes glinted with a hint of challenge. She and Berne liked each other but they were still navigating how they could occupy the same space. Both were, how could I put it? Alpha females. Sometimes it was like watching two lionesses communicating.
Berne shrugged off the look with effortless French charm. “Babs is traditional, non?” She took a sip of water.
Rebecca looked at me then back to Berne. “I don’t get it.”
Berne raised a bored eyebrow as if Rebecca was being stupid. I was ready to put on my dunce’s hat too because I didn’t have a clue.
“Her family have always been...” Berne made the delightful humming sound she did when thinking. “Affluent, oui?”
“Right?” Rebecca tilted her head as if to say, “and, what’s the issue?”
Berne sipped on her water again. Maybe it was a way not to rise to Rebecca’s snappy tone? Ever the redhead.
“Perhaps she brings her parents? Would you meet them dressed... in such a way?” Berne’s tone showed no hint of irritation.
Rebecca’s already pale complexion drained of colour. She didn’t have the greatest track record with parents, most likely because she had been a floozy of massive proportions.
“They’ll be at lunch?” She looked at me.
Berne tutted. “Non, they are in Monaco.”
Monaco? I knew my heart thudded extra hard, so I didn’t know how Rebecca’s coped.
She stared at Berne, eyes wide. “As in Monaco, you have to be a millionaire to live there, Monaco?”
“Oui.” Berne wandered over to me, dipped her head, delivered another stupor-inducing kiss, and strolled back out.
“Shit.” Rebecca stared at the door.
I recovered enough to nod. “I concur.”
I’d known Babs was rich but not Monaco rich. Her family would be expecting... not tattoos that was for certain.
“What do I do now?” Rebecca pulled her mobile out of her pocket. “I can’t... I should just cancel.”
“Berne didn’t mean it as if they wouldn’t like you. She’s just explaining why you dress up at lunch.” At least I hoped. Monaco? Oh brother.
“I hate dancing and pretence, Pip. I want to be myself.” She sighed.
I put my hand over her phone to stop her doing the daft thing and cancelling. “You can be yourself. You just need to do it while following protocol.” I hoped my smile was uplifting. “We’ll figure something out.”
She tucked her hands in her pockets. “Yeah. Maybe dinner will earn me some brownie points?” Her rakish grin said enough.
“You sound like Doug.”
She shrugged and cocked her head as she looked out of the window. “At least Berne has a sexier—”
I placed my hand over her mouth again. “Lunch. Go woo the dynamo.”
She chuckled and grabbed for her keys. I was glad I’d snapped her out of her insecurities... At least I hoped.
“I’ll show her the kind of dress code she’d have a hard time forgetting,” she said, pausing to check her hair in the mirror.
I tried to banish the mental image of that. “At least she won’t need a torch with you around.” I motioned to her hair.
Rebecca waved it off and left me standing in the kitchen. I felt for her. I had been in her position with Doug. It hadn’t been easy fitting in.
Who was I to give advice? Eight years, and a fairy-tale romance... until he’d gotten an office girl pregnant and I’d left him for another woman.
I wandered back over to the window. Berne was busy replanting our attempt at a flower bed. Neither Rebecca or I were remotely green fingered. Berne looked up and I sighed, slumping down onto the window seat. At least now I could drool undisturbed.
Chapter 2
Berne rubbed her aching back. Her local café in Marseille was packed with the lunchtime clientele. The chairs were metal, hard, and she was either getting older or she’d jarred her back. She wasn’t sure which was the better option. She just hoped she could keep it from Babs.
Pippa wanted her to tell Babs about her accident. But why tell Babs that she’d been unconscious? Why mention the injuries? There was no point in worrying Babs, her hair covered the visible scar and Babs was reliant on her for stonework.
“Bebe, what lies do you whisper to my little English lemon drop?” Babs’s jolly tone carried over the bustle of clinking plates and chatter.
“I do not know what you mean.” She winced as Babs yanked her to her feet, gripped her in a hug, thrust her away and planted a kiss on each cheek.
As always, Babs looked fit to grace any magazine cover. Unbeknownst to Rebecca, she had. Many of those in the café turned to admire her vivacious figure. She’d grown more beautiful each year. “I think that you do. Rebecca was far too quiet last night.”
Berne raised an eyebrow.
Babs bellowed out her laugh, grabbed her arm and hauled her back down onto her seat.
Pain shot up her spine. She bit back her whimper. Maybe she should have hired someone to help her move? She and her brother Erique had been busy, but after gardening... She sighed. She sounded like her mother. She felt like a pensioner. Not good.
“You worry too much. She offered me dinner, romance...” Babs waggled her eyebrows. “But I did not give her my account details.”
Berne smiled through the pain. For many years that same conversation had been in a serious manner but Rebecca was different. She didn’t know how or why but Rebecca was and, she really wanted Babs to be happy.
Babs motioned to the waiter who hurried over. His eyes trailed over her and his smile was a charming one. She may have felt older, perhaps, but they could both still hold attention when they wished.
“Espresso,” Babs purred at him. “I like it strong.”
He nodded, scurrying off.
“You have been together a while.” Berne tried to keep her tone light, choosing to watch the sea beyond the roaring mass of cars and mopeds.
“You have not scared her, Bebe?” Babs drummed her nails on the table.
Berne kept her eyes on the sea. So she’d stepped in before to warn off an inappropriate lover or five, that was her job. What were best friends for?
“Non. I tell her only what is expected.” She glanced at Babs and waved off the stern look. It was clear they wanted a serious relationship and that meant Babs’s parents would want to know. Monsieur and Madame Henri were not easy to impress.
“I like her the way she is.” Babs waved to one of the locals, flashing a flirty smile. That same smile faded as she studied her nails. “I wish them to like her.”
“They will if they get past the...” Berne hummed, trying to think of the least offensive term. “...façade, oui?” She shifted in her seat. She needed a massage. Maybe Babs’s masseuse was free for a session? “Pepe tries to guide her, mais, I do not think she understands.”
“Maybe they will like her without the need for this?” Babs crossed her legs, picking at her skirt. “I do not wish to drive her away.”
“You have no need to worry. You turn the elusive in to the domesticated,
non?” She reached out and squeezed Babs’s hand. “It is only right that she try for you.”
Babs adored her family. They were even more protective than Berne. Every other prospective match had been subjected to polite dismissal which Babs had always observed.
“I told her you wish things to be traditional,” she said. If Rebecca wanted to have a long term relationship, or more, with Babs, she would have to adjust.
Babs took her coffee from the waiter with a wink. “I do.” She sighed, turning her attention back to Berne. “I cannot say I would not like her to fulfil their requirements.” She sipped her espresso. “But that is never going to happen and I adore her for this.”
Berne sipped at her own coffee. Her loyalty was to Babs. Her friendship meant everything. Despite how she disliked such pretence, it was part of knowing Babs. For sure, she would prefer to be more relaxed in her dress but certain circumstances dictated more formal approaches. She wouldn’t choose to have lunch in suit trousers and a shirt but it was expected.
“Alors...” Babs pulled out a magazine and placed it on the table. “Tell me what you think.”
Berne took it and thumbed through it with a smile. “It is incroyable.”
“Oui, Rebecca designed the kitchen.” She shrugged. “She often talks of her ideas. I wished to show her how they look.”
“Do you think she will accept?” Berne asked.
“This depends. I may need your help.” Now the full force of Babs’s flirtatious smile was directed at her.
“Always for you, you need only ask.” Berne rubbed at her back again. “I only wish I could do this for Pepe also.”
“She still will not ask you?”
Berne shook her head. “The house is unfinished. There is not enough money to buy food but still she will not accept help. The woman I knew is confined by her life in England.” She rubbed at her brow, wanting to rub away the frown. “How do I help her find freedom? I do not wish to push... I do not wish her to run again.”
“She does not know you sell your home?” Babs furrowed her beautiful brow.
Berne closed the magazine. She’d kept her apartment when she was with Vivienne. She’d lived there for so long but she couldn’t drive anymore and she spent most of her time in Ajoux. There was no reason to keep it. “You are not meant to know.”
Babs chuckled. “Ah, but Erique calls for my help. He says you work him too hard, that he cannot feel his back. I had no choice but to rescue him.”
She knew Erique would call Babs, yes, but it would have nothing to do with his back. “What is her name?”
Babs chuckled. “I do not ask questions. They will be busy packing your things as we speak.”
Berne leaned on her fist. She’d long ago learned that Babs liked to help when she could. It was her way and she was generous. Anyone else offering would have received a curt refusal. Like Pippa, Berne was stubborn when it came to accepting help. “Merci.”
“De rein.” Babs phone beeped and she fished it from her handbag. “Ah, she wonders where I am.”
Berne’s phone buzzed and she snapped it off her waistband with a wry smile. “Pepe also.”
Babs laughed. “You would think we had been missed, non?”
Berne didn’t doubt it. She missed Pippa as much.
“Ah, Rebecca and Pepe are in the city.” Babs studied her nails for a moment. “I think I will have to clear my diary. It might take some time to convince her she has nothing to worry over, oui?”
Berne shook her head. “You would be better to take her shopping.”
Babs tapped her nails on her phone and popped it in the bag. She finished her coffee, some thought whirring through her brown eyes. “They need our help, Bebe. I have much to do.”
Before she could argue, Babs hauled her to her feet, kissed her goodbye, flashed more charming smiles at the waiter and clientele before strutting away down the steps. She’d always been a woman on a mission, why would love make her any different?
“Another?” The waiter appeared next to her, his gaze flicking to her chest.
“Perhaps.” She studied him for a moment and held up her finger. She dialled Pippa’s number. The buzz of nerves rippled through her stomach. It didn’t matter how long she’d been in Pippa’s arms, she still felt nervous. Good nerves.
“Hello, are you with Babs?” Pippa said. Berne smiled at Pippa’s accented French. She loved it. She loved how hard Pippa tried. She loved the smattering of English phrases and words.
“Are you hungry?” She felt the waiter respond to her tone, shifting on his feet, and hoped it had a more profound effect on Pippa.
“I... well...” Pippa cleared her throat. Babs’s and Rebecca’s voices carried in the background. “Maybe?”
Berne turned to the waiter and placed her hand over the speaker. “One of these,” she whispered, pointing to an item. “Another menu aussi...” She heard Rebecca asking Pippa why she was blushing. Perfect. “et... if you will, a rose.”
The waiter grinned. “Oui, Madame.” He hurried off.
Berne heard the car door slam and hung up. She stood as Pippa came into view: Straightened hair, brown, dropping into her face, the edges flicked out to give it extra bounce; A white short suit jacket with black camisole underneath; a pencil line skirt with a slit up the side and high heels that made her legs draw the attention of most of the clientele. Berne’s stomach wriggled as it had when they were younger, as she hoped it always would. Pippa knew exactly how to dress for lunch.
“Bonjour, Madame, I believe you wished me to join you?” Pippa’s smile was confident, sweet, sexy and just that little bit goofy.
Berne took her hand and kissed it. “Oui, but first I offer you something you want more.”
Pippa’s eyebrows shot up.
“Hot... something you long for... something you cannot resist.” She spoke in English, knowing exactly what effect it had.
Pippa’s lips parted; her eyes smoky. Berne leaned in, inches from her lips.
“Here?” Pippa’s shoulders hitched.
Berne leaned in further. Their lips so close, she could feel Pippa’s breath on hers. “Why not?”
Intensity glimmered in Pippa’s eyes, a battle: push Berne away or grip her close.
Berne held the distance.
Pippa’s chest rose and fell and she whimpered. “I’m not sure that’s legal.”
“Your order, Madame.” The waiter’s jolly tone chimed through as he produced a cup and menu with a flourish and a debonair grin.
Berne chuckled and stepped away to present the large cup of hot chocolate. “Hot, something you long for and something you cannot resist, oui?”
Pippa burst into laughter. She leaned into the waiter and pecked him on the cheek, taking the seat he held for her.
He blinked a few times: Smitten.
“Madame is very serious about her chocolate,” Berne whispered to him.
“In that case, I will make sure you have dessert on the house.” He sounded delighted and hurried off.
Berne took her seat. Pippa’s gaze kept drifting over her outfit, desire smouldering in her eyes.
“I forgot how stunning you look in a suit,” Pippa whispered, her cheeks rosy.
“I will remember to wear it more often.” She smiled. She felt almost as if they were young again. Pippa, that spirited nineteen-year-old, same hungry look, same sense of awkwardness. “Mais there is no need to whisper. You are allowed to say such things to me, non?”
“I am?” Pippa whispered again, sipping on her chocolate.
Berne nodded, rubbing at her nagging back. “Oui, you are my lover.”
Pippa’s blush grew.
“You worry someone overhears you?” She liked to hang on the word lover. Pippa always responded to it and her blush added to her beauty.
“No, chocolate is hot.” She shrugged making the cup jolt. “It’s too good to wait.”
Berne chuckled. “Ah, of course...” She winked.
Pippa cleared her throat. “Is yo
ur back okay?” She smacked her lips together, wincing and placed the cup down.
“Sore.” Berne sighed, rubbing at it again. “I do too much.”
Pippa’s smile wasn’t one she knew; It held a hint of something... something teasing. “Guess you need a good massage, huh?”
“Oui.” She cocked her head, unsure what to make of the smile. “You know someone?”
“Might do.” Pippa’s eyes twinkled. “Someone who did a course and has had far too many years’ experience.”
Berne raised her eyebrows. “Expliqué.”
“Bored. Rebecca was dating some weird woman from up North and Doug was fending off a merger.” Pippa shook her head. “Only I seemed to spend my time practising on Rebecca’s sports injuries.”
One of the things Berne loved was unearthing these snippets of Pippa she’d never known. It had made her ache before, when she’d thought Pippa would marry Doug. Now it gave the hint of a mystery she needed to solve. “It is very, very sore. I work hard.”
Pippa’s eyes twinkled. “You did, I was watching.”
Hadn’t she known it. “So you will not object to helping me?”
“You’re treating me to lunch and chocolate.” Pippa smiled, her blush evident once more. “I’d say that’s definitely worth a massage.”
Berne studied her.
Pippa’s blush grew.
She was so beautiful. “The waiter got a kiss but I did not. I wonder if he is who you come to see,” Berne said, feigning sadness.
“If you could see yourself, you’d know that there’s no competition.” Pippa gave a curt nod and leaned in.
Berne followed. She hovered near her, the tips of their noses brushing together. She let out her best heavy sigh. “I am not so sure.”
Pippa’s eyes filled with laughter. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”
Berne was ready, capturing Pippa’s offered lips. She deepened the kiss knowing Pippa would respond. She tasted like chocolate and felt like pure joy.
“Tell me again why we haven’t had lunch before?” Pippa whispered as Berne sat back, picking up her menu.
“We have lunch every day, Pepe.” She studied the foods she knew by heart but she didn’t dare look at Pippa. One of them needed to have restraint.