One Week with the French Tycoon

by Christy McKellen

  Slamming her money down on the table next to his, she got up from her chair, set her shoulders back and walked in the opposite direction of the one he’d taken.

  From this point on she would do as he asked and make a concerted effort to avoid any further contact with Monsieur Julien Moreaux.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On to Praiano. A tough day’s walk and the first leg of your journey west...

  JULIEN KNEW HE shouldn’t have kept on drinking after leaving Indigo at the table, but he’d needed to do something to numb the mortification that had trickled through him like ice water when he thought about how bitter and miserable he’d sounded. The look of hurt on her face after his blunt rejection of her offer of friendship had stayed imprinted on his mind’s eye till he’d finally managed to wash it away with his fourth beer.

  This was exactly why he’d decided to spend the week on his own. The last thing he’d wanted was to let his frustration over the failure of his marriage ruin the first proper break he’d had in a very long time, let alone affect someone else’s holiday.

  He took another long pull on his water bottle as he slogged along the rocky coastal path towards Praiano, willing the throbbing pain behind his eyes to dissipate. Because of his hangover, he’d started the walk later than he’d intended, and was paying for it now by having to trek hard through the midday sun to make up for the time he’d lost.

  According to the hotel receptionist, there should be a small tratorria about an hour’s walk from where he was. He was looking forward to eating a nourishing, carb-heavy meal to pick him up and give him the boost of energy he needed to get through the rest of the journey.

  He attempted to while away the time by thinking through the next stages of a new build he’d been overseeing before coming here but, to his chagrin, Indigo’s hurt expression kept popping back into his head. The worst thing, he finally accepted as he struggled along, was that he’d found himself beginning to like her as she’d revealed more about herself—particularly when she’d talked with such passion about the café and cooking classes she’d set up to cater for vulnerable members of her community.

  He couldn’t help but compare her to his ex-wife Celine, who, without even discussing it with him, had given up her job as a legal secretary as soon as they were married, spending her days shopping and watching reality TV instead. He’d not made a fuss at the time, thinking she’d probably grow bored after a while, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d looked to him to provide all her entertainment and society, as well as supporting her financially.

  Which had been fine for a time.

  After years of having his nose to the grindstone and putting his business ventures before his personal happiness, meeting the beautiful, wild and carefree Celine had been like being caught up in a cyclone of desire, and his formerly work-orientated life had suddenly become a whirl of new experiences and unpredictable passionate moments.

  Until the bad luck that had changed everything for them, and his once happy-go-lucky wife turned into someone he didn’t recognise any more.

  Pushing against the surge of discontent that continued to live within him, forever threatening to pull him under, he strode on, picking up his pace as the trattoria finally swung into view.

  He trudged up the steps to the seating area inside, now desperate for some shade and sustenance, and managed to secure a small table near the door, slumping into the chair with a sigh of relief.

  A loud squall of laughter floated over from the other side of the restaurant, and he turned around to see what was going on.

  There was a large group of walkers all crowded around a table at the back, which heaved with the remains of what had obviously been a hearty lunch.

  The only person who didn’t have a large empty plate in front of her, but was instead nursing a glass of what looked like water, was Indigo. She was talking animatedly with a ruddy-cheeked middle-aged man sitting next to her, and the rest of the group were leaning in, listening to the story she was telling. There was another roar of laughter as she concluded her tale, and she sat back with a wide, captivating smile on her face, then drained the last of her drink and stood up.

  His eyes were immediately drawn to her long, shapely legs as she stepped back from the table, and his heart rate picked up as his mutinous mind conjured up the impression of how they might feel wrapped around him.

  He turned away quickly as she went to grab her bag, not wanting her to catch him watching her, aware of a heavy pull of disgust with himself in the pit of his belly.

  What was he doing? This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to cower here like an idiot. He looked up as she walked past his table, readying himself to face the music, but she didn’t notice him sitting there, her eyes looking a little glazed as she made for the door.

  Had she eaten anything since breakfast? He suspected not, judging by what he’d just witnessed, and now she was about to walk for another few hours in the hottest part of the day.

  He shifted in his seat, irritated by her foolhardiness, aware of an achy tension in his body. Not that it was any of his concern. She was a grown woman who could fend for herself. If she weren’t, surely she wouldn’t have come on this walking holiday alone?

  Except that she wasn’t supposed to.

  The thought gave him pause.

  But no, she’d made the decision to come on her own and just because they’d shared an association, it didn’t mean he should feel responsible for her well-being.

  He watched out of the window as she walked slowly away, then turned back to the matter in hand.

  Looking after his own needs—in the form of lunch.

  * * *

  An hour later, he was back on the path, trudging towards a viewpoint where he planned to take another quick break and stare out across at the swell of the ocean while he caught his breath.

  There was a long bench sitting proudly on the apex of the clearing, shaded by a fig tree, its branches heavy with fruit. And on that bench, stretched out with her head on her rucksack, was Indigo.

  Julien came to a sudden halt and stared at her, his pulse rattling through his veins.

  She looked exhausted, her face pink and the exposed part of her neck and upper chest glistening with perspiration in the heat.

  His heart gave a jolt at the sight.

  He really should keep walking and leave her alone to rest; she hadn’t seen him standing there yet, so now would be a good time to turn around and keep on going. He could take a break another half mile or so on.

  But he didn’t move. Something was stopping him. Some misplaced sense of responsibility.

  Sighing, he made his way over to her, resigned to checking that she was okay, thereby clearing his conscience.

  She sat up quickly when she noticed him approaching, pulling her rucksack on to her knees and looping her arms around it, as if using it for protection against him.

  Did she really have everything she needed for the whole week in that small bag? he wondered fleetingly. His own luggage was about three times the size of hers—hence getting it transported by courier from place to place as he progressed along the walk.

  ‘Hi, Indigo,’ he said as he came to a halt in front of her.

  Her shoulders stiffened and she gave him a curt nod. ‘Julien.’

  ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. You?’ From the tone of her voice she was clearly struggling to be polite.

  ‘Hung-over,’ he admitted, giving her a rueful smile.

  She didn’t smile back.

  Tense silence crackled between them, and Indigo’s stomach took the opportunity to rumble loudly.

  ‘Have you eaten enough today?’ he asked, aiming for an airy, upbeat tone but not quite pulling it off.

  She tightened her arms around her bag and gave him a level stare. ‘That depen
ds on what you mean by enough.’

  ‘Did you eat lunch?’

  There was a pause, where she seemed to be arguing with herself about whether to answer him truthfully. ‘No,’ she said finally.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I wasn’t hungry.’

  There was an edge to her voice that told him she wasn’t in the mood to be questioned any more about her choices.

  ‘You mean you didn’t manage to lift any extra food from the breakfast buffet?’ he joked.

  Her chin lifted fractionally and her shoulders tensed. ‘That’s right,’ she said with a sarcastic bite to her voice.

  It was the dismissive way she deliberately looked away from him into the distance that finally tipped him over the edge. ‘You’re crazy, you know that? You can’t go walking for hours in this heat without eating enough.’

  The look she gave him could have frozen water.

  Sighing hard, he rummaged in the small rucksack he was carrying his provisions for the walk in and located his emergency energy bar. Striding over to the bench, he held it out towards her.

  ‘Here, take this.’

  She looked at the bar with some disdain. ‘No, thanks. I don’t need anything from you.’

  From the tone of her voice, there was undoubtedly a lot more she wanted to add to that statement. Like exactly where he could stick his cereal bar.

  Clearly he’d hurt her feelings last night, but, in his defence, he’d been doing her a favour letting her know right away that she was wasting her time if she was expecting anything more to develop between them this week.

  Not that he was going to drag that up again right now.

  Sighing with impatience, he dropped the energy bar on to the bench next to her, then stepped back, giving her a reproving look.

  Okay, he’d done his duty now—he could walk away with integrity.

  But, instead of picking up the bar, she stood up and shucked her rucksack on to her back, ignoring it completely.

  ‘Well, it’s time I got on with my walk and left you to enjoy the scenery on your own. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Julien,’ she said pointedly, echoing his words to her last night.

  He watched her walk away from him, his jaw aching with tension as he fought the urge to go after her and tell her to stop being such a stubborn fool and at least stay and rest for a bit longer, the pressure of the denial restarting the throb of pain in his head.

  * * *

  Stomping into Praiano an hour and a half later, with aching legs and a decidedly damp T-shirt sticking to his back, Julien still hadn’t shaken the feeling that he should have done more to convince Indigo to take the food he’d offered her.

  His failure to persuade her to let him help had reminded him a little too keenly of the struggles he’d had with Celine at the end of their marriage.

  Not that the two things could really be compared.

  He’d not seen Indigo again on the route; he’d given her a twenty-minute head start after she’d stormed away, which he guessed must mean she’d made it to Praiano without collapsing. At least that was something.

  It took him a couple of minutes to locate his hotel, which was in the centre of the small town, and he was about to stride into the glass-fronted lobby when his gaze caught on a familiar figure limping towards him along the pavement to his left.

  Indigo didn’t appear to notice him standing there and she stopped a few paces away, wrestling her bag off her back and dumping it wearily on to the floor by her feet to pull out her water bottle.

  As his gaze followed the movement, he noticed that the trainers she’d chosen to walk for miles and miles in each day were beginning to fall apart, the rubber cracked and peeling away from the material at the sides of the shoe. Surely they couldn’t be supporting her feet and ankles properly, and the soles had to be getting thinner and thinner from the rough ground.

  Did the woman have no sense? Not only was she putting herself in danger of collapse from not eating enough, she was going to end up damaging her feet, or risk skidding off a cliff walking in such unsuitable footwear.

  White-hot anger flashed through him at her stupidity, and he stalked towards her, not sure what he was going to say but knowing he needed to say something this time.

  ‘Indigo, what are you doing walking in those running shoes over that kind of terrain?’ he ground out, frowning hard and jabbing his finger down at her feet.

  She took a small step backwards, the alarm on her face at his sudden appearance quickly changing to annoyance.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ she asked archly, shooting up an eyebrow. ‘For someone determined to spend his holiday alone you’ve got an awful lot to say about the way I spend mine.’

  Julien found himself lost for words. She had a point—what was it to him? He wasn’t responsible for her and she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want or need his help.

  But someone needed to point out her recklessness to her. Apparently she had no idea how to look after herself.

  ‘Trekking so far in those flimsy shoes is going to damage your feet.’

  She took a tiny step towards him. ‘I really don’t need you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, thanks very much.’

  He matched her step with one of his own. ‘You know, I think you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. It seems to me you need someone to point out the obvious or you’re going to give yourself a serious injury.’

  She let out a large huff of breath, her cheeks flaring with colour. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but it wouldn’t normally be my choice to go trekking in trainers. If you must know, the airline lost my bag which had my walking boots in it!’

  He stared at her, perplexed. ‘Why don’t you buy yourself some more boots? Surely your insurance will cover it?’

  There was a dangerous flash in her eyes. ‘Just go and buy some more boots? With what? I know it’s probably hard for someone like you to understand, but some people don’t have extra money just lying around in their back pocket. I have nothing in my bank account at the moment and my emergency credit card and half my holiday money also happens to be in my lost bag!’

  He could tell from the look in her eyes that she’d reached the end of her tether. Pain and hunger would do that to you.

  It suddenly dawned on him what all her previous strange behaviour had been about: the change in hotel after only one night, the stolen lunch, the determination to eat pizza instead of à la carte cuisine.

  Money trouble.

  ‘Why haven’t you asked your family for help?’ he asked, gentling his voice now. ‘Surely one of your brothers will lend you some money to tide you over?’

  Sighing, she folded her arms and looked down at her feet, kicking at the ground and wincing. ‘Because I don’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She looked him directly in the eye again. ‘I don’t like to rely on other people. I need to know I can survive on my own without any help.’

  He gave her a puzzled frown. ‘That’s impressive. But being able to accept help from others is a skill too.’

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, shrugged, then flapped her hand around in an airy manner. ‘It’s an old habit. It was always do or die in the house where I grew up. Showing any kind of neediness to my brothers was deemed as a sign of weakness.’

  This insight into her life disturbed him. ‘What about your parents then?’

  She paused before she spoke. ‘My mum died from breast cancer when I was twelve and my dad passed away a couple of years ago—although, to be honest, he pretty much died when she did, at least his spirit did.’

  Her whole posture seemed to shrink in on itself as she folded her arms across her chest. Clearly it was a difficult subject for her to talk about.

  ‘He didn’t c
ope well after she’d gone,’ she continued, staring down at the floor, ‘so I took over running the household. My brothers certainly didn’t have a clue how to do it. Luckily, my mum taught me how to cook before she died and I found I was good at it.’ She kicked gently at the ground. ‘My dad suffered with bad depression so I ended up staying at home whilst I did my college courses, and then for a few years afterwards.’ She shrugged. ‘Tough times. But it taught me how to look after myself.’

  There was a shadow of sadness in her eyes when she finally looked up at him.

  Instinctively, he reached out, giving her arm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be. I’m okay.’

  ‘That must have been really hard for you.’

  She shrugged. ‘I survived.’

  ‘No wonder you’re so driven.’

  Taking a step back, she leant against the wall of the hotel. ‘Yeah, well, I wanted to do something good with my life. I wanted to feel like my mum would be proud of me, had she survived. She only made it to forty-four before the cancer killed her. How can that be right? She was a good person. A kind and loving person.’

  Her sadness hung thickly in the air between them.

  ‘Some days, life seems anything but fair.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth?’

  The haunted look in her eyes broke him.

  ‘Okay, come with me,’ he ordered, scooping up her rucksack from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, then setting off back down the street in the direction she’d come from.

  It took a moment for her to come running after him.

  ‘Where are you going with my bag?’ she demanded, her breath coming out in short pants after her sprint.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Julien, give it back to me!’

  ‘I will, when we get there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  She growled, low in her throat. ‘Now who’s being stubborn?’