One Week with the French Tycoon

by Christy McKellen

  But, in doing so, he’d nearly stepped over the line and once again proved just how selfish he could be.

  Giving up on getting any more sleep, he decided to set off early from the hotel in order to miss most of the other walkers on his way to Positano.

  A couple of hours into the walk, he’d been enjoying getting into the soothing rhythm of it, letting his mind wander freely, when he found himself on a particularly narrow part of the path which began to swing gradually out closer to the cliff’s edge. It was only when he dragged himself out of his philosophical thoughts to take proper stock of what he was heading for that he realised the next part of the walk was going to take him past some unguarded sections where the exposed cliff edge fell steeply away from the path, straight down to the rocks below.

  A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, followed swiftly by another as he carefully continued on the path, which, to his growing unease, was becoming narrower and narrower the further along it he walked.

  He’d never been great with heights, but he’d never before experienced this dizzying horror as he took in the sight of the sea crashing against razor-sharp rocks below him. If only there had been a railing he could touch, to reassure himself there was no way he could stumble and fall down into what seemed in his unsettled imaginings to be oblivion.

  His breath came fast now, scything in and out of his lungs and burning his parched throat as his pace slowed to a crawl. A gravitational force seemed to be pulling at him, attempting to draw him closer and closer to the edge as he picked his way along the path. Looking behind him, he wondered wildly for a moment whether he should go back, but the thought of even turning around on the narrow path caused a wave of pure terror to flood through his body and his stomach to lurch, bringing him to the edge of nausea.

  It would be so easy to topple to the side and fall. He could picture the air rushing past him, feel the impending doom as he rocketed closer and closer to the jagged rocks, then the unforgiving suck of the sea as it pulled him into its fathomless depths.

  His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

  Closing his eyes, he grabbed for the foliage that rose to the right of him to steady himself and somehow managed to anchor himself enough to slide down on to his haunches with his back to the rough stone wall, pressing himself hard against it.

  The solid feel of rock and earth steadied him and he opened his eyelids a crack to take stock of his situation.

  Not good.

  He was roughly halfway along the dangerously narrow path, with no easy way forward or back.

  He was stuck.

  Why the heck hadn’t he bought himself a walking guidebook, like the last hotel receptionist had suggested? If he had, he’d have known what he was about to face and could either have taken a longer inland route or skipped this section of the walk completely and taken a bus to the next destination.

  But then that hadn’t been the point of the trip. He was here to challenge his endurance and push through any personal discomfort until he felt like himself again. Skipping part of it would have felt like cheating on the promise he’d made to himself.

  But what a challenge it had turned out to be.

  Adrenaline had raised his blood pressure, heating his body as he fought the flight impulse so that he felt as though he was sitting in an oven—the fierce heat of the sun beating down on his head was not helping his cause.

  What felt like an age later, the sound of voices floated towards him from the direction he’d come, and he turned his head to see who it was, humiliation already engulfing him at the thought of what he would look like, hunched over, clinging on to the rock face.

  Pretty unheroic, he suspected.

  A minute later a group of men that he’d not encountered before walked up to him on the path, all of them giving him an odd look as they picked their way carefully past him.

  ‘Buongiorno,’ he muttered to them, raising his head and forcing a friendly smile on to his face.

  ‘Everything okay?’ one of them asked in Italian as he passed, his brow crinkled with concern.

  ‘Great, fine,’ Julien muttered, flapping a hand in the air. ‘Just taking a quick break,’ he added, quickly lowering his hand again to grip back on to the rocky surface.

  The man’s frown deepened, but he didn’t stop walking, giving a shrug and picking up his pace to catch up with his friends.

  Letting out a low sigh, Julien pressed his head back against the wall again and tried to think himself out of his problem. This was ridiculous; he was a grown man of thirty-six, he should not be letting a bit of rock and air defeat him.

  Blowing gently first up towards his forehead, then down towards his chest, he attempted to think cooling thoughts to regulate his heartbeat, then, when that didn’t work, he tried distracting himself by thinking about work. But his mind kept leaping back to how close he was to the edge, which made him laugh out loud in a maniacal fashion because it occurred to him then that his whole world seemed to be full of edges that he was trying not to fall off at the moment.

  Which inevitably made him think about Indigo. He shifted uncomfortably on his haunches as he thought again about the look of hurt in those beautiful eyes of hers—the look he’d caused—and he nearly toppled forwards.

  That woman would be the death of him. Literally.

  Another age passed while he tried to gather himself enough to stand up and force himself to walk along the rest of the path. It couldn’t be that much further until it wound back inland. Could it?

  Just as he was about to attempt to heave himself back to standing, the sound of more voices coming towards him made him freeze in dismay.

  Taking a deep breath and cursing himself for picking such a popular walking route to be stranded on, he steeled himself to make polite conversation again until they’d gone. He really didn’t want to have any witnesses to his humiliation, so he was going to wave them on and wait until they were well out of sight before he made his next attempt at getting off this damn cliff.

  He readied himself, fixing a smile firmly on to his face and was about to turn towards the approaching group when he realised with a lurch that he recognised one of the voices.

  Oh, no. Please, no. Anyone but her.

  After counting to three, which did absolutely nothing to calm his raging pulse, he turned his head to watch Indigo walk towards him, followed by three women he didn’t recognise.

  His heart sank. Was this karma coming along to kick his butt? Or, since this was Indigo we were talking about—fate?

  Her brow creased into a frown as she got nearer to where he was sitting, which wasn’t entirely unjustified since he was taking up half of the path so that anyone wanting to journey on would have to step around him, putting themselves in even more danger of slipping off the edge of the cliff and into the sea.

  ‘Julien, are you okay?’ Indigo asked, her voice edged with unease. That would be due to the insulting I-want-you-no-I-don’t debacle he’d put her through last night.

  ‘I’m fine, Indigo,’ he managed to rasp through a throat that had practically closed up with embarrassment.

  Her frown deepened, but she kept on walking, stepping past him so that the women close on her heels could get by too.

  Thankfully, none of the others spoke to him and he averted his gaze, willing away the raging heat in his face as he counted down the seconds until they’d be out of his sight line and he could make another attempt at standing up and leaving this godforsaken place.

  There was a murmur of voices in the distance, which he assumed was Indigo filling the rest of her party in on the tribulations he’d put her through since they’d first clapped eyes on each other, and he dropped his head to his knees and let out a long, low breath.

  So this was what payback felt like.

  * * *

  Indigo mad
e it a few more metres down the path—after breezily explaining to the three women she’d made friends with at breakfast that Julien was just another hiker she’d met on the walk—when her conscience refused to let her take another step.

  There had been something odd in Julien’s expression when she’d walked up to him that had lodged itself in her head, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been very wrong, despite his assertions to the contrary.

  After the humiliating episode last night she’d been determined to forget about him now and carry on with her holiday in the way she’d planned. She’d be coolly friendly, of course if—no, when—they bumped into each other again, but that would be it.

  She wasn’t going to put herself in a position where she made a fool of herself in front of him again. Because she didn’t need an emotional roller-coaster ride like that right now.

  She was supposed to be looking after herself this week.

  But something about the way he was sitting there still niggled at her.

  ‘I’m going to go back and check that Julien’s okay,’ she told her new friends, experiencing a dip of disappointment at leaving them when they’d all been getting on so well.

  ‘Okay. Perhaps we’ll see you in Positano,’ the more senior of the women, Ruth, said, giving her a friendly smile. There was something else in her expression too, as if she suspected there was a little more to Indigo’s about-turn than she was admitting to.

  Not that it mattered what Ruth thought. Julien had helped her out by getting her the boots she was currently wearing, thus saving her holiday, and she owed him big for that.

  He was probably fine anyway and would wave her concerns away in that arrogant way of his, so she’d be able to catch her new friends up again—but she just wanted to make sure.

  Julien looked as though he was about to stand up as she made her way back to him along the rough, narrow path. She began to feel foolish for worrying and was about to turn round again when she noticed that the tendons in his hands were white with tension as he clung to the rock behind him, and a sheen of perspiration had broken out across his forehead.

  What was going on here? Was he ill?

  ‘Julien? Are you sure you’re okay?’ she asked as she came within striking distance of him.

  He dropped his chin to his chest at the sound of her voice, as if he was exasperated with her for coming back and bothering him.

  A sting of annoyance jabbed her, but she didn’t back off. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

  He lifted his head to look at her and she could tell by the expression on his face that her instincts had been right. There was something badly wrong here.

  There was a long pause where she worried whether he was even capable of answering her. Then she saw him swallow hard before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

  ‘I was fine with the first bit of this walk,’ he said, his voice sounding strained, ‘but then the path got narrower and I started to feel like the ground was sloping downwards towards the drop, which made me dizzy. Logically, I know it isn’t doing that, but my brain keeps telling me otherwise. I’ve never been great with heights, but I haven’t been affected this badly before.’

  He was afraid of heights? No wonder he looked so distressed.

  ‘Didn’t you read about this bit in your guidebook?’ she asked, wondering how the heck she was going to help him get out of here. It wasn’t as if she could toss him over her shoulder and carry him the rest of the way.

  He let out a huff of breath. ‘What guidebook?’

  ‘You don’t have a guidebook with you?’

  ‘Non. I’m—what do you English say?—winging it. I wanted to experience this holiday without any expectations.’

  She couldn’t help but laugh at the superior expression on his face. ‘You are the most mercurial man I’ve ever met,’ she said, unable to stop herself from teasing him. After the way he’d acted last night it was somewhat satisfying to get one over on him.

  He gave her a rueful grin. ‘I’m glad I amuse you.’

  She could tell from the shake in his voice that he was genuinely rattled, though. It must be a terrifying thing, believing that you’re stuck alone on the side of a cliff face, not able to go either forwards or back the way you came.

  That thought galvanised her.

  ‘Okay, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to walk on the inside with one hand touching the wall or foliage and I’ll walk next to you on the open side. You look ahead, but slightly inland so you’re not looking at the drop the whole way along. I’ll make sure we stay safely on the path. Okay?’

  He stared at her for a moment, then blinked as if her words had taken a moment to sink in. ‘Are you sure you want to do that?’

  Once again she realised there was much more to his question than its face value. She knew what he was really asking.

  Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips. ‘You think just because we had a minor disagreement I’m going to walk away and leave you here?’

  His mouth twitched at the corner and he shook his head. ‘No. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d do.’ He sighed, his exasperation with himself clear. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’

  ‘Okay then. Now, give me your hand.’

  He looked up at her and frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you,’ she said, laying on the sarcasm. ‘It will keep you grounded.’

  ‘What if I fall and pull you over with me? I don’t want to be responsible for tipping us both off a cliff.’

  She let out a huff of breath at the doubt in his voice, but reined her irritation back in. ‘That’s not going to happen; I have fantastic balance. Now, give me your hand.’

  Taking a breath, he let go of the rocks behind him and lifted his hand tentatively towards her.

  She grasped it in one of hers. ‘Okay, good. Now stand up slowly.’

  He did so, wobbling a little as he righted himself and faced the direction in which they needed to go.

  ‘Great, we’re set,’ she said, feeling the tension in his grip. ‘Just keep looking at the wall and I’ll guide us safely forwards.’

  They set off slowly, Julien’s steps hesitant at first, but becoming more sure as they made their way slowly along the pathway. Their clasped hands grew sweaty in the heat, but she didn’t let go of him to wipe them on her shorts. She didn’t think he’d appreciate that.

  ‘Talk to me, take my mind off that thousand-metre drop just inches away,’ he said when he wobbled a little at one point.

  ‘I think a thousand metres might be a slight exaggeration—’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like it to me,’ he cut in gruffly.

  She bit back a smile. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘Anything. I don’t care. Tell me about the people that you’re teaching to cook.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness... Well, there are some real characters in my cooking group.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘There’s one guy whose wife left him six months ago after forty years of marriage because she was fed up with him being so insensitive and lazy. He’s learning how to cook so he can woo her back.’

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘It seems so.’ She grinned at the memory. ‘Apparently his spaghetti sorry, babe was a real hit and she’s going back this week to sample his apple turnover a new leaf.’

  She continued to tell him anecdotes about the people she’d come into contact with in the last year, actually starting to enjoy herself as she remembered things she’d not thought about for a while. It reminded her of how rewarding it had felt to make a difference in these people’s lives. Even if it was only in some small way.

  Julien listened intently, chiming in every now and again with a gruff question or comment, and by the ti
me they reached the end of the vertiginous section and had come out into a wider, flatter path, his voice sounded almost normal again.

  She was glad to have been able to help him, even though, as usual, he’d made it unnecessarily difficult for her.

  The man was too proud for his own good—but she wasn’t going to hold it against him. She knew all about pride.

  It occurred to her that if she’d been here with Gavin and it had been her that had been scared of heights he would have lorded that weakness over her—even though he would have disguised it as teasing—and he wouldn’t have let her forget about it for the rest of the holiday.

  There was no way she was going to do that to Julien, and she felt sure he wouldn’t have done it to her if the roles were reversed; he seemed too classy for that.

  She awkwardly extricated her hand from his vice-like grip, somewhat disappointed now to let go. It had been nice having that connection with him as they’d talked.

  He seemed a little surprised by the loss of her touch and turned to look at her with his brow drawn into a frown.

  ‘Are you okay now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. My heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode in my chest any more.’

  He looked away towards where the azure-blue ocean crashed noisily against the rocks far below them.

  She gazed at his profile, taking in the strength of his jaw with its faint show of bristles, noting a small scar where the bone swooped up towards his ear. She wondered briefly how he’d got it, then pushed away the instinct to ask him. It was probably too personal a question and he might get snippy about answering it.

  To be honest, she was a little hurt that he wasn’t being friendlier to her after she’d just rescued him from certain doom. Not that she’d done it to be lavished with gratitude and praise, but to hear a simple thank you wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps his alpha pride had been dented and this was his way of shutting the humiliation of it out.