by Nora James
“OK. What else?”
“Do I get another taste?”
“I can do that for you, I suppose.” She felt some movement. “Open your mouth.”
He fed her another spoonful of the mixture. The sauce was smooth and silky, but this time there were shreds of tender, moist meat in it, too. To her surprise she couldn’t even tell what kind of meat it was, only that it was delicious.
She thought she tasted something sharper, slightly zesty. “Is there lemon in this?”
“Sorry, no. Actually, I’m not sorry at all. Take off your dress.”
She fumbled around with the buttons until he came to her rescue and undid them slowly, gently brushing against her with his palms as he progressed. She wanted him. She wanted him already even though they’d already made love in her studio apartment.
“What else?” he asked and those two little words titillated her senses because they were spoken by him, his deep voice making her melt like ice-cream in the sun.
“I don’t know. I can’t think.” It was true. She was troubled by his attention, his musky scent, the electricity between them. The sensations were all heightened by the blindfold.
“You pass?”
“Give me a second.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Your time’s up. You must take off your beautiful, sexy bra.”
She took a breath as she obeyed, imagining his eyes on her breasts, imagining her body responding to his gaze. She guessed the next two ingredients of the dish—thyme and wine—and asked Paul to take off his belt and trousers.
“Chicken,” she ventured after another mouthful. She still wasn’t sure of the meat but she thought the odds of it being poultry were pretty good. It definitely wasn’t red meat.
“Chicken? Too common for a night like tonight.”
She felt him near her again and wondered if he desired her as much as she wanted him right now. “Shall I take off my shoes?”
He teased her with a kiss before answering. “Not a chance. You will look stunning in shiny shoes and a blindfold.”
That only left one thing. She stood and slipped off her briefs and the desire in her was a scorching sun above the ocean. She heard the fridge open and then Paul stood before her and this time, when he pressed his body against hers, he told her without a word just how much he wanted her, too.
“It was confit de canard. Now taste this,” he said as he placed something in her mouth.
It was sweet and luscious and she moaned with delight. “Chocolate mousse. Definitely.”
She wrapped her arms around Paul and drew his body to her. She felt his lips on hers and then she shared the chocolate with him. He pulled her gently to the floor and he took her right there until she understood the meaning of the word ‘ecstasy’.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear and she knew it was true even though he was letting her go in the morning.
“I love you,” she answered and it was true, even though she was leaving the very next day.
Chapter 26
Elise took in her apartment as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes on it. The crystal chandelier, the elegant bed, the high ceilings and charming old window that opened onto the cobblestone street below. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d first set foot in it and yet it felt like home, a home she loved and now had to leave.
With a knot in her stomach, she pulled the door shut and carried her bags down the polished wooden stairs. She remembered wondering two months earlier how many hands had touched these rustic walls. Now hers had been added to those of the many visitors who’d stayed here over the centuries. A part of her would always be here, not just her fingerprints but the part that mattered most: her heart.
Downstairs, she unlocked the side door, left her luggage nearby and dashed into the café, the keys to the apartment and a large envelope in hand. It was early and only Michel had arrived so far. “I’ve opened the side door. Would you give these to Julie for me, please?” she asked in her much more confident French.
Michel smiled with his usual bonhomie. “No problem. It’s been a great pleasure, Elise.” He winked at her. “I hope you will come back to visit us.”
She swallowed, a painful lump having formed in her throat. “So do I, Michel. Thank you.”
“Tell Paul I expect him back at work this afternoon, too. He can cook until midnight to make up his hours.” Michel chuckled, both hands on his rounded stomach.
She patted him on the arm. “Lucky you’re not the boss, huh?”
Elise glanced at the stool in the corner of the kitchen where she’d played that exhilarating game with Paul the night before. She smiled sadly. She’d never forget that evening. She waved to Michel, returned to her luggage and slipped out into the street.
The morning air was cool, crisper than when she’d arrived in Paris early in July, and she could tell that the summer would soon be coming to an end. The taxi she’d called pulled up and the driver placed her luggage in the boot. She sat in the car and let her gaze linger on the sign above Julie’s business—the Café des Amoureux. How aptly named it was, the café not of lovers but of those in love. It had cast its spell on her and she had fallen for the most unlikely man, the grumpiest, most arrogant one she’d met on her very first day. That he’d turned out to be the man of her dreams was nothing short of a miracle.
The taxi took off, and soon they were on a main road, weaving in and out of the busy early morning traffic.
“What time is your flight, Madame?” the driver asked after a while.
“Ten past ten,” Elise answered and her throat tightened as she thought of Paul arriving at the café at that time only to find her gone.
******
Paul held his breath as he knocked on Elise’s door. She’d told him she didn’t want to have breakfast with him because she didn’t like to fly on a full stomach. Well, she could have a coffee with him before leaving. It didn’t have to be a copious meal. All he really wanted was to spend every last minute with her.
Still, she might be annoyed with him for turning up nearly two hours early. She might be busy packing and tidying. He waited for a few moments but she failed to answer the door. Was she still asleep? Surely not! Had she popped out for some last minute supplies, tissues, mints, a magazine? He knocked again.
“Elise? Elise!” He called but there was nothing but resounding silence.
He decided to go down to the café. Most of the staff would be in by now and someone might have seen Elise. He leapt down the stairs two by two, through the side door and into the kitchen, where Michel stood at the table chopping vegetables.
Michel looked up. “Paul! What are you doing here? Did Elise forget something?”
“Forget something? What do you mean?”
“She left for the airport a quarter of an hour ago. I thought you were going with her.”
“Merde!”
Paul kicked the table and then he hit it with his fist for good measure. “How could she do this to me? She’s gone? Left without a goodbye?” The rage that burned through him was all-consuming. He didn’t understand. Didn’t she want him to hold her until the very last minute? Did she not want to bother with him now that it was over and she was going home?
“Were you late?” Michel sounded somewhat sheepish.
Paul picked up a carrot and bit into it with fury. “No, I am not late! Am I ever late? She told me to be here at a quarter past ten. I thought I’d come see if she wanted breakfast and she’s already gone!”
He paced the room for a few instants and then grabbed Michel’s knife. “I want to chop.”
Michel scurried to the stove while Paul sliced and diced faster and harder than ever before. He finished the vegetables, took a chicken out of the fridge and a meat cleaver off a hook, and set out to viciously dismember it, reducing it to pieces in no time.
The kitchen door swung open and Julie entered. “Paul, what has that poor chicken ever done to you?”
“It was a female!” He was so angry
he kept chopping without looking up at his boss. He couldn’t stop, not even for Julie.
“I thought you were not coming in this morning. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the airport?”
He threw down the cleaver. “Apparently not. It’s over. She has discarded me like an odd sock without even a word of explanation. She planned it. Lies. All lies!”
“Elise left before he got here,” Michel explained. “And he wasn’t late,” he quickly added as Paul shot him a glance. “She left this envelope for you and the keys to the apartment.” He handed Julie the envelope.
Julie opened it and pulled out two letters, one for her, the other marked ‘Paul’, and a little cloth bag that bore the name ‘Christine’. Paul washed his hands and took the note that Julie held out for him. He moved to the stool, the very same stool Elise had been on the night before, and sat, catching his breath for an instant as he imagined her there again in her blindfold and underwear.
He rubbed his face and read the note:
My darling Paul,
I am so sorry to leave without you but I simply couldn’t bear the pain of you seeing me off. I want to remember your smile, not your tears. I want to remember last night, that wonderful, enchanting night, not the miserable airport and the lump in my throat. Besides, I don’t know if I’d even manage to get on the plane with you standing next to me! Please forgive me.
The necklace is for Christine.
All my love,
Elise
He held his breath for an instant before moaning like a wounded animal.
“You don’t have to let her go like this,” said Julie checking her watch. “The earliest flights to Singapore are around ten o’clock, I think. She won’t be boarding for a while. You could catch her.”
“You want me to go to the airport and then what? She has a life over there and what do I have to offer? I’m no one. I’m just an ordinary man who can’t live without her.”
“Then you tell her that. Find a way to keep her with you.”
“What if she wants to be in Australia?”
Julie rubbed his arm. “I would miss you terribly, but you must do it if that’s what it will take for you to find happiness. You’d have to promise to visit me regularly.” Her eyes suddenly sparkled. “I could come with you after all.”
He laughed. “I’m sure we’d find room for you in the shed.” The joy didn’t last, thoughts of his ex-wife clouding his sunny future. “Nicole would never let me go.”
“You can’t be sure of that until you talk to her and in any event Elise may want to stay here. Don’t think of all the problems. Make a move! Get hold of Elise before you let her slip through your fingers.”
Julie was right. He would find a way to be with Elise. It was crazy to think that he could, but it was the only thing that made sense. He took out his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t answer.
“It’s Paul,” he said into the phone, “call me as soon as you get this, Elise. Please.”
He hung up and clicked his tongue. “I need to catch her.” He checked his watch. He could still make it if she was on a ten o’clock flight.
He was about to shoot through the door when Julie grabbed his sleeve. “I wasn’t going to do it like this, but in the circumstances…” She cleared her throat. “You will very soon be the owner of this establishment. The papers my lawyer’s been preparing are a transfer to you. You will be the owner and you can hire Elise and work with her here, or you can sell the business to follow her to Australia.”
He stared, stunned. Julie had taken away his breath. Her offer was far too generous. “No, Julie, it’s unbelievably touching but I couldn’t. It’s far too much. As much as I love this place you can’t give me Le Café des Amoureux. There will come a time when you will have to sell it. You will need the money for yourself.”
“I have investments, more than I can use, and I have no children, Paul. You are my son. I know you can take this business and not only return it to its former glory but turn it into something even better. You have the talent and the passion. I want you to have Le Café des Amoureux and I don’t want to have to die first. I deserve to see my gift change your life, whether you run the café or, if you must, you decide to sell it. It would be incredibly disappointing to me if you refused the transfer.”
He hugged her tight, his heart bursting with gratitude. “You’re amazing, Julie. How can I ever thank you enough?”
She patted him on the back and pulled away. “Go and find Elise, that’s how. I want to see another happy ending before my time’s up. You are a man. You have a voice. Use it to get her back.”
Yes, he was a man with a voice and he hadn’t told Elise that he couldn’t live without her. He needed her more than water, more than breath and he had to make it to the airport before she boarded her flight. He rushed to the door, then stopped, pointing to a pot. “It needs more onions, Michel!”
Julie shooed him off. “Just get out of here! No, wait!” She threw him her keys. “Take my car. It’ll be quicker.”
He caught the key ring, a sparkling heart, and ran to Julie’s elegant sedan. It started like a dream and he zoomed off toward the airport. He dialled Elise’s number again, thankful that the car had Bluetooth.
She failed to answer so he left another brief message and hung up. He was luckier with the traffic—it was moving along nicely. He’d give Nicole a try since Elise didn’t seem to want to take his calls. That would be using the time constructively as he needed to get an idea of where he stood with Nicole with respect to Christine. He’d tried formalising custody and visiting rights with her before, but she’d never listened.
More time had gone by now though. And he’d had a good pay rise, so he could pay for all the legal fees. He dialled, hoping that she’d pick up and wouldn’t be drunk from the previous night.
She answered, her voice sleepy. “Do you know what time it is?”
“I’m sorry. I really need to speak to you, Nicole.”
“I knew you’d come begging! Well, it’s too late. I’ve met a great guy who isn’t boring. We have fun together. Life’s one hell of a party. So there!”
“If you’re happy, I’m glad for you.” Paul was sincere, although it didn’t sound like Nicole had met the kind of person who’d help keep her on the straight and narrow—if that were at all possible with Nicole.
There was silence for a moment and Paul was beginning to wonder if she’d dozed off again, when she surprised him. “I didn’t think I’d say this, but that’s nice of you.”
She wasn’t as aggressive as usual. That was a good start. He took a deep breath, needing all his strength. “I was calling about Christine. I’d really like to talk about custody and visiting rights.”
She huffed. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to be tied to certain times. I’m a free spirit. I don’t have a clue when I’ll next be around. Jim and I are going backpacking all over the world soon. I’ll send the kid postcards. Anyway, how would we pay the bloody lawyer? Could you? Because I sure don’t have any spare cash.”
“I’ll pay for it all, no problem.”
“Who’s died?”
“What?”
“You’ve come into some money. Couldn’t you have done that while I was with you, huh?”
“No, I’ve had a promotion.”
“For a moment there I thought you had a lump sum.” There was disappointment in her voice. “I nearly said we could come to some permanent arrangement about the kid.”
He rubbed his forehead. He did have a lump sum at his disposal, or would have very soon. He could take out a small loan secured against the café once he became the owner of it. If he went to Australia it would simply mean a little less money to start up a business over there. If Elise stayed with him in France, he’d pay the loan off in no time.
He was getting ahead of himself—there was the very real possibility that Elise wouldn’t want him at all, that it was nothing but a fling after all for her. Still, he couldn’t help it, couldn’t
push aside the growing sense of excitement.
“If I did happen to find a lump sum, what arrangements would you consider?” he ventured and he felt his stomach contract.
She waited and the silence hung between them like a menacing sky: the clouds could clear if the wind blew in the right direction, or the storm could hit with full force.
She finally spoke. “Anything you want, really. I know I’m not a good mother. I wish I could be. It just isn’t in me. I’m never going to be what she needs. The kid deserves better. The truth is, sometimes turning up even once a year to see her is damn hard. It’s a struggle when I come and a struggle when I don’t. I don’t know if she’ll ever understand, but I do love her. You hate me?”
She let out her breath, a long, heavy sigh and Paul felt her pain. He felt joy mixed with it, too, as the threat of thunder and lightning disappeared on the horizon.
“I don’t hate you. I know you had a hard childhood. You’d be a different person without that.”
It was a rare moment of lucidity and truce, a sincere exchange, a confession without judgment. They hadn’t talked this openly in years.
“I may want to go and live in Australia,” Paul said and swallowed hard. Nicole would either take it like water off a duck’s back, or she’d become a deadly volcano in eruption. “With Christine,” he added, to make the matter clear.
“Australia?”
“Yes.”
She seemed to hesitate. When she spoke, it was business-like. “I need enough for a new car, two plane tickets around the world and six months’ rent on an apartment—a studio-apartment will do—for when I come back. And you won’t hear from me again. ”
“It doesn’t have to be like that, Nicole. If I do go to Australia, you’re welcome to come over on a regular basis, say once a year, and I’ll help with the plane tickets as much as I can. I’ll come back to France, too, sometimes. If I don’t go to Australia we must still formalise arrangements so I know when you’re coming to visit, and Christine remains in my custody.