An unexpected attack of nerves made her tremble inside, and she was frozen to the spot, unable to move. She was taken by surprise when she realized she was curiously intimidated.
He came to a standstill in front of her and stretched out his hand. She took it. He brought her hand up to his mouth, barely brushed his lips against it, and let it go.
‘My apologies. I kept you waiting,’ he said.
‘That’s all right,’ she answered, swallowing, wondering why her mouth was so dry.
Jean-Claude stepped away from her, explaining, as he did, ‘Would you excuse me, please. I want to put on different clothes…more comfortable.
Je reviens tout de suite.’
And then he was gone again, and she was alone once more, and she sat down heavily on one of the
bergères,
feeling slightly weak at the knees as she waited for him to return.
Jean-Claude moved rapidly across the foyer, went up the staircase to the next floor, taking the steps two at a time, and hurried into his bedroom. After quickly shedding his clothes, he put on a clean white cotton shirt, rolled up the sleeves, went into a walk-in closet and found a pair of beige cotton trousers. Once he was dressed, he slipped his bare feet into a pair of brown loafers, feeling much better already. The attire he had worn for the meeting at the presidential palace had been stifling on this hot morning, and he was glad to be rid of it.
Walking across his bedroom, he picked up the phone and dialled Lorne Fairley on his cell-phone number.
Lorne answered it almost immediately with a brisk, ‘Hello?’
‘C’est moi,’
Jean-Claude said. ‘I am now at my home. Tessa is here, and we shall take lunch in the garden.’
‘That’s a good idea, Jean-Claude, I don’t think it would be wise for her to be seen in Paris with another man, although I’m sure two Englishmen wouldn’t stray into your world, but you never know.’
‘I have a question. I forgot to ask you earlier.’
‘Ask me now.’
‘Is the presence of her husband a coincidence? Or is he stalking her, perhaps? Should I get security for Tessa, to be sure she is safe?’
‘That’s not necessary, but thanks for thinking of it. I’m pretty certain Mark Longden’s in Paris to report in. Actually, he’s probably been summoned by Ainsley.’
‘Bien.
I understand. And be relaxed, Lorne, she is safe with me. I will stay in touch with you…and you must do the same.’
‘I will, and thanks, Jean-Claude. Remember, don’t say a thing to Tessa. If she knows Longden’s in Paris she’ll be upset.’
‘Not a single word.
Au revoir, mon ami
.’ Once he had hung up Jean-Claude crossed to the chair where he had thrown his jacket, retrieved his cell-phone, and slipped it into his trousers’ pocket, then proceeded into the bathroom.
After washing his hands, he slapped cold water onto his face, patted it dry, added cologne, and ran a comb through his hair. Once he had refreshed himself he turned away from the basin, but instantly turned back, stared at himself in the mirror. It struck him that he looked tired, a little weary today.
Am I too old for her? he asked himself, pausing to ponder this for a moment, seeing Tessa Fairley in his mind’s eye. He sighed deeply. He had long understood that the question of age did not play in matters like this–matters of the heart.
He felt as if his life had been turned upside down since meeting her last night. Nothing was the same anymore. Even though he had been very concentrated at the meeting at the Élysées Palace earlier, there had been a moment when his thoughts had strayed to her and, embarrassed, he had had to pull himself up short.
What to do about her? How to handle this whole situation? He who was always so adept at handling every kind of problem was suddenly at a total loss.
I will let it handle itself…I will simply let it come at me like a speeding train. What else is there to do?
Striding through the bedroom he did not pause, but went into the corridor and down the stairs. And as he walked back into the library a moment later he acknowledged that matters were out of his hands. He was a man and she was a woman and something intimate, profound and deeply moving had passed between them last night…He must let things take their course.
T
essa was standing at the window, looking out at the garden, thinking about Jean-Claude and still wondering how old he was, when he came walking back into the library. At the sound of his determined steps on the parquet floor she swung around to face him.
He came to a stop at the glass coffee table and his eyes met hers; he studied her for a moment and a smile began to play around his mouth.
She returned his smile and felt impelled to walk over to him.
‘Champagne, I think,’ he murmured, lifting the bottle out of the silver bucket which Hakim had brought into the library a few seconds before. ‘It’s Rosé Billecart-Salmon, a favourite of mine,’ he told her. ‘I find it smooth…I hope you like it.’
‘I love pink champagne,’ she answered, speaking the truth; it was her favourite even though she was not a big drinker. As she stood there watching him open the champagne, Tessa swallowed several times, discovering that she was feeling intimidated again. But then who wouldn’t be intimidated by him? she asked herself. He was an accomplished, celebrated man, the darling of the French elite and seemingly the favourite of presidents.
This aside, Tessa also realized that a mixture of other emotions were swirling around inside her. For one thing she felt awkward, even slightly nervous being in such close proximity to him. She wanted to reach out to touch him, wanted
him
to touch
her,
wanted his arms around her. Strong-looking arms, she thought, and with a quick intake of breath stepped away from him, moved around the coffee table to the other side before she made a fool of herself.
But he was standing next to her again within a split second, handing her the glass of champagne. His hand brushed against hers as he did so, and it was like an electric shock. She sat down in the chair without a word. And she did not fail to notice an amused smile on his face as he went to fill his own glass.
A moment later he raised the flute to her across the coffee table.
‘Santé,’
he said.
‘Santé,’
she answered and took a very long swallow, found it refreshing.
There was a silence, and then he asked, ‘And so, Tessa…how are you?’ His dark, mesmeric eyes rested on her reflectively as he waited for her answer.
His question had startled her and she did not answer immediately. She stared at him, frowning, and before she could stop herself she said, ‘Intimidated.’
‘By me?’ He sounded taken aback, and now his brows drew together in a frown.
Somewhat thrown by her own honesty, Tessa shook her head, and replied, ‘Yes, well, by your accomplishments and achievements, your importance and standing in this world. I’m not used to famous men like you.’
‘But I
am
just that…
a man,
Tessa. Like other men.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re very celebrated.’
‘Fame is meaningless to me.’ He sat back in the chair, and once more looked at her thoughtfully before continuing, ‘You are nervous perhaps, you even feel awkward. Yes, that I think you are. Because I am.’
‘Oh,’
she said, sounding surprised, looking across at him over the rim of her glass.
‘It is natural. Of course we feel this way. Suddenly we are alone together. We do not know how to handle ourselves with each other.’
‘Perhaps…’ Her voice trailed off.
Leaning forward in the chair, Jean-Claude pinned his eyes on her, and began to speak to her softly, almost gently. ‘Last night something happened between us. I looked at you in that grand foyer in Marie-Hélène’s house and you looked back, and we made a connection. The most intimate connection there is between a man and a woman. We understood each other
exactly.
Moreover, if we had been alone I would have done something about it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her gaze was riveted on him.
‘I would have said…
come home with me.’
‘You should have asked,’ she murmured. ‘I would have come.’
‘C’est dommage.’
Jean-Claude lifted his hands in the Gallic manner, lightly shrugged, smiled at her rather ruefully.
‘So why didn’t you ask me?’ she pressed, her eyes still on his face.
He did not respond.
‘Was it because your friends were with you?’ she ventured, questioningly.
‘Non, non,’
he replied. ‘Not that at all. I do not live my life by or for the world. It was because of Lorne.’
‘But he wouldn’t have minded! He adores you!’ she exclaimed.
‘That is a strange word to use, no?’ He gave her an odd look.
She shook her head. ‘He idolizes you, looks up to you, he thinks there’s no one like you in this world. You can do no wrong with my brother.’
‘I am flattered.
Naturellement.
You must understand how much I value his friendship. I would never do anything to undermine it.’
‘He says you are a true gentleman,’ Tessa thought to add, and took several quick sips of the pink champagne. She wondered if she was getting a bit tipsy.
‘I am not sure if that comes into this equation,’ was his quiet response.
Tessa gazed at him but said nothing.
There was a silence, although it was not at all awkward. Talking to each other in such an open way had eased the tremendous tension between them. Tessa was fully aware that she had never had this kind of honesty with Mark. The very thought of
him
made her cringe inside, and she pushed the thought away. There was no place for memories of
him
here in this apartment with this man, who was a real man and not a poor excuse for one. A giant of a man…Jean-Claude Deléon.
On his part, Jean-Claude was glad that he had encouraged her to speak about her feelings. It had somehow brought them closer together very quickly. He hated long drawn-out games between men and women. He found them childish, ridiculous and distasteful. Only honesty and the truth were acceptable to him.
Suddenly standing up, he took the bottle of champagne and went to fill her glass, and returning to the other side of the table he topped up his own flute.
Settling back in the bergère, he savoured the champagne before saying, ‘Are you afraid?’
‘A little bit,’ she was quick to respond.
‘Not of me? Surely not?’
‘No, not really…of what might happen though. Between us.’
‘Ah, yes, embarking on a love affair
is
risky.’
She was quiet; her silver-grey eyes were suddenly pensive.
He said in a warm tone, a hint of laughter in his voice, ‘A centime for your thoughts, Tessa Fairley.’
‘How old are you?’ Her words fell into the middle of the room like a huge lump of lead.
Jean-Claude stared at her. It was apparent he had not expected such a question.
Tessa could have bitten off her tongue. What she was thinking at that moment had just tumbled out carelessly. She was stricken, and she apologized. ‘I’m so sorry. How could I be so
rude?
How terribly gauche of me.’ She felt herself colouring. ‘You don’t have to answer that question because it–’
‘Much too
old
for you,’ he cut in, smiling at her, a look of regret striking his face momentarily.
‘No, you’re not.’
Ignoring her comment, he told her, ‘Last night, here alone, contemplating the evening as I was, I asked myself why the sight of a woman should bring me up with a shock. That is something I must fathom out.’ But he already knew the answer. It was the shock of recognition, of knowing this was the one woman in the world who could solve the riddle of his life. That was what had happened to him last night.
‘It’s your turn to look introspective,’ Tessa said, cutting into his thoughts.
‘Ah, yes. I was thinking of you. What are your plans?’
‘Do you mean this weekend? Or in the future?’
‘Both.’
‘I have no plans for the weekend.’
‘Would you spend it with me?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about Lorne? I cannot take you away from him. You came to Paris together. To abandon him would be…
unkind
.’
‘My brother’s so serious about his work, but you know that, Jean-Claude, and he’ll be happy to study his lines. He always wants to be word perfect, totally prepared when he performs, he’s something of a perfectionist.’
‘Mais oui.
That I do know. We must include him, however.’
‘We can ask him, yes. Why not?’
‘You sound more relaxed, Tessa.’
‘I am. I think I do feel a bit better.’
‘And what about the future? What are your plans?’
‘I must push my divorce through. Once my mother gets back from New York next week I think everything will move much quicker. She’s very good at dealing with problems, and especially good at dealing with lawyers. Have you met her with Lorne?’
‘I have. She’s an exceptional woman.’ And I’m afraid she won’t approve of me for you, but thought it wiser not to voice this.
Hakim appeared at the door of the library.
‘Monsieur, s’il vous plaît.’
‘Merci, Hakim.’
Pushing himself to his feet, Jean-Claude said, ‘Come, Tessa. Lunch is ready. We shall go to the garden through the dining room.’
The dining room was next to the library and Jean-Claude managed to usher her through it without actually touching her. As they headed towards the French windows which opened onto the terrace, she was aware that he felt as she did…that any physical contact with each other would precipitate an explosion.
When they stepped out of the air-conditioned apartment onto the terrace the intense heat hit them with a blast and Jean-Claude paused, hesitating. ‘I think this was a mistake. It’s very hot out here.’
‘I know. But look, the sun has moved over there.’ Tessa indicated the far end of the garden. ‘I’m fine with it if you are. And it’s nice to eat outdoors sometimes.’