Summer Of My Secret Angel (19 page)

1. THE MENU IN FRENCH
   

THE BACKSEAT OF Marie’s SUV provided a good
view at Julian, who’d climbed into the passenger seat. As far as
the seatbelt allowed, I lounged in the corner with my legs pulled
up and scanned every inch of his handsome face while the tires
rolled over the unpaved country road. His straight nose perfected
the harmony between his high cheekbones and intelligent eyes.

The corners of his lips twitched slightly
when he cast me a knowing glance halfway over his shoulder. I
probably turned red as a stop sign, but that didn’t stop me from
studying him. If at all, my gaze dropped for merely a second. The
seawater blue of his shirt accentuated his midnight eyes. He
blinked twice before he faced front again.

Outside, the beautiful French landscape
rushed by on our ten-minute drive to town.

“I believe it best we start off with a
little shopping,” my aunt said while she steered the car onto the
main road. “Afterward we can eat lunch together.”

“Fine with me,” Julian exclaimed, and I
agreed with a low
um-hm
from the back.

After we passed the
Fontvieille
sign,
Marie turned into a one-way street lined with colorful two story
houses blending in perfectly with the mountains in the distance. In
the city’s public parking lot, she maneuvered the car between a
green van and a convertible and cut the engine. As soon as we
climbed out, the busy murmur of Saturday morning shoppers drifted
to us and curiosity built high within me.

We rounded a corner, and then I halted
mid-step, holding my breath. A whiff of home surrounded me,
bringing with it memories of Friday raids in old Blighty.

“It looks like Oxford Street,” I cheered,
and spun on the spot to take in the neat marketplace, lined with
fancy boutiques and shops.

Nudging my ribs with his elbow, Julian
chuckled. “Just a wee bit smaller, I suppose.”

“Much smaller.” But it didn’t matter. The
sunny place was a good enough imitation.

We came past a stand where the reflection of
the sun in silver caught my eye. A manifold of watches and filigree
bracelets covered the velvety countertop, pendants in various
shapes and all colors of the rainbow.

Seeing the fine jewelry, a tingle started in
my fingers. Oh yeah, the
Dodger
was back. But my promise to
Quinn virtually tied my hands. I shoved them deep into my pockets
and swallowed hard at the temptation as I forced myself to walk on
with the others.

Nevertheless, this crowded market presented
another alluring opportunity. It’d be too easy to fall behind and
take a wrong turn, then shake Marie and Julian off. Yesterday, I
might have even considered a move like this to escape my punishment
called
family
. But this morning, I’d come to a decision, and
for now, I’d stick with it.

Julian startled me when he inched closer and
said so low that only I could hear, “I didn’t expect that a place
like this would make you so happy. Should we keep a watch on you in
case you get lost in the crowd?”

Had he gotten another sneak peek into my
mind? I criticized him with a scowl. “If that is what’s on your
mind you should have brought Quinn’s handcuffs.”

Julian snaked his arm around my shoulders
and pulled me close. “Maybe I did.”

My focus zoomed in on the stainless steel
loop he half-tugged out of the pocket of his pants; it glinted
viciously in the sun.

Stunned, I pushed away from him. “Jeez,
Julian! Who are you? Abe’s twin brother? You’re not going to use
them on me.”

His chest shook with another laugh. He
shoved the cuffs back into his pocket. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend
to.” Hands raised in surrender, he moved closer with a smirk. “As
long as you’re staying near.”

You keep your amazing smile on and I’ll do
whatever you say.

The little girl within me sighed in hopeless
devotion to her Prince Charming. On the surface, I built a wall of
protection with the only thing I knew always worked a hundred
percent. “Okay,
Dad
. Do you want to hold my hand, too?”

His lips curled, and I could barely hold
back an outraged laugh about him really contemplating this
option.

“You can’t be serious,” I snarled before he
could even insist on me taking his hand.

Julian raised a suggestive brow.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” My laugh
softened, since this definitely was one of the most bizarre
conversations I’d ever had. With a person anyway. Talking to the
pigeons in the park didn’t count.

We followed Marie, who’d walked a few steps
down the street and peered through the window of a clothing shop.
Julian nudged me again and offered me his bent elbow.

“Is this your insurance for me not to
fall behind
?
An alternative to the shackles in your
pocket?” In spite of my teasing tone, I wanted nothing more than to
hold onto him and let him guide me through the maze of shoppers
loaded with bags.

Julian blinked slowly. His arm didn’t budge.
“Come on, I won’t wait forever.”

“Oh, you’re so pushy.” I rolled my eyes at
him, but then I happily looped my arm through his. My fingers
curled around his firm biceps that flexed lightly when he tucked
his hand into his pocket. With a firm squeeze of his arm against
his body, he ensured my hand wouldn’t slip away.

A few feet in front of us, Marie halted and
took a step back to peek into another shop window. “Oh, this is
just lovely,” she cooed over a caramel colored blouse.
Straightening, she pivoted to us and at the same instant caught our
joined arms. Her mouth dropped open, her expression turned to an
unambiguous
Oh
.

“It’s not what you think,” I whined. “He’s
just worried I might…get lost in the crowd.”

“Oh.” Now the word came from her mouth, but
before she turned to walk on, she cut us both a joyful glance. She
definitely approved of us being linked.

Oh glee.

Marie led us to another shop, and this time
she intended to go inside instead of just gaze through the
windows.

Julian stopped in front of the sliding glass
door as we entered. “I’m sure you ladies don’t need me for this.
I’ll head back to Paul’s piano shop and see if he’s got anything
new. Back in ten.” Then his eyes switched to me. “Have fun.” The
door shut when he stepped away and headed back in the direction
we’d come from.

Marie’s hand on my shoulder broke my staring
after him. A warm shine lingered in her eyes. “The music store is
only one block away. He will be back soon enough.”

Yeah, right. And what do I
care
?
I harrumphed and strode after her when she walked
off with a chuckle.

Marie demonstrated then what a French woman
in shopping mood was capable of. Within minutes, she’d rushed
through the spacious store with dapperly dressed mannequins
lounging at each end. It was hard to spot her face behind piled up
shirts, dresses, and pants on her arm.

With her free hand, she tugged on my sleeve
and dragged me toward one of the many changing cubicles lining the
back of the shop. “Come,
chérie
. Let us try them on.”

Shock slammed into me at her words, and I
stopped in my tracks. With my abrupt halt, Marie whirled around
because she still clasped my shirt. She struggled not to drop the
entire load on the marble floor.

“What is wrong? I am sure I got your size
right, and they are really lovely clothes.” She held the rainbow
colored pile out to me.

“Ma’am, I don’t do lovely.” And most of all,
I didn’t intend to spend a single cent of my traveling money in
this shop. “Really, I don’t want any new things. What you gave me
the other day will do for a decade.”

“Nonsense. You can never have too many
clothes.” She waved a hand, but then doubt rushed across her face.
Her shiny green eyes narrowed. “Or are you worried about the money?
Of course, you do not have to pay for any of these. Albert and I
will cover the costs of everything you need.”

This woman’s and her husband’s generosity
went far beyond the levels of normal. An awkward fist clamped my
stomach. “Why, thank you,” I stammered, shifting my weight to one
foot. “But you shouldn’t. I really don’t need anything.”

Aunt Marie pouted. “All right then. But if
you find something you would like to have, do not be shy to ask for
it.”

Knowing that would never happen, I nodded
just to be free of her insisting.

While she vanished into the cubicle, I
roamed the shop looking at things I’d never own. In front of a
tall, slender mannequin that was modeled after an African woman, I
halted and gaped at her short, bright yellow summer dress.

The halter neck top provided a stunning view
of the upper bow of her breasts, and the waist of the dress was set
high. The mannequin’s bare legs were silhouetted against the three
thin layers of laced fabric and her feet were clad in breakneck
high heels. Though the design and style of the dress were simple,
I’d barely seen a more beautiful thing in my life.

“You would look amazing in that dress.”

I shot around to find Julian sprawled in a
square leather chair across the way.

He was back. And I’d missed him in
this—what? Eleven minutes?

Head on the low backrest, he’d laced his
fingers on top of his stomach and eyed me through relaxed slits.
His lips twitched.

I laughed low. “You’re crazy. Me in this
dress? Never.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He straightened,
leaned forward, with his elbows on his thighs.

Stepping aside to grant him a better view of
the dress, I motioned up and down the mannequin on the square
pedestal. “It’s bright yellow.”

“So?” Smooth like a cat, Julian rose from
the chair, and with his hands shoved into his pockets, he joined me
by the dummy. “A little color would suit you. Why are you wearing
black all the time? You aren’t going to a funeral.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I am.”
Sooner or
later.
“Actually, I like to stay invisible. Blend in.”

“Which comes in handy when you’re on the run
from the police or a mad shop owner, I suppose.” A tick in his jaw
and a dimple—he was suppressing a grin.

Great
. Anger ate at my insides that
escapades of my old reality seemed to amuse the man I felt so
strangely attracted to.

“Why miss out on all the action?” I crossed
my arms over my chest. “The adrenalin rush from a close escape
would bring some excitement even to your straight life.”

“Diva,” he drawled. “Do you bite, too?”
Julian clicked his teeth twice, spun on his heel, and walked away,
chuckling.

I flipped him the bird, but he didn’t see
it.

My attention returned to the dress. Me…in
yellow. The guy was nuts.

“I think I’ll get these shirts and a pair of
trousers.” Marie’s voice made me snap my head in her direction. She
strolled toward me holding the clothes in front of her as if to
examine them one last time before making her purchase.

Stopping next to me, she looked up. “Do you
like that dress?”

“Not at all.” I let the hem drop from my
hand. “Just look at this hideous color. I would never wear anything
like it.”

“Really?” Marie scanned the mannequin from
bottom to top. “I think it would look nice on you.”

Oh no. Her, too?
“I don’t think so.
Are you done here? I’ve seen a nice shop across the street. We
could drop in there as well.” The lie would distract her so she
wouldn’t make me try the gown on.

“Sorry.” She scurried to the cash register
with me in tow. “I got caught up with my shopping.” Pulling her
wallet out of her purse, she glanced around the store. “Is Julian
back?”

“He’s waiting outside.”

The shop assistant scanned the price tags
and shoved the clothes into a big plastic bag. The digital display
on the counter flashed one hundred twenty-nine euro and seventy
cents.

“Bloody hell, that much for a pair of pants
and two shirts?” I blurted before I could think better of it.

The blonde woman stared hard at me, but my
aunt didn’t even blink at the total. She took my hand and led me
toward the exit, where Julian waited, drinking from a small bottle
of mineral water. He wiped the bottle’s mouth then held it out to
me.

I took a swig. “Thanks.”

He nodded once.

The three of us made a tour through four
more shops. The woman was insatiable, buying sweaters, blouses,
skirts and shoes. Julian and I had to help her carry the bags or
else she’d have been packed like a donkey in the veldt. She must
have spent close to five hundred euro before we finally headed to a
bistro with our stomachs rumbling.

We found seats at a table outside. Grabbing
the menu, I scanned through the dishes, but they were all written
in French. I flipped the card around to see if the other side would
be in English. It only displayed a man slinging his arm around a
man-shaped baguette. Brilliant.

Julian frowned at me over the edge of his
card. “What’s wrong?”

Leaning toward him, I whispered, “This is
all French. I can’t read the menu.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’re in
France, girl. Of course it’s in French.” The legs of the metal
chair scraped on the pavement as he scooted closer. “I’ll translate
for you.”

He started reading the dishes out to me in
the national language and gave me the appropriate English name for
each. To hear the French words roll off his tongue set a sensual
tingle on my skin. The temptation to ask him if he could read the
menu again nudged me, but instead I settled for a pasta dish.

He ordered on my behalf when a man dressed
like an oversized penguin appeared. “Would you like a Coke with
it?” he asked me, and when I nodded he passed the order on.

Twenty minutes later, the waiter served our
meals. “
Pour mademoiselle,”
he sang in a soft lilt when he
set a nice heap of spaghetti in front of me.