Invitation to Provence(13)

He smiled. “And exactly who am I, Franny Marten? Who do you see sitting here with you, drinking wine in a charming restaurant?”

“I see a nice man,” she said simply. “You want to know how I can tell? It’s the same gut feeling I use with animals. Somehow you just know when they are going to be okay, or you know they’re potentially vicious and going to bite. I don’t think you are going to bite me, Jake Bronson.”

He smiled. “So,” she said, “what took you away from Argentina?”

“Two women.” Jake toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “And I fell in love with both of them. The first was very beautiful, a Frenchwoman full of joie de vivre. I was just sixteen and she was in her forties. She was my first love, and I love her to this day.”

“How romantic,” Franny said softly, “that you still love your first love. But then, who was the second?”

“Her name was Amanda. We were young. We got married. She died.” Jake avoided her eyes, suddenly wary. He never talked about his past to women, and rarely even about his present.

But Franny closed her eyes, as though feeling his pain. “I’m so sorry,” she said finally.

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“And now?”

“Now? Oh, I built a little cabin up in the mountains. I keep my horse there, an old gelding nobody else wanted. Then there’s Criminal and a couple of feral cats who come to visit whenever there’s food around. There’s true solitude, silence, peace.” He shrugged again. “It’s what makes me happy.”

She nodded. There was a different man under his urbane, edgy exterior.

“What about you?” he asked.

“For a long time I never realized I was lonely. There was never time until my dad died. Then I knew I was Alone with a capital A. There was no family, nobody to look after me, nobody to care if I succeeded, or just”—she lifted a resigned shoulder—“ended up waitressing. So I pulled myself together and got on with life. I worked four jobs to put myself through college. I ended up a vet.” She shrugged again. “And you know what? I’m still lonely.”

He was looking at her as though he knew exactly what she meant. She met his gaze. Maybe she’d said too much after all.

“I have to go see my patients,” she said, collecting her bag and her wits as he paid the bill.

They were standing outside the café, waiting for the valet to bring their cars, when Jake asked if he could go with her, and Franny said, “Why not?”

Back at the clinic they inspected the German shepherd, lying very still with a big ruff collar around his neck to stop him from licking his wounds. Jake watched as Franny knelt next to him. She stroked his fur and he rolled pleading brown eyes at her. “Don’t worry, darling boy,” he heard her whisper, “you’re doing fine, you’re going to be all right. I’ll take care of you.” The injured dog thumped his tail just once in acknowledgment.

Back outside, Franny called the dog’s owner on her cell phone and told her he was doing great, and she thought he’d be fine. “Now what?” Jake said.

“I’m going home. I’m going to kick off my shoes and make a cup of chamomile tea and think what a lovely time I had tonight.” She ran her hand lightly down his arm, not in a sexy way, just friendly, nice-girl style.

“I could go for a cup of chamomile tea,” he said with a touch of longing in his voice that hit home.

“Okay, so I’ll make you some tea and then I’ll send you home to bed because I’m really tired.”

No nonsense there, Jake noted with a grin. She’d laid the ground rules, let him know where he stood all right.





8





THEY PARKED OUTSIDE the little green house, then got out and stood looking at each other. She was suddenly hesitant, and he knew what she was thinking. After all, he was a stranger and she was about to ask him into her home.

“If you’d rather not, it’s okay,” he said, “I’ll just head back to that Starbucks we passed and grab a take-out coffee.”

She shook her head and her long hair rustled like silk. “Too much caffeine, you’ll never sleep. No, I promised you chamomile tea and that’s what you’ll get. Come on in.”

As usual, she’d forgotten to leave a light on, but she skipped unerringly up the steps. Jake followed her onto the unlit porch, hit the loose plank and felt his ankle twist agonizingly. “Jesus!”

She turned to look at him. He was balanced on one leg like a stork. She wanted to giggle, but she could see he was in pain. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “It’s that loose plank, I should have warned you.”

“I wish you had,” he said through gritted teeth.

She opened the door and helped him to the sofa, sat him down, knelt in front of him, slipped off his shoe, and ran her hand over his rapidly swelling ankle.

Jake looked down at her pale blond head bent over his foot. Her fingers were cool and firm, very doctor-like. He thought it was almost worth the pain.

She got to her feet. “It’s definitely not broken but it’s a bad sprain. If you like I can drive you to the emergency room, or I can strap it up for you. I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.”

“I’d rather you did it,” he said. “I feel like the German shepherd,” he added, grinning, but she was all crisp medical efficiency.