Invitation to Provence(16)

“Here, here,” he whispered, “come to me, my lovely Franny,” and he held her hands in his, kissing each finger, sliding his tongue between them, kissing the soft, warm space under her arms, stroking her breasts, taking the jutting pink nipples into his mouth, then ranging down her body until he found the soft mound and her secret places and she whispered to him not to stop, oh please don’t stop. He covered her with his body, delirious with her sexy scent, her sweet breath as her lips sought his. He pulled back, stopped for a moment, and her eyes followed him as he found his jacket, took a condom from his wallet. She watched him put it on, smiling at him as she said, “Oh, what a big boy you are,” and they were both laughing as he fell back onto the bed and took her smooth loveliness into his arms again. And then they made long, slow love.

Afterward, Jake held her close, unwilling to unlink their bodies. She snuggled endearingly into him, dropping hot little kisses onto his face, his neck, anything she could reach.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, recognizing that rare little thrill of happiness. “You are beautiful, Dr. Franny Marten.”

“Oh! Oh my god!” She pushed him away, sat up, looked at him wide-eyed with shock. “I’m late for work!”

“Is it that important?” he said thoughtlessly, because all he could think about was making love to her some more.

“Important?” She stared at him as though he was crazy. “It’s who I am!” She leaped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. She stopped and came out again. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” she said, kissing him some more.

“I know who you are, Franny,” he said quietly. “I understand.” And she smiled trustingly at him.

“Here, you shower first,” she said, pulling him to his feet. She showed him the bathroom, watching still worried as he hobbled off.

Franny was smiling as she went back to the kitchen and began to tidy up, if you could call piling dishes in the sink and scraping the candle wax off the tables tidying. It was 7:30 and she hadn’t even showered yet. She would be late for work for the first time in her life.

Minutes later, Jake emerged from her bedroom fully dressed. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he raked a hand through it and then along the rough blue stubble on his jaw, looking at her. Franny stood uncertainly, not knowing what to say. Did you say, Well, thanks for spending the night, glad I could help? Did you say, I loved making love with you? Or, See you again soon?

He saved her the trouble. He put both hands on her shoulders, tilted her face up to meet his, and said, “Thank you, Franny Marten. For everything. It was wonderful.” For a second his lips met hers in the softest of kisses, then he let go of her and limped to the door.

She heard the loose plank splinter as he stepped on it again, heard him curse, and despite herself she laughed. She would see him again soon, she just knew she would. She had noticed that he had not said he would call her.

She hurried into the shower, flung on some clothes, and drove too fast to the clinic, where she temporarily forgot about Jake as she immersed herself in the work she loved.

That afternoon, a huge bouquet of Casablanca lilies, smelling like a tropical island in summer, arrived for her. The accompanying card read, “I couldn’t find ginger flowers so I hope these will do instead. Thank you again, Jake.”

Marcus was forgotten. She was walking on air, smiling as she remembered her night with Jake. It hadn’t been the usual sort of encounter between a man and a woman, but there again, if it weren’t for the ankle, she might never have really gotten to know him. She was sure he would call her later.

But Jake still hadn’t called by the time she went to bed. She didn’t change the sheets because, like a smitten teen, she wanted to lay her head on the pillow where his head had lain. Now she buried her face in it, seeking his scent, dreaming of him. She knew he would call tomorrow. But he did not. Nor the next day, nor the next. An unsmiling Franny thought about calling him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. But when she asked the secretary for his number, Lindsey told her that Jake hadn’t left an address or a number because he’d only come to the clinic to check out Franny as a vet for his dog.

“Criminal,” Franny said, biting her lip.

“Jeez, what a name to give a dog,” Lindsey added.

But Franny wasn’t even listening. She turned miserably away. She had reached a new low. She was just a foolish woman who didn’t know how to handle men. She always gave too much, and look what had happened to her. Again. She wished Clare were here, but Clare was back in Atlanta, picking up some more of her stuff. She decided she wouldn’t tell Clare about Jake, though, because she just couldn’t admit she’d made a fool of herself again, so soon after Marcus.



ALL THE WAY BACK to New York, Jake thought about Franny. He knew how much it would hurt when he didn’t call, after how wonderful she had been to him and what had happened between them. But there was nothing he could do except send her flowers. And damn it, he missed her already. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he’d have to wait and trust he could work it all out when they met again at the chateau.





10





AS RAFAELLA WALKED ALONG the path beneath the chestnut trees, with the dogs romping ahead, she imagined life as it used to be on hot summer days like this. In the old days there were always house parties, and she would gather friends around her and they’d ride their horses out to the vineyard for picnics or have long lunches at Café des Colombes. They would take up all the terrace tables, making a racket, capping one another’s jokes and tall tales, laughing and drinking Pernod.