Chapter 7
7
That first kiss had flavour notes of coffee and cigarettes and… the spice of something else that was purely Noah’s and could possibly be the smokiness of slightly scandalous pleasure. It marked the moment Laura could feel real life begin to slip away as she stepped into the fantasy that had been forming and growing in the most private parts of her brain – and her body – for long enough to feel… what was it, exactly?
Legitimate?
Safe …?
Yes. She knew the beginning, the middle and most importantly, the end of the fairy-tale affair she had created that was now coming to life.
Okay… she hadn’t allowed for the extra dimension of there being another human involved here and not simply a clichéd example of a type of man Laura had never considered suitable. Who would have thought that a sinfully gorgeous bad boy who ignored any rules that would stop him doing exactly what he wanted to do would be so attuned to someone else’s emotional struggles?
So attuned that he had felt her falling apart before she’d shed a single tear. Who had taken control and rescued her so smoothly and casually that she doubted anyone else had seen that she was falling apart. With just the touch of his hand taking hers and merely a single word.
‘Come .’
Noah Dufour might ride a motorbike in lieu of a horse but that didn’t make him any less of a knight in shining armour. That, on its own, was enough to take her fantasy to new, unexpected heights and, because it was a fantasy and Laura knew exactly when it was going to end, she could let herself fall just a little bit in love with him.
Well… what woman wouldn’t fall for someone who could make them believe that how they felt mattered enough – that they mattered enough – to deserve comfort? Being rescued in a way that kept dignity intact suggested a sensitivity Laura hadn’t factored into her fantasy.
Learning that Noah had experienced the tragedy of losing a young and precious life had given her a disconcerting feeling of connection. To know that he’d been dealing with that grief at almost the same age she’d been when her father had walked out, when life had changed forever for the Gilchrist family, had been disturbing enough to make her think that it might be safer to walk away before she got any closer to this man.
But then he’d kissed her.
It hadn’t even been about sex. Not to start with, anyway. It had been such a gentle kiss that it felt like simply a more intimate touch in the same spectrum as holding her hand. But, in the same way that their eye contact could be a conversation in itself, the touch of his lips against hers had ignited the flicker of something much, much more exciting than holding hands. It was a promise of things to come.
And, beneath that layer, there was another promise. That Noah would keep her safe.
It was in that moment that Laura had given up trying to ensure that the fantasy stayed within the boundaries she’d imagined. Or to worry about any repercussions when it came time to walk away. Because the time when it would end was too close already and, if she didn’t surrender, she was never going to know how exciting it might be to ignore the boundaries of reality.
This was why she had come here and precisely what she’d been hoping would happen. She would never have this chance again.
She wasn’t going to throw away even the tiniest part of it.
* * *
The hotel Laura was staying in was near the centre of the historic part of Vence, in a narrow street near the Grand Jardin. Noah parked in the designated area for motorbikes between the central square, which housed the markets, and the restaurants on the other side of the road.
‘We can walk everywhere we want to go from here,’ he said. ‘It’s not as if you have a suitcase to carry.’
Laura smiled. ‘I’ve never travelled this light before but I have everything I need. Even a dress.’
‘A dress?’ Noah raised an eyebrow as he looked at her shoulder bag. His smile was lazy. ‘A very short dress?’
‘No.’ Laura’s tone was prim. ‘I wanted something to wear when you took me out to dinner tonight, and this one rolled up surprisingly well. I’ve even got a pair of sandals in the bottom of my bag to go with it.’ Her glance was speculative. ‘You haven’t told me where we’re going yet. Are you taking me to La Farigoule, or the restaurant in St Paul de Vence where all the artists used to go? I’ve forgotten the name.’
‘La Colombe d’Or.’ He was still smiling. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Luckily I have friends everywhere and a table can almost always be found.’
If he wanted to impress her, he would choose La Colombe d’Or with its wonderful history, he thought. But it was tempting to take her to La Farigoule because that had been where he’d started flirting with her via text messages. Where he’d photographed the most romantic table in the establishment and had taken the risk of stepping well outside of any purely professional exchange.
Notre table, Laura. Une coupe de champagne pour toi, peut-être?
Another thought struck him then.
‘ Oh, là là ,’ he murmured. ‘Is it the dress? The black one?’
‘Yes.’ Laura wasn’t looking at him and she sounded slightly defensive. Was she embarrassed? ‘You do realise I sent you that photograph by accident, don’t you?’
‘ C’était le destin .’
She looked up then, and Noah resisted the urge to kiss her again and, instead, simply held her gaze long enough to let her know he was more than happy with what fate had delivered. It wasn’t only because he had a feeling she would not appreciate being kissed with this lack of privacy. Something was warning him to be careful. To take this slowly so that Laura would not duck back into safety. And hide.
This was about more than anything physical, although he was confident that not rushing anything would make it worth the wait – for both of them.
There was an unusual extra dimension to this brève affaire now, however. Noah was genuinely curious about who the real Laura was. And whether she, herself, had ever truly acknowledged the existence of that person.
They walked to the hotel, a three-hundred-year-old stone building that Noah discovered had been where the two Gilchrist sisters had stayed on their first trip to France. He listened to Laura’s somewhat shy, but definitely adorable, efforts to speak in French as she responded to the welcome from the receptionist, who had recognised her, and completed the formalities to check in and get the key to her room on the first floor.
‘ Montez les escaliers ,’ he heard the receptionist say as she handed over the key. ‘ Allez tout droit et c’est la première pièce à gauche .’
‘I hope I remember those directions,’ Laura said, as they went back into the street. ‘My French is so rusty.’
‘ Pas de problème ,’ Noah responded. It wouldn’t be a problem. Not if he was there. ‘Now… where would you like to go first? The cathedral? The famous tree? The most beautiful street?’
‘Everywhere.’ Laura smiled. ‘But… can I ask something else?’
‘ Bien s?r, ma chérie .’
‘Would it be possible to go to see the lavender fields tomorrow? It’s the right time of year, isn’t it?’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I know we could just use a picture someone else had taken for the brochure but… I’d love to walk amongst the flowers in the sunshine and smell the blooms. It’s…’ She sounded even more shy than when she’d been speaking in an unfamiliar language – as though this was a confession she shouldn’t be making? ‘It’s always been a dream for me to do that.’
There was a plea in her eyes that no man could have resisted. She was asking him to make a dream come true for her.
That was when Noah knew exactly what he wanted to do for this astonishing woman who would only be in his life for such a short time. He would make her dream come true. He would, as far as possible, make everything as perfect as any dream could be.
He wasn’t going to take her to either of the places she’d expected to go for dinner this evening, either.
He had something rather more fantastical in mind now. Something that would capture as many of her senses as possible. That would make her feel like she was walking right into the middle of one of her dreams.
The opportunity to make a couple of private phone calls came when he took Laura to one of the outdoor bars flanking the Grand Jardin. He ordered a flute of champagne and then snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something important.
‘The camera,’ he said. ‘I left it in the pannier. Stay here and guard the champagne – I’ll be back in… what’s the expression? The shutting of one eye?’
‘You were very close.’ It was just a hint of a smile but it managed to reach all the way to Laura’s eyes. ‘It’s the blink of an eye.’
Noah blinked just one eye at her. He already had his phone out as he walked to where he’d parked the bike and, when he returned, he was the one with a small smile playing with the corner of his mouth.
Noah was quietly confident that Laura would still be thinking about this evening when she was walking amongst the lavender tomorrow morning.
* * *
Laura wasn’t much of a drinker.
It was a wonder she wasn’t teetotal, really, given that she’d been so aware of the damage caused by drinking too much, but there was something about champagne that made it acceptable in moderation. For celebrations.
And this was a celebration.
Or had she taken that first, rather large, sip as she watched Noah walk away because she was trying to dampen the flicker of heat she could feel low down in her body?
The flicker had started with that wicked wink and had only intensified at the view she was getting now of the dark waves of hair that were long enough to cover the collar of a clearly beloved leather jacket. And those faded denim jeans that clung closely enough to define rather than hide muscles.
Oh, là là …
Maybe it was a tingle rather than a flicker. Not unlike the tingle from the bubbles dancing across her tongue.
She was halfway through her drink by the time Noah came back from fetching his camera, but he had easily caught up with her by the time she finished the champagne that was so deliciously dry she suspected it was a rather expensive variety.
With her head spinning ever so slightly and by no means unpleasantly, she let Noah take her hand and they walked around the corner of a large, ancient building to see a massive tree trunk in a circular garden, surrounded by paving. Its branches seemed to have been carefully pruned, the leafy shape much smaller than she would have expected for the size of the trunk.
‘This is the Place du Frêne,’ Noah said. ‘And that is the famous tree. They say it’s five hundred years old, planted by King Francois I to mark a visit he made to Nice.’
Laura was scrolling her phone. ‘Ah… a frêne is an ash tree. I was thinking that meant oak but I could see the leaves were different.’
‘You were very close.’ Noah’s smile told her that he was deliberately echoing her words to him. That this was a phrase he might associate with her in future. The kind of phrase that became part of a private language for couples because it could bring back a special memory.
Like a wink…?
‘An oak tree is chêne ,’ he added. ‘Shall I take a photo of you looking at the tree?’
‘No, thank you…’ Laura was staring past the tree now, to where the street ended with a low stone wall. ‘What’s everyone looking at there?’
‘Come and see. It’s a lovely view of the valley of the Lubiane River. And the baous , of course.’
‘ Baous ?’
‘The mountains.’
Noah stood behind her as she stood by the wall and admired the view. So close that Laura thought she could feel the heat of his body and she found herself leaning back. Or was he leaning forward as he reached to point out a landmark? It didn’t matter. Laura was quite happy to feel a frisson of physical touch. She was getting used to those flickers of heat. That tingle…
‘ Baou is an old Provencal word, I believe. I think the closest translation might be “barrier”? They are the first layer of the mountains. Behind them are the Mercantours and then the Alps. Vence sits just under the Baou des Blancs. There’s a huge star near the top that lights up in December for the la saison de No?l .’
‘Really? I’d love to see that.’
But they both knew she wouldn’t be here at Christmas time.
Noah broke the silence before it could become awkward. ‘The most well recognised is the third one, the Baou de Saint-Jeannet – the biggest and most dramatic of the four. I love to see it when I’m flying into Nice. It feels like I’m already home. Anyway… come… I have so much to show you.’
He took her to the most photographed street in Vence, narrow and notable for the plants and vines adorning the typical old stone houses. He showed her a tiny and pretty space between houses off another street, called the Place Vielle, that was apparently famous for being the smallest square in France. They went past the cathedral but didn’t go inside to see the mosaic because too many tourists were blocking the doors. And, by then, it was getting late.
‘I will take you back to your hotel,’ Noah said. ‘I will be back later to collect you for dinner.’
‘Have you decided where you’re taking me?’
‘I have.’
‘Are you going to tell me?’
Noah’s smile was wicked. ‘ Non ,’ he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips. ‘You will love it, I promise.’
* * *
The nerves kicked in about the time Laura got out of her shower and looked at the black dress she’d hung in the bathroom so that the steam would remove any creases.
How on earth was it going to work, climbing onto the back of a motorbike in a figure-hugging dress like this? Would she need to hike up her dress and bare far too much leg?
She couldn’t wear her jeans, though. She’d already rinsed out her white shirt so it could dry in time to wear again tomorrow. Besides, she was quite sure that Noah was planning to take her somewhere very French. And very classy, like the famous restaurant in St Paul de Vence.
Maybe he’d chosen that restaurant here in Vence and it would be within walking distance?
Otherwise, she could suggest they took a taxi.
Or… she could trust that Noah would have already thought of that. He had, after all, promised that she was going to love whatever he had decided to do with her this evening.
Oh… Laura pressed her face into the soft folds of the towel while she took a very deep breath. Yes… that was what she was going to do. Because hadn’t she already decided that Noah Dufour could do anything he liked with her this evening?
* * *
They had arranged to meet in the foyer of her hotel and, as Laura arrived at exactly the appointed time, Noah was already there, sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed. Waiting for her.
Looking impossibly gorgeous. In black-tie attire, but without the tie. He was wearing black trousers and a classic tuxedo that fitted so beautifully it looked like it had been designed especially for him. The jacket was unbuttoned. The white dress shirt also had a couple of buttons undone below the collar. He looked sophisticated but oh-so casual at the same time. Letting life wash over him but giving the impression he could take complete control in a heartbeat. He was the sexiest man Laura had ever seen but what was utterly enchanting was the way he was looking at her – as if she were the dream come true.
She was so happy she’d thought to bring this dress, and so pleased that she’d made the effort to do her hair and make-up as perfectly as possible.
Noah got to his feet and dropped a whisper of a kiss on both her cheeks.
‘You look… beautiful,’ he said.
‘So do you.’ Laura felt suddenly shy. ‘But you don’t look as if you came here on your motorbike.’
‘I arranged a car for us.’
It wasn’t just any car. It was a sleek black Mercedes sedan with tinted windows, leather seats and a chauffeur. Laura decided that Noah was taking her somewhere in Nice when she saw they were passing the airport, but they bypassed the city and headed up into the mountains again.
Sunset was still well over an hour away, but the light had softened noticeably by the time they turned off the main road into a town with a jumble of buildings on top of a hill that was a quintessential, centuries-old, French village.
‘Where are we?’ Laura asked.
‘èze. One of the most famous medieval villages in the South of France.’
‘Like St Paul de Vence?’
‘ Oui . But the view from the top of the old town here is better. Also, my favourite restaurant is here.’
‘Is it as famous as the Colombe d’Or?’
‘The Chateau de la Chèvre d’Or is much more spectacular. And the food is…’ Seemingly lost for words, Noah gave a chef’s kiss.
Laura’s stomach did an odd little somersault as she watched him.
‘Did you bring your camera?’
‘ Non . Tonight is not about the brochure.’ Noah leaned forward to speak to the driver in French that was too rapid for Laura to follow. As the car slowed to stop under the towering ramparts of the ancient city, Noah turned back to her.
‘Tonight is about you, ma chérie. Seulement toi .’
Noah got out of the car and extended his hand to help Laura as she slid across the leather seat.
‘We have to walk from here,’ he said.
He didn’t let go of her hand as they walked. The magic of stepping back in time folded itself around them as soon as they walked through the first arched gateway. It only grew stronger as they followed cobbled streets that had smooth terracotta tiles between rough-hewn stone borders and were steep enough to need low steps. As they got higher, they were looking down on the crowded, stone-built dwellings. The patchwork of roofs on different levels, with chimney pots like tiny houses on top of the curved tiles, made it feel like a town from a long-forgotten fairy tale. The rocks of ancient walls had the contrast of fresh greenery and splashes of colour from pale roses and sky-blue plumbago. Lush, mossy fountains had cool streams of water coming from pipes hidden within faces or creatures carved into the stone.
There were tantalising glimpses of the sea so far below on the way up the hill, but the uninterrupted view from the summit was enough to take Laura’s breath away completely.
The sun was low enough in the sky now to light up the gleaming superyachts that looked no bigger than toys in the inky-blue scoop of the Mediterranean.
‘Is that Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat?’ Laura pointed to the finger of land in the distance.
‘It is.’
‘So, behind that hill are the baous ?’
‘ Exactement .’
Laura soaked it all in for another long, glorious minute. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she murmured. ‘Paradise.’
The sun was even lower when they made their way back down the hill, past restaurants with people sitting at candlelit tables. Their chatter and laughter, punctuated by the clink of glassware and cutlery, followed them around corners and the aroma of their food caught Laura’s nostrils and made her mouth water.
‘Here we are.’ Noah was smiling as he guided Laura onto a new pathway. ‘ Bienvenue au Chateau de la Chèvre d’Or .’
* * *
This had been a good choice.
The luxury hotel, with its complex of pathways, buildings and gardens, felt as if it had been clinging to the sides of this special hill long enough to earn its status as a jewel in the crown of the famous destination.
Watching Laura seeing it all for the first time made it fresh in Noah’s eyes and sharpened his senses. He loved the émerveillement he could see on her face. He could feel her surprise at the tantalising glimpses of the terraced chateau gardens below the path with their remarkable, life-sized bronze animals standing on grassy ledges: a mother elephant and her calves, a horse, a giraffe. He could hear sounds that he might not have noticed normally, like the trickle of water from fountains crafted from the same rough stone that formed the pathways, nestled amongst trees and carefully clipped shrubs. He could feel the almost childlike pleasure of finding that one of the fountains had an elegant frog standing behind the stream of water, holding a lily leaf as an umbrella.
He loved the tiny, incredulous gasp she made when she realised they were being taken to the best table in the restaurant, right by the window that commanded the same extraordinary view they’d seen from the hilltop. It also looked out on the symbol the chateau was named for: the statue of a goat that looked as if it had been made of pure molten gold, standing on a pile of rocks so it gave the impression of climbing up to get the best view of his Mediterranean home as the sun completed its slow descent to the horizon.
Course after course was served and every plate of food was a work of art, with tiny edible flowers, colourful sauces and unexpected taste combinations to enhance the precise placement of every morsel. And Laura was clearly loving every bite. There were tiny versions of pissaladière – the local speciality, onion tart – a watermelon soup, a plate that simply had three spears of asparagus with a shower of freshly ground black pepper and a drizzle of sauce. There was a forest of mushrooms, prawns that were emerging from small puddles of yet another sauce that captivated the taste buds, and fish that had no skin but had been scored and sprinkled with flavourings to look like geometric scales.
Noah had eaten here many times before but, somehow, the food looked more impressive this time and the taste and textures of everything seemed enhanced. The wines that were paired with every course even more perfect.
‘This is so good,’ Laura declared, as champagne was served to signal the transition to dessert. ‘It’s to die for.’
‘We say that in French, also,’ he told her. ‘ C’est une tuerie . Or c’est à tomber .’
The top of the list, as a tuerie, for Laura was the final dessert course.
It was a dessert that was a speciality of this restaurant. A lemon shaped from a shell of thin chocolate, coloured yellow and green. Noah knew that when you cracked it open you would find lemon cake and mousse inside. It would be delicious and it would be the end of this memorable meal.
But not the end of this perfect evening.
The car was waiting for them and he would take Laura back to her hotel very soon. Perhaps the pleasures of this astonishing day were not anywhere near over.
Noah had the feeling that the best was yet to come.
For both of them.
* * *
Une tuerie …
Something so good, it was to die for.
That could have been many things that day for Laura.
That first sight of Noah at the airport, lounging beside his bike. Waiting. For her .
That whisper of touch in his office when he was teasing her.
It was definitely that first kiss…
And every bite of that astonishing dinner had to be included.
But the absolute winner came much later.
When Noah hadn’t let go of her hand until he’d pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. When they were behind the locked door of her gorgeous hotel room with only the soft light from a lamp on a dresser, long, delicate curtains rippling in the breeze from open windows, and a bed that had been turned down to reveal a cloud of pure white linen.
When Noah had lifted his hand with what felt like reverence and watched his own fingers as they traced her collarbone, from her shoulder to her neck, leaving a trail of fire behind them.
She could feel the pulse in her neck beating against his fingers as his gaze lifted to meet hers.
‘I knew it would be this good,’ he said, so softly she barely heard the words.
Not that she needed to reply.
How could she when his lips were already on hers?
Any fear that sex with Noah Dufour would not live up to the fantasy had already vaporised. When he slid the zip at the back of her dress open, moments later, and she felt his hands slide against her skin, effortlessly starting an ambush on every one of her senses, Laura realised that her fantasy had, in fact, been way off the mark.
But how could she have possibly known how this would feel ?
Every touch of his fingers, his tongue and his body. The sound of the murmured words in his own language. The look in his eyes when she was bold enough to meet them. The scent of him. Oh God… the taste of him…
The way it was stealing not only her breath and her mind but her heart as well made it truly feel like something Laura could actually die for.
How extraordinary was it that, at exactly the same time, it could make her want to live forever?
So that this would never have to end…