“I hoped I’d catch you before you left.”
Why? She’d cried and ranted at me that I ruined her life and killed her sister. I’d failed my fiancée and proved I wasn’t cut out to be a doctor.
I took out another box. “My train leaves tonight.”
She reached for my hand to stop me. Her sister had once made my hand spark, but Desiree wasn’t like her at all.
“Then we won’t see each other anymore, and I hope your new life is better.”
Friends with your exes’ family was easier than forgetting how I’d killed her. “Yours, too, Desiree. Take care of yourself. Let me finish getting the boxes ready for the moving company downstairs.”
She pressed her hand to her heart for a second and then took out the diamond and citrine ring from her pocket. “Of course. I wanted to give this back to you. Your grandmother will want this in your family.”
It had been passed down since the eleventh century in my family, though during the revolution, a few relatives waited it out in Britain until it was safe to reclaim our lands. “Thanks. To be honest, she’ll be relieved when I see her.”
If I ever got engaged again, the tradition would continue. If not, I would be the end of the La Trimouille line. At this point, I was okay with that.
“Then that’s everything. Au Revoir.”
Right. I grabbed my overnight bag, tossed a few more clothes in it, and zipped it up. As I finished with the closet and my belongings, my phone dinged. I picked it up and read the text. Quentin, it’s Calliope. We bought our tickets just now. We’re all excited about seeing you.
So, the reunion to remember my brother was official it seemed. I quickly typed, I understand you and Simon feel guilty about Blake, but my brother…
What could I say in a text? I’d killed him when I hadn’t left the life vest for him? I deleted the words and wrote instead, See you soon.
I had never been the boy my brother wanted to hang out with. I wasn’t exciting like Simon or as perky as Calliope. I finished with the boxes in a few hours, had lunch, and greeted the movers at the appointed time. I let the older gentleman and his son in and signed the release. Soon my stuff was to be delivered, and I would be free.
Desiree’s family needed time to collect Cecilia’s items from our Paris apartment. She’d almost been my wife, and I didn't want to rush her family in their grief. I didn’t need to live near a hospital anymore anyhow.
I left the keys on the table and told the mover who went for the book box, “Guess that’s everything. If there is any problem, call me.”
“Ouch.” The older man rubbed the muscles of his back.
I went over and quickly surmised it wasn’t serious as I asked, “Your back?”
“Oui,” he said and continued to rub it.
I hadn’t expected to ever give out advice again, but this wasn’t an official consult. I stood beside him and motioned as I said, “Remember to bend with your knees more. It doesn’t look serious but visit your primary if it continues. The pharmacy should have a muscle cream, and physical therapy always helps strengthen the muscles, especially the core.”
“Thanks, doc,” my mover said, and I cringed.
“No problem,” I said and walked out the door. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have helped, because I was a horrible doctor.
I absolutely shouldn’t be wondering what that sweet American was doing right now.
It was better to just retire to my vineyards and forget about Paris.
Chapter 3
Kara
The small portion of pasta and the small piece of chicken I ate at lunch in a small bistro I happened upon energized me.
Until this meal, I hadn’t really understood how everyone in Paris kept their slim figures, but my stomach was full, but even now the Wanker’s kiss still lingered on my lips.
Seriously, I must be desperate for a simple kiss to cause me to forget my life mistakes… or the stranger had really kissed me more thoroughly than anyone else in my life.
Good thing I’d never see him again. How wanton would I turn if I allowed myself to fall further into him?
I knew who I was. A jilted bride on her honeymoon for one that continued solo, but at least I experienced more than that hot kiss that left me aching, long after it ended.
Only when I closed my eyes, I kept wishing to know what all those muscles underneath the black sweater might feel like against my own naked body.
The sexy stranger made me wonder if orgasms really ended in a little death or if that was just a rumor whispered by more satisfied women.
Marlon certainly hadn’t made me see stars in bed, not that I’d ever complained… until today. Until the moment I experienced perfection. Normally, I’d never think about sex much at all. I’d admit to friends I’d probably just been above it all.
I was clearly in denial, but I’d board my train to Monte Carlo and tomorrow to Florence and hope maybe men in other parts of Europe were equally good-looking.
If that sexy stranger represented the best Frenchman, maybe I’d see that movie version of the perfect Italian guy from my fantasies.
Then maybe I’d stop wondering about Mr. Wanker’s wanker.
I laughed to myself at the thought, slid into my seat, and dug out my travel guide.
Soon I’d see more places on my bucket list—the casino from that James Bond movie and where Grace Kelly married her prince in a documentary. The train for Monte Carlo arrived early, and I booked a night train to continue on to Florence.
Finally, I’d see Italy where supposedly the hottest of hot European men existed.
But my body still wanted more carnal knowledge of Mr. Wanker.
I closed my eyes and let my lips slightly open as I had for his kiss. But then I heard a light knock on the door. I opened them, half expecting to be asked for my ticket when dark, sexy brown hues stared into mine and asked, “Est-ce que tu as un plan? Je me suis perdu dans tes yeux.”
My pulse raced. I still didn’t understand his words, and I sat straighter as I asked, “What?”
“Is this seat taken?” He pointed to the three empty seats in my small compartment.
If we locked the door, we’d have some privacy. I became breathless like this was all a dream and asked, “Wanker?”
Without waiting for my approval, he took the seat and closed the door.
My heart leapt. We were alone.
“It seems we both chose the same train to Monte Carlo.”
In movies, Italy was where hot men existed, but France had always played in my mind as a close second. Wanker proved the fervor inside me lit up at the sound of a French accent that had clips of English with different pronunciations. My muscles clearly tried to protest as I stammered and slightly trembled. “I… I w-wanted to see the countryside and then get to Italy.”
He winked at me and then reached into his travel bag. I wondered if he’d grab a condom and demand my attention right there, but he pulled out a bottle and asked, “Would you like a glass of wine?”
My breath escaped my lungs. Seriously? Did all the French travel with bottles? I nodded and tried to make sense when I said, “So… you plan on drinking for the next nine hours?”
He poured the wine into two glasses that were already in the cabin like the French foreshadowed their customers’ needs. “They serve decent meals, so I intended to indulge on some food, too.”