fell across her eyes like an eclipse. She turned her head away, and looked around the crowded bistro, then back at Dave. “We can’t talk here. Not about this. Please.”
Dave finished his wine. “I guess I can wait. But not too long.”
Romain reappeared, setting the hors d’oeuvres in front of them, and Dave breathed in the heavenly scent. He hadn’t realized until now how hungry he was.
“Bon appetit,” Maurelle said, and Dave repeated the phrase, while he refilled both of their wine glasses.
As they ate and talked, they kept their conversation light.
“What’s England like? I’ve always wanted to see the country but haven’t gotten around to it. Did you live in London, or in a more rural area?”
“London. Though my grandparents lived in a small village in the West Country. They passed away years ago.”
Dave nodded.
“Do you miss England?”
“I haven’t been away long,” she said . “Only a few weeks. Still, I do miss some things. Well, as you know already, I miss sleeping in a bed, and of course bathing indoors.”
She laughed. Looking up at Dave, a light danced in her eyes, and Dave caught his breath. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked.
“And do you have someone special you miss,” he asked, “a husband or boyfriend?”
Maurelle sipped her wine . “I do not.”
“No serious relationship?”
“Once. We lived together for two years—until I caught him cheating on me with another woman.”
Dave thought of Simone again. “How long ago was that?”
“A few months,” Maurelle said, looking at him squarely.
She appeared to be waiting for more questions, but Dave didn’t say anything. He swallowed another bite of food, pondering this new information. Could that be it? He was pursuing her after the break-up?
“I’m divorced,” he offered. It was part her fault but more my fault, if I’m being honest.”
“It must have been hard, especially if there were children involved.”
“No children.”
She leaned forward, her elbow on the table, and rested her chin on her palm, studying him. “You didn’t remarry?”
Dave shrugged again. She was trying to turn the tables on him. He decided to change the subject. “Do you—or did you—have a job?”
“That seems like a different lifetime,” she whispered. “I left my job. I’m not sure what I will do now.”
“ What kind of work did you do?”
She hesitated. “I was a school teacher. I taught English Literature. But that’s over.”
He smiled. “I’m a published author, but you wouldn’t think it if you listened to my editor. He complains that I need to go back to school and learn more about grammar. Admittedly, I’m not the best writer, but luckily for me people buy my books anyway.”
Maurelle laughed. “What kind of books do you write?”
“Mystery and crime novels. I’ve thought of trying another genre, but my agent says I should stick to what I know.”
She looked at him quizzically, and opened her mouth to speak , but she closed it when Romain appeared with their main course.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Monsieur?”
“I don’t think so. How about you, Maurelle?”
She shook her head.
“I think we’re fine,” he said. Romain left, and Dave turned his attention back to Maurelle. “You were about to say something?”
“Oh, I was wondering about your writing. What makes you write the kind of stories you write?”
“I used to be a police detective back in Chicago. I quit several years ago.”
Dave knew he’d struck a nerve when h er face blanched. Now he was sure she’d been spooked yesterday by the gendarmes. It wasn’t an ex-boyfriend pursuing her.
“Why did you leave the police force?”
“Long story. I don’t want to bore you with it. I guess I’d rather save that for another day too.” He tried from then on to talk about trivial things, knowing that he would get the answers he needed in due course. For now, he would be patient. But damn, that was
Dave finished his wine. “I guess I can wait. But not too long.”
Romain reappeared, setting the hors d’oeuvres in front of them, and Dave breathed in the heavenly scent. He hadn’t realized until now how hungry he was.
“Bon appetit,” Maurelle said, and Dave repeated the phrase, while he refilled both of their wine glasses.
As they ate and talked, they kept their conversation light.
“What’s England like? I’ve always wanted to see the country but haven’t gotten around to it. Did you live in London, or in a more rural area?”
“London. Though my grandparents lived in a small village in the West Country. They passed away years ago.”
Dave nodded.
“Do you miss England?”
“I haven’t been away long,” she said . “Only a few weeks. Still, I do miss some things. Well, as you know already, I miss sleeping in a bed, and of course bathing indoors.”
She laughed. Looking up at Dave, a light danced in her eyes, and Dave caught his breath. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked.
“And do you have someone special you miss,” he asked, “a husband or boyfriend?”
Maurelle sipped her wine . “I do not.”
“No serious relationship?”
“Once. We lived together for two years—until I caught him cheating on me with another woman.”
Dave thought of Simone again. “How long ago was that?”
“A few months,” Maurelle said, looking at him squarely.
She appeared to be waiting for more questions, but Dave didn’t say anything. He swallowed another bite of food, pondering this new information. Could that be it? He was pursuing her after the break-up?
“I’m divorced,” he offered. It was part her fault but more my fault, if I’m being honest.”
“It must have been hard, especially if there were children involved.”
“No children.”
She leaned forward, her elbow on the table, and rested her chin on her palm, studying him. “You didn’t remarry?”
Dave shrugged again. She was trying to turn the tables on him. He decided to change the subject. “Do you—or did you—have a job?”
“That seems like a different lifetime,” she whispered. “I left my job. I’m not sure what I will do now.”
“ What kind of work did you do?”
She hesitated. “I was a school teacher. I taught English Literature. But that’s over.”
He smiled. “I’m a published author, but you wouldn’t think it if you listened to my editor. He complains that I need to go back to school and learn more about grammar. Admittedly, I’m not the best writer, but luckily for me people buy my books anyway.”
Maurelle laughed. “What kind of books do you write?”
“Mystery and crime novels. I’ve thought of trying another genre, but my agent says I should stick to what I know.”
She looked at him quizzically, and opened her mouth to speak , but she closed it when Romain appeared with their main course.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Monsieur?”
“I don’t think so. How about you, Maurelle?”
She shook her head.
“I think we’re fine,” he said. Romain left, and Dave turned his attention back to Maurelle. “You were about to say something?”
“Oh, I was wondering about your writing. What makes you write the kind of stories you write?”
“I used to be a police detective back in Chicago. I quit several years ago.”
Dave knew he’d struck a nerve when h er face blanched. Now he was sure she’d been spooked yesterday by the gendarmes. It wasn’t an ex-boyfriend pursuing her.
“Why did you leave the police force?”
“Long story. I don’t want to bore you with it. I guess I’d rather save that for another day too.” He tried from then on to talk about trivial things, knowing that he would get the answers he needed in due course. For now, he would be patient. But damn, that was
Similar Books
