Turning her attention to Samara, Lexi asked hopefully, “What about you and Marcus?”
Samara grimaced. “I’m afraid we’ll have to bail on you too. Dad and Marcus promised to take the boys fishing today, and somehow Mom and I got roped into joining them.”
Lexi was aghast. “Fishing?In January?”
“Winter’s the best season to go,” asserted Sterling, an avid outdoorsman. “The lakes are less crowded, and I’ve caught some really big bass this time of year.”
“If you say so, Dad,” Lexi said skeptically.
Asha chuckled. “Believe me,chère,I’d much rather follow Michael and Reese’s lead and spend the day lazing around a cozy fire. But a promise is a promise.” Her lips curved. “So it looks as though you and Quentin are on your own until dinnertime.”
“Looks that way,” Lexi said weakly.
When she hazarded a glance at Quentin, he gave her the slow, lazy grin of a scoundrel. A grin she knew all too well.
As her pulse accelerated, she realized that for the first time ever, she was positively terrified to be alone with him.
So much for proving that nothing had changed between them.
Chapter 3
An hour later, Lexi and Quentin were ensconced in the backseat of a chauffeured car bound for Dijon, the capital of Burgundy and the birthplace of Dijon mustard.
The narrow, rambling roads meandered through a scenic countryside of gently rolling hills covered with dense forests and luscious vineyards that cascaded down sloping ridges. The glazed, multihued roof tiles of châteaus added vivid splashes of color to the landscape. It looked like something right out of a van Gogh painting.
“Oh, look!” Lexi said excitedly to Quentin, pointing to a herd of cattle grazing peacefully on a hillside.
Leaning over to peer out her window, Quentin cocked an amused brow at her. “Cows?”
“Not justanycows,” she archly informed him. “Those are white Charolais cattle, which are specially bred to provide the superior quality of beef used in boeuf bourguignon, Burgundy’s most well-known dish.”
“Wait. Haven’t you made that for me before?”
She smiled. “Several times.”
Quentin gazed at the passing herd of cattle with newfound respect. “God bless each and every one of y’all.”
When Lexi laughed, he grinned at her. And just like that, the awkwardness between them was gone. For good, Lexi hoped, though somehow she knew better.
Soon they arrived in Dijon, a gorgeous city characterized by historic buildings and cathedrals, art galleries and museums, upscale boutiques, antiques shops and medieval half-timbered houses nestled along cobbled streets. There were restaurants and cafés with terraces on every corner, offering gastronomic delights to please any palate.
Lexi took in the amazing sights, sounds and smells with the excited wonder of a child, tugging Quentin from one place to the next. The regal Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy was closed for the holiday, but they were able to explore the courtyards and climb up the Philippe le Bon Tower, which offered a wonderful view of Dijon and the surrounding countryside.
Next they visited the church of Notre Dame, an architecturally beautiful gothic building famous for the unusual gargoyles that covered its facade. There was an owl sculpted into one of the stone walls. In keeping with local custom, Lexi and Quentin took turns placing their left hands on the carving to make a wish.
As they started away, Quentin asked, “What’d you wish for?”
She smiled enigmatically. “If I tell you, it might not come true.”
And that can’t happen,she silently added. She hadn’t wished for fame and fortune upon the release of her first cookbook next month. She hadn’t even wished for a better relationship with her mother. Instead, she’d offered up a simple but heartfelt prayer that she and Quentin would always remain the best of friends. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing him.
After stopping at a sidewalk café to enjoy a local favorite—kir, a white wine and cassis apéritif—they headed to an open-air market that specialized in breads, cheeses, wines, spices and sauces. Lexi had only intended to browse, but as they wandered through the bustling stalls, she found herself reaching for one item after another, her mind racing with ideas for different recipes.
Without being asked, Quentin retrieved a basket for her, a soft, indulgent smile quirking his lips as he watched her shop. “Don’t forget what Asha said.”
Mulling over a wedge of Epoisses cheese that she could serve with a bottle of Chablis, Lexi asked absently, “What’d she say?”
“You and Mike are her guests this weekend, so you’re not allowed to step foot inside her kitchen to cook.”
