Nobody in his normal life would know anything about it.
So what harm could it possibly do?
* * *
So they weren’t going to talk about it.
Tilly had to admit that was a relief. The last thing she wanted was for Angus to apologise and assure her that it had meant nothing.
She hadn’t updated Sophie on what might or might not be a significant development. She wanted to indulge, for a little while, in a fantasy that itwas. That this buttoned-up, unhappy man might have suddenly, thanks toher, had an epiphany that could change his life. He might even end up being less disparaging about romance.
He had, after all, asked her to show him the things that she thought he needed to see, and that extraordinary kiss couldn’t be seen as anything other than romantic. It might be why Angus had been so quiet on the drive back to Aix, listening to music that Tilly didn’t recognise and which held a note of the kind of sadness a broken-hearted man might be feeling. Had he been trying to find an explanation for what had happened at the stream that had nothing to do with romance?
Eh bien… Good luck with that!
Things felt more relaxed once they were out of the car and had sorted their first task by taking the merino sweater Angus had been wearing to the dry cleaners. Tilly left her jeans there, as well, because it would take too long to go to her mother’s house and wait for them to be washed and dried. The woman in charge declared that both Angus’s chinos and his suede shoeswere beyond any restoration she could provide in a few hours, and Angus took up her offer to dispose of them.
Tilly had never needed to go into a high-end men’s shoe shop before but she knew where to find a boutiquemaison de chaussuresdown a side street that she thought would be ideal. She spotted a variety of brown suede shoes as soon as they walked inside this very masculine space but, to her surprise, Angus shook his head.
‘Too boring,’ he murmured. ‘I would prefer something like…’ He slowly scanned the shelves. ‘…that.’
The shop attendant took over as Angus picked up a shoe, ready to measure his feet and find the right size for him to try on. Tilly perched on a buttoned leather chair and watched silently, until Angus had both shoes on his feet and walked towards her.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
Tilly thought they were perfect. Tan leather sneakers, with elastic laces and a cream sole with a black stripe. The leather was slightly distressed, making them look like old favourites before they were even worn. They reminded Tilly of his holdall.
‘They suit you,’ she declared. ‘Are they comfortable?’
‘Yes. Very.’ Angus turned to the salesman with a decisive nod. ‘I’ll take them.Merci.’
If the shoe choice had surprised her, what happened in the men’s clothing boutique was next level. Angus dismissed the racks of chinos in favour of trying on jeans. He must have seen the astonishment on Tilly’s face as he chose a pair of straight-leg Levi’s in a faded original blue.
‘I’m on holiday,’ he told her.
But with his white shirt hanging loose, the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, he looked the most relaxed that Tilly had seen him, which also made him look infinitely more attractive. His hair was still ruffled from the way he’d combed itwith his fingers when he was so upset after being thrown into a pigsty but Tilly loved that he hadn’t tamed it again yet.
She was remembering that very first time she’d seen his image on her computer screen and thought he might be as close to perfect as a man could be. That impression had been blown up on discovering that he was her polar opposite when it came to the sparkle that only romance could give to life. But she now knew what it was like to kiss him and she had no doubts at all that, even with his distaste for romance, his lovemaking would be as good as it could ever get.
Perfect, even?
Tilly didn’t do casual sex. That was like getting into the fastest car ever to drive headlong into what was almost certain to be a dead-end road.
But,oh là là là là, the temptation to find out what it might be like was strong enough to make her tingle all over as those imaginary flames skittered beneath her skin. Tilly held her breath for a second to try and stifle them but Angus didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
‘No one knows who I am here,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘What happens in Provence, stays in Provence.Oui?’
‘Tout à fait.’ Tilly’s agreement came out in no more than a whisper. ‘Absolutely.’
The look Angus was giving her sharpened in intensity, his focus onherand nothing else.
‘Say it in French,’ he said softly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I like hearing you say things in French.’ The tip of his tongue appeared, as though he was poised to lick his lips and Tilly had to swallow hard.
‘Ce qui se passe à Provence reste en Provence,’ she murmured.
