His Muse Read online

  I see that I will be sandwiched between Pierre and Etienne. Our hostess has to be up to something. I look up at Raquel, and she gives me a wink and sly smile. Yeah, this was absolutely on purpose.

  Everyone begins to settle into their spots. Kari and Etienne come out of the kitchen smiling and laughing. My stomach twists. He walks around to the side of the table where I’m seated and hands me my wine. Then he slides into the chair next to mine. Kari frowns at her place card but sits without complaint.

  Once everyone is seated, the hostess’ plan actually makes a lot of sense. Raquel is at the head of the large rectangle table with Alain at the foot. Both of them are the most outgoing people at the party and positioned where they can keep the conversation flowing between everyone. Pierre is to my left and Nicole, his secret crush is across from him. Giving her the opportunity to catch his notice. Kari is across from me, in case she needs me as a security blanket in a group of new people. Etienne, who Raquel believes is interested in me is to my right. She also knows that I was hoping for a love match between Olivier and Kari, so she seated him next to her, with Corinne on his other side, in case he was too nervous to speak to Kari and needed a person he is familiar with.

  It is brilliant party planning on her part. Then again, she is a socialite. She lives for this stuff.

  “Alright everyone, bon appétit,” Raquel announces to the table.

  Everyone grabs an item, takes what they want and passes it on to the next person. Etienne passes me a platter of fresh oysters. His hand touches mine, and I swear he lightly caresses my fingers with his pinky on purpose. I tremble. I feel my face flush as tiny goosebumps raise along my arm.

  “Are you cold?”

  He knows damn well I’m not cold. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “No, I’m fine,” I say quietly as not to draw attention.

  Once all of our plates are full, Raquel focuses her attention on Kari.

  “So, Kari. Your mother tells me you are a teacher.”

  “Yes, I start my first teaching job in the fall. High school English. Though now I’m wishing I would’ve looked for teaching jobs here in France.” Kari says sneaking a glance at Etienne.

  “Oh, that would be perfect! To be near your mother again.” Raquel claps her hands together happily. “Olivier actually teaches French at the secondary school here. Maybe he could put in a good word for you. The schools are often looking for good English teachers.”

  Raquel is definitely trying to get the lines of communication going between Kari and Olivier. Unfortunately, he’s too shy to continue the conversation and Kari is too focused on watching Etienne.

  “So, what do you paint, Etienne?” Kari asks, looking at him from under her lashes.

  “I paint many things. But what I love to paint most are women. The soft curves and feminine details are inspiring.” Etienne says and smiles at Kari as his hand moves to the edge of my chair.

  He rests his hand on the seat next to my leg, and again his wayward pinky finger begins to caress me. He gently strokes my thigh over the material of my dress. My back straightens abruptly as the caress hits me in a very private place.

  “Wow!” Kari leans forward, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. She’s absolutely enchanted. “That would be amazing to be immortalized on canvas. I am here for two weeks.”

  She gives him a seductive smile.

  If it weren’t for the fact that I am already trying to keep my wits about me with Etienne’s touch on my leg, my mouth would’ve hit the table at Kari’s forwardness. I’ve never seen her flirt before. She’s a hell of a lot better at it than I am.

  “I’ve actually been trying to convince your mother to sit for me. She is captivating, don’t you think? The perfect subject.” Etienne says.

  Kari’s mouth tightens imperceptibly. Although Etienne doesn’t see it. I can feel him looking down at me instead, as his fingers move forward a few inches to the hem of my dress. His fingertips pull back the material, and his short nails scrap lightly over me as he finally touches my bare skin. Now his pinky has free access to stroke my exposed flesh.

  I know I should pull my leg away. To establish some boundaries, but Lord help me, I don’t want to. Instead, I cross my legs. Trying everything to stop the pounding in my clit.

  Raquel changes the subject, sensing the tension between Etienne and me, as well as between my daughter and me. The conversation drifts to the differences between France and America and our perceptions of each other. Luckily, Kari engages in most of the conversation because I am no good.

  My brain is mush. My nipples are hard and press against the fabric of my dress, I’m sure my attentive tablemate can see them. My heart is pounding, I know he can feel it in my pulse as I grab his hand. I pull it away, unable to take much more. So, instead of stroking my thigh, he strokes his index finger down my palm to my erratic pulse.

  I’m also wet. Embarrassingly so. And as I uncross my legs and cross them in the other direction, I’m sure he can smell my arousal, because I can. It’s faint. Barely noticeable to someone not paying attention. But I know Etienne, who misses nothing, is picking up on it.

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose before speaking, “Mmm…who’s ready for dessert. I know I am.”

  I am one-hundred percent certain that all of that was for me. If the floor could open up and swallow me whole, I would gladly go.

  At this moment, I know… Life makes no sense. I’m forty-four years old. The age when a woman’s sexual prime is at peak performance. Yet the older women get, supposedly the less desirable we get. As my body begs me to hump Etienne’s leg, I also know… Life is not fair.

  The last thing I want is to be referred to as a ‘cradle robber.’ According to Raquel, no one cares here in France. But it’s hard to shake my American standards.

  “Come, everyone.” Raquel stands. “Let’s refill our drinks and adjourn to the terrace.”

  I stand first, and as Etienne rises up next to me, he lets his fingertips slide up my calf, the back of my knee, and part of my thigh before pulling it away. My knees buckle slightly and I quickly grab hold of the edge of the table. He reaches out a hand and grasps my upper arm to steady me.

  “Are you alright?” He asks, nonchalantly.

  “I’m fine,” I grumble through tight lips. “Excuse me.”

  I walk over to Raquel.

  “I’ll be up in just a sec. I need to use the restroom.”

  “Oh, of course. Take your time.”

  I head to the bathroom and lock myself inside. I don’t technically have to go. I’m really just hiding for a moment to collect myself.

  Once I feel calm enough, I head to the kitchen to refill my wine. I turn to head upstairs and nearly drop my glass as I yelp.

  “Jesus!”

  Etienne is leaning against the entryway into the kitchen. Watching me. He really likes doing that. Lurking. Leaning against walls and watching me.

  “I did not mean to startle you.”

  “Yeah, I think you did.” I stand in front of him, waiting for him to move but he doesn’t budge. “May I pass?”

  I can’t look him in the eye, so I focus on his neck instead.

  “You look sensational tonight. I was right about the dress.” He slides his index finger under the fabric against my chest and runs the material through his fingertips. The back of his knuckle stroking the rise of my breast. “It is perfect for a first date. Maybe we could consider this our first.”

  “You certainly don’t lack confidence,” I remark, trying to ignore the synapses firing in my brain at his touch.

  “Now that we have more or less been on a group date, we might as well take it to the next step and have a one-on-one date.”

  “You’re also extremely persistent. But again, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because what?”

  “Because I’m trying to focus on getting my business up and running. Not d
ating.”

  “You are lying.”

  “No, I’m not. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you moved to France.”

  “What does that have to do with the tea in China?”

  His brow furrows in confusion.

  “I do not understand this.”

  I try to ignore how adorable his scrunched face looks.

  “Why does my moving to France mean I want to date?” I rephrase my previous remark.

  “Your business is for helping black women, American specifically, to travel outside of the United States, yes?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, would not the best place to convince African American women to tour unknown places is where you will see them? Most of them are not here.”

  “Well, I figured I’d move here to get to know the region better. So that I can give them the ins and outs of the area.”

  “Again, you do not need to move here for this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. In no hurry to move out of my way. “No, you moved here because France is romance itself. Because you wanted a new life. Life does not mean work. Life means good food, wine, sex, love…everything. We French even have a saying for it. Joie de vivre. Joy of living. Work is not living.”

  He has the soul of a poet, and it’s entirely too endearing. Never mind, sexy as hell.

  “Etienne, please. Can I just go upstairs now? My daughter is probably wondering if I fell in.”

  “Fell in what?”

  “The toilet, Etienne. The toilet.” I groan internally.

  The man is damn near a baby and speaks more eloquently than I ever could.

  I head to the spiral staircase that leads to the rooftop terrace. He stays close behind me, which keeps me on edge. I’ve never been so aware of man as I am with him.

  We step out into the warm summer night. Raquel’s terrace is out of a storybook. Romantic lighting surrounds the seating area. She set up comfortable chairs around a firepit. Everyone is deep in discussion as we come forward. The firelight dancing on their animated faces.

  Kari looks between myself and Etienne. The look she gives me is accusatory and hurt. Never in my life did I think that my daughter would consider me competition. But her reaction to me being alone with the beautiful artist proves just that.

  “Ryn, come sit with me.” Pierre calls out to me as he pats the chair next to him. “I feel as if I have not gotten to know you yet.”

  Nicole, who is on his other side looks deflated.

  Great. I can’t win.

  ~~~

  “So…what did you think? Isn’t Raquel a trip?” I ask Kari as we walk into my apartment.

  “Yeah, they were great.” She says without much inflection.

  She’d been quiet on the cab ride back to my place. In fact, she hadn’t said much after Etienne, and I had come up from our private discussion in the kitchen.

  I put my purse down on the kitchen table and then turn to her as she goes in the fridge for a bottle of water.

  “What did you think of Olivier?”

  “He’s cute. Not my type, but cute.” She pauses and turns to look at me. “Is there something going on between you and Etienne?”

  The blunt question catches me off guard. I’m sure that is her intention. She wants to see my honest reaction.

  “What?! No! Why would you think that?”

  She takes a sip of water, analyzing me closely over the bottle.

  “You both seemed…friendly. You do realize that he’s fifteen years younger than you, right? Like that would be pretty gross, you know? Fooling around with someone in my age range.”

  Her words are a punch to my gut. They reaffirm the internal argument I’ve been waging with myself since he pretended to critique his own work at the art gallery. I feel shame run through me that I was even entertaining the thought of fooling around with him. For becoming aroused by his touches. Like I’m some kind of pedophile.

  “No, I think it’s just because he’s French. They all seem to be extremely forward, so they appear flirtatious all the time. You met Pierre, remember?”

  “That’s true.” Kari smiles and her posture relaxes. “He’s beautiful, though.”

  She sighs and collapses onto one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Pierre?” I ask almost hopeful.

  She gives me a long-suffering look like I’m an idiot.

  “No, mom. Etienne.” She smiles dreamily. “Even his name is sexy. Oh my God, and his hair! I’ve never really been into guys with long hair, but I’d make an exception for him. It just suits him.”

  My heart squeezes.

  “Yeah, it is lovely.”

  I guess that speech she gave me earlier about deserving love and someone to take care of me, only extended so far. As long as it didn’t involve someone she wanted for herself.

  “Have you ever dated a white guy before? There were a few in school that I thought were hot, and I think that they were possibly interested in me too, but nothing ever happened.”

  “No, I haven’t. Your dad was my first everything. And after him, no one really interested me.”

  Not until a man I have no business being attracted to came along.

  “Well, before I leave I wouldn’t mind seeing what it’s like.” Kari wiggles her eyebrows. “Can you imagine? A French fling. My friends would bust a gut.”

  “I’m gonna head to bed. I’m pooped.” I quickly change the subject.

  I can’t listen to any more of her gushing over the artist. I feel like an ass because I should be willing to hear my daughter talk about her current crush. But this is new to me. Lusting after the same man as my daughter. I feel like a heathen.

  “Okay. See ya in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, baby.”

  I kiss her forehead.

  “Night, ma.”

  Chapter 7

  “Hello, darlings!” Raquel waves us over to the table she’s holding for us.

  Kari and I walk over, loaded down with shopping bags. We’ve spent the whole morning and early afternoon shopping. I’m exhausted and starving.

  “It looks like you ladies had a wonderful day.” Raquel teases.

  “She wore me out. Luckily, her father gave her spending money for graduation, or she would’ve exhausted my budget for the month and then some.” I wink at Kari as she rolls her eyes at me.

  “I didn’t spend that much money.”

  I blink at her.

  “Alright, alright. I spent a lot of money.” She holds up her hands in surrender.

  “So, what do you have planned for the rest of your time here?”

  “I want to take her to Monaco, Cannes, and Saint-Tropez. Basically, she’s my first test run of the places I want to take my clients when they arrive.”

  “Well, if you are not out of town this Friday, Etienne is performing at a little nightclub. I’m sure he’d love it if you all came.”

  Raquel obviously said the magic words, or name because Kari’s ears perk up immediately. I won’t mention what body part of mine stands at attention. I haven’t been able to get his secret caresses out of my head.

  “Performing?” Kari asks inquisitively.

  “He is not only a painter, but he plays guitar and sings.”

  “Oh my God!” Kari collapses back in her chair as if she’s ready to melt. I’m not far behind her. “Could he get any sexier?”

  “Apparently, yes,” I say under my breath.

  “What was that?” Kari asks distractedly.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head.

  I peek at Raquel. She must have heard me because the sly look on her face speaks volumes.

  “So, you have a bit of a crush on Etienne, do you?” She asks Kari.

  “That’s an understatement.” Kari sighs dramatically.

  “Hmm… Well, that is certainly interesting.” Raquel glances between Kari and me.

  I look away and reach for my menu.

  “I’m starving. Let’s order.” I effectively change subjects.
/>   This situation is getting more complicated as the minutes pass.

  ~~~

  Kari and I spent a couple days in Monaco, but she insisted that we come back to Nice to see Etienne perform before we move on to Cannes. We enter the low-lit nightclub filled with people. Men stare as we pass. It’s no wonder with the dress Kari is wearing.

  She chose a formfitting black dress that stops mid-thigh and plunges dramatically in the back. Her hair is down and sleek, stopping between her shoulder blades. And her makeup is smoky and seductive. She’s dressed to kill. Or to attract a certain someone.

  I’ve never seen my daughter looking so grown before. It makes me long for the days when she used to ask me to wear my heels that were five sizes too big for her tiny feet.

  Kari picked out my ensemble for the evening as well. I’m in a hip-hugging red pencil skirt and sheer black blouse and matching lacy camisole underneath. She also gave me dramatic makeup and styled my hair in pin curls.

  The nightclub is less like a dance club for young people, and more like a jazz lounge harkening back to the 1940s. Tables and chairs surround a little stage at the center. And sitting in the middle is the young, sexy Frenchman. The only items on the stage with him is the stool he’s sitting on, the mic, and his guitar. There is nothing to distract from the beauty that is this man. Not that anything really could. Etienne is sex personified. Even men can’t help but notice him.

  He’s in jeans, a black t-shirt, and black boots. His wavy hair is pulled back into a messy bun with a few strands slipping from the knot as usual. He brushes one back behind his ear temporarily and looks out at the crowd.

  His eyes somehow find me and stare for a moment. As usual, I shiver slightly. He starts to speak in French, and I catch most of the words.

  “This song is for a woman who I have met that captivates me, yet is out of my reach.”

  I hold my breath as he begins the song. The way he holds and plays the guitar with those stained hands looks like the way he’d hold and play a woman. The melody is Spanish inspired, though the words are once again French. From what I can understand, it is about a man who longs for a woman who he cannot have. And how he dreams of her, of touching her, of making love to her. His voice is raspy and sexy as hell.