First Sight (33 page)

“I don’t think he’s exactly married, from the sound of it. I think he’s a man who’s getting divorced. That can be messy for a few months. And Timmie doesn’t seem to be suffering yet. I’ve never seen her happier in all these years.”

“Neither have I,” Jade conceded. “That’s what scares me, because if things go wrong, and he doesn’t leave, he’ll break her heart. I know.”

“Let’s not worry about it yet. Let’s see what he does. I’m backing him.” David held his ground.

Jade shook her head, deeply cynical about it. “I hope you’re right.”

“We all do,” David said as he threw the rest of his lunch away. “How’s your architect, by the way? Why don’t you worry about him, instead of Timmie’s French doctor? She’s a big girl and can take care of herself. Count on it, she’ll do all the right things. And hopefully, so will he. So tell me about your guy.” David expertly guided her off the subject, and she told him how wonderful her new architect friend was. She thought that Internet dating was the best thing since sliced bread.

And while they were discussing her love life, Timmie was in her office, talking to Jean-Charles. It was eleven o’clock at night for him, two in the afternoon for her.

“I missed you terribly all day,” he said, sounding unhappy.

“So do I,” she said, smiling. It was nice to know he missed her, and amazing to think that only the day before, they had been in each other’s arms in New York. It already felt as though it had been weeks before. “I can’t wait for you to come to visit.”

“I’m trying to work it out here. I have to make sure I’m covered. My assistant said he’d let me know in the next day or two.”

It was hard for her to believe that Jean-Charles was coming to California to see her. This all still seemed miraculous to her.

She asked him about the patients he’d seen that day, then told him about the things she was going to do that afternoon. She told him about her house in Malibu, and he said he couldn’t wait to see it and stay there with her. It all seemed like a dream. This totally kind, loving, passionate, sexy, wonderful doctor in Paris had fallen in love with her, and she with him. They had just spent four days in New York together, in the throes of intense passion. And now he was coming all the way to Los Angeles to see her. It was utterly and totally amazing. And as she thought about it, after they hung up, looking out the window, she thought about the unexpected surprises in life, the unexpected gifts of hope that made all the difference. Jean-Charles was that for her now, a gift from God fallen from the sky. It made her think about the blessings in her life, and just how sweet they could be. As sweet as Jean-Charles.

Chapter 15

Jean-Charles’s assistant came through, as promised, in two days, and agreed to cover him for a week in mid-March. Miraculously it was only two weeks away, and Jean-Charles called Timmie immediately to give her the news. He had already made his reservation when he called her. He could hardly wait to come out, and sounded like a kid at Christmas, and so did she. The timing had worked out perfectly. She had design deadlines before that, and she was going to work like a dog to get things done. She wanted to devote the entire week to him. She was going to take the week off, and spend the time doing whatever he wanted to do, and hopefully at least a few days in Malibu. All Timmie wanted was to be with him, which was his dream too.

The next two weeks ticked by interminably. Each day felt like a thousand years to her, and just as long to him. She was grateful that she had her work to keep her busy. She took work home with her at night, and spent weekends working on designs, and straightening up her houses. She wanted things to look fresh and pretty, and started throwing things out that looked old and tired or faded. She bought new houseplants at a nursery, ordered fresh new towels, and took new sheets out to Malibu. She was fluffing up her nest for him, although he kept telling her that all he cared about was her. The day before he came, she bought new CDs, for the city and the beach. She had checked out every detail, bought things she thought he liked to eat. She bought French magazines and left them on the coffee table. She arranged a big bowl of flowers for him the morning he was to arrive. She wanted everything to be perfect for him. Even the weather cooperated. It was a brilliantly sunny balmy day, without a cloud or a breeze. It felt like spring. She knew it had been freezing in Paris that week, so this would be a rare treat for him.

She wore beige slacks and a matching sweater, with her hair full and loose. She wore beige alligator flats, and carried a vintage Kelly bag she’d bought in Paris in a soft yellow. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine when she got out of her car at the airport. She hadn’t gone to her office that morning. She’d been too busy at the house, arranging final details for him. Her bed was made with perfectly pressed brand-new Pratesi sheets, and she’d bought new ones for the beach too, in sky blue, with little seashells on them. She didn’t know if he’d notice the details, but even if he didn’t, she had wanted to do it for him. And she had told her office not to expect her all week. She had told them why she was taking the time off, and had completed the last of her work over the weekend. Jade had refrained from comment this time, with David’s encouragement, as Timmie had left the office the day before, but she had given her a dark look, and then called to apologize for it later. She was just worried, and Timmie said she understood. David had wished her luck, and a fabulous time with Jean-Charles. She felt as though she were going on her honeymoon. And in a way she was. This was a whole new life for them, a continuation of what they’d started in New York. It was hard to imagine that their time together could be as good as that again, but Timmie wasn’t worried about it, nor was he. He said all he wanted was to see her. He had called her late the night before, as he got on the plane, before he had to turn his cell phone off. They were as excited as two kids. It was an eleven-hour flight for him, and as she drove to the airport, she knew he’d be landing soon. She was sure he was as excited as she was, sitting on the plane, approaching L.A. This time she could hardly contain herself as she waited for him to come through customs.

She was standing outside immigration when the doors opened, and she saw him stride through in slacks and a sweater, carrying his blazer over his shoulder, with a blue-collared shirt open at his neck, and a red tie hanging out of his blazer pocket. He looked casual and handsome and very French, as he strode toward her, and she toward him, beaming. A moment later, she was in his arms, and he was holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe as he kissed her. There were no words at first to tell each other how happy they were to be together again. They didn’t need words, it was written all over their faces.

“I missed you so much,” she said breathlessly, holding him around his waist. It had only been two weeks but felt like an eternity to both of them. They kissed so often, they could hardly make it out of the airport.

“So did I,” he said happily. “I thought the plane would never get here. It took forever.” It was an incredibly long flight, but he had made it.

“Are you exhausted?” She was dying to fuss over him, to cuddle and spoil him, and he loved it.

“Not at all.” He beamed at her. “I slept on the flight. I watched two movies, and had a very good dinner.” She knew that on Air France, they served caviar in first class. “What are we going to do today?” he asked with interest. There was one thing he wanted to do first, and as they got into her car, he kissed her and gently touched her breast. He had been starving for her body since he last saw her. And it was so exciting to be with her now in California.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said, beaming. She couldn’t wait to show him all her favorite places, her house in Bel Air, the one at the beach, to walk down the street with him, cook dinner for him, go out with him, show off with him, laugh with him, sleep with him, make love with him. It was all a rainbow of delicious pleasures, and the love they had for each other was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and they both knew it.

They drove to Bel Air on the Santa Monica Freeway in fairly light traffic for once. They chatted about a thousand things, and Jean-Charles told her again how much it meant to him to be there with her, in her own surroundings. He wanted to learn everything about her, and share the world that she lived in. The time passed quickly as they talked, and they were at her house less than an hour after she picked him up.

She let herself into the house, and he followed her inside, impressed at how tasteful her surroundings were, how soothing and peaceful the living room was, how well the art went with all of it. He walked around discovering everything, admiring all she’d done, and then, as though he had been drawn to it, and it was meant to be, he stopped at the bookcase, and stood staring at the photograph of Mark. He knew who it was at once, as Timmie silently watched him, and Jean-Charles held it and looked at the child’s eyes.

“This is your boy, isn’t it?” he asked softly, as he read all the loss and pain of a lifetime in her eyes as she nodded.

“Yes. That’s Mark.”

“He was a beautiful child,” he said gently, as he set it down, and went to put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, my darling … so sorry … I wish it would never have happened.” She nodded again as he held her. She didn’t cry, she just stood there, remembering Mark and loving Jean-Charles. It was as though the two great loves converged as one in that moment. And although sad, it was a peaceful feeling. She pulled away then to smile at him, and he kissed her again. He filled her soul to the brim with tenderness and joy.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, as they walked into the kitchen, and he took her in his arms again. He couldn’t keep his hands off her for more than a few moments at a time. He laughed at her question.

“Only for you, my love. I’ve been starving for you since you left me.” She smiled happily at him, and hugged him back.

“I meant for food.” She had bought everything she could think of that he might like to eat, including a long baguette of French bread, which she had noticed in New York he ate at every meal. “I ate all the way here on the plane. I don’t need food right now. All I need is you,” he said, and kissed her, and she felt like she was in a romantic, sexy French movie.

She showed him the rest of the house then, and they wandered into her bedroom. The curtains were opened wide as sun streamed into the room, the bed was immaculately made, and she had a huge bowl of flowers on the low table in front of the couch, and as Jean-Charles looked around the room, he smiled.

“This is all so pretty, Timmie. I love your house.” He loved seeing her here, it all suited her perfectly. It was casual, elegant, sleek, welcoming, warm, artistic, creative, all the things she was herself. It seemed the perfect house for her. And before she could thank him for what he said, he swept her off her feet in a single gallant gesture, and walked her slowly to her bed. “I’m very tired now,” he said mischievously. “I think I need a nap.” She laughed as he deposited her gently onto her bed, and she held her arms out to him.

“Come here, my love,” she said with all the love she felt for him in her eyes. He melted into her arms, and lay down on the bed beside her, and moments later, their clothes had vanished and were lying on the floor next to her bed. Their long naked bodies, so hungry for each other, were once again passionately entwined, just as they had been in New York. And in the warmth and comfort of her own environment, this was even better. She felt as though she belonged to him, and always would, and he felt like he had come home at last.

It was dark when they got out of bed again, after alternately sleeping and making love for hours. She couldn’t get enough of him, nor he of her. It was an endless give-and-take, and sharing of their minds, their hearts, their bodies. Jean-Charles said at one point, as he held her close, that their hearts had merged into one, and she felt the same way he did. It was as perfect as it had been since the beginning, and only seemed to get better every time they met.

After nightfall, they went downstairs to the kitchen, naked in bathrobes, and she made him an omelette and a salad, and served him a wedge of Brie with the baguette he loved so much. It was the perfect snack before they went back to bed and made love again, and then sat for two hours in the bathtub, talking. Each time they were together, it was as though they disappeared to another planet, with no time zones, no responsibilities, no obligations, no time they were supposed to do anything, no meals they had to eat at any set hour. They did exactly what they wanted, and everything they did was done together. There was not a moment of the time they spent together when they were apart. And whereas normally, Timmie would have chafed at such constant companionship, and he would have as well, they both noticed that the intimacy they shared was so easy and comfortable that it only made them want more of the same. It was heady stuff, and totally addictive. They were both hooked. They were each the other’s drug of choice.

It was far into the night when they finally fell asleep. It was afternoon for him, but he didn’t seem to care. They slept until ten in the morning, and the moment he woke up, Jean-Charles said he was starved. He looked at his watch and ascertained that it was dinnertime for him. This time she made him a steak, and then reluctantly, they showered and dressed. It was another spectacular spring day, and they were going to the beach.

It was noon before they left the house, and she drove him slowly up the Pacific Coast Highway, while he admired her and the view.

“This is beautiful, Timmie. And so are you.” He had never seen a day so perfect, or been so happy in his life. And when he saw her beach house, he nearly cried. “This is so wonderful,” he exclaimed as he looked around. He loved the way she had decorated it, the airy blue and white, the handsome deck, the beach, the view. They went straight down to the beach to take a walk, ankle deep in the surf, and walked as far as they could, and then finally turned around and came back. “I could stay here forever,” he said happily.