The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (51 page)

I smiled at him, grateful that he’d interrupted my musings.

“Yes, ready as I’ll ever be. Actually though, it’s more comfortable riding on that machine than I thought it would be. I just wish I’d worn something warmer.”

“Put your hands in my pockets this time,” he said. “That will help. And there’s a shop in Chamonix where we can get you some good gloves.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I can buy you some fucking gloves, Caro!” he said, crossly.

“Fine!” I snapped, matching his irritated tone, “Although I have no idea what ‘fucking gloves’ are: made of latex, I suppose!”

He laughed loudly. “God, I love you, Caro!”

He stopped when he’d realized what he’d said.

“Slip of the tongue,” he mumbled.

I ignored his comment and waited until he mounted the motorcycle, before clambering on behind him.

Gratefully, I pushed my hands into the pockets of his jacket, winding my fingers into the soft leather.

We crossed into France at the quaintly named village of Saint Gingolph. A jejune border guard glanced at our passports, looked again when he realized we were American, sneered a few questions that Sebastian answered in fluent French—which seemed to annoy the little man even more—then he waved us across.

The road on this side of the lake was more thickly wooded and less inhabited than the northern side. Small farmhouses dotted the hillside and winding roads threaded their way up into the Alps.

“This road leads to Italy,” Sebastian yelled over his shoulder. “How about a quick trip over the border?”

“Two countries in one day is enough!” I shouted back, but the thought that I was just miles from my father’s homeland tugged oddly at my heart.

Chamonix soon appeared out of the low mist that had settled in the valley. To my left I could see the awe-inspiring presence of Mont Blanc, thick snow capping the summit.

The town itself was still quite empty: the winter skiers long gone, the summer tourists not yet arrived.

The ride through the Alps had been sensational, as promised, and Chamonix was lovely: a picture-perfect Alpine town, with an abundance of bijou shops selling everything from skiwear to expensive, designer jewelry.

Sebastian pulled up outside one of the former, and dragged me inside.

“We’ll get you some ski gloves to wear,” he said. “Best I can do for now.”

The sales assistant was overly helpful. I couldn’t decide if that was because she was delighted to have a customer so close to the end of the ski season, or because she got to stare at Sebastian’s ass as he wandered around the shop.

As far as I was concerned, he had a very fine ass and, having been wrapped around it for the last couple of hours, I felt I was in a position to voice an expert opinion.

And then a very erotic image sprang unwelcome to my mind, as I recalled the numerous occasions when I had reason to know Sebastian’s naked ass very well indeed.

I did my best to banish the memory, but I wasn’t entirely successful. I wondered if all US Marines were in such good shape.

“How about these?” said Sebastian, handing me a pair of black ski gloves.

“Ninety Euros! Are you kidding me? That’s $115! For a pair of gloves!”

“Just try the damn things on, Caro,” Sebastian growled.

“No. That’s ridiculous. There must be something cheaper.”

“If you don’t try them on, I’ll just buy them anyway,” he threatened.

“No! It’s a waste of money.”

He turned to the sales assistant and handed them over. “D’accord. Je les prends.”

“Wait! Attendez!”

I snatched them back from her and pulled them on over my hands. They fit perfectly.

Damn him!

He grinned at me wickedly.

“You argue too much, Caro.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said, dryly.

We left the shop with my ridiculously expensive gloves tucked into my jacket pocket. Sebastian looked annoyingly pleased with himself.

“Shall we find somewhere to have lunch?”

“What, you’re actually asking me, Hunter? As in, seeking my opinion?”

He grinned at me. “Sure!”

“In that case, yes; but only if I treat you—non negotiable.”

“I love it when you tell me what to do, Caro,” he leered at me. “Brings back memories.”

And this time I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. I knew
exactly
what he was talking about. Other than Italian, the one thing I had taught Sebastian was how to give me an orgasm. And he had been a
very
good student.

He laughed out loud when he saw my blush. I couldn’t think of a single comeback. Not one. Not a word. Not a single response, answer, reply, witticism, quip, jest or jibe. I was utterly mute.

God, he was annoying!

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him, kissing my hair lightly.

“Just teasing you, Caro.”

I shuffled away, trying to look offended, but he knew better and just grinned.

“Do you want to try fondue?” he said, still trying not to laugh.

“Fine,” I muttered, sulkily.

I regained some of my rumpled poise over lunch.

We both ordered the cheese fondue and were given a basket full of different rolls: foccacia, olive
breads, breadsticks; and a fondue made up of mozzarella, dolcelatte and parmesan. It was the perfect winter warmer, especially on a chilly day in the Spring.

“Mmm, this is good. Have you been here before?”

He nodded nonchalantly. “A couple of times.”

“Ever bring your women here?”

He frowned, and looked irritated. “You make it sound like I had a fucking parade of them.”

“Didn’t you?”

He threw down his fondue fork angrily.

“What do you want me to say, Caro? I fucked everything I could get my hands on when I realized you weren’t coming back. It was years before I trusted a woman enough to be able to make love to her, and even then...”

He stopped mid sentence, scowling at me.

I’d done it again: forced him to say words that only brought pain to both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean…” I looked into his eyes. “It’s none of my business, Sebastian. I apologize.”

And it really wasn’t. I was the one who had insisted that we couldn’t change the past and here I was, surgically opening old wounds, one by one.

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” he said, his voice aching with regret.

Then he took a deep breath and shook his head to clear away the anger and recriminations.

We sat silently for several minutes. I searched around for a more neutral topic of conversation.

“How long have you had the motorcycle?”

He leaned back in his chair.

“This one, about two years. But I’ve had one on and off since I was 19. Bought my first bike as a birthday present to myself. It’s still in Ches’s garage.”

“Really? Well, there’s another reason for his wife to think you’re leading Ches astray. Or is he the responsible father-type now?”

Sebastian smiled.

“He’s a great dad—really patient. He fucking loves those kids of his. But we still take the boards out and catch some waves when I’m there.”

“Uh-huh, and how many meals have you made him late for, just catching ‘one more wave’?”

He smiled knowingly.

“Too many for Amy’s taste! But he goes out when Mitch visits, too, so she can’t blame me for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know: it sounds as if she’d think of a way. I think I’d like her: a woman immune to the Hunter charm.”

Sebastian laughed. “She’s immune all right. But yeah, she’d like you. I’ll introduce you when we’re stateside.”

“In case you’d forgotten, I live about 3,000 miles and ten states from San Diego.”

“Yeah, well, in case
you’d
forgotten, they’ve invented airplanes.”

“Touché, Chief Hunter.”

He smirked at me, and raised his glass of water in a toast.

“What happened to that friend of Mitch’s—Bill—the one who was at that wretched ‘fun’ day Donna dragged me to at the beach?”

“Why are you asking about him?”

Sebastian frowned at me and I rolled my eyes. Surely he wasn’t
still
jealous because Bill had flirted with me once?

“Just wondering: he was in your surfing crowd, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, right,” he said, rather huffily. “He got married again a few years back, I think. He got sent to Quantico. Mitch keeps up with him—Christmas cards—something like that.”

Thank God Bill’s story had a happy ending; I didn’t think I could take any more bad news today.

“It felt good having you on the bike with me today, Caro,” said Sebastian, thoughtfully, as if he was testing the water before adding something more.

“Hmm,” I said, the sound filled with skepticism.

He laughed. “Well, I’ve had an idea about that…”

“Oh, another of your ideas? That sounds dangerous.”

He grinned at me, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

“You know how we always talked about traveling through Italy? I just thought, while we’re both here, why don’t we?”

I frowned at him, not sure I understood what he was suggesting.

“Why don’t we what?”

“See Italy. We could take the motorcycle and go see all those places we talked about: Milano, Verona, Capezzano Inferiore—see if your dad’s relatives still live there.”

Oh, he’d definitely found my weak spot.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I replied, avoiding answering the question. “How come you’ve got all this time off?”

“I’m on leave,” he said, quietly. “I’ll be shipping back out to Afghan—in about three weeks.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling the blood drain from my face. “I didn’t realize … I thought you were stationed in Geneva.”

He shrugged.

“I was, but they need interpreters, and they’re getting antsy about using locals. Too many green-on-blue attacks.” He brushed the thought away. “So, what do you think?”

I shook my head.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. My papers could come through any moment and I’ll be on my way out there myself. Besides,” I said, trying to lighten the moment, “three weeks with you—that’s definitely a dangerous mission.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he said, trying and failing to look wounded.

“No, not particularly.”

He grinned at me, completely unabashed.

“Oh, don’t say that. I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a boy scout.”

“True,” he said with a smirk. “What if I promise I’ll behave myself: separate bedrooms and everything?”

“No way, Hunter. I’ve heard about your
reputation
, remember? Besides, I don’t know how soon I’ll get a flight to Leatherneck. I don’t want to risk losing my slot.”

“It won’t happen for at least two weeks.”

I narrowed my eyes at his tone.

“You sound very sure of that.”

He just grinned at me.

And then realization dawned.

“What did you do, Hunter?”

His grin got wider.

“Let’s just say I know people in the right places.”

I couldn’t believe his arrogance.

“Are you telling me you’ve blocked my application?”

My voice started rising, and he had the grace to look almost contrite.

“It’s not blocked, Caro, not entirely. I … just threw a few well-aimed monkey wrenches in the works. It’ll take at least a week to sort out—probably two.”

Unbelievable!

Now I was really angry.

“This is my
work
, Sebastian,” I said, the fury in my voice more than obvious. “This is how I get
paid
. How dare you interfere like this! You’re unbelievable.”

He scowled at me.

“You can’t butt into my life like this!” I half yelled at him. “I’m not the insipid little woman I was ten years ago!”

“You were never that,” he said, his expression burning.

Oh, how well I remembered that look.

“You’d better damn well get that monkey wrench out, Hunter! I mean it.”

He sighed, looking disappointed.

“I can’t, Caro, it’s out of my hands now. But I promise it’s temporary. I just … after all this time … I wanted us to be able to spend more than a few hours together.” He stared at his hands. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” he mumbled. “I’ve already waited ten years.”

His admission was so astonishing and he looked so miserable, that my anger began to ebb. I was still annoyed, furious at his interference in fact, but I couldn’t hold the same level of rage when he looked like that and, more importantly, once he’d explained his reason for doing it—that he still had feelings for me. But what the true nature of those feelings really was, I remained deeply unsure.