IntheArmsofaLover Read Online Free PDF

large, obviously
male, hand holding close, and almost covering, a tiny baby.
    “Madame Gordon, you came!”
    Nice to be greeted with a smile and open arms. She wasn’t quite
as sure about the triple bisous on her cheeks. “Of course I did. And I’m
so glad I came. Your grandfather’s photos are wonderful.”
    “Please come and tell him so.”
    Seemed churlish to refuse, especially after that smile. So
she let him take her elbow and steer over to the side of the room where she met
an assortment of Didier’s family, starting with his father, who greeted her
warmly and called her his “muse”. Then a sister, a brother-in-law and some sort
of cousin, all of whom were perfectly polite, obviously bored and decidedly
disinclined to make friendly conversation with a stray Englishwoman speaking
rusty French. Fair enough. Poppy complimented Monsieur Mainard on the
exhibition and then headed for the exit.
    Didier forestalled her. “You’re not leaving?”
    “Yes, I’ve seen the exhibit, met your family and now…”
    “Please don’t go.” He took her hands and held them in his.
She let him, knowing she could easily pull away. “Let me take you for an
aperitif. Please.”
    Why not? He was attractive, presentable and an hour or so in
his company appealed far more than going home to ignore her sister’s texts and
calls.
    “Shouldn’t you have stayed with your grandfather?” Poppy asked,
after they settled themselves in a café a few meters down the road.
    ‘‘My sister will take him back with her. I must tell you,”
he went on, “how delighted I was you came. I had hoped to see you again.”
    She smiled. Couldn’t help it. “Really?”
    “But of course. You are beautiful and that afternoon we met
you had such an air of sadness about you. I thought, ‘This woman should be
happy’ but you were not.”
    And he was going to be the one to cheer her up. How clichéd.
“I wasn’t unhappy. I was tired that afternoon and relaxing.”
    “Let us relax together.”
    She’d been out of the loop for a long time but not that
long. Drinks appeared just then, so she lifted her glass. “ Santé .”
    He clinked his against hers. “To happiness.”
    Better get this straight. “Happiness and contentment.” He was
good-looking—the French sortable was the perfect word to describe him—pleasant
company, and she was in the mood for a little flirtation. “Have you always
lived in Nice?”
    “I was born here, went to University in Marseille and then
came back. It is the perfect city.” She wouldn’t argue with that. “Why did you
come?” he asked. “To become happy?”
    Oh dear, he was going harp on about that and no doubt offer
to cheer her up. “I came for a holiday as I was at a loose end and out of a
job. I’d been here before and always liked the area. “
    “Of course. The English all like Nice.” His hand covered
hers. “I am so pleased you came.”
    “So am I.” That was pretty well agreed upon.
    He smiled. “What can I do for you, Poppy?”
    She put her free hand over his. “Buy me another drink.”
    “With pleasure, if you would like one, but my flat is close
and we could have a drink there.”
    Rather obvious but why not? “We could indeed.” Oh God, was
that being too eager?
    Maybe it was, but he was mightily chuffed. “Come.” He stood
and held out his hand. She took it as he threw a note and coins on the table
and together they walked out into the street.
    His flat wasn’t that close, but his car was and in minutes
they were weaving though narrow streets until he pulled up in a side street. Pausing
only to give her a rather luscious and very skilled kiss that promised ever
better to come, he took her hand, led her around the corner and across the
street then into a building and up four flights of stairs.
    She definitely needed that drink but turned down any more
alcohol. “How about coffee?”
    “Now?”
    “Why not? A burst of energy never hurts. Does it?” Oh dear, maybe
that made her