Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 Read Online Free PDF Page A

nine thirty sharp.”
    He walked out without answering. She closed the door, locked it, and went to the dining room. She couldn’t go upstairs right that minute. If she did, she would cry her heart out. She needed to do something. So she cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and mopped the floor. Inès would probably mop it again, but Ariane needed the distraction.  
    She kept repeating to herself that she had done the right thing. He was probably a lovely man, but he was just a ship passing in the night. She had made her home on her tiny island of loneliness. She had been so hurt when the last visitor left. The last thing she needed was to be romanced by Peter and get stranded, shipwrecked on another desert island. She’d be forced to start again from scratch.  

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CHAPTER SIX
George

    GEORGE STOLE SIDEWAY GLANCES at Mary as they walked toward her hotel. He wondered where the strange bubble of joy in his chest was coming from. He didn’t usually have a hard time with women. Actually, it was quite the opposite. A lot of women liked the dark and somber type. They would go out of their way to get closer to him and try to cheer him up. Especially the ones in their early thirties, those who had yet to learn about the male species. Many of those thought he needed to be saved from whatever type of melancholia plagued him. For many years, he had taken advantage of their misconception to bed some of the candidate saviors. He still did once in a while, but not as often. Obviously, at forty-five, he still had urges, but lately, he had grown tired of the games he needed to play. So most of the time, he didn’t even bother making the minimal effort required to get laid.  
    With Mary, he had the feeling it could be different. Not only because the simple touch of her hand on his arm had made him rise to attention, but because she appeared okay with who he was. Maybe that had been what he was looking for—simple acceptance. She had not drowned him in mindless chatter. She had given useful information about what they were doing when she felt it was needed, but for the rest of time, she seemed comfortable with his silence. Curiously, the fact that she didn’t try to prompt him to talk made him open up. He had never realized that he was so contrary. The thought made him smile.  
    They reached Mary’s hotel, which was conveniently close to Ariane’s school. Her room was large for French hotel standards and boasted a pair of twin-size beds. One side of the room, next to the window, looked like a war zone. A grenade had been thrown in the suitcase on the floor, and the clothes had scattered. Men’s clothes. The other half of the room was immaculate, almost as if it was unoccupied. On a closer look, there were a book and a pair of reading glasses on the nightstand.  
    “Yes, baby brother is a mess, and we’ve only been here a few days.” She laughed. “You should have seen his room when he was a kid. But at least he has a sense of boundaries.”  
    She walked around the room, efficiently packing an overnight bag. Taking a sheet of the hotel stationary, she wrote, “Don’t wait up for me.” She placed the paper on her pillow and turned around to look at George. “All set. Now if your offer still stands, I would very much like to see your place.”
    “My offer still stands. You bet. Let’s go.”

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    During the short taxi ride to his place, George thought about how easy things were with her. No unnecessary explanations. At the hotel, she had packed with no useless small talk, and they were going to his home. No fuss, no playing coy, no eyelash batting. Just simply, “Let’s do what needs to be done.”
    His home was in an ancient building with no elevator. They walked the two flights of stairs, and George opened the door to his large studio. It had been decorated by an Ikea minimalist fond of earthy shades. One wall was almost entirely one large window. Thick, brown velvet curtains were half drawn. The street