your vacation. I'll be fine."
"I am quite sure you would have a wonderful time walking the trails around Gordes and being your regular amazingly happy self, but I think boating is a whole lot more fun if you're with someone else, and I'd like the company. Do you like boats?"
I shook my head, "The only boat I've ever been on has been a canoe on a lake at the church camp where Christa and I have spent our vacations the last several years. And I don't much like the canoes. I'm not sure about a motor boat."
"The boat I'm talking about is a lot bigger than a canoe or even what you might call a motor boat, I assure you. It's a yacht. Think small cruise ship."
He did a double take and asked, ".... What the heck were you doing at a church camp? You don't strike me as a church lady."
"Oh, I'm not. About three years ago Christa saw an add in the paper for an activities director and a cook at a Presbyterian church camp in western South Carolina. Neither of us had ever been on a vacation, and she decided it was high time we took a trip. By going to the church camp, we would make enough money to pay for the gas to get there, and come home with more money than we went with. She was the activities director, with responsibility for the music (which is evidently a big part of church camp) and other recreation. I was the cook. It was kind of a bus man's holiday for me.
"At first we had some reservations about how we would fit in with all those church people in view of the fact that neither of us had ever set foot in a church, except for the occasional baptism or wedding at the Greek Orthodox Church, but the people who ran the camp were nice. We kept our mouths shut about not being church members. Nobody asked too many questions because they liked Christa's piano playing and they loved my cooking. During our off times, we were allowed to swim in the lake and use the canoes or bicycles. I spent most of my off time hiking the trails. We went to camp the last three years in a row. I doubt we'll do it again now that Christa's in college. It was fun, but I don't want to go without her."
He shook his head, "I won't take no for an answer. We will go boating tomorrow and I'll tell you my story."
"What time do we have to leave?"
"Early."
"How early?"
"How early can you be up?"
"I've been getting up around 5:30 or 6:00."
He shuddered. "Let's say 7:00."
"I'll sleep in. What should I bring?"
"A hat, suntan lotion. You still don't have a bathing suit. Did you bring shorts?"
"No. I brought mostly dresses."
"Do you have a sun dress?"
"Sort of."
He shook his head. I guess he was frustrated by my lack of preparedness for the needs of a vacation in Provence. "Be ready at 7:00. We can stop someplace on the way and buy you clothes if we need to."
He pulled into the driveway of his house and walked around to open my door. He took my hand and walked me to the front door of the inn, and said, "Go to bed early. It will be a long day tomorrow."
He started to turn away, stopped and turned back around to face me. He took my chin in his left hand and looked into my face. My heart was pounding and skipping about every third beat. I know I broke out in a sudden sweat and I flushed. He leaned forward. I tilted my head back and waited for him to kiss me. His face was only a few centimeters from mine. He still smelled of spicy aftershave, now mixed with something musky and salty. I closed my eyes. I felt him move away.
I opened my eyes and looked up into his. There was a mix of curiosity, amusement and something that looked to me like irritation. Then he smiled at me and tweeked my nose. He mumbled "Good night, Cherie, sweet dreams," in French and walked away, leaving me standing there sweating and with my knees like jelly.
Somehow I made it into the inn. Madame kept bottled water and fruit on the sideboard of the dining room. I grabbed a bottle of water and went out on the veranda. Marie-Claire and her husband, Jean-Michel, were sitting at one end of the veranda. I moved in the opposite direction. Madame motioned me to join them. I did so reluctantly. I wanted to be alone and to think. They offered me a glass of cognac and asked how it had gone with my visit to St. Saturnin-les-Apts. I told them the high points of the trip, leaving out all the personal stuff. They said they were happy it went so well. We chatted for a few minutes, but I needed to be alone and to think.
I told them I as going to bed early because I would be leaving early to spend the day with M. Payne. Madame looked at me with an odd expression. I half expected her to say something about being careful about getting involved with such a man. She held her peace. She knew which side her bread was buttered on. He was a regular customer. I was a once-in-a-lifetime visitor. She didn't need to concern herself with my stupidity. I didn't blame her for the choice she made. I was also glad not to have to deal with whatever she might have to say. There was enough monkey chatter going on in my head as it was. I didn't need Marie-Claire to chime in with any warnings.
I took my cognac to my room and settled in a deep padded chair on the balcony. We were far enough away from the nearest city that the stars hung so low it seemed as though I could reach up and touch them. I left the drink on the side table and decided to go to bed. I stood at the railing for a moment feeling the breeze on my face. I turned to go inside and saw Luke sitting by his pool watching me. I stopped and looked at him. He raised his glass to me. I reached over and picked up the brandy snifter, and tilted it toward him in return.
I waved good-night and turned to go inside. He smiled that smile of his.
5 - Cruising
I got up early, showered and piled my hair up on top of my head and secured it with bobby pins. I had brought a floral print sun dress with a white shawl and a pair of white sandals to wear to the beach. I knew I was probably over dressed for boating, but it was the best I could do. I put on make up with a light hand. I looked in the mirror and saw a divorced woman who would turn 40 the next day. It appeared to me that I looked every day of my age. My hair was beginning to show signs of gray here and there. My skin was showing the wear and tear of a life of soap and water washing without enough moisturizing. It didn't matter. In two days I would return to South Carolina, and Luke Payne would continue on his vacation and then return to Hollywood where he would be surrounded by fans and starlets. How could he possibly care what I looked like? I could not imagine he would, so I decided not to let myself worry about it.
I crept down the stairs in an effort not to wake up the owners of the inn, who lived in an apartment down the hall from my room, and out to the front porch where I sat on the top step to wait for Luke. I was just getting comfortable, listening to the insects buzzing and birds singing, musing about how hard it was going to be to leave that amazing place and sort of half wondering if I could persuade Madame to hire me as a sous-chef and chambermaid, when the black Mercedes pulled into the driveway. I stepped forward toward the passenger's door in the front seat. Suddenly, the back door opened from inside. A driver got out and walked around the car, ushering me toward the back seat. I climbed in and the chauffeur closed the door. Luke was sprawled on the left side of the back seat, drinking coffee. He pointed to an insulated cup in a holder between us. He didn't say anything. I tasted the fabulous caf? au lait with just a touch of sugar and smiled.
Luke was obviously not a morning person. I had spent my entire life as an early bird in a world of sleepy-heads, and knew better than to attempt to engage in any conversation with him until he signaled his readiness to talk. Therefore, I, too, leaned back in the seat, sipped my coffee and watched the beautiful scenery pass by. Once again, I found myself feeling relaxed and safe in his presence. I was alarmed by that, but I made a conscious decision to be afraid later. I was going cruising in a yacht on the Mediterranean with an incredibly attractive man - a movie star, at that! I would defer worrying about the aftermath of my little flirtation, which somehow in my heart I knew would be unpleasant, to say the least. I decided to play Scarlett O'Hara and think about that another day.
As we approache
d Marseilles, Luke reached out and took my hand. I did not move it away.
He said, 'Sorry. I'm kind of a crab in the mornings.'
"No need to apologize. My daughter is insufferable in the mornings, and so was Kris. I'm used to keeping my mouth shut until somebody lets me know it's safe to talk without danger I getting my head bit off." I smiled into his eyes. Something had changed between us. I chose to pretend I didn't notice.
"So tell me, what's on the agenda for my bedazzlement today, Mr. Payne?"
He smiled at me for a long time and said, "Well, the first part may not be so dazzling, but it's part of the deal. The yacht we're borrowing belongs to a the movie producer and director, Braddock Austin. He's here with his new wife. We're having breakfast with the two of them. Braddock and I will talk business. His wife will push her food around on her plate because she's a model and they never eat anything. When the business meeting is finished Braddock and Whatever-Her-Name-Is are taking off for a few days in Monte Carlo. We have the use of the yacht for up to four days if we want it."
I started to say something, and he held up his hand. "I told them we'd only use it today. I hate to take advantage of a kindness."
He told me a little about Braddock Austin's background and movie resume. The latter was impressive. Luke had already made two films with