One Week With The French Tycoon. Christy McKellen

for a place to eat.’

      ‘Oui.’

      ‘On your own?’

      ‘Oui.’ He tensed, anticipating what was coming next.

      ‘You’re welcome to join me if you’d like,’ she said brightly, confirming his fear. ‘I was just about to grab a slice of pizza at one of those small family-run eateries just off the square.’

      ‘You mean the cafés with the plastic tables? Non—’ he began to say, but she cut him off.

      ‘You’d be doing me a favour,’ she said. ‘I’ve been on my own all day and I’m beginning to have conversations with myself out loud, which is never a good sign. If you don’t come and have dinner with me there’s a good chance I’ll be arrested by the end of the night and taken to a secure facility.’ She sat up and folded her arms. ‘Anyway, you owe me.’

      He frowned, perplexed. ‘What for?’

      ‘For letting you share my room.’

      ‘Your room?’

      ‘I was there first, remember?’

      He sighed, fighting a smile. ‘How could I forget?’

      ‘So what do you say? Can I tempt you with a slice of pizza?’ She looked so hopeful it made something twist in his chest. But he needed to stay strong.

      ‘I’m going to try out one of the restaurants down on the marina,’ he said, giving her an apologetic look. ‘Apparently they have fantastic à la carte menus with a good selection of locally caught fresh fish and seafood. Word has it the lobster spaghetti is not to be missed.’

      Her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was picturing the food he’d described. ‘Sounds awful,’ she joked, flashing an impertinent grin. ‘Anyway, those places are a total tourist rip-off.’

      ‘And the pizza joints aren’t?’

      Spreading out her hands, she gestured around the square. ‘They’re part of the local colour. You can eat overpriced gourmet food in Paris, or wherever you’re from. Come and support the underdog for once.’ She stared at him hard, like she’d done the previous night, dipping her head to one side and looking up at him through her thick black lashes, and something twisted again inside him—then broke.

      Despite his earlier determination to keep to himself tonight, he realised he had no choice but to go and eat a huge greasy slice of pizza with this woman. Maybe then she’d leave him alone.

      ‘Sure.’ He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘Pizza sounds good.’

      ‘Great!’ she said, breaking into a huge smile.

      He hoped she wasn’t going to read too much into this. Whilst he was prepared to spend the next hour with her, he didn’t want her thinking he wanted to buddy up for the whole week.

      As they walked away from the piazza towards one of the back streets that housed the pizza outlets, they passed a homeless person slumped on a filthy-looking rug next to one of the souvenir shops. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Indigo reach into her pocket, then discreetly drop a handful of coins into an empty hat by the side of the man, before strolling on as if nothing had happened.

      * * *

      As soon as they’d ordered their slices of pizza and drinks from a very jolly waiter at a café with red plastic tables and chairs arranged out on the pavement, Indigo excused herself and went inside to find the bathroom and splash some cool water on to her face.

      Maybe insisting on bringing Julien here had been a little extreme, she deliberated as she patted her face dry with a paper towel. He’d not exactly been enthusiastic about taking her up on the offer of company—but she couldn’t shake the concern that it would have been a miserable experience for him, eating dinner on his own, and she was pretty sure if she was patient he’d thaw out eventually.

      Sometimes people put up barriers for whatever reason and you had to coax them out of their shell. She’d seen it a lot throughout her time running her café and evening classes. People could appear to be confident on the outside, but when you dug a little deeper it became apparent they were dealing with some tough issues and putting a brave face on things. Often they just needed someone to ask if they were okay, then listen to them.

      Which was exactly what she’d done for Gavin, she remembered with a lurch. Not that he’d appreciated it in the end.

      Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face. Was she setting herself up for more trouble here, getting involved in Julien’s drama?

      She stared into the mirror, looking deep into her own eyes. No. Because this wasn’t going to turn into anything more than a brief encounter—hopefully just one of many connections she’d make during her week here. She was here to socialise and have fun, new experiences this week after all, but that was all it would be.

      Pulling a face at herself, she smoothed down her hair then pushed back her shoulders, wishing she’d had something other than her walking clothes to put on tonight. It wasn’t that she wanted to impress Julien exactly, but she felt scruffy next to his overt sophistication, and less confident because of it.

      Returning to the table, she saw that the waiter had brought their slices of pizza, as well as a beer for Julien and a glass of tap water for her.

      Julien looked so strikingly out of place—sitting there on his cherry-red plastic chair in his designer jeans and beautifully cut open-necked shirt, with his golden hair swept back from his face and aviator sunglasses perched on his head as he read something on his smartphone—that she couldn’t help but smile.

      Taking her seat, she gave him a friendly nod as he looked up to acknowledge her return.

      ‘Great, the food arrived while I was away; I love it when that happens,’ she said, picking up her glass and taking a sip of water to cover a sudden bout of nerves at being there with him.

      He just looked at her as if she was slightly loopy.

      Swallowing hard, she put her glass down and leaned forwards, propping her arms on the table. ‘So, tell me, Julien, why did you choose to walk the Amalfi coast?’ she asked brightly in an attempt to get the conversation started.

      He took his sunglasses off his head and slid them on to his nose so all she could see now was her own reflection in the lenses. ‘It seemed like a good place to get away from it all.’

      ‘Apart from all the tourists.’ She gave him a smile, which he didn’t return.

      ‘I didn’t realise how popular this place was.’

      ‘You mean you didn’t do your homework? Somehow I find that hard to believe,’ she said.

      He frowned. ‘Really? Why?’

      ‘I don’t know... You just seem very—together. Very—businesslike.’

      He huffed out a dry laugh and picked up his beer bottle, taking a long pull. ‘Why did you choose to come here?’ he asked, gesturing to their surroundings with the neck of the bottle.

      She paused, arranging her answer in her mind. ‘I’ve wanted to do this walk for ages and I finally got round to booking it this year,’ she said, uncomfortably aware of a jolt of sadness in her chest. She and Gavin had talked about coming here since they’d got together, when things had been good between them. Before he’d started to resent her.

      Julien leant back in his seat and studied her. ‘Do you often holiday alone?’

      ‘No, just this time.’ She took a breath, deciding she might as well be straight with him.

      ‘Actually, I was supposed to come here with my boyfriend, but we split up three months ago. He didn’t want to come with his new partner, so I figured, since it was non-refundable, I may as well use it as a chance to get away for a bit.’ She was aiming for a breezy and upbeat tone of voice, but from the look on Julien’s