grandmother used to cook moules this way. My brothers and I would have contests to see who could eat the most.”
Andrea chuckled, wishing she could have been witness to such a sight. “I can see why. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious.”
The confidences coming bit by bit were starting to fill in the gaps that explained the man behind the corporate mask. When Andrea was finally full she put down her fork. “So, when did your grandmother pass away?”
He finished off his wine. “Two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Maybe he didn’t like all her questions, but she was hungry for answers only he could give. “Do you have a big family?”
“I’m the second of four brothers, two of whom are twins.”
Twins—
“How lucky for you. I’m an only child.”
“They’re all married. At last count I have seven nieces and nephews. There’s my father Giles, of course; my grandfather Jacques, two aunts with husbands, children and grandchildren.”
No mention of his mom…
“Everyone lives in the same neighborhood in St. Pierre and derives their livelihood from the sea. The first Corbin we know of came from Brittany and was fishing those waters when Jacques Cartier stopped there on his return to France in the mid-fifteen hundreds.”
Fascinating. “What about your mother’s side of the family?”
“I have a lot of relatives in Chicago.”
“How on earth did your parents meet?”
“Mother was coming home from a trip to Europe when her plane had to be diverted to Halifax. She and my father were both stranded at the airport for the better part of a week due to a ferocious Atlantic storm. One thing led to another and he took her home to meet the family. They married, had children. She divorced my father when I was eighteen.”
The unexpected revelation pierced her heart. His parents’ breakup would have done terrible things to his emotions, yet he’d channeled that hurt and anger to build an empire. If he hadn’t gone down that path, Corbin PC’s might not have been, Andrea might not have ever met him. The thought made her ill.
“We survived, Andrea. Though my mother has never discussed the divorce, she and I have remained close. We see each other often. She works for a travel agency and flies to St. Pierre to visit my brothers every month.”
It was just as well one of the waiters chose that moment to clear their dishes. Andrea wanted to get to know Gabe better. She could see the pain in Gabe’s eyes as he talked about his past.
Another waiter followed with two plates of melon chunks. The dessert looked simple enough until she tasted it. “Oh—I don’t believe anything could be this divine.”
Gabe’s eyes were smiling. “It’s the champagne glaze.”
Between his nearness and the effect of the wine after all the delicious food they’d eaten, she was dangerously close to floating.
“You were going to tell me about the problems your island is facing.”
“Later,” he murmured. “Right now I want to dance with you.”
Her heartbeat accelerated to a galloping pitch as he grasped her hand and drew her into his arms.
She’d heard “La Vie en Rose” many times in her life, but she’d never danced to the live music of an authentic French accordion player before. Gabe’s hard muscled body seemed to meld with hers. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“Are you having a good time, Andrea?”
The question made her a little crazy. She was in heaven, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Thanks to you I’m having an unforgettable experience.”
“Then look at me.”
She clung to him even tighter. “I’m afraid to.”
“Why?”
“Because I smell of garlic.”
His body began to shake with silent laughter. “We both do, so there’s no problem.”
She finally raised her head, but the slight motion caused her to feel dizzy. “I—I wish I had some gum.”
“I’d rather taste the champagne on your lips.” In the next breath his tempting male mouth closed over hers in a warm kiss that seemed so natural, she opened hers involuntarily.
While they moved around the dance floor, their kiss slowly deepened and became a part of the total magic of the night. One song turned into another, one kiss grew into another. Andrea had no idea how long they communed in that halcyon state.
Gabe had begun kissing her cheeks and neck and hair, and she was making little moaning sounds while she let him. She’d forgotten they had an audience until they’d stopped dancing.
A wave of heat engulfed her at her loss of control. Breaking away from him, she walked past other diners to their table on unsteady legs to get her purse. She hadn’t drunk that much wine and couldn’t blame the alcohol for her reckless behavior. It was Gabe who’d turned her into some kind of sybarite.
Without waiting for him, she left the café and headed for the hotel. Pierre’s father stood behind the front desk, thank goodness. He nodded to her. She flashed him a smile and kept walking.
Gabe caught up to her on the staircase. When she sensed him behind her, she ran up the last few steps.
“What’s the hurry?” By this time they were both standing outside her door. She was breathless.
“I got a little carried away on the dance floor and figure it’s past my bedtime.”
His low chuckle resonated to her bones. “I should have brought you to Paris long before now. It’s wonderful watching someone else react to it for the first time.”
“You made it wonderful by bringing me here, Gabe. I’ll never forget it.” Her voice was trembling again. “Good night.” She put her key into the lock and opened the door.
“Andrea?”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “Yes?”
“Thank you for giving me a memory. I’ll come by for you at eight-thirty in the morning. We’ll raid that pastry shop next door before we do anything else. Sleep well,” he whispered before walking off.
There was no possibility of that now. He’d made the night too magical for her.
Grabbing her toiletries, she hurried down the hall to get ready for bed. But she knew she would stay awake most of the night reliving every thrilling moment with him.
A creature of habit, Andrea woke up at six-thirty though her body craved more sleep. Gabe wouldn’t come knocking for another two hours.
Unwilling to lie there in fresh anticipation of seeing him without being able to do anything about it, she dressed for work in a matching cotton blouse and skirt in a khaki color. When she’d done her hair and makeup, she packed her bag and carried it downstairs.
This time she encountered a woman at the front desk who was probably Pierre’s mother. The older woman greeted her.
“Bonjour,” Andrea responded in kind.
“Monsieur Corbin is next door eating breakfast.” Gabe was already up? “You are welcome to leave your suitcase with me while you join him.”
“Thank you.”
After the woman came around to take it from her, Andrea walked outside to an overcast sky filled with the most amazing cloud formations. She discovered tables and chairs set up in front of the patisserie. Gabe sat at one of them dunking a croissant in his coffee before eating it while he read the Figaro.
In