Having the Frenchman's Baby

When she bit into her pastry, she noticed his penetrating gaze fixed on her. She took another bite.

“The touch of nutmeg is brilliant.”

“You’ve discovered Maman’s secret.” He sounded pleased.

“This is the best quiche Lorraine I’ve ever tasted.”

“Quiche Alsacienne.”

She nodded. “I stand corrected. Tell your mother she could open her own restaurant with food like this. She would put everyone else out of business.”

“Coming from you, that’s no ordinary compliment.”

As soon as they’d finished she got up first and carried their plates to the sink.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take long. I’m an impatient man.”

Feverish with anticipation, she flew to the bathroom. After rummaging in her suitcase, she found what she was after wrapped inside her two sweaters.

She put it behind her back and rejoined him in the kitchen where he was cleaning up.

He shot her a mysterious glance. “What are you hiding?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“If this is a game we’re playing, I’ll warn you now I don’t play fair.”

“You think I don’t know that? But just this once will you please humor me and close your eyes?”

“That’s all I have to do?”

“For now.”

Another low chuckle came out of him. “All right. My eyes are closed. For now,” he added wryly.

She walked around him and drew two glasses from the cupboard. Then she poured some golden Pinot Gris into each of them.

“I’m going to hand you something.”

She pressed a glass into his palm. Their fingers brushed, sending a trail of fire up her arm.

His body stilled. “So the master vintner is now on trial…”

“In a manner of speaking.”

His amusement faded as he lifted the glass and breathed in the bouquet.

“You can stop pretending. I already know that you know what it is.”

Ignoring her comment, he took a swallow and savored it the way she’d done that night at the hotel.

She reached for her own glass and dra

nk from it. Her private salute to the man who’d transformed her into someone she didn’t know anymore.

“I detect a new element.”