His hands had been so warm.
Jean tried to focus on the flowers she watered just then, but her mind kept slipping out from under her.
Lucien kissing her hand in the car. Lucien brushing her arm as he said good night. Honestly, she was going to get nothing done and what she did accomplish she'd probably do backwards.
"That's beautiful, Jean. Just wondering though…this little chap, here. Do you think he needs repotting?"
How long had he been standing there and could he see where her mind had gone? She smiled.
"Mmm, you're getting quite good at this."
Unless it could be used in a murder Lucien had no idea what grew out of the ground – and even then, he'd have had to ask Jean.
"I've learned from the best."
"Is that right? And the name of this one is?"
She could play along. But when he pointed across the room pretending to identify something or other she followed his gaze, waiting for him to walk past her, lift up the spotted hydrangea or whatever he'd called it. But he didn't. He stopped right behind her, and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, slid them down her arms, while he carried on about the plants in her ear. He was right there. Her smile faded as she melted into the warmth of him behind her.
It may have been a long journey to this moment. But there was no more doubt. He turned her ever so slightly toward him. He bent his beautiful head toward hers. She closed her eyes.
And then the damn phone rang and he jumped away from her like a school boy and she startled like she'd been called out by God himself.
He backed out of the sun room, nervously chattering about being the one to answer it. For a sophisticated international spy turned doctor, getting close to her made him awfully nervous.
She smiled to herself. She should help him relax.
She'd have dinner ready early, maybe. They'd have time to alone tonight and… no. She was sure of him, but anything could happen between now and dinner. She trusted him, but she didn't trust life. She set down her spade, pulled off her gloves, and with a toss of her head she strode into the house.
"Lucien?" She called.
"I have to go. Someone's missing, apparently."
"And they need the police surgeon for a missing person now?"
"It's to do with the crime scene… Ah," he said, noticing the intensity in her face. "Did I forget something?" He patted his vest pockets with his left hand, and looked at the medicine bag in his right.
"You did," she said, slowly.
Walking toward him, slowly.
Meeting his gaze and holding it there.
He dropped the bag.
She kept on till she walked straight into his arms and paused not at all as he wrapped them around her. He parted his lips and breathed her into him. His hands pulled at her back. She felt all the heat of his body in hers and on hers and through hers and in that moment she had no doubt at all that this man was hers and that he was the love she had waited her entire life to find. She pressed her hips against his and he moaned as his tongue pushed past her lips. Oh, the promise of that tongue.
But Matthew had called and he had places to go.
She summoned every bit of self-possession she had and pushed against him.
He gasped a bit as he pulled away, not quite ready to exist apart from her yet.
"Jean," he said.
"I'll see you for dinner," she said.
"Yes, ah, right. I…"
"Well, you're needed, aren't you?" she said, smiling like she did in the sunroom. Confident, enough to play with him.
"I'll be home as soon as I can," he said with a deep rasp in his voice.
She was sure he would be.