‘Really well,’ answered Juliet. ‘I won’t be able to tell properly until I can look at the photos on my computer screen, or develop the ones I’ve taken with film, but it’s been useful. I hope there’s something for the website too.’
‘Have you got much more to do?’
‘Kitchen garden this afternoon, then some portraits, and that should be it for now. I’m going to do Sylvia next week, I think.’
‘How about you, Léo?’ asked Frankie, with her sly cat’s grin. ‘Is our Juliet cracking the whip?’
‘She is wonderful. I have done several photoshoots in my career, and she is tremendously professional and organised. It puts me at ease. I just hope that I am a good subject?’
He looked at Juliet with a single raised eyebrow, and she felt an unwelcome dart of desire in her stomach. Pushing away the image of those capable, rough hands, she tried to distract her mind by thinking about shutter speeds.
‘Yes, excellent. Have you finished eating? We’ve got lots to get through this afternoon.’
With a smile that was difficult to read, he nodded, and they left to continue their work.
TEN
The afternoon in the kitchen garden passed quickly. Léo could tell that Juliet was worried about these shots as she was less confident and, if it were possible, brisker than ever. But he admired the way she worked: the care she took but also the drive to create a beautiful, pleasing end product. It was deeply important to her, he could see that, and it reminded him of himself as he strived in the kitchen. He did not just want to make something edible, that filled you up, but something in which the flavours sang on your tongue, making you want to linger over it and laugh with joy at the pleasure it brought. The portraits, which he sat for back in the kitchen, were quicker and more easy-going, and Juliet relaxed, moving the lights and reflector around confidently and gaining her shots with ease.
‘Right, I think that’s it,’ she finally said, squinting at the little screen on the back of her camera. ‘Thanks, you’ve been really helpful. Sorry it’s been such a long day. I’d better get out of your way now.’
She started gathering her things together, but Léo stopped her.
‘Hey, you can’t leave without trying what you’ve watched me cook. All that chopping this morning wasn’t wasted. Please, sit down, I’m in no hurry.’
He took the camera out of her hand and put it to the side. He was a little surprised that Juliet acceded so willingly, but she looked worn out and he suspected that the thought of letting someone else do the work for a while was too tempting, even for someone as determined as she seemed to be to accept no succour.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out; I’ve kept you all day.’
‘Absolutely. I can call up to the house and tell them we’re still working and will eat here, that way we will have peace and not have to share.’
She nodded.
‘Okay, thank you. It does smell good – what is it?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ He took a bottle of wine from the fridge and started removing the cork.
‘Well, you chopped a lot of onions and made pastry…some sort of onion pie?’
‘Exactement!Onion tart, with the thyme we picked in the garden, cream and Gruyère. And to go with it, this pinot gris from Alsace.’
‘Did you just knock that all up while I was upstairs changing the batteries over?’
‘Yes! The finished product is impressive, but so easy. Maybe one day I will show you how to do it?’
She gave him no answer other than a flicker of the eyebrows, and he decided not to push it. After all, however attractive he found this woman, hadn’t he promised himself nothing but friendship, however much he wanted more?
‘Here, try this wine.’
She sipped it, sniffed it, then sipped again. Then she wrinkled her nose.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s not for me at all. Too sweet.’
‘Ah! I thought you might say that. But let’s see what happens when you try it with the food.’
With a flourish, he pulled the tart from the oven and placed it in front of her. It was perfect. Crumbly, golden pastry, glistening onions which had caramelised and sunk gently into the creamy cheese filling. Léo watched Juliet’s face and was thrilled to see how delighted she looked. For all that she presented herself as austere and spartan, he knew in that moment there beat a passionate, sensual heart beneath the stern exterior.
He cut into the tart and slid a generous piece onto a plate for her. She went to pick up her fork, but he stopped her.
