An appreciative smile joined Paul’s regard.
But Lucie hadn’t done anything noble enough to deserve admiration. “Where are you from?”
“Outside Boston. I’m sure you can tell by my accent.” He tapped his throat above the knot of his tie.
“Honestly, no. I haven’t spent enough time in the States to develop that ear.”
A waiter brought over steaming bowls of consommé. Lucie relished the beefy smell and picked up her spoon. “What brought you to Paris?”
“Work. I’m an engineer. I came to France to work on my company’s race car.”
“Race cars? How exciting.” She sipped a spoonful of soup. Oh, the heavenly taste of beef. She’d almost forgotten.
“That’s why I came. I stayed because of Simone.” A twitch around his eye hinted at grief.
“Your wife?” Lucie asked gently.
“Yes.” He stirred his soup.
“Does it hurt to talk about her?”
Paul lifted his gaze. “It does. But in a good way. I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Because it keeps her alive in your mind.”
His spoon stilled. “Yes. I have ... no friends who remember her.”
Maybe the only purpose in this evening was to help a widower remember his wife. And what an excellent purpose.
Lucie leaned in. “What was she like?”
“I’ll tell you how we met.” He ducked his head, and a grin broke out. “We hired a driver to test our cars. Great driver. Won lots of races. Cool headed, quick thinking, savvy. Told me everything I needed to know—adjustments to make in the engine, the gears, what worked, what didn’t. But an odd sort. Barely looked you in the eye, barely spoke.”
Lucie swallowed some soup. “Many people who are good with their hands aren’t good with words.”
Paul’s mouth wiggled as if suppressing a laugh. “One evening I attended a dinner party. A young lady intrigued me—tall,elegant, wore a turban, very sure of herself. I kept trying to speak with her, and she kept slipping away, which only intrigued me more, of course.”
“Of course.” She smiled with him.
Paul paused to sip his consommé. “I finally cornered her. In a few minutes I realized she was my race car driver.”
“She was?”
“She wore her hair short and dressed like a man so she’d be taken seriously.”
“How fascinating. I wish I could have met her.”
“She was an incredible woman.” He smiled into his bowl as if seeing her face. “I fell hard. Took a long time to convince her to go out with me. I had to promise not to expose her. She didn’t want to lose her position.”
“I don’t blame her.” Lucie studied the contentment flooding his face. “You must have been very happy together.”
His gaze rose back to hers, to the present. “We were.”
“Is Josie more like you or her?”
“Neither, really.” One side of his mouth pulled in.
“Well, she’s a doll. She was shy at first—common at that age—but she warmed up.”
