‘I’m… not doing that. I just…’ She paused, her temperature rising. ‘You’re not giving me anything.’
‘So, what do you do, Orla?’ he asked. ‘When someone doesn’t give you anything?’
The way he was looking at her was burning her worse than any flaming beanbag. Those dark eyes were a mix of fire and granite – alight with anger and as hard as rock. And she didn’tknow how to respond as the intensity hung like a perilous abseiler.
‘Surprise!’
Orla jumped and watched Jacques flinch too as a pair of hands were clapped to his shoulders and someone appeared right there with them. It was a man, maybe in his late teens, dark hair fluffed on top and short and tapered everywhere else.
‘Whoa, dude. You OK? You’re shaking,’ the newcomer said to Jacques.
‘It’s this cognac,’ Jacques answered quickly. ‘And seeing you. What are you doing here?’
‘Well, you know me.’
Apparently that was all the answer this young man was going to give.
‘And this beautiful person does not know me,’ the man said, looking at Orla. ‘But, she should. Hi, I’m Tommy.’ He reached out a hand.
‘Orla,’ she introduced, taking his hand.
‘Enchanté,’ he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her hand.
‘Orla,’ Jacques said. ‘Meet my brother.’ He took a breath and met her eyes, sharpness still evident. ‘There goes your only child theory.’
18
‘Who’s the woman?’ Tommy asked, putting a beer bottle down in front of Jacques and slapping him hard on the back with the other hand.
The beanbag contest might have reached its conclusion for the night but there were still many patrons in the bar making the most of the discounted prices. Tommy’s question had Jacques’s eyes going across the room to where he could see Orla was being introduced to Madame Voisin. Perhaps someone who talked more than anyone would be a good new focus for her…
‘What are you doing here?’ Jacques said, concentrating back on his brother, taking the beer and swigging quickly.
‘I asked a question first.’
‘She’s no one,’ Jacques replied.
‘Whoa. That’s harsh.’
Yes, it was harsh, but he couldn’t deny he still wasn’t over the assumptions Orla had made about him off the cuff. How she’d rattled out her opinions didn’t fit with the reporter he had thought she was. Finally he answered his brother. ‘She’s someone Delphine’s got to come here to… you know… writeabout Saint-Chambéry and all the crazy things they do at Christmas.’
‘Right, so not a date,’ Tommy said, sitting down.
‘No,’ Jacques said firmly.
‘No?’
‘What are you doing here, Tommy?’ With no warning. Without a heads-up so he could tell him not to come.
‘Why do you keep asking that? It’s like you’re not happy to see me or something.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I thought you were with Dad for Christmas.’ And he liked to know where his family was. It gave him a tiny amount of reassurance. If he knew where they were he could act quickly should it become necessary.
‘Yeah, well, Dad is heading to Hawaii.’
‘What?’ He had had no knowledge of that either.
‘The latest girlfriend who’s fallen for his online rizz and will probably fall out of lust just as quick once she sees his hairline… unless he’s already shown her his bank balance.’
