Patricia Sands lives in Toronto, Canada, when she isn’t somewhere else. An admitted travel fanatic, she can pack a bag in a flash and be ready to go anywhere … particularly the south of France. With a focus on women’s issues and aging, her stories celebrate the feminine spirit and the power of friendship. Encouraging women of all ages to stare down the fear factor and embrace change, she has heard from readers ages 20 to 83.
Her award-winning debut novel The Bridge Club was published in 2010.
Her second novel, The Promise of Provence, has just been launched.
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Katherine awoke alone. She had been carefully covered with a light sheet and lay with the sun streaming in, feeling fulfilled and confused.
What the hell have I done?
But she knew what she had done. What they had done. The question was what would they do with it now?
Stretching slowly, she closed her eyes and luxuriated in the lingering memory of their lovemaking. A light smile played across her face. It’s still there. I’m not too old. That spark of excitement that ignited the fire … She felt her body move sensuously into the sheet as she recalled the bursts of pure pleasure that had surged right to her toes … time after time …
She thought about Andrea’s words at the airport, about not having to go home.
Trust Andrea to see past what is holding me back. She’s so calm and logical and willing to take risks. Everything she said is what I feel but can’t give myself permission to accept.
Philippe appeared in the doorway with fresh croissants. She could see he had even gone to Choopy’s to pick up her special café mocca.
Wearing a slightly abashed expression, he placed the tray on a side table and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking Katherine’s hand, he kissed it lightly on the back and the palm. With the back of her other hand she softly rubbed the light stubble on his cheek before pulling him to her for a brief but tender kiss.
“It was a beautiful night,” he murmured, his eyes and voice full of emotion. He spoke slowly, as if hearing the echo of each word and confirming his voice was expressing what his heart was feeling. “You are a most special woman, Katherine. I never thought I would meet someone like you.”
She put her fingers to his lips, as if afraid of what he might say next, while, she responded in close to a whisper, “It was so beautiful. Oh yes, it was. And you are special to me too. We have so much to think about, so much to work through—in our hearts, in our heads.”
Philippe nodded. “Oui, c’est vrai. It’s true …”
“I don’t want this to change the friendship we share. I’m leaving in just over two weeks—that’s the reality here. Can we just keep going and see where this takes us?”
He brought her a robe that was hanging by the shower. “I’ll take the tray to the rooftop and we can have a quick bite. Désolé, I must get back to work, but I will come back after we close up—if you like.”
“Of course I would like that.”
As she reached for the robe, their hands touched. It took only a second for Katherine to pull him to her, wordlessly stripping off his tee-shirt as he unzipped his jeans and kicked them aside. Their kisses were strong and fiery. Quickly he straddled her and felt her hips rise to meet him as they both groaned with pleasure. He hungrily kissed her neck, her hair. Katherine felt a hot streak course deep into her pelvis and she pushed him back, this time climbing on top of him.
All reserve was gone. She felt strong, sexy, desired, knowing what she wanted to give and to get.
Later, Philippe held her face for a long time as they lay together. Then he drew it to him. “You are beautiful,” he whispered, covering her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead with small kisses. “You are such a gift.”
Breakfast could wait.