Chapter 11

Both men turned to look at him when he stepped out onto the rear patio. “Twenty minutes,” he announced, leaning against the wall of the cottage. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled. “So what sort of wonderful trouble are you two getting into out here?”

“No trouble at all. I was just telling Marc about London, and how I found myself living in Paris.” Simon grinned at the younger man. “Though you were probably expecting a more interesting story than what you heard.”

“Anything’s more interesting than here.” Marc leaned forward in the seat he’d taken opposite Simon, his forearms resting on his knee. A bright flush stained his tanned cheeks. “I don’t know why you’d think this is better.”

“Oh, but this is just beautiful,” Alain interrupted. He jerked his chin toward the trees in the distance, upward to the flawless sky. “The beauty in Paris is of man’s creation. What Simon has here can’t be duplicated.”