Free French Kisses by Jan Ellis

and offering him pralines. Was he flirting with her? She looked at the second empty bottle on the table.
    “You know, I really can’t let you drive home after all the beer and the wine. You are very welcome to stay – I mean, we have plenty of beds,” she added, in case he thought she was after him.
    Paul hesitated for a moment then smiled and nodded. “If that’s no problem, it would probably be wise.”
    Rachel stood. “Good. Well, pick a bed – er, I mean a room – and I’ll just tidy up here.”
    “Don’t go to any trouble. I know the rooms are all set up for your guests. I’ll be fine down here.”
    She was torn between being a generous hostess and the thought of having to strip the brand-new linen off one of the beds and remake the darned thing. Laziness won.
    “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, the sofa in the sitting room is ever so comfortable . . .”
    “I wouldn’t mind at all. Really.”
    “And there’s a downstairs loo. So, okay,” she said, smiling nervously. “I’ll bring down some bedding. And something for you to wear.”
    He caught her by the wrist and gave her a lazy smile. “I’m in your hands.”
    Blimey, she thought, skipping up the stairs. If the kids weren’t here I don’t know what might happen. She went to the linen cupboard and pulled out a single duvet, a sheet, pillows, towel and a toothbrush and threw them downstairs to where Paul was waiting.
    “Sorry,” she said, wrestling with a pillowcase. “This is ‘house’ bed linen for the kids and me. I’m keeping all the good stuff for paying guests. God, that sounds awful!”
    Paul laughed as he stuffed the duvet into its cover. “That’s fine. I’m just happy not having to drive home past the local gendarme.”
    Rachel could have told him that the local gendarme was ba sed 60km away and only came anywhere near Pelette on high days and holidays, but decided not to.
    “I do hope you’ll be comfy,” she said, dislodging a plastic toy from down the side of the raspberry red sofa as she shook out a sheet and threw down a pillow. “I’m afraid the bed linen is rather garish.”
    “It’s fine, really.” Paul lay down on the duvet, his hands folded behind his head. “I’m a big fan of ‘My Little Pony’.”
    She handed him one of Michael’s old T-shirts to sleep in. “And Metallica?”
    “My favourite band.”
    She laughed. “You are a very easy house guest.”
    He got up from the sofa and came towards her. She held her breath, half hoping that he’d press his mouth on hers, but instead she felt his lips against one cheek and then the other, his hands on her arms.
    “Goodnight Rachel. And thank you for a very nice evening.”
    She opened her eyes to find him ever so close. He had taken off his sweater earlier in the evening and she could see one or two curls from his chest through the gap in his shirt.
    “Well, sleep well Paul.”
    Controlling the urge to grab and kiss him properly, she said goodnight and went upstairs to her room. There, she couldn’t sleep for thinking of him lying below her. Okay, the ‘My Little Pony’ bed linen was a bit of a passion killer, but she still felt excited at the thought of a man who wasn’t Michael coming into her life.

 
    Chapter 11: The Morning After
     
    The next morning Rachel took extra care getting dressed before going downstairs to find her guest. She hesitated at the sitting room door, wondering whether or not to knock. What was the etiquette when you had a man you barely knew but definitely fancied sleeping on your sofa? What would Paul think if she tapped and opened the door? Yikes – what if he invited her in to join him? Her imagination was running riot.
    She walked into the kitchen and got a glass, deciding that she really wanted to know whether he was awake or not. She held the glass against the heavy wooden door and pressed one ear to it. She stuffed a finger in the other ear so she could hear better, but it was hopeless: a ll she could hear was her own