Page 4 of Love in Bloom

CHAPTER TWO

The Beach

On the beach, Camille moved into warrior pose. She tried not to glare at her yoga instructor. Her sunglasses slipped, and she pushed them into place. A grain of sand fell into her eye. She blinked rapidly to dislodge it. Her eye teared up, and the sand washed free.

She breathed in and looked out over the blue Mediterranean. She’d been there three days already and, though it was beautiful, she hated it. She missed the hustle and bustle of London.

The instructor repositioned her arm, and then took her place at the front of the class. “Twist your body to face the resort, and slowly bring your feet together.”

Camille’s mat bunched beneath her feet as she moved. Why did they even use mats on the beach? It was more of a hindrance than anything else.

“Relax your face, Mademoiselle Slade,” the instructor called out.

Camille barely refrained from scowling at the woman.

“Raise your right leg up and rest it between your ankle and your calf on your left leg,” the woman intoned. “Raise your arms over your head, and touch your palms together in tree pose. Breathe in and out to the count of eight.” She commenced counting.

Camille wobbled on her left leg, trying to find solidity in the shifting sand in order to keep her balance.

“Use your core, Mademoiselle Slade.”

Camille gritted her teeth. She daydreamed of picking up the instructor and dropping her into the sea. A smile played at her lips.

The instructor moved the class from one tortuous pose to another until arriving at shavasana.

Camille loathed this pose most of all. Lying in the sand, breathing in and out, clearing her mind—a complete impossibility—and staring at the blue sky above streaked with dawn’s rays of pink and gold. She’d never get the hang of turning her mind off. It went faster than a Lear jet.

“Namaste,” the instructor concluded. Camille rolled herself off the mat and returned it to the box.

“You’re getting better, Mademoiselle Slade.” The instructor smiled. “Be patient. Inner peace will come.”

Camille managed a tight smile and a head nod before stalking off to breakfast. After eating a grapefruit and muesli, she took up residence on a beach chair and started into the next sweet romance novel on her tablet. Her attention wandered. Not because of the novel, but because it was the sixth one in three days. She hadn’t read this much since her university days. She certainly hadn’t read so much fiction. Usually her reading was based on chemistry or botanicals.

She fingered her phone, desperate to call Connor and weasel something out of him about how Lakr was doing. He’d been tight-lipped so far but she hoped to wear him down before the end of the week. Surely he’d let something slip or simply grow weary of her hinting and throw her a bone. She sighed and released the phone. Connor would be true to his word. His loyalty was one of his greatest attributes and certainly one Camille depended on. He was the only one in the family who hadn’t thought her business idea was crazy when she proposed it before graduating from university. He’d been the perfect partner with his accounting degree and financial background. When she was honest with herself, Lakr was as much Connor’s as hers. He’d hugged her when she wept over botched formulas and comforted her when she feared Lakr would go under. He was her rock. And her little sister, Clara, was her solace.

Camille fingered her phone again and debated whether to call Clara. Meanwhile she watched the waves and swimmers in the crystal waters, then set the phone down. With her skin warm from the sun, she stripped off her cover-up, then headed into the water, which felt cool and refreshing on her skin. She stroked through the waves until she tired, and then floated on her back, enjoying the bobbing motion of the sea. A wave swamped her. Sputtering, she pushed her blonde hair back from her face and paddled to shore.

Back at her chair, Camille toweled off and settled in for some more reading. Chapters later, her stomach rumbled. Throwing everything back into her beach bag, she headed to the restaurant for lunch.

Seated at her “table for one,” Camille stared out at the beach. Families played, couples flirted. She frowned and indulged in a moment of self-pity over her single status.

Dishes crashed to the floor. She jerked her head around. On the ground, a waitress picked up a broken plate and spilled sandwich, while a man helped her.

There was something vaguely familiar about his figure, the way he moved, the slender but muscular build, the brown hair. She shook her head. She was imagining things. Who would she know on the French Riviera? Connor had been right when he said she had few friends outside of work. Still she stared at the mystery man, trying to work out who he was.

He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he turned and cocked his head as if he too were trying to work out who she was. He finished helping the waitress, and then approached Camille.

“Pardon, but do I know you?”

The Welsh accent clinched it. “Tristan?”

“Camille?”

“How wonderful to see you.” Camille rose and kissed both his cheeks. “What are you doing here? Are you on business or pleasure? Pleasure I imagine. Are you here with someone? Are you married? No ring. But then some husbands don’t wear one. Are you still doing research, or did you move on to teaching and driving university students mad? Did you ever get your scooter?”

Tristan laughed. “You’ve not changed a bit, Camille. Still talking a mile a minute.” He gestured for her to sit. “Are you expecting someone, or may I join you?”

“Please sit. We must catch up. It’s been almost nine years since we took that chemistry class together at university. You were hopeless at calculating moles, but fabulous at organic compounds. Did you become a doctor? Or did you decide to go into research? I remember how keen you were to spend your life in the lab, but you also liked to travel. What exotic places have you seen?”

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