Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress

The two women halted their conversation as the men came within earshot. They stopped in front of the two loungers. Kiefer’s gaze swept Charlotte without sparing a single glance for Raine.

“This is your plain Jane?” Kiefer asked Alec, astonishment clear in his tone.

Charlotte shot Alec an exaggerated expression of offense. “I’m your what?”

Alec’s jaw tightened. “Smooth, Kiefer.” He drew a breath. “Charlotte, this is my vice president, Kiefer Knight. He’s just come up with the most ridiculous idea in the world.”

Chapter Three

Kiefer pulled a deck chair up next to Charlotte’s lounger, angling away from Raine. She could feel Alec’s gaze on her honey-brown skin. Maybe a bikini hadn’t been such a good idea after all. His attention was raising goose bumps, and she couldn’t help imagining his fingers trailing over her stomach, down the length of her legs…

“I’m concerned about Alec’s reputation,” Kiefer began in a gentle, cajoling voice.

Charlotte forced herself to concentrate on Kiefer’s words.

“I understand Isabella Hudson is starring in your movie.”

“My family’s movie,” Charlotte corrected. All she’d done was secure the location. Well, and she was going to babysit the shoot. But that was only because Alec was being obstinate. She really had no role here except pandering to his need for power and control.

“If they’re together here, rumors about Alec and Isabella are bound to circulate.”

Her gaze shifted to Alec, who still stood indolently at the foot of her lounger, taking in the color of her toenails.

“You’re involved with Bella?” she asked him. For some reason, the idea put a cramp in her belly.

“You’re botching this,” Alec growled at Kiefer.

Kiefer held up his hands in surrender. “Be my guest.”

“Kiefer wants you to pretend to be my girlfriend to forestall any gossip about me and Isabella.”

Charlotte tried to sort out his words. “You’re dating Bella?” Why hadn’t Isabella asked for the use of the château? Why had Jack sent Charlotte? And what was Alec doing flirting with her?

“I am not dating Isabella,” he huffed in exasperation.

“But she’s high profile,” Kiefer put in. “And beautiful. And the press will invent their own headlines.”

Charlotte got the picture. They wanted to throw her to the wolves to save Alec’s reputation. Like there was any hope for Alec’s reputation.

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

“Sadly,” said Alec, “Kiefer is completely serious.”

“He’s been gracious enough to let you use the château,” Kiefer put in.

“Here’s a thought,” suggested Charlotte, an edge to her tone. “Alec can keep his hands off Isabella, and then there’ll be no reason for a ruse with ‘Plain Jane.’”

“I am not going to have my hands on Isabella,” Alec practically shouted.

Charlotte barely glanced at him then turned to Kiefer. “Problem solved.”

“The tabloids don’t rely on the truth,” said Kiefer.

“Apparently,” Charlotte shot back, “neither do you.”

“Has anyone thought about Charlotte’s reputation?” asked Raine.

“Charlotte has,” said Charlotte.

“He could have made it a condition of the contract,” Kiefer pointed out.

“He didn’t,” Alec said flatly.

Charlotte turned to Alec once more. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” Not that she’d go along with it in any event. And thank goodness Alec hadn’t asked for it before they closed the deal.

“I think it’s an idea,” he said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “Good? Not sure. But it might deflect speculation.”

“Since when have you cared about speculation on your love life?”

Kiefer jumped in again. “Since the president of Kana Hanako, our Japanese partner, expressed concern.”

“Something I should know about?” asked Raine, her alert, businesslike tone at odds with her bikini-clad pose on the lounger.

Kiefer’s attention went to her for the briefest of seconds, but then he blinked and focused on the small pool house behind her. “It’s not that serious.”

“Then why are we having this conversation? Charlotte’s not going to trash her reputation by being seen with Alec—”

“Hello?” Alec tossed in.

Raine waved a dismissive hand. “You made your bed a long time ago, mon frère.”

“Just don’t make a bed with Isabella,” Charlotte advised.

“I have no interest in Isabella.” His eyes darkened to walnut, pinning Charlotte in place. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Not when he looked like that. Not when the predatory set of his jaw made her skin tingle and her spine turn to jelly. “I’m letting my toenails dry.”

Both Raine and Kiefer stilled, while Alec stared at her in silence. Clearly, people didn’t normally turn down Alec’s requests.

“Later, then,” he finally said with a tense nod, turning on his heel.

Later proved hard to come by for Alec. Raine and Charlotte took a shopping trip into Toulouse. The location manager, set designer and second-unit director all arrived, followed quickly by carpenters, set dressers and lighting technicians.

The main floor of Alec’s house quickly turned into a construction zone. There was more than one moment when he contemplated moving out for the duration. But then he’d catch a glimpse of Charlotte.

The more he saw of her, the more determined he was to get to know her better—much, much better.

He finally caught her alone, leaning on the rail of the third-floor hallway, staring down to the rotunda foyer where the grips were setting tracks for a camera.

“Bonjour,” he opened, resting his forearms on the polished wood, matching her pose.

She glanced over at him, then her gaze darted worriedly from the staircase to the front door and to either side of them.

“No photographers,” he assured her.

“I don’t trust Kiefer,” she responded.

“My apologies,” Alec offered. “I shouldn’t have let him make that request.”

“That I fake being your girlfriend?” she clarified.

Alec nodded. Though his only true regret was that she’d said no. It would have given him a perfect excuse to spend time with her. It was also regrettable that the experience had left her suspicious and jumpy. “I promise he won’t jump out of the bushes with a camera.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

A piece of equipment crashed in the foyer below. The noise was followed by an exchange of shouts.

“How do I know you won’t destroy my home?” Alec countered. “I guess we’re both taking a leap of faith.”

She turned her head to gaze at him, and he was struck once again by her beauty. Her crystal-blue eyes sparkled in the sunshine that streamed through the stained-glass dome ceiling. Her lips were deep red as they curved up in a wry smile. And her cheeks were rosy highlights to her creamy skin.

“You can rebuild the château,” she told him.

“That’s three-hundred-year-old limestone on the floor.”

Her glance was drawn downward. “So, it must be pretty much indestructible,” she offered in a perky voice.

Alec couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not going to harm your reputation,” he promised.

She gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

But then a camera flash went off below, and Alec quickly grasped her hand, tugging her through the open door behind them and swiftly closing it against the world.

“Reference shots for the crew back home,” she explained, a grin growing on her face. “But thanks for the effort.”

“I didn’t want to break my word within the first two minutes.”

Their hands were still joined as they stood next to the arched, oak-plank door of the third-floor library. Shelves were lined with leather volumes and heavy, green-velvet drapes were pulled aside with gold cording, letting a beam of morning sunshine stream through paned windows. The room was slightly dusky, cool, quiet and still.

Her small hand was soft under his, the skin of her palm warm, hinting at the texture of other regions of her body. He inhaled the clean floral scent of her shampoo. It reminded him of the lavender plants blowing softly in his country garden.

Everything about Charlotte was sweet and fresh, from her white flash of a smile, to the breezy, shoulderlength style of her blond hair. Her figure was lithe and streamlined. He’d watched her play tennis with Raine yesterday, and he knew she was in fabulous shape.

His thoughts trailed back to the way she’d looked by the pool. The aqua bikini had revealed a light, glowing tan. Her belly was flat, with the sexiest navel he’d ever seen. Her shoulders were kissable, and the curve of her breasts had invaded his dreams every night since.

“Alec?” Her voice was soft, in keeping with the atmosphere of the room.

He tugged gently on her hand, drawing her toward him. His gaze fixed on her full lips. “Tell me you haven’t been curious,” he whispered.

“I—” But then she stopped, her gaze fixed on his lips, apparently unable to lie but unwilling to be honest.

He smiled. “Me, too.”

“We can’t do this,” she warned.

“We’re not doing anything.”

“Oh, yes, we are.”

He tugged her closer still, so that she brushed up against him. “At the moment, we’re merely talking.”

“We’re talking about kissing.”

“Nothing wrong with kissing.”

“You got a camera in your pocket?”

“That’s not a camera.”

She scrunched her eyes shut. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I can’t believe it shocked you.” He chuckled low. “You’re blushing.” For some reason, he found her reaction completely endearing.

“I’m embarrassed because the joke was so bad.”

“You’re embarrassed because you’re attracted to me and, for some reason, you think you should fight it.”

“Of course I should fight it.”

“Why?”

“You’re a playboy and a philanderer.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’ll destroy my reputation.”

“By kissing you in private? I’m flattered you think I have that kind of power.” He drew a breath and held her with a frank gaze. “Charlotte, kiss me, don’t kiss me. But at least be honest. Your reputation is in absolutely no danger at the moment.”

Her shoulders dropped. “You’re right,” she admitted.

But she didn’t make a move.

It was more than tempting to wrap his arms around her, dip his head and take her lips to his. But he held back. She was still jumpy, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off.

He wanted this kiss. Of course, he wanted more than just a kiss, but at least a kiss was heading in the right direction.

To his surprise, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s mere curiosity,” she warned.

A half smile crept out. “But of course.”

She pulled up on her toes. “I might not even like it.”

“You might not,” he agreed, holding himself still by sheer force of will.

This time, it was Charlotte who smiled. “Do many women not like kissing you?”

“I can’t recall any specific complaints. But I’ve sure never had one give it this much thought beforehand.”

“I’m a planner.”

“Evidently.”

They both sobered, staring at each other in silence.

“Oh, man.” Charlotte moaned a surrender, closing her eyes and stretching up toward him.

It was all the invitation Alec needed.

He immediately leaned in, parting his lips, pressing them to her heated mouth.

An explosion went off at the base of his brain, obliterating everything but the taste, scent and feel of Charlotte. He deepened the kiss, flattening her against the oak door, pressing his body flush against hers.

His hands cupped her face, caressing her skin while holding her in place as his tongue plundered shamelessly. She moaned, opened her mouth wider, and her arms wrapped around his waist. He pushed his thigh between her legs, lifting, bunching her short skirt, the fabric of his slacks meeting the satin of her panties.

His body flushed hot, tense, rigid with desire, and a freight train roared in his ears and the world contracted to the two of them.

“Charlotte?” came a faraway voice.

Raine.

Charlotte tensed, and Alec groaned, reluctantly taking his mouth from hers. He eased back, knowing they might have only seconds before Raine tried the door.

“Charlotte?” Raine repeated.

“Let go,” Charlotte whispered.

Alec took a step back, rasping deep breaths, trying vainly to put his raging hormones back under control.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Charlotte shot back, smoothing her pleated, navy skirt and straightening the white, sleeveless blouse.

He reached out to fix her mussed hair, and she drew in a sharp breath. There was nothing he could do about the just-kissed puffiness of her mouth—except try like hell not to get turned on by it.

The doorknob rattled, and Charlotte jumped back. “Why are we in here?” she frantically whispered.

Alec drew open the door. “Raine?” He gazed at the quizzical expression on his sister’s face. “I’m glad it’s you,” he continued. “There was a photographer downstairs, and Charlotte got a little freaked out.” He gave Charlotte a teasing wink. “I told her there was nothing to worry about. Did you see anyone skulking around with a camera?”

Rained glanced at Charlotte, then back to Alec. “No.”

“Good,” he said heartily. “I’ll be in my office. Kiefer should be here in an hour or so. If you see him, could you have Henri send him straight up?”

With Raine suitably distracted by erroneous details, and having given Charlotte at least a couple of minutes to recover, Alec exited the room.

Then, three steps down the hallway, he put a hand against the wall to steady himself. It was a kiss, he reminded himself, a simple kiss.

Except that it hadn’t been simple. It had blown his expectations right out of the water. If he’d been attracted to Charlotte before, he was nearly wild for her now. The chemistry between them was nothing short of mindblowing, and he wasn’t going to be able to focus on Kana Hanako or anything else until he investigated it further.

“I don’t blame you for being paranoid,” said Raine, as Alec left the library.

“Hmm?” Charlotte stalled, not yet capable of producing actual words. Her skin was tingling, her heart was thumping and her knees felt as if they’d been turned to gelatin.

“Kiefer can be devious.”

“Right.” Charlotte nodded, telling herself to snap out of it. The kiss had been good—well, great, actually. But she’d expected it to be great. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have bothered kissing Alec, would she? What woman would embark on a kiss she thought would be boring?

“One picture of you and Alec, doing something as innocent as having a conversation, and Kiefer gets his nefarious wish. You want me to talk to him?” Raine paused. “Charlotte?”

“What?”

“You want me to talk to Kiefer? Or maybe you should steer clear of Alec. Just to be on the safe side.”

Charlotte drew a deep breath and gave herself a mental shake. “Yeah. Good idea.” Steering clear of Alec was better than the alternative—hauling him into the nearest bed and kissing him until her brain exploded.

“Mademoiselle Charlotte?” came a new voice from the hallway. Henri.

Raine turned to meet him. “Oui, Henri?”

“A Jack Hudson has arrived.”

“Jack’s here?” The words jumped from Charlotte as a familiar little knot grew in her stomach. She loved her big brother. But their relationship was complicated.

She couldn’t help remembering Alec and Raine’s greeting embrace. Charlotte hadn’t hugged Jack in more than twenty years—not since she’d been torn from his arms in the airport at four years old, after her mother died, after her own father gave her away.

The next time they’d seen each other, he’d felt like a stranger. She wasn’t sure how to act, and neither was he.

He didn’t seem like the strong, protective big brother she’d fantasized about at night. Their visits grew further apart, and the awkwardness became acute in their teenage years. And now, as adults, neither seemed to know how to break the barrier.

Or maybe Jack didn’t want to break the barrier. He was a grown man with his own life. Why would he need a little sister hanging all over him?

She squared her shoulders and headed to the hallway. Once she got through the initial hello, it was always easier.

Raine fell into step beside her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look a little pale.”

Better pale with anxiety than flushed with sexual desire, Charlotte supposed.

“Everything’s moving smoothly,” Raine offered. She knew of Charlotte’s desire to impress the Hudson side of the family. “Even Lars Hinckleman is happy today.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the temperamental second-unit director. Raine was right. Things were going—

“I said dramatic, not appalling!” Lars shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Spoke too soon,” Raine muttered, as Charlotte quickened her steps on the curved, wrought-iron-railed staircase.

The stocky man was waving his arms, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, his dark hair curling over his forehead.

“It’s authentic Stix, Baer & Fuller,” the costume assistant dared, causing the entire room to hush and collectively suck in a breath.

Even Charlotte missed a step. Lars had been at the château for only three days, but she’d quickly learned the near-military command-control structure of the film set.

Lars leaned into the hapless young woman, his dark, round eyes narrowing. “Lillian Hudson will not wear a bird’s nest on her head.”

“She was Lillian Colbert then.”

The man’s face turned purple.

The costume designer quickly stepped in. “We’ll come up with other options, of course.” She latched on to the younger woman’s arm and deftly drew her away.

“Fire that thing,” Lars huffed to an assistant.

The assistant made a note on a clipboard and said something into his walkie-talkie. Charlotte fervently hoped the command was all bluster. Then she spotted Jack.

He was talking to the director of photography, ignoring the commotion on set, while everyone around him continued with set preparation.

“That’s your brother?” asked Raine.

Charlotte nodded, putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way across the foyer.

“You look alike.”

Charlotte disagreed. Jack was much darker. He was dignified, where she was decidedly cute. “No, we don’t.”

“It’s your nose, and the eyes,” said Raine. “That vivid blue. Gorgeous.”

Charlotte gazed at Jack as they drew near. Did they look alike? Did people notice? Could there be other things they had in common? Thoughts, opinions, emotions?

“Hello, Charlotte.” He greeted her with a broad smile.

“Good morning, Jack.” As always, she felt like there was something she should do. A hug? A kiss? A handshake?

He glanced around the huge rotunda. “Well done,” he told her, sounding sincere.

At least she had that. “This is Raine Montcalm,” she introduced.

The director of photography was drawn into another conversation and turned away.

Jack reached out to shake Raine’s hand. “On behalf of the family, allow me to express our gratitude for opening up your home.”

A brief pain shot through Charlotte’s chest. Clearly, Jack didn’t see her as a representative of the Hudsons. She’d already thanked the Montcalms, but that obviously wasn’t good enough.

“Alec Montcalm.” Alec’s deep voice startled Charlotte.

He moved up beside her and shook Jack’s hand.

“Jack Hudson.” Jack introduced himself before she could get her bearings. “My grandmother sends her thanks.”

Alec’s fingertips touched ever so lightly on the small of Charlotte’s back. “You sister made a convincing argument.”

Jack smiled down at Charlotte. “We were hoping her connection to Raine would help.”

Alec’s hand tensed almost imperceptibly. “Yes. Well, I hope you’re happy with the results.”

“We’ll also need a couple of rental houses for the VIPs and stars,” said Jack. “Any suggestions?”

“I can make a couple of calls.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“No trouble,” said Alec. “Charlotte?” He glanced down, his palm warm on her back. “Maybe you could give me a hand?”

More time with Alec?

Her mind screamed no. While her body shouted yes. Then her reflexive nod broke the tie.

To her surprise, instead of taking her back to his office for privacy, he said goodbyes and ushered her out the front door.

“I thought we were making a few calls?” she said as Alec cut toward the garage. She scrambled to keep up in her heels. The sunshine was warm on her bare arms and legs, and the sweet smell of the estate’s flowers and herb gardens invaded her nostrils.

“I brought my cell,” said Alec.

“Where are we going?”

He hit the button on a small remote and one of the garage doors glided open, revealing a burnished copper Lamborghini convertible. The top was down, showing off a black and copper interior, a sexy console and low-slung leather bucket seats.

“Nice,” she acknowledged.

“Thanks.” He popped open the passenger door then offered a hand to steady her as she climbed in.

“Where are we going?” she repeated, even as her body all but sighed into the soft leather. It would be nice to get away from the chaos for a while, clear her head, remember there were other things in life besides the approval of the Hudsons.

In answer to her question, Alec grinned and gestured to the sky. “A day like this? In the south of France? In a Murciélago? Who cares?”

He made a good point.

Charlotte shrugged both in agreement and capitulation. The seat surrounded her body like a glove. Alec leaned in, pulled out the seat belt and reached across to click it into the buckle. She couldn’t resist inhaling his scent, fresh and clean like the region where he lived.

He shut the door, then rounded the hood to the driver’s side, removing his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Next, he untied his tie, slipping it off and setting it behind the seat.

Charlotte glanced around at the classy interior. She couldn’t help a smile at the thought of zooming through the countryside in such a magnificent vehicle.

Henri magically appeared and retrieved the jacket. “You have everything you need, sir?”

Alec nodded, perching a pair of sunglasses on his nose.

“You ready?” he asked Charlotte.

“I don’t have my purse,” she remembered.

“Sir?” asked Henri.

“She won’t need it,” said Alec, turning the key. The powerful engine roared to life, rumbling the seat beneath her. He clicked the car into gear and pulled smoothly out of the garage. They passed semitrailers containing warehouses of filming equipment, one that was a wardrobe room, and another containing a full, industrial kitchen.

“I thought you might like to get away from the circus for a while,” said Alec, picking up speed down the long, concrete driveway.

“That Lars makes me nervous.”

“I don’t know why people put up with him.”

“I guess he’s in charge for the moment.” The second-unit filming was scheduled to take place before the stars and director arrived.

The car came to a smooth stop at the end of the driveway, and Alec turned it toward Castres.

“Being in charge is no excuse for being a jerk.”

“Not an excuse,” Charlotte agreed. “But it’s a reason.”

“There’s never a reason to abuse power,” said Alec, bringing up the revs and changing gears as the road straightened out.

Charlotte considered his profile for a moment.

He glanced over. “What?”

“You have power,” she observed, wondering what he was like with his own employees, remembering how he’d insisted the film crew not cause them any additional work.