Weddings: The Proposals

Raoul grinned despite his torment. “She can try …”

The other man’s laughter rang in the air.

What Jean-Luc didn’t know was that Danielle was no match for the woman whose lips were as soft and lush as the rest of her. In trying to protect Chantelle, it was guaranteed Raoul had opened himself up to an infinite number of sleepless nights and cold showers.

Laura couldn’t stop the trembling. Though secretly thrilled to realize the desire she’d felt last night wasn’t all on her side, she was also terrified. What if one of Ted’s undercover agents had discovered where she was staying and had followed the Porsche to Antibes.

With a telephoto lens they could’ve taken pictures of Raoul kissing her. That kind of evidence could influence a judge into siding with Ted’s attorney to hold up the case. Who knew how long it would take before she obtained her divorce? Laura didn’t dare entertain a relationship with Raoul that could jeopardize everything she’d been working so hard for.

She reached in her bag and drained her bottle of water in an effort to rid herself of the imprint of Raoul’s hard mouth. Those male lips that could twist with mocking cruelty had covered hers with enough coaxing pressure to draw a spontaneous response she’d had no power to stop. Knowing that he had a distinct dislike for her made her physical reaction to him even more unacceptable.

Though their kiss had been real enough, she sensed he’d done it for the other man’s benefit. To what end she didn’t know. If Raoul was trying to frighten her off, he didn’t have to wait until they had an audience. Things were more of a mystery than ever unless Chantelle was somehow behind all this.

It pained Laura to think that Chantelle might have asked her brother-in-law to find a way to get Laura to leave the villa without involving Guy. If she truly didn’t want her husband’s attentions, then of course she’d resent his bringing Laura into their home to try to help. Thinking back to this morning, Chantelle had been adamant that Laura go on the drive without her.

Laura could leave France tonight of course and probably ought to, but she owed Guy a truthful explanation. No matter what, her loyalty was to him. Yet to tell him what had happened today could also hurt him deeply if he didn’t know his brother was working against him to get rid of Laura.

She couldn’t figure it out. The two men’s relationship had to be somewhat normal, didn’t it? Otherwise Raoul wouldn’t have been at the party. Surely if there was real animosity between them, the brothers wouldn’t work together or live in such close proximity to each other.

Stymied by so many unanswered questions and the kiss that still haunted her, she came to the conclusion that all she could do was bluff her way through the next two weeks and avoid Raoul as much as possible. He liked making trouble, but she could give it back if she had to.

If things became impossible, she’d go to Guy and tell him she’d changed her mind about staying. To make a good case she’d tell him she didn’t want his family involved in the event Ted found out where she was staying. Surely he’d understand that. Who knew what complications might arise that could upset Chantelle unnecessarily.

Laura was so deep in thought she didn’t realize Raoul had returned until she heard the door open. In that brief moment she glanced around and their eyes met.

“You surprise me,” he said after starting the car.

“What? That I didn’t run away from you?” She sighed. “I’ve been kissed before by men I didn’t know, even when I wasn’t saving their lives.” Enjoying turning this back on him she added, “If you were that anxious, you should have taken advantage while we were in the pool last night, but then I suppose you stopped short because you were afraid someone might be watching.”

The car leaped ahead. His eyes burned like black fires. “Were you disappointed?”

“I think so.”

“Only think?” he challenged.

For a moment he sounded playful rather than serious, catching her off guard. She couldn’t help smiling.

If this was part of his game, he was good at it. He was gorgeous, too. The most beautiful man she’d ever met in her life. Southern California was full of them. Her husband, Ted, had stood out, but no one came close to the gut-wrenching sensuality of Raoul Laroche.

Then his eyes narrowed on her mouth before his expression hardened, causing lines to darken his features. He turned his attention back to the road leading out of the marina area and in a flash, when she’d felt buoyant for no reason, the moment disappeared as if it had never been.

Instead of the interrogation he’d subjected her to on the way to Antibes, he remained silent during the picturesque drive into the colorful hills with their patches of tuberose and jasmine. The tension between them was almost palpable, but until he explained himself, Laura had nothing to say.

Though she was tempted to ask him to take her home, her pride had gotten in the way. She didn’t want him to think his tactics back there had succeeded in destroying her confidence.

The scent of flowers grew more intoxicating the higher they climbed to the craggy summits. His Porsche was made for these hairpin turns on narrow roads. He handled his car like a Formula 1 driver, removing the worry she wasn’t safe. Any fear she harbored came from her own susceptibility to his potent charisma. Just watching the way the steering wheel responded beneath his strong hands, the fluid motion of his powerful body when he moved, brought her pleasure.

Before long they entered a quaint medieval village perched on a spur of land with a stream running through the rocky gorge below. The sign said Tourettes Sur Loup. She loved the unique names.

He pulled into a parking lot full of other cars and turned off the motor. “I’m confident the artist in you will find something to purchase once we’ve eaten. The village is full of local artisan crafts.”

She listened for that dreaded trace of mockery but didn’t hear it. Relieved he’d decided not to hound her for the moment, she alighted from the car before he could help her. Laura would be all right if he didn’t touch her. If someone was photographing them from a distance, she wouldn’t provide them another opportunity to catch her in an intimate moment with Raoul.

They entered beneath an arched porte with a tall clock tower and followed the main street through the oldest part of the town filled with tourists. “The village was fortified in the Middle Ages,” Raoul explained. “These are the only walls remaining.”

“It’s unreal,” she cried softly, her gaze traveling down a sunken, stone-paved path centuries old.

He led them to a little café where they ate steak aux frites and topped it off with a tarte à l’orange, a village specialty. Replete after the delicious meal, they explored the myriad of shops displaying local crafts. Laura wanted to buy everything, but in the end she purchased nothing except an oval-shaped, locally woven basket full of violets that grew in the region. Their deep-purple color thrilled her.

“I’m paying for these,” she announced, putting some Euros in the woman’s hand before Raoul could pull the necessary bills from his wallet.

He eyed her skeptically. “You’re sure this is all you want? You can’t take flowers back to Los Angeles with you.” Oh how politely he’d said the words, like he was speaking to a child. She got the impression he couldn’t wait for her to announce her departure plans.

For a little while she’d forgotten that Raoul was her enemy, and with that reminder the enjoyment of the last hour vanished.

“They’re for Chantelle.” A thank-you gift for allowing her to stay in their home. “She misses puttering in her garden. I thought she might enjoy these.” Laura buried her nose in the petals to inhale their sweet perfume.

When she lifted her head, she caught a look of something she couldn’t decipher in those black depths before he took the basket from her. A small shiver ran through her as they retraced their steps to the car parked beyond the walled town.

After she climbed in, he placed the basket on the floor behind her seat where the flowers would be protected. This time she was careful not to look at him. That way she wouldn’t be subjected to any more fiery darts of accusation.

Once again they were traveling along the back roads of Provence that were more alive and colorful than any painting she could ever create. They eventually passed through another charming town whose name she couldn’t pronounce.

“This was the home of Marcel Pagnol,” he informed her in a gravelly voice. “In case you don’t know wh—”

“I know,” she cut him off. “Hollywood made his novels world famous. I’ve been seeing Jean de la Florette around every farmhouse and fountain.”

By the shifting of gears she realized she’d irritated him. “You could have played the part of Manon. She was a child of nature, too.”

“You mean the girl who had every man in the village lusting after her?” she inquired. She shook her head despairingly. “You might have spared me that.”

Through the grimace he said, “You’re the one who chose to read something negative into my remark. In my own apparently obtuse way I was attempting to pay you a compliment.”

“You mean to make up for your uninvited advance in front of the real estate agent?”

His lips thinned in response. “I preferred Jean-Luc to think I was having an affair with you.”

“Nice,” she bit out. “There’s nothing a woman loves more than to be considered a man’s girl-toy. Yet I have to admit I’m surprised that a Frenchman like you who knows he’s attractive and can obviously have his pick on a whim has to prove anything.”

She smiled in satisfaction to see the way his fingers tightened on the wheel. Unable to resist she said, “Evidently your agent is a member of the good-old-boy’s network. Every society in the world has them, especially among the exceptionally rich and famous.

“Are you hoping word of me will get back to your latest girlfriend? Or your wife? Or possibly your ex? Or maybe your almost ex? Now I have to ask myself if you’re praying she’ll finally leave you alone, or maybe this woman is another man’s wife and you’re counting on her jealousy to bring her to heel.”

She heard a volley of French invective that needed no translation. “That’s quite a tongue you’ve acquired.”

“It’s been sharpened on wealthy men like you who collect women like some people collect shells.” The Stillman men led the pack.

“How many have there been?” he ground out.

“Thousands! However, I dare say that’s not as many as your fertile imagination suspects.” Laura laughed in pain. “Me thinks I’d better get myself away to a nunnery quick before you become my next victim. Heaven forbid, eh?”

“Heaven forbid,” he muttered so morosely, she felt it to her bones. Ridiculous as it was, his repudiation stung.

They’d reached Nice and were following the signs for Cap Ferrat.

“Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, Raoul, maybe we can both enjoy the rest of the short drive back to the villa. The next time you decide to invite me anywhere, better not obey the urge or I’ll know you’re only lusting after me. For your information, that’s the biggest turn-off to a woman there is.”

He turned his head in her direction. “Then how do you explain your response when I kissed you?” came the slithering taunt.

The man was a devil. “Chemical reaction.” Knowing what question he would ask next, she answered it. “And yes, it happens every time. It’s my nature. You already called it and you’d be right because clearly you’re a very intelligent man, so consider yourself warned.”

She was sure he drove them above the speed limit to reach the villa. The second he pulled to a screeching halt, she got out of the car and reached for the basket of flowers. As she turned around Guy came down the steps to greet her. He waved to his brother.

The sight of him was like a balm to her soul and she flew toward him. He put his arm around her, flowers and all and smiled warmly at her. “How was your day?”

“I discovered it’s true. Provence is God’s garden. These are for Chantelle.”

As he took the basket from her, his eyes misted. “Let’s take them in to her. She’ll love them.”

Without a backward glance Laura walked into the foyer with him. The click of the door coincided with the squeal of tires out on the gravel.

Guy looked askance. “Did Raoul tear around with you the whole day like that?

Now would be the perfect time to confide in him about his brother, but she couldn’t do it. Whatever rush he got out of insulting her, it would grow old with time. She could outlast him.

“Of course not. I think he was anxious to get back to his villa for an important phone call with the agent.” Even if it was a lie, it was an innocent one. “Let me freshen up, then I’ll join you and Chantelle.”

“What did he think of the property?”

She averted her eyes. “I’m not sure. He didn’t really say. See you two in a few minutes.”

Once in the guest suite, Laura decided to phone her best friend in California, who lived in the apartment across the hall from her. Cindy, who’d been divorced for a year, was keeping an eye on her place and gathered the mail for her from the box downstairs. In case there was a bill she hadn’t taken care of, she needed to know about it and get it paid. Laura did the same thing for Cindy when she flew to Georgia to visit her family, and the two women had formed a close friendship. If Ted ever came to the apartment when Laura was out, Cindy documented the time so Laura could give the information to her attorney. There was a restraining order on him, but Ted chose to ignore it whenever he felt like it.

When she and Cindy played tennis or saw a film, they commiserated about the men in their lives and talked about the ideal man who would one day sweep them off their feet. One of these days Laura would confide in Cindy about Raoul, but she knew he was far from her ideal man. He was arrogant, frustrating and it was all right for him to make insinuations and ask all the impertinent questions he wanted, but she noticed he never did tell her one thing about himself. The very thought of him triggered a fresh spurt of adrenaline.

Restless as a caged animal, Raoul paced the rooms of his villa, but the bars were invisible. He could step outside anytime he wanted—beyond the flowering hedge if he so desired—in order to have access to her.

He desired all right.

During their outing she’d been playing him with a master hand. The lines were so blurred at this point he didn’t know what was truth and what was the lie. When she had rushed toward Guy like that, all the breath had left his lungs. His brother in turn had showed her the kind of tenderness he felt for someone he truly cared about, loved even.

Was that the result of her saving his life? Could the answer be as simple and as complicated as that?

In desperation he phoned Louis, but his attorney had left his office for the day. If he’d found the information Raoul had requested on her, he would have phoned him back by now anyway. It appeared he would have to wait a little longer.

An hour later, after a shower and shave, Raoul decided to go over to Guy’s and take him aside, lay it all out. He couldn’t go on like this another twenty-four hours.

Laura had said she’d been in Europe before. If his brother had been having a long-term affair with her, then Raoul needed to convince him to give her up for all the obvious reasons. Chantelle would never get better if she thought she’d lost Guy.

His sister-in-law had guts and courage to welcome Laura into their home at her husband’s request. But when she must surely be bleeding inside, how long could she keep up her convincing front?

More to the point, how long could Laura stay under that roof knowing her presence had to be crucifying Chantelle? He raked his hands through his hair, trying to fit all the pieces together, but that was the problem. Just when he thought one would go into place, he discovered it was the wrong piece or the wrong place.

Earlier when Laura had told him she was buying the violets for Chantelle, he could have sworn she’d done it out of kindness, nothing more. At one point the jabs and arrows had seemed to change to gentle teasing. Their conversation had slid in and out of context until he didn’t know where he was with her.

Prepared for the fight Guy would put up, he left the house for his brother’s. Raoul found the family eating dinner on the patio. The basket of violets served as the centerpiece. There was no sign of Laura.

“Hey, Uncle Raoul.”

“Hey, yourself, Paul.”

Chantelle looked up. “There you are. If you want to join us, I’ll tell cook.”

“I’m not hungry, merci.”

His brother, acting as if nothing was wrong, motioned for him to sit down. “How did it go with Jean-Luc? Was he right about the complex? You think it’s worth purchasing?”

What a cool customer his brother was. Raoul could only marvel. “I want a few days to think about it.”

Guy nodded. “Thanks for taking Laura with you today. When I told her how much you dislike playing tour guide, she said she was doubly grateful for the way you put yourself out.”

If that was a direct quote, and it sounded like it was, Raoul had reason to believe Laura had told Guy the truth, that his younger brother had trespassed on his private territory earlier today. That changed the timing of Raoul’s agenda. He would wait and see what his brother did with the information when they were alone.

In case it brought Guy to his senses before things went any further, then it would have been worth it … even if Raoul would always be haunted by the memory of her mouth moving beneath his.

Chantelle swallowed the last of her tea. “Laura assured me she would treasure the memory of your trip to Tourettes. She’s truly une enfant de la nature to bring me these violets.”

At the reminder of their conversation about Manon, the hand in Raoul’s pocket formed a fist. Incredibly it seemed Laura had won Chantelle’s acceptance. Or had she? Was it all pretense?

He gazed around their little tableau à trois. While Paul ate his dinner oblivious to the tension, Guy sat there with no intention of giving anything away in front of Chantelle. She’d probably known about his extramarital affair for a long time. It was understandable why Laura hadn’t yet made up the fourth to this spectacle à Laroche.

Getting to his feet he announced, “I’m going for a dip in the pool.” Maybe Guy would follow him and demand an explanation. If not now, later.

At some point Laura had to make an appearance. Raoul had nothing to do but wait for everything to play out. He walked through the villa to the patio where he stripped down to his swim trunks and dived in. A good workout was what he needed to release his pent-up negative energy.

Ten minutes later he was finishing his laps when Paul made an appearance from around the side of the house.

Raoul smiled at him from the other end. “Salut, mon gars.”

“Hi.” His nephew, still dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, sat down on the edge and dangled his strong legs in the water.

“Did you have a good time at Claude’s today?”

“It was okay. How long ago did she leave?”

Not sure he’d heard Paul correctly, Raoul swam across to him. “Did who leave? Your maman was sitting at the dinner table ten minutes ago.”

“I meant Laura.”

“I wasn’t aware she’d gone anywhere.” He hoped she was in her bedroom nursing a migraine over her guilt.

“She was going to start teaching me CPR, but I guess she forgot. The maid said Laura asked Pierre to drive her someplace in the limo so papa wouldn’t have to leave maman.”

That bit of news sent a shockwave through Raoul’s body. What destination did Laura have in mind tonight? Had she planned to be with another man she’d met before? Nothing about her added up. There was only one way to find out the truth. He picked up his clothes and started for his house.

“Do you want to stay and swim with me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t right now. I have plans, but we’ll do some laps tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“À toute à l’heure.”

“Ciao.”

Once he reached the house Raoul pulled out his cell phone and dialed the limo driver. Pierre picked up on the third ring. “Oui, Monsieur Raoul?”

“Where are you now?”

“Villefranche.”

“Et Mme Aldridge?”

“She’s walking the grounds of the Villa Leopolda.”

“How much longer do you expect she’ll be?”

“Since she just got started, I would imagine a half hour anyway. Is there an emergency?”

“Non. This can wait. Merci, Pierre.” He clicked off.

CHAPTER FOUR

LAURA was making her way back from the Villa Leopolda estate when she discovered the limo was gone. In its place an unfamiliar black Mercedes sedan stood parked, but a dangerously familiar Frenchman in cream trousers and a soft yellow crew neck lounged against the front fender watching her progress.

After their wild skirmish that had raised more questions than it had answered during the day, there was no escaping Raoul. As a matter of fact, she did wonder if he might come looking for her because he was a man who couldn’t tolerate unfinished business. She had thought she’d figured out why he didn’t like her, and under the circumstances she had made up her mind to be nicer to him.

Guy’s family was very close-knit. While they were going through this terrible period with Chantelle, Raoul obviously resented any outsider coming in. Laura could understand that. With tensions running high it was always harder to behave normally around a stranger. Raoul wasn’t used to anyone else being there. Perhaps he was even a little jealous that he didn’t have Chantelle’s full attention when he did drop in.

Because Laura had half expected to see him before the night was over, her footsteps didn’t falter as she made her way toward him. It was only 9:20 p.m., that magic time of night between darkness and light.

He waited with his powerful arms folded. Though a modern man in contemporary clothes, he had the look of a dark, forbidding prince who might have had the estate behind her built for his own private pleasure.

A strange half smile lifted one corner of his compelling mouth. “If you’re in the market for a piece of property, the villa can be purchased if you make an offer over 500 million American dollars.”

She stopped three feet from him. “That’s what the pilot told me when he flew me over it when I arrived here. I’m afraid I don’t earn that kind of money.”

“A woman like you doesn’t have to.”

Another glove slapped against her cheek. And here she’d been feeling more charitable toward him.

“You mean all I have to do is ask you to buy it for me and voilà—it’s mine?”

He straightened to his imposing height, reminding her how incredibly appealing he was. “It might be … for a price.”

She nodded. “That’s fair. I doubt even King Leopold’s first mistress knew he only planned to install her here for a season. She was a fool … like all the others that followed her. What is yours? Price, I mean.” It gave her a secret thrill to bait him.

His expression hardened, filling her with satisfaction that he couldn’t have it all his own way every second. “It might be too high.”

“You mean for a woman like me,” she mimicked him. “You’ve made your point and are probably right.”

“Stop the pretense, Laura.”

She’d had it with him. “What have I done wrong now, Raoul?”

A bleak expression entered his eyes, almost human. She didn’t know he could look like that, and it softened her to discover he might have feelings. “According to Pierre, you’ve been out here two hours. That’s a long time when you can’t even tour the rooms.”