Falling For Her French Tycoon

Could a temporary job...

...lead to forever with her boss?

Before she formally adopts her nephew, Nathalie Fournier decides to try to find his father. Her search leads to a picturesque Provençal vineyard where she takes a temporary job—and becomes captivated by her boss, billionaire Dominic Fontesquieu. Dominic’s the man of Nathalie’s dreams, but can he escape the ties of his family to claim her as his own?

REBECCA WINTERS lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and her church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at rebeccawinters.net.

Also by Rebecca Winters

Holiday with a Billionaire miniseries

Captivated by the Brooding Billionaire

Falling for the Venetian Billionaire

Wedding the Greek Billionaire

The Princess Brides miniseries

The Princess’s New Year Wedding

The Prince’s Forbidden Bride

How to Propose to a Princess

Escape to Provence miniseries

Falling for Her French Tycoon

And look out for the next story

Coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Falling for Her French Tycoon

Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90319-0

FALLING FOR HER FRENCH TYCOON

© 2020 Rebecca Winters

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Once again I turn to my oldest son,

whom I often call Guillaume, because he’s

a Francophile like his maman and fluent in their beautiful language. Turning to him for information about my favorite place on earth is better than any book. His knowledge continues to stun me. We have the most marvelous conversations and I learn so much. How I love him!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

July 31

NATHALIE FOURNIER RANG Claire Rolon, the best friend of Nathalie’s deceased stepsister, Antoinette. The friendship between the three of them went back to childhood.

“Claire?”

“Nathalie! I’m so glad you called! It’s been ages.”

“Way too long. I’m thrilled you answered. Do you have a minute?”

“Yes. Robert is upstairs playing with the baby while I finish the dishes. Go ahead.”

She took a deep breath. “I know Antoinette would have confided in you before she got pregnant two and a half years ago. Is there anything you can tell me about her lover who disappeared on her without explanation? Our family didn’t know she’d even been involved with someone until the doctor said she was pregnant. By then she’d sunk into a deep depression.”

“Your stepsister was very secretive.”

“So secretive she never spoke his name to us and as she died from infection ten days after her baby was born, we still don’t know who his father is,” Nathalie lamented. “Now little Alain is fifteen months old and I’m taking the steps to legally adopt him. Before I do, though, I need to try to find his father.”

“You’re kidding! How could you possibly do that?”

“Hopefully with a little information you could provide.” Nathalie gripped the phone tighter. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“You were the closest person to her, Claire. If she said anything, it would have been to you. Any clue you could give me would help. Did she let it slip where or how she met him?”

“She did say he worked at the Fontesquieu vineyard.”

Her heart raced. “You’re certain of that?”

The Fontesquieu vineyards near Vence, France, were one of the largest and most prestigious, producing the legendary rosé wines of Provence. The land had been deeded to them by royalty centuries ago, and the most coveted vineyard in all Provence was currently run by a titled billionaire. She’d heard stories about the vineyard all her life.

“Yes. Apparently they met at a bistro in Vence where a lot of the vineyard workers from the Fontesquieu estate hang out during the harvest.”

“Do you remember the name of it?” Nathalie cried, encouraged by what she’d just learned.

“It was unusual. The Guingot, or some such name, but I don’t imagine he would be at that vineyard after all this time. I wish there was something more concrete to tell you. It’s not much to go on. I’m so sorry. I think you’ll need a miracle.”

“Don’t be sorry, Claire! The vineyard is the place where I’m going to start looking. One more thing. Did she say what he looked like?”

“Unfortunately not. Only that he was a Provencal and the only man she would ever love.”

That meant he’d been a local Frenchman, probably dark haired and eyed.

“You’ve given me more information than I could have hoped for. Thank you with all my heart.”

“Good luck. Let me know if you learn anything.”

“I will. You’re such a good friend. Thank you for being so honest with me. I know she swore you to secrecy.”

“She did, but it’s been a long time since then. For Alain’s sake it would be wonderful if you’re successful.”

“Wouldn’t it? Talk to you soon.”

Nathalie hung up, deep in thought.

At the beginning of the summer, Nathalie had broken up with the man she’d thought she might marry. Guy couldn’t handle her bringing Alain into their marriage—he wanted his own child with her.

That’s when she’d told him she probably couldn’t have children. When she’d explained about having primary ovarian insufficiency, he couldn’t handle that news. Guy had said he’d wanted to marry her, but he’d refused to consider adopting Alain. Because she wanted her nephew more than anything, it became clear that marriage was out of the question.

Alain meant everything to her.

CHAPTER ONE

August 31

ADRENALINE GUSHED THROUGH Nathalie as she sped toward the Fontesquieu vineyards of Vence—queen of the cities of the French Riviera, in her opinion. They stretched eye to eye above the blue Mediterranean, row after row of immaculately tended terroirs with their healthy grape vines dotting the undulating green hills and summits.

The August afternoon sun had ripened the luscious grapes, filling the air with a sweet, fruity smell as she neared the Fontesquieu estate with its enormous seventeenth-century chateau, rumored to contain twenty-two bedrooms. It reminded her of the book My Mother’s Castle, made famous by the French author and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol. He’d been born in Provence too and had written some of her favorite books about his childhood memories.

But the Pagnol family’s quaint little vacation home in Provence couldn’t compare to the one she could see out the window of her trusty old Peugeot. The magnificent chateau had always been closed to the public, but the estate drew artists and tourists from all over the world.

Nathalie couldn’t imagine the wealth of a family like the Fontesquieux. She’d been born in Provence and had passed by the vineyard many times, but she’d never enjoyed its scenery more than this afternoon.

With pounding heart, she followed the signs posted to find the tent set up for people seeking temporary work grape picking. After planning this since her talk with Claire a month ago, the day had come for her to get a job that would last only the three weeks of the grape harvest. In that amount of time, she hoped to find the man who had fathered her nephew, Alain, if he was still there. But as Claire had said, it would take a miracle.

When she reached the nearby mobile home park she’d visited earlier in the week, she parked and walked down the road toward a line of people waiting outside the tent in the distance.

Before entering, a man—probably early twenties—with dark blond hair handed everyone an application to fill out. He also gave them a list of items they would need if they were eventually hired. She put that list in her purse and sat down at a small table to fill out the form before getting in line. He eyed her with obvious male interest before it was her turn to enter the tent.

The line moved slowly until there was only one person in front of her being interviewed. That’s when she saw the man vetting everyone and stifled a gasp. She wished she had a better description of Alain’s father. All she had to go on was that he was a Provencal, which meant dark haired and dark eyed. The man sitting there certainly filled that description, but it could be a coincidence. Was it possible she’d found him?

The breathtaking, late-twenties-looking male could easily be the heartthrob Antoinette had fallen for! Her darling stepsister’s now sixteen-month-old child possessed this man’s square chin and black hair. He had the same type of build and olive skin.

Thousands of Frenchmen claimed those same qualifications, but this one’s piercing black eyes had a distinct look that reminded her so much of her little nephew, Nathalie was astonished. To think, it might be Alain’s father sitting there not ten feet away interviewing would-be grape pickers. By applying for this job, she could have found him!

According to one of the people in line, hundreds of workers had already been hired during the week. Today represented the last group seeking temporary employment.

“Prochain?” he said in a deep voice that reached her insides.

Nathalie’s heartbeat sped up as she realized she was next in line and needed to follow through. She moved forward to sit opposite him on a chair beneath the tent. The heat of the sun had made the interior uncomfortably warm.

Though he was seated, she could tell he was a tall man, lean in that appealing masculine way. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves pushed to the elbows and as he took the application from her, she noticed a small, pale, café-au-lait birthmark on his underarm beneath the elbow. She had to stifle another gasp because the back of Alain’s right calf had the same birthmark.

Maybe it was a coincidence. Millions of people had them, but this was just one more bit of evidence to convince her he could be Alain’s father.

Nathalie noticed that he wore a watch and no rings, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. His nails were immaculate. When he looked up, their eyes met and her breath caught.

Heat crept into her cheeks as she got lost in his intense gaze. They were both taking measure of each other while she waited for him to say something. He couldn’t have recognized her as Antoinette’s stepsister. Nathalie was a blonde. Her stepsister had been a brunette. They came from different sets of parents with different last names.

His virile male beauty stunned her. Her stepsister, who’d been two years older than Nathalie, would have taken one look at him and that would have been it! How well Nathalie understood the instant attraction. She couldn’t look away.

He continued to study her features. “Mademoiselle Fournier? I see here you’ve had no experience as a vendangeuse.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know that was a prerequisite.”

“It’s not, but it’s hard labor, seasonal, and the pay isn’t that great. Why would a pharmacist from La Gaude apply to do entry-level work like this?” La Gaude, France, was a town a fifteen-minute drive from Vence along the Côte d’Azur, the playground of the world’s rich and famous.

She felt those black all-seeing eyes travel over her with a thoroughness that caused her to tremble, and she looked down. He was so gorgeous she was in danger of forgetting why she’d come. For her little nephew’s sake, it was vital Nathalie pull this off. She needed to think fast.

“I’ve lived in Provence all my life and thought that for once I’d use my vacation time to find out what it’s like to work in a vineyard as world renowned as this one.”

On their website she’d seen one photo of the Duc Armand de Fontesquieu, the gray-haired, eighty-year-old patriarch and CEO. She’d seen no other pictures and realized they had to be a very private family.

Though many vineyards used machinery, some vintners—like the vastly wealthy Fontesquieu family with their many terroirs—also hired pickers called coupeurs, plus collectors and sorters for the grape harvest vendange. It lasted for the first three weeks of September. She’d done her homework.

After a slight pause, he spoke. “You do realize that we have no accommodations for you here.”

She raised her eyes to him again. With that comment, she sensed he didn’t believe her reason for wanting the temporary work.

Though it was this man’s job to vet would-be workers, she sensed he had reservations about her. Obviously the “no previous vineyard work” written on the form bothered him. Naturally anyone could apply for grape picking, but their vineyard would welcome those with experience.

“Yes. That’s why I’ve rented a mobile home at the park down the road from here.” Actually she’d come two days ago to put a hold on one until she knew the outcome of this interview.

He gave her a level stare. “Keep in mind you’ll have an hour for lunch and quit at four thirty. If you’re still interested in working here by Monday morning, report to the tent at six o’clock and the assistant vineyard manager will let you know if you’ve been hired.”

It was all up to this man who would have the weekend to check out her references. He spoke with authority. There was an aura of sophistication about him that let her know he had a position of importance at Fontesquieux and had likely worked here long enough to have met Antoinette at the bistro.

“Merci, monsieur.” She got up, aware of him watching her as she walked past the people standing in line, and left the tent. The younger man outside giving out applications flashed her a smile, but she looked away and headed for her car, not wanting to encourage him.

When she got behind the wheel, she was still feeling shaky from all the sensations bombarding her. It might be a long shot, but now that she suspected she’d met the man who could be Alain’s father, she’d do everything possible to get to know him. When she sensed it was the right moment, she’d show him photos of Antoinette and Alain, including the birthmark. If he was the father, she couldn’t imagine him not wanting to see his child.

Of course, if she didn’t get hired, then she needed to find innovative ways to cross paths with him, starting tonight. She planned to seek out dinner at the bistro Claire had told her about. Maybe he’d be there... Just imagining his handsome features left her breathless.

Having finished the interviews, Dominic Laurent Fontesquieu stopped in the midst of fastening his briefcase full of applications. He couldn’t resist taking another look at the Fournier application.

The woman with translucent green eyes and natural silvery blond hair had robbed him of breath. Her deportment and stunning beauty had captivated him. As Dominic studied the particulars on her application, her image swam before him again.

Age: twenty-seven.

Home address: La Gaude.

Cell phone...

Email address...

Employed full time at La Metropole Pharmacy.

Driver’s license.

Own car.

Bank account.

Covered by social insurance.

Degree in pharmacology from Sophie Antipolis University in Nice.

No experience picking grapes.

He tapped the paper against his jaw. What was missing here? Only everything else about her life that might answer the question of what prompted her to apply for this temporary work.

This mysterious, gorgeous, educated woman suddenly appears at the vineyard out of nowhere, wanting to know what it’s like to help with the harvest for a few weeks?

Dominic didn’t buy it for a second. He put the application in the briefcase with the others before leaving the tent, unable to get her off his mind. He was so attracted to her, it shocked him.

Vetting would-be workers was one of his brother Etienne’s jobs as director of the vineyard so he usually oversaw the vendange hiring. But he’d been struck down by a nasty flu bug for the better part of a week and their grandfather Armand had rung Dominic’s apartment in the south wing of the chateau and demanded that he fill in for his brother.

Little had Dominic known that the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on in his life would be among the applicants. He’d wanted to catch up with her after she’d left and take her to dinner to get to know her better. But that had been impossible when other people needed to be interviewed.

Frustrated, he headed for his office in a building on the estate behind the chateau. He left the applications for his assistant, Theo, to deal with until Etienne recovered and drove the short distance to the chateau. Once he reached his apartment, he took a quick shower to cool off.

Until today he’d never found a woman whose looks turned him inside out in just one short meeting. In fact he’d doubted if such a woman even existed. But this afternoon, a pair of translucent green eyes had caught him completely off guard.

Throughout the eleven years he’d been away from home in Paris, he’d enjoyed several intimate relationships with beautiful women. But he’d never experienced this instant, intense, earthy kind of attraction to a woman, not even when he’d been a teenager. And he sure as hell hadn’t seen a woman like her show up for work at the vineyard before.

After putting on a robe, he went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. While he ate, he phoned Etienne with an update and told him not to worry, Dominic would continue to cover for him and told him to get better. After hanging up, he needed a distraction. He turned on the TV to watch the news, but nothing helped get his mind off Nathalie Fournier.

She was on some kind of mission. He was certain of it. Though a pharmacist, maybe she had an ambitious streak and did freelancing undercover for a newspaper or a wine industry magazine to make extra money.

He wished his cousin Raoul was home so they could talk. They were closer than brothers and always confided in each other. But Raoul and his father, Matthieu, the comptroller of the company, were in Saint Tropez at a vintners’ conference and they wouldn’t be back until Sunday night.

Any conversation would have to wait until Monday. And then what, Dominic?

Maybe some politician was paying a lot of money for her to get an exclusive on the vineyard. Was it hoped that her digging would turn up something she could expose concerning the migrants who worked at the Fontesquieu vineyard? No one would suspect her under the guise of a pharmacist, of all things.

He supposed anything was possible and didn’t like what he was thinking. Half a dozen ideas of what she might be up to percolated in his mind, as his domineering grandfather was always guarding against trespassers.

Dominic’s thoughts turned to his autocratic grandfather who’d been born with a divine right of kings syndrome. He felt a bleak expression cross over his features. The austere man’s dictatorial personality had forced the whole family to live under his thumb. He’d forced arranged marriages for all his six sons and daughters, and insisted they all live and work together at the massive chateau, determined to keep it all in the family.

Armand had screwed up more lives than Dominic dared count. Under his tutelage, Dominic’s own father and mother, Gaston and Vivienne, had put unbearable pressure on him and his siblings to marry certain moneyed, elite people they’d picked out for them. At eighteen, Dominic had refused to be told what to do.