Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  “Rachel, I have Monsieur Léon on the line for you.” Rachel inclined her head at Peter and then stepped out to take the call in her office.

  “Monsieur Léon, bonjour.” She sat back in the comfort of her chair and opened her notebook. “I’m not fluent in French yet. I hope you will forgive me if I tell you that I’m studying the language and making progress — slowly,” she announced in French, grimaced and crossed her fingers. Her attempt at the language sounded so terrible. She paused, and as she realized he was waiting for her to finish, she continued in English, “I also want to thank you for your trust in our company. We’re ecstatic that you chose us, and look forward to working with you on this project.”

  Monsieur Léon chuckled softly and replied in a warm voice, “Please call me Eugene, and if you don’t mind, I’ll call you Rachel. If we’re going to work together for the next year, we might as well be on first-name terms. And don’t worry about the French — I’m fully bilingual. In fact, an added bonus for you might be that I can help you with your French. What do you say?”

  “D’accord,” she replied with a smile.

  Warming to her client’s warm demeanor, Rachel relaxed as they started discussing the preliminaries of the work. But despite his gentle approach, Eugene had absolute clarity about the final outcome of the project. He articulated his goals with remarkable accuracy, and when Rachel pointed out some constraints they might have to consider, it was evident he had already studied them as well as their collective impacts.

  “So what are the next steps, Rachel?” Eugene asked, curious to understand the timeline.

  “Well, assuming we can get the legalities out of the way quickly, I plan to move into a house in Cassis to be closer to the project,” she informed Eugene.

  When Tina and Luke heard of her plans to rent a cottage in Provence, they insisted Rachel use their house in Cassis. They had always felt indebted to Rachel for the months she selflessly dedicated to the renovation of the derelict hamlet they bought just outside Cassis. This gave them an opportunity to reciprocate. They insisted and wouldn’t accept any excuses from Rachel. In the end she relented, and accepted their offer graciously. Rachel also knew she wouldn’t be able to do it without Arianne, their trusted housekeeper. Not only was Arianne a lifesaver, but was also an excellent au pair and much loved by the kids.

  “Hmm, Cassis … ”

  And Rachel knew he had checked the references she had provided.

  “Yes, I fell in love with the area when I did some work there … ” she replied in a neutral voice.

  “I’ve seen the work you did on that hamlet renovation in Cassis. Your sympathetic touch for preserving the salient aspects of the architecture was what convinced me to use your firm. I’m glad you will be the one on the ground here.”

  Sly old fox, Rachel thought. “Well, I’ll be living there while I’m working on our project. The hamlet belongs to my close friends and they insisted I use it.”

  After her meeting with Eugene, Rachel sat back in her leather chair. Deep in thought, she tapped the pencil on her blotter. Her gaze drifted toward the London skyline to come to rest on the slow revolving London Eye, barely visible through the drab, foggy mist.

  Her life was about to change. For the second time in a year, she was making her way down to the south of France. On her previous visit to that country, she came away hurt and wounded. This time her visit would ring in a happier period of her life, she vowed. After all, she thought with just a bit of sarcasm, one bad experience, and now one good experience. That leveled the score.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, Rachel arrived at the office later than usual. That’s the price you pay for working too late, she thought and sat down behind her desk. She pushed back in her chair, enjoying the comfort of the soft leather against her skin, and brought the cup to her nose, inhaling the rich aroma of the hot coffee. The muted sounds of ringing phones and expensive CAD/CAM equipment buzzing busily in the background bore testimony to the team of Swift & Simon’s staff, hard at work on one of the many architecture projects awarded to their firm.

  She glanced with pride at the activities on the other side of her office’s thick glass panels, a soft satisfactory smile on her lips. Her career had finally taken flight again. She was happy again — happy for the first time in a long time. Her professional life was on track, and the fledgling business she and Peter started three years ago was finally beginning to pay off. The culture they had created of treating their clients as the single most important aspect of their business was showing results. The steady growth in business over the last eighteen months had made it possible for them to build a small but successful architecture firm right in the heart of London. Even after all these months, each morning as she stepped into their offices, her chest would swell with warm pride as she was greeted by the small group of happy people working together.

  But it was the Léon project that made her heart pump faster. News of Swift & Simon winning the work had reached the streets, and a couple of the more established architecture firms in the city were quick to indicate a willingness to partner with Swift & Simon on future work. It was especially sweet for Peter, for they had won the contract from under the noses of MSC, his previous employer and the most prestigious architecture firm in London. The increased workload of the Léon project took up every spare minute of her day, but despite the long hours, she often caught herself smiling as she pondered a design or calculated important load-bearing points.

  Then there is my personal life, she thought. She shifted in her chair. Not enjoying the coffee anymore, she pushed the cup aside, a small frown on her brow.

  That side of her life would soon change for the better — especially with the news she’d received from her lawyer last week. The court date for the obligatory appearance was set for the week before she left for France.

  Divorced — finally.

  She mouthed the strange word, experimenting, remembering the mixed feelings that rushed through her mind when she first heard those words from her lawyer. At first, all she experienced was relief — relief it was finally over. Then came sadness. She and Stuart had created two beautiful children. But he didn’t see it that way. And she should have been more vigilant to the early warning signs.

  Stuart first pursued a career as a professional tennis player, but a nasty back injury put an end to that. While Rachel worked hard at establishing her career as a new, young architect, he struggled to find direction after his injury, eventually setting his sights on photography. She achieved early success in her career, but he struggled in the tough world of professional photography.

  Then Stuart lost both his parents when an Air France aircraft plunged into the Atlantic Ocean, hours after taking off from Brazil, killing all 216 passengers onboard. Ignoring her instincts and overwhelmed by sympathy, she married Stuart three months later on a hot, September afternoon.

  She married out of sympathy. Sympathy — it felt almost alien to think that such an emotion could drive her into the arms of a man. How bizarre. Imagine feeling sympathy for someone like Alain.

  “Alain,” she whispered his name. Rachel bit her lower lip in thought. She had tried her best to remove all memories of Alain from her mind. For months now, she had wrestled down any thoughts of Alain and banned them from her head. But they kept on coming back.

  At first she tried to reason that it was purely her physical attraction to him. After all, the man had a lovely physique. A godlike face and an Olympian’s body — how unfair. The physical enjoyment and pleasure she enjoyed at his strong, gentle hands — the deep, hidden needs he coaxed from her body with his wicked, clever tongue — all those passions she could understand and explain to herself. It was all just physical. Three years of celibacy will do that to you, she thought wryly.

  She was a young, healthy woman. Her body craved intimacy. But brushing that aside, she couldn’t den
y the emotional connection they’d made and the immense pleasure she experienced in his company.

  His wit — his intelligence. The love for art they shared. The long, easy conversations they’d had, and she smiled at the memory of one of the many fascinating discussions they shared during their brief relationship.

  A feeling of deep loss spilled over her at the memory of how safe and protected Alain made her feel in those two short days. And she missed that so much in her life. Then the dark, painful memory of their last night together caused her to swallow hard.

  Should I let him know about my divorce? Maybe that would change things?

  No, he acted like a lunatic — there is no excuse for that kind of behavior. “What a Neanderthal.” Rachel voiced the angry words and clenched her jaw. How could any man do that to her? How dare he cast her aside like an old, broken toy, presumptuously assuming she’s immoral.

  “Good riddance, Rach — ” She jumped at the phone ringing at her desk, interrupting her thoughts. Then, glancing at her watch, she smiled at the realization that her conference call with Eugene Léon was about to start.

  “Bonjour, Eugene. Comment ça va? How is my favorite client today?” she sang into the speakerphone and flipped open her laptop, switching smartly to the electronic file containing the latest progress report.

  “Oh, Rachel, you make an old man’s heart jump.”

  In the span of an hour, Rachel stepped Eugene methodically through the three draft proposals they had prepared for his consideration. Eugene would have to decide on one of the schematic designs, and once agreed, the Swift & Simon team would shift into gear to create the blueprint designs. But Eugene wanted absolute clarity before making his decision, and he had several pertinent questions on the various aspects of the designs.

  “I will give you my final answer by Monday,” he stated when their meeting finally started winding down. “When were you planning to be down here?”

  “I’m moving into the house next Wednesday, Eugene — lock, stock, and barrel.”

  “I will come over to welcome you personally,” he declared before ringing off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was late autumn and the sun was heading toward a fiery dip in the Mediterranean when Rachel finally drove up to the house in Cassis and parked under a huge, bare oak tree. Arianne opened the door and rushed down the wide stone steps to welcome them. Mia and Iain struggled impatiently with their safety belts, eager to get out of the car and be reunited with Arianne.

  Later that afternoon, Eugene’s vehicle came to a halt outside the house. Rachel stepped out and welcomed him.

  “Eugene! Thanks for coming over.” She reached out to him and he kissed both her cheeks.

  “I wanted to make sure my architect has settled in and was not in need of anything.” He laughed and lifted a case of wine from the trunk. “A good year, and something you will not find in any wine store,” he declared with a wink and carried the wooden crate to the front door.

  “As long as it doesn’t constitute a bribe,” she joked back. “Come, let’s enjoy some refreshments.”

  “I can’t stay,” Eugene answered in response to Rachel’s invitation, “Just wanted to thank you for making this sacrifice to move here for the project.”

  “Hardly a sacrifice, Eugene.” Rachel smiled, indicating the lovely setting and the beautifully restored house behind her. “But thank you for checking in.”

  “So, when would you like to visit Chateau Léon?”

  “Tomorrow morning … if that works for you?” Rachel suggested, keen to experience the chateau first hand. Thus far, all they had to work on were the photos Eugene had provided and the official surveyor drawings.

  “You’re sure? You just arrived. Don’t you need a bit more time to unpack and settle in?”

  Rachel laughed. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Eugene. I travel light and besides, I have Arianne to help me.”

  When Eugene departed later, it was with the promise to collect Rachel at nine o’clock the next morning. “It’s difficult to find the first time, so I will happily drive you there tomorrow.”

  • • •

  Rachel had spent many hours studying the photos Eugene provided — imagining the splendor of the chateau, gauging the impressiveness — but she was not prepared for the majestic impression the building made on her as Eugene drove them along the neglected, bumpy gravel road leading up to the chateau. Century-old plane trees lined the approach to the chateau, a silent welcome from ancient guards.

  Her face reflected in the car window, eyes wide with excitement, as she leaned forward to glance up at the aged stone walls. She marveled at the sight, her eyes bright with excitement and awe. Despite the ravaging damage caused by the fire, the stately building stood proudly in the surroundings of ancient oak trees and the backdrop of pristine vineyards. The new estate complex, constructed after the fire, could be seen on a hill in the far distance.

  They walked up the wide marble staircase to the front door and Rachel hardly noticed the other vehicles parked in the forecourt.

  “There you can see where we repaired the roof after the fire,” Eugene started when they entered the impressive building through the heavy wooden front door. Then he shrugged, showing his French side, and continued, “Well, of course, it doesn’t look that great, but it was good enough to protect the building against the elements.”

  Four men from a removal company were busy crating a few pieces of large furniture while workers were sweeping the floor to clean the building in preparation for the work ahead. In the far corner, she noticed the tall, masculine shape of someone dressed in designer blue jeans and a black turtleneck cashmere sweater. He had his back to them and Rachel took in the wide shoulders and the sensual slant of his muscular back tapering down to his narrow hips.

  Something about the casual stance of his lengthy, athletic frame was strangely familiar, but at that instant, she couldn’t place it.

  “Come, let me introduce you to my son, Rachel,” Eugene invited, indicating the tall figure. “I don’t have the energy of a young man anymore … he will be working with you on the project while you’re on site.”

  As they approached, Rachel noted the ease with which the man gave his instructions to the foreman. He was clearly used to being in charge. A niggling warning flashed in the back of her mind as they approached. He turned to face them.

  Shock rocked Rachel to an abrupt halt. A cold vise clamped over her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. Her mouth went dry and her vision blurred. For a second, dizziness threatened to topple her.

  “Rachel, let me introduce you. This is my son, Alain Léon.”

  • • •

  The sudden sight of Rachel hit him like a mule kick in the stomach. Alain flinched reflexively, clamped his jaw and, just in time, caught himself from stepping back.

  He took in the lithe figure of Rachel, dressed in black wool trousers, functional black court shoes, and a white silk blouse. The second button on her blouse was undone and revealed just enough of the soft, creamy skin under the slender curve of her neck. A sudden urge to once again smell the aroma of her body welled up in him. The power of it stunned him.

  Before he could prevent it, his eyes flashed to take in the sensuous curve of her hips and the subtle protrusion of her youthful, pert breasts under the thin material of her blouse.

  He returned his gaze to her face, unprepared for the shock of her beautiful eyes, flaring like warm cognac. Surprise flashed high on her cheeks, and her soft lips parted ever so slightly at the sudden intake of air. Her hair was down, cascading from her shoulders, framing the beautiful, familiar features of her face.

  “Pleased to meet you.” His throat was dry and he tried to avoid staring at her sensual lips. He settled for the eyes instead, but his chest tightened suddenly at the burning embers staring at him from under her lon
g lashes.

  • • •

  “Likewise,” was all Rachel could muster, her mind racing like a trapped animal, but she followed Alain’s example and didn’t acknowledge their earlier, disastrous encounter. She shook Alain’s dry, warm hand and a light wave of electricity thrilled down her spine. The world around her suddenly appeared fuzzy — like in a dream.

  How could this be happening? she thought in desperation. When Alain left her hotel room that evening in Monaco, she truly hoped to never see him again. His rude, uncouth behavior left her hurt and vulnerable. She would never be able to work with him on this project.

  “Let me show you around, Rachel, so you can see the rest of the chateau for yourself,” Eugene offered. His words jolted her back to reality, and she jerked her hand from Alain’s firm, dry grip. Swallowing hard, not trusting her voice, she simply nodded at the welcome escape of Eugene’s suggestion. Avoiding Alain’s dark eyes, she turned sharply and followed Eugene from the room, aware of Alain’s piercing eyes burning into her back as she walked away. Squeezing the leather strap of her handbag in a tight grip, her mind raced anxiously to find a way out of the unbearable situation she was facing.

  She couldn’t see herself working on this project any longer.

  But Swift & Simon desperately needed this project — and the financial consequences of reneging on this contract could destroy their firm. Peter simply had to step in to replace her.

  While Eugene guided Rachel through the interior of the building, she made her decision. When they finally completed the tour, she excused herself and hastened outside to make a phone call.

  Her hands shook violently as she dug her phone from her handbag. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of air. Then she flipped the phone open and hit the speed dial for her business partner.