“Peter, Alain is Eugene’s son,” she whispered loudly on her phone the second he answered, foregoing any formalities.
“Hold on, Rachel, what on earth are you on about?” Peter’s calm answer came back.
“Alain, he is Alain Léon — he is Chateau Léon. Peter, I simply cannot run this project.”
“You mean that Alain?” Peter’s shock managed to stir Rachel into near hysterics. Trembling, she turned in a small circle as hopelessness washed over her, stamping her feet in frustration.
“Yes, that Alain. Peter, you have to step in — there is no other way.”
The line went silent and Rachel sensed she was beginning to lose her argument. “Peter, you can understand? You know the history.” Her voice was almost pleading.
Peter cleared his throat, and, dejected, Rachel dropped her head to her chest.
“Rachel, you know I can’t do that — not even for you,” Peter answered in a slow, gentle voice. A deep sigh could be heard over the line. Then he continued, “I’m spread too thin on the projects here in London already. My clients will go ballistic if I drop everything now and disappear to France.”
After Monaco, she had shared the pain of that disastrous evening with Peter, and he was quick to point out how thankful she should be for not having a man like Alain in her life. But now, all that has changed. Alain had become an important part of her life — her client. With growing impatience, she listened to Peter stating his points. Easy for him to say, but I’m the one who has to face the arrogant Alain, she thought wryly.
“Listen, Rachel, he is just another idiot fool who doesn’t deserve someone like you. He’s a nothing. Don’t let this upset you. Just treat him as another client.”
As Peter continued his rational explanations, she was forced to accept the facts. They were faced with one of only two options.
The first was for her to continue managing the project. The second option could lead to significant financial losses — even the real risk of closing the doors to Swift & Simon. She could never do that to Peter — not after all he had done for her.
“Well, Rachel, have you seen enough for today?” Eugene asked with a tired smile when she rejoined them after her telephone call. With a sudden pang of guilt, she realized that it had been a long and exhausting day for Eugene. He needed to get some rest.
“Yes, thanks — for now,” Rachel answered quickly, “and now I know my way here, so you don’t have to chaperone me all the way from Cassis again.”
“Good point.” Eugene turned to Alain. “Alain, can you drive the lovely Rachel back? I’m going to relax with my novel.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nerves fluttered in her stomach as Rachel followed Alain to his vehicle. He held the door for her and closed it with a solid clunk once she was seated. She sat, hands folded in her lap. Her back was stiff and straight, barely touching the seat. She stared straight ahead as Alain walked around his silver Maserati and took his position behind the steering wheel.
“Where to?” Alain asked curtly and pushed the starter button without waiting for her answer. The lively engine roared to life and settled into a menacing burble.
“A50 to Cassis, thanks. I’ll direct you from there.”
As Alain maneuvered the low car over the rough gravel service road, Rachel flashed a quick look in his direction. She took in the strong line of his profile, the sun-browned hands, long fingers delicately maneuvering the steering wheel. Against her best intentions, her eyes dropped to take in his long, muscular legs in the fitted designer jeans, and she squirmed in the soft leather seat at the stirring in her lower stomach.
“Rachel, we need to talk about this project.” Alain spoke first, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the road.
“What about it?” she blurted, the hair in her neck tingling with warning. Now that she’d decided to go ahead with the project, she would not back down. They had won the opportunity to complete this project through hard work, but more importantly, financially Swift & Simon needed this project. She could not back down.
“I don’t want you to do this work for the Léon family.” Rachel flinched at his deliberate choice of words. He wanted her to know it would be a family decision. “I want you to cancel the contract with Chateau Léon. Naturally we will compensate you for all expenses and the time you’ve put into the project so far.”
She clenched her fists. A wild rage rushed her and anger flared hot on her cheeks. She shot Alain a fierce look, her ears buzzing as blood roared to her head. “We have a professional commitment and a legal agreement with your father to complete this project. If you think I am going to walk away from this simply because you have some moral issue with me, I have news for you.” She panted, flushed and out of breath.
“Don’t you, of all people, dare talk to me about morals,” he hissed at her, his knuckles white as he clenched the wheel, his dark eyes glaring straight ahead.
Her voice turned cold. “What are you trying to say, Alain — that you’re holier than thou?” With some satisfaction she saw her words hit home when his mouth snapped in a hard line, the ropey muscles in his forearm bulging in protest as he gripped the wheel tighter. Angered and provoked, she continued in a low voice, “And don’t you dare lecture me about my life. You know nothing about my life — nothing.” For a brief second he glanced at her, lightning flashing in his dark eyes before he returned his attention to the road.
He breathed deeply. “Can we keep it professional and not get personal? This project will be reassigned to another firm.”
“No! Remove yourself from the project, Alain Léon.” Her voice was high-pitched with fear, and anger threatened to close her throat. Her body strained against the seatbelt as she twisted to face Alain and her breathing became shallow and rushed as she reasoned with him. Helplessness threatened to overwhelm her, and her hands trembled violently.
His eyes flashed briefly to her breasts, and the car swerved violently as Alain corrected the steering, narrowly missing a parked scooter on the side of the road.
Keep your eyes on the road, she thought with some satisfaction.
“I cannot remove myself. If I do, my father will step right back in. He is old and weak, and should save his energy.”
She went silent and sat back in her seat, staring at the road ahead. She was not going to back off. She could not back off — they needed this project. But what would happen if Alain convinced Eugene to cancel the contract? Fear suddenly laid its familiar cold, vise-like hand on her heart and squeezed. He won’t do that. The quality of our proposal outshone all the others, she reminded herself bravely. Starting the process afresh would put the project back at least another three months.
Alain drove on in silence, his face blank as he stared ahead. He shot her another glance. Her jaw quivered and she turned her face away to hide her emotions.
He cleared his throat. In a gentler voice, he said, “Okay, I’ll give it a try. I will work with you on this project and put aside our history. You think we can handle this professionally?” he asked, a softer tone to his voice.
Rachel swallowed hard. “I can. Can you?”
They completed the journey in an uncomfortable silence. When Alain finally brought the vehicle to a slow stop at the front door, Rachel exhaled with relief. She stepped from the car and Iain and Mia appeared shyly at the front door.
“Hi, Mommy,” Iain greeted her as he walked down the stone steps, clutching his favorite toy car under his arm. Hypnotized, his eyes glued on the low profile of the powerful vehicle parked in front of the house, he descended the steps, one by one. Without so much as giving her a hug, oblivious to her outstretched arms, Iain made his way toward the gleaming vehicle, and, resting his hand on the sleek curve of the front door, he looked up at Alain.
“What kind of car is it?” he whispered with wide eyes, his little voice shaky with total admir
ation.
Alain glanced toward Rachel, seeking guidance. She just smiled, lifted one shoulder, and left him to his own devices. Uncertain, Alain squatted on his heels next to the boy and smiled.
“It is a Maserati. Would you like a ride in it one day?”
“Yeah!” Iain exclaimed, a bright smile on his face. Then, turning to Rachel and tugging at her arm, his eyes pleading, he continued, “Can I, Mommy? Can I?”
Rachel smiled down at Iain next to the gleaming machine. “Sure, Iain, maybe one day,” she replied, feeling guilty at lying to her son. She tried to hide it, but the poignant tone lingered in her voice.
Alain’s car disappeared down the road and Mia appeared silently at her side. She placed her hand in Rachel’s and looked up at her mother. “Iain likes the man, Mommy. Do you?”
I do, my baby, I do, she wanted to answer, but kept her thoughts to herself. Then, turning to enter the house with her two kids, she said softly, “But he’s not for me.”
Chapter Fifteen
The bumpy road leading up to the chateau was filled with potholes and in desperate need of repairs. Rachel slowed to a crawl, navigating her rental car toward the chateau. She exited her vehicle and started up the stairs to the heavy, hand-carved front door. The past two weeks she’d been working closely with Eugene on finalizing the design he selected. Once they had agreed on all the detail, Eugene would hand most of the work over to Alain.
She compressed her lips.
Alain.
Soon she would be working with him on this project. She dreaded the day, but couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement in her stomach. Just the thought of seeing him again made her heart race. Irritated, she dumped the car keys in her purse and mumbled to herself, “As Peter said — he doesn’t deserve me. Forget about him.”
Eugene’s crew had erected a makeshift table for her in the ballroom, and Rachel headed straight for it. Eager to finish the final edits to the design Eugene approved, Rachel turned all her attention to the blueprint drawings in front of her. Soon she was engrossed in her work.
“Hi, Rachel … ”
She shrieked, jolted upright from the table and spun around. She exhaled slowly, a little embarrassed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” He smiled at her, his teeth brilliant white against his bronzed skin.
She took in the powerful shape of his lean body under the soft cotton shirt. She frowned lightly and scowled at the warm jubilation washing over her. Why should she be so delighted to see this man?
“No, it was me — I was deep in thought,” she replied with a wave of her hand.
Close on Alain’s heels, two strangers marched into the room. From their appearance, Rachel deduced they were the contractors Alain had selected. Alain and Eugene had put tenders out for the restoration work and short-listed the contractors based on their experience working on relevant projects. She knew they had interviewed the contractors and made their selections. It was time to meet the crew.
“Rachel, I’ve requested the contractors to meet with us today so that I can introduce them to you.” He turned and invited the men to join them. “This is Thierry Roux, main contractor.” A short, barrel-chested man beamed a wide smile at her, his gray, friendly eyes set deep in a wrinkled face.
“And this is Alexis Du Toit, electrical contractor.” Alexis nodded. His fair complexion turned a deep red and he lowered his gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Enchanté, Madame,” both greeted her, and Rachel was not surprised to find that neither of them spoke any English.
The front door slammed shut, and a third man sauntered into the room. Alain turned to face him. “Ah, and this is Pierre Mas, plumbing contractor — Pierre, Madame Swift.”
As Pierre approached, his eyes shifted down to take in Rachel’s legs, then rested for seconds on her breasts, before he lifted his gaze lazily to meet her eyes. Rachel shifted, uncomfortable. Then she lifted her head high and met his gaze with a steely look in her eyes.
“Enchanté, Madame,” the plumber declared, and as Rachel returned to her drawing table, he glanced at the other two men and mumbled something under his breath.
His words were lost on her, but Alain tensed next to her. Electricity charged the air, and a little muscle jumped in his jaw. He stepped forward and instructed the other two contractors to leave the room. In silence he waited patiently for them to exit.
Then, with one swift movement, he planted his body in front of Pierre. The soft, measured words that rumbled from his chest reminded Rachel of an approaching lightning storm — dangerous and threatening.
“Pourquoi?” Pierre raised his shoulders and threw his hands in the air, challenging Alain’s instructions. Alain took one menacing step closer to Pierre, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage. Towering over the man, he pointed a long finger toward the door, his forearms tightened in anger. Leaning into Pierre’s face, he whispered with menace, “Leave, now.”
She watched in silence as the man turned abruptly and left the room. “What was that all about?” she asked, hiding the quiver in her voice. Violence always frightened her.
“His behavior was offensive. I will not tolerate that. His replacement will report here tomorrow morning.”
“I could have dealt with it,” she replied bravely, yet silently relieved Alain had taken care of the situation. Alain’s eyebrows snapped into a dark line, and he shook his head.
“Forget about it.” Then he stepped toward the table to inspect the final additions to the plan. He leaned closer and Rachel could make out that familiar, slightly woodsy smell of his roused maleness. In a long, sweeping movement, he smoothed the large sheets of paper in front of him. The only sound was his slow, deep breathing while he focused on the scale drawings.
With his attention on the drawings, she was safe to study the beautiful man in front of her. She nodded her silent approval at the strong jaw line and high forehead. He seemed oblivious to the dark, unruly twist of hair that dangled enticingly over his brow. Fascinated, she watched as he traced the changes she had made from their last meeting. He paused, considering something for a moment and then looked up at her. The sudden shock of his dark eyes unnerved her, and blood rushed to her cheeks. Embarrassed, she pushed a loose wisp of hair from her brow.
“Why this beam … here?” he asked, pointing to the plan.
“Your father wants the staircase restored in the original marble stone.” Short of breath, she paused briefly before she could continue. “So we will have to strengthen the support to carry the extra weight.”
“Can you show me?”
Rachel took the plan from the table and walked toward the staircase with Alain following her. She paused at the steps and held the plans in front of her.
She looked up and indicated a point directly above them. “The joists will hang at that point from the beams you see on the plan here.”
Alain stepped closer and stared intently over her shoulder at the plan. Her arms were outstretched at full length in front of her, holding the drawings in mid-air.
“From this point here?” he asked and leaned over her to indicate the area on the plan. Alain’s chest touched her upper arm and her throat closed at the sudden warmth where their bodies touched. Rachel nodded twice in answer to his question and swallowed hard, but her mouth was dry. A light tremor ran through her hands and into the plans.
She spun into a slow spiral of desire. Alain’s closeness burnt into her arm, and her heart skipped at the thought of his lips on her body. The unanswered craving left her dizzy and short of breath.
Keep it professional, now. Her feeble reminder came as an afterthought.
“Which beam?” he asked again, looking up to the ceiling.
She deftly folded the plan under her arm, anxious to get her wild emotions under control. She raised the folded plan and po
inted to the wooden staircase. “Let me go and show you,” she suggested to Alain.
Her breathing was shallow, and her heart hammered in her chest as she started up the fire-damaged staircase, taking care to avoid weakened treads and the loose handrail. Alain followed closely behind her.
She warned Alain over her shoulder, “Careful on the — ”
With a loud, splintering crack, the weakened wood of the top step suddenly gave way under her foot, and she stumbled, trying to catch her balance. A firm hand shot out to steady her, and she staggered back against his body. Alain corrected his balance and gripped her body firmly against his.
She opened her eyes and exhaled. His chest pressed against her back, strong and warm. Memories flashed through her mind — his powerful body pressing down onto her, his gentle hands stroking her skin. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she turned around to face him, nervous and a little embarrassed in the tight circle of his embrace. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice low and shaky against his chest, but she could not bring herself to step out of his embrace.
Alain held her a little longer and then he lowered his head to her. Warm, firm lips found her mouth, and Rachel inhaled sharply at the sensation of his tongue dancing over her lips, probing, seeking. He pulled her closer to his body, and she closed her eyes as her breasts pressed against the firm muscles of his chest, the warmth of his body addictive. He placed a hand on her face, cupping her cheek, and then let it slide like silk down the nape of her neck. Her skin came alive, and sensations of electric pinpricks ran up her spine to nestle in her hair. Rachel shivered, and a soft sigh escaped from her throat. With a slight tilt of her head, she allowed him easier access to her mouth and started to meet the flickering probes of his tongue with hers.
His soft nip on her lower lip edged her to open wider, allowing him to feed his hungry urgency, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. She bunched a fistful of his long, dark hair and relaxed the tight muscles in her back, allowing her lower body to melt into his frame. Darting from lips to teeth, his tongue explored the soft depths of her mouth.
Heart to Heart Page 50
