Taming the French Tycoon

by Rebecca Winters

  “Through my sources I know he stopped drinking a long time ago,” Jasmine read his mind. “He lives with his son and his wife and their children.”

  Luc shook his head. Granting another loan of the size she was talking about meant taking a huge risk, one his bank couldn’t afford. Though he could pass this by the banking board of directors, to win a nod would take a miracle. Everything was against it. He was still against it for the obvious reasons.

  She unexpectedly got up from the chair. “If I have to, I’ll put up the family home and the property surrounding it for collateral.”

  Mon Dieu. For her to risk losing such a personal legacy was unfathomable to him. Clearly she was in this for the fight of her life, and it would be a fight. But he had to admire her because she was willing to risk everything by taking the moral high ground. All for the sake of the true son.

  “I can read your mind, Luc. You think it would be a risk to loan more money, but there’s a saying: to win without risk is to triumph without glory. You’d be doing a great thing. Please remember something else. I came to you first. If you decide we can’t do business, I’ll go elsewhere until I find the right banker. This isn’t a threat. I’m just being practical and I’m in a hurry.”

  She got up from the chair, but he grasped her arm before she could leave. She spun around in surprise. “Don’t go out that way, Jasmine. Use my private entrance so no one in the bank will see you leave.”

  Her eyes flashed a midnight blue as she eased her arm from his grasp. “That’s all right. I’ve asked too big a favor already.”

  A pretty impossible favor. One he couldn’t see himself granting. “I’m sorry, but in all honesty I don’t believe the banking board will be willing to do business with you under such circumstances.”

  “In other words, the answer is no.”

  “I’m afraid so. But please—let me walk you out.”

  Without taking no for an answer, he headed for his private entrance. Together they left via the rear exit. He followed her to the Audi she’d parked around the side. After she’d climbed behind the wheel, accidentally giving him a brief glimpse of her gorgeous legs where the material rode up her thigh, she lowered the window.

  He put a hand on top of the car and leaned toward her. “Just a minute,” he said, causing her to pause. “Before you leave, what’s that scent you’re wearing? It’s sweet and fresh, like the way spring smells.”

  “It doesn’t have a name.”

  “You mean it’s a recipe you just cooked up for the fun of it,” he teased, remembering her comment from the broadcast.

  A faint smile hovered at the corner of her mouth. He really was in trouble now. “Something like that.”

  Luc studied the shape of it longer than he should have. “Promise you won’t think I’m playing up to your good side if I tell you I like it more than anything I’ve ever smelled on a woman?”

  Her smile deepened. “I believe you. Do you know I get that same response from almost every man I meet or work with? I’ve been wearing it off and on for a year now. What you’re responding to is the pure scent of the Parma violet.”

  “Violet? So that’s what it is! I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  “They’ve all but disappeared, that’s why.”

  He frowned. “What happened?”

  “In the nineteenth century around Grasse there were large plantings being grown for the perfume industry. Sadly in the eighteen-nineties a synthetic violet fragrance was discovered and was soon manufactured cheaply, putting an end to the production of the natural oil.

  “But Remy has brought the Parma violet back to Grasse from Italy. Over the last few years he’s spent his time cultivating it and perfecting several unique varieties for their scent. His best one comes from a cultivar with a very strong constitution. When he can plant more, it’s going to create a brand new niche that’s been missing in the Ferrier perfume market.”

  “And what is that?” Luc asked. He’d never met such an incredible woman.

  “A scent men like to smell on a woman. In general, women dress and buy scents to suit themselves.”

  A scent men like to smell...

  Yes...they did. He did.

  The novel marketing idea blew him away. So did her vast knowledge, which continued to humble him.

  “Paul Ferrier had no clue his son was a genius. He considered him baggage.” Luc grimaced to think a father could do that to a son. “With the help of Jean-Louis, Remy has developed a secret weapon that will soon put Ferriers in the black again. You were my first choice for a backer, but I’ll find another to get him what he needs. Mark my words.”

  She put on her sunglasses. “I realize I’m lucky you didn’t throw me out after I barged in last week. For you to feed me just now tells me why Papa dealt with your bank exclusively over the years.”

  With that comment, she turned on the engine and started to back out. Before leaving the parking area she waved to him. “You summed me up in a big hurry on Yeronisos island, so I don’t know why I expected anything else from you in regard to Remy Ferrier. But I thank you for your time and for being up-front so no more time is wasted. Au revoir, monsieur.”

  * * *

  At the end of Luc’s work day, he took the chance that his friend Nic hadn’t gone home from work yet, and drove to his office in the technopole research park of Sophia Antipolis. He wound around the pine-covered hills to reach Valfort Technologies.

  Not that long ago Luc had participated in a massive four-day search of the park with police dogs, hoping to discover the remains of Nic’s first wife, who’d been missing for three years. Miraculously, her body had been found and it had been discovered she’d been shot and buried in the heavily wooded area. What had been meant to be a kidnapping had turned out to be a murder. Only a man with Nic’s strength could have gotten through such a horrendous ordeal.

  Every time Luc came here, he was reminded of his friend’s pain, but the knowledge that Nic had found love again drove away the darkness. Luc needed to talk, and there was no one who listened better than Nic.

  Monday evening wasn’t the greatest time to drop by, but Luc decided to take a chance anyway. Robert, Nic’s assistant, smiled when Luc stepped inside. “I’ll let Nic know you’re here.”

  “Is he with a client?”

  “No. He’s through for the day. This is a good time.”

  A minute later, his dark-haired friend, sporting a new tan, invited him into his office with a bear hug and shut the door. “It’s good to see you! Sit down. Want a soda? Coffee?”

  “Nothing right now. I called last week to see if you could go deep-sea fishing and found out you were on a trip to California. Looks like it agreed with you.”

  “We had a great time, but I have to admit I’m glad to be back.” Nic was a new man since his marriage. Luc hardly recognized him. “Laura and I were just talking about getting you and Yves together for dinner on Saturday night at our house. Are you still seeing Gabrielle?”

  “No. That was over weeks ago.”

  His friend perched on the corner of his desk. “That settles that. Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “I’ve met a woman.”

  A chuckle escaped Nic. “Since they throw themselves at you, I’m not surprised.”

  Luc shook his head. “This one is different.”

  “In what way?”

  “In ways even you can’t imagine.”

  “You mean you’re interested for the first time since—”

  “Yes,” Luc cut him off. “But it’s much more than that.”

  Nic started to smile. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m in trouble, Nic. Real trouble. Do you have time to talk?”

  “After the years you put up lis
tening to me talk through my pain, you know I’ve got time. First of all, who is she?”

  Luc couldn’t stay seated. He walked around for a minute. “Did you happen to see the news on TV about the new head of the Ferrier Corporation?”

  “Who didn’t? I think every male watching on six continents was blown away by the gorgeous granddaughter of Maxim Ferrier.” When Luc didn’t comment, Nic eyed him in disbelief. “She’s the woman?”

  He nodded. “Jasmine Martin.”

  Nic let out a whistle. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since a week ago Friday, but we met two months before that when I went to Nicosia on business. We ran into each other on Yeronisos island.”

  “Literally?” He grinned.

  “Not exactly. But that’s a whole story in itself.”

  “Does she feel the same way about you?”

  Luc rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what she feels.”

  “How could you not know something like that?”

  “It’s complicated. She came to me for a loan.”

  “Eh bien, mon ami. Why don’t you start at the beginning? I want to hear about what happened on Yeronisos, and then I want to know why a woman who’s worth millions of dollars on her own came to you for money.”

  “I don’t think she is worth millions or she wouldn’t have said she’d put up the Ferrier personal property for collateral.”

  A whistle came out of Nic.

  For the next half hour, Luc unloaded to the friend he would trust with his life. It felt good to let it all out and try to make sense of it. When he’d finished, he said, “I never saw anyone so invested in another person’s happiness. It’s been a revelation to me.”

  “I agree it’s a gut-wrenching story,” Nic murmured.

  “It is, but much as I would have liked to grant her request, I had to turn her down for the loan. Remy Ferrier has too many problems that wouldn’t inspire confidence in the banking board.” He rubbed his jaw for a minute. “She mentioned something about Remy’s son, who was helping him. Since you work here at the complex, do you happen to know of a Jean-Louis Ferrier? I’m curious. Jasmine said he had an office around here somewhere.”

  Nic nodded. “I’ve only met him once. It was after the search for my wife. I stopped by to thank everyone in the complex who’d been a part of it. I learned he’s a scientist running a firm in the next section east of me. It seems his team is on the cutting edge of technology for some new miracle processes involving plants and animals. Because of my technological background, I found our conversation fascinating.”

  Luc sat forward in the chair with his hands clasped between his legs. “I didn’t know there was another Ferrier related to Remy here in Nice.”

  “Small world, isn’t it? To my knowledge they’re focusing primarily on understanding the cellular mechanisms that underlie the development and physiology of plants and animals, which provides the foundation for biotechnology innovation. From the way he explained it to me, there’s this molecular circuit that acts as a bio-timer to control the diverse growth pathways in plants and animals.”

  Luc took a deep breath. “When Jasmine said Remy was working with his son, I didn’t realize what she meant.” Because you didn’t give her a chance?

  Nic eyed him thoughtfully. “This discovery allows farmers to save on both man power and shipping, as naturally maturing crops will not all flower at the same time, leading to the less than optimal use of resources. This technique to synchronize the flowering, to maximize the yield or reduce the cost of harvesting, is revolutionary because you can do it all at the same time and potentially reduce wastage.

  “If Remy is trying it out with his Parma violets and is having success, then it could revolutionize the flower industry. More harvests in one season could mean additional profits for the farmer.”

  “So that was the secret weapon she’d talked about,” Luc blurted. It seemed he’d jumped to another conclusion too fast without knowing all the facts. Times had changed since Remy ran the company. Luc felt the banking board wouldn’t think the sixty-six-year-old farmer was the right person to take over, but Nic’s explanation about his son’s work had thrown a new light on the situation.

  His friend smiled. “Besides being a beauty, she’s definitely unique. So tell me what else is wrong.”

  Luc got to his feet. “I never wanted to feel this way about a woman again.”

  “Obviously she’s into you too.”

  “There have been moments along the way when I thought— Oh, hell, I don’t know. I can’t read her yet.”

  “Give it time, Luc. Once you get past the business part, then you’ll be able to explore what could be between you.”

  “I’m afraid I ruined it when I turned her down for the loan.”

  Nic stared at him. “Why don’t you bring her over on Saturday night so we can meet her?”

  “After today, I don’t know if she’ll ever speak to me again.”

  “Want to take bets on that?”

  Luc’s brows lifted. “I’ll think about it and let you know,” he muttered. “Thanks, Nic. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JASMINE’S JAW WENT taut as she headed for the house Tuesday evening. Yesterday she’d given Luc Charriere the grand performance of her life, but it had all been for naught. This was supposed to be the honeymoon phase of her inauguration with the company, but her failure to get Luc on board had come as a crushing blow.

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she took the exit leading away from the lab, which she’d left early. The thought of walking over to the perfumery and facing Giles’s wooden expression, let alone the many phone calls that needed answering, was too daunting.

  Good karma hadn’t been with her yesterday. Otherwise, the scent she’d been wearing might have made him curious enough to delve into that file she’d left and rethink his position. Though emotions had welled up inside her and she’d laid it all out, he’d turned her down flat.

  When he’d come to the laboratory last week, she’d read those negative signs coming from him, the kind you picked up by osmosis. Part of her understood he had legitimate reasons for making his decision. She’d heard them running through his mind. But she hadn’t wanted to accept them.

  You’re a fool, Jasmine. An imbécile. Idiote.

  She dashed the tears from her eyes. After the experience on the island, she should have known his answer would be an emphatic no. Shaken by the depth of her intense attraction to him in spite of how things had turned out, she decided to go home and put Luc out of her mind once and for all.

  To unwind after her session with the man who’d watched her climb Yeronisos—a spine-tingling thought—she took the long way back to La Tourette, passing the sloping fields of acacia, geranium, tuberose and jasmine blooming beneath the afternoon summer sky.

  She scanned the horizon. Her favorite view was of the flowers growing up against the white stucco farmhouses. Beyond them, the rocky promontories knifed skyward. Between the crags, the many little villages of pale cream and red lay in repose. Normally this drive helped her relax, but for some reason she was feeling a new restlessness.

  If she were being honest, Lucien Charriere was responsible for it.

  That’s why she couldn’t focus on anything. A new hunger had been aroused in her while she’d poured out her soul to him. His compassion for what he’d heard couldn’t be denied. It had been there in his eyes, but he still believed that extending a new loan was a bad business decision and there was nothing she could do about it.

  He’d given her all the time she’d needed to state her case whe
n she knew his assistant had to put his other clients off in order to accommodate her. She could still feel his hand on her arm. Her body still throbbed from his touch. His mention of the scent she was wearing had established an intimacy between them so strong it had raised her pulse.

  Tortured by this new sense of yearning to know what his mouth tasted and felt like, she drove on, winding up the steep hillside on the other side of the gorge. He was nothing like the Andrés and Fabrices with whom she’d worked, those who thought they could sweep you off your feet with their specialized love verbiage.

  Luc wasn’t like any Frenchman she’d met, who, young or old, single, married or divorced, hit on her all the time whether she wore perfume or not. Luc had maintained an aloofness balanced with just the right amount of professional courtesy and interest. How insane was it that he was the only man of her acquaintance to produce this physical response in her. To think about him all the time like this was madness.

  Soon, she reached the fieldstone house on the family estate. Long promenades of cypress trees flanked her progress. The smell of the orange trees told her she was close to La Tourette. The house had emptied of family who’d gathered here the weekend from last, and now were gone. Though she’d wanted them to stay longer, her father’s ranching responsibilities meant he needed to get back home.

  Jasmine got out of the car and hurried inside. She found Sylvie in the kitchen. “I’m home for the night,” she told the housekeeper. “If I want dinner later, I’ll fix it myself.”

  The wiry fifty-year-old Provençale from Aix was a literal dynamo. “I’ve already put your meal in the fridge whenever you want it.”

  “Bless you.” Jasmine blew her a kiss and disappeared upstairs to her bedroom. She opened the French doors onto the terrace and walked out. Grasse, the queen of the French Riviera, lay below, a sight implanted in her heart. Beyond it shimmered the blue Mediterranean.