Her face glowed with enthusiasm, and he couldn’t help but push past his jaded side to be caught up in her excitement.
He chuckled. “I would think the disappearance and presumed murder of Madame Duval in 1936 would be more of a talking point.”
A haunted expression crossed her face. The gold flecks in her hazel eyes disappeared as her pupils dilated wide. What had he awoken with that innocent remark?
She turned away from him. “If that’s what you think would interest people more.” Her tone was stilted, as if she was trying to control her breathing.
He ran a hand though his hair. The woman’s moods changed so quickly it made him dizzy. But he couldn’t stop himself from laying a hand on her shoulder in concern.
She jumped violently, and he snatched his hand back.
Jeez.
“Excusez-moi.” She turned around, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Sorry. I’m a little tired, and you surprised me.”
He didn’t buy it, but as the middle child with four sisters, he knew better than to push her flimsy excuse.
“So do we get an opportunity to pitch?”
That hopeful look returned to her eyes, and he felt like a bastard just for thinking no.
“With our ideas, you’ll breathe life back into the building and recreate an experience that will guarantee you are fully booked every night.”
“And not a piece of plasterboard in sight.”
A pink hue came over her cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time a French woman had blushed in front of him. Nor an American one, for that matter. “Okay. Here’s my card. Make an appointment with my PA, and you can show me your ideas. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll give you a chance to see if you’re as good as you say.”
It went against his conscience to leave her there, but he needed to return to the city, and if taking the samples would impact positively on the project, then the businessman in him conceded defeat. She’d have been here alone anyway if he hadn’t arrived, so what difference did it make?
Walking back around the outside of the chateau, he glanced in through the french windows of the room he’d recently left. Chantal talked animatedly on her mobile. Excitement lit up her face and drew a smile to his lips. She was crazy, but passionate about the chateau and its history.
The image of her standing there bundled up in the most preposterous clothes, long blond hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed and a glint in her eyes, reappeared to him several times over the next few days. Maybe her passion for Chateau Vauquelin was reason enough to put her on the team. It would make a nice change from everyone just shaking their heads at his vision.
It would also allow him to find out what lurked behind the shadows in her eyes.
See in store to continue reading…
About the Author
Sara Claridge writes contemporary romantic suspense. Born in West London, she inexplicably moved to France several years ago on a whim.
When not writing at her desk in the eaves of an old farmhouse, she can be found in the garden. Usually with a glass of red wine in one hand and a good book in the other.
www.saraclaridge.com
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Chasing Lies © 2021 by Sara Claridge
eBook Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by Sara Claridge, except for brief excerpts for use in reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Any references to events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other characters, names, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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