The worst part was, his very reason for doing this, Charlotte, had all but disappeared. Claiming Alec had monopolized too much of Charlotte’s time when they checked out the rental houses, Raine had latched on to her and stuck by her side round the clock. Not that Alec begrudged them their tennis and spa visits, but was a few minutes alone with Charlotte so much to ask? Sure, they had breakfast and dinner together, but Raine was always there, and sometimes Kiefer, Jack or even Lars joined them.
Suddenly, there was yet another crash in the front yard, followed by shouts and the booming voice of Lars. Alec stood up, crossed the room and pulled his office window shut, securing the latch. The barrier dampened the noise, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he settled back into his desk to review the marketing strategy Kana Hanako was proposing leading up to the Tour de France.
So far, none of the tabloids had made a link between Alec and Isabella, even though she’d arrived in Provence two days ago. She and costar Ridley Sinclair had chosen the modern villa in the olive grove, and were sharing it along with a few entourage members.
The growl of a motor buzzed its way through the wall. It grew louder and louder, actually shaking the foundation of the château.
Alec threw down his pen, jerked to his feet and stomped his way through the hallways to the entry, ducking under booms and avoiding cameras and light stands as he made his way to his front door.
He cut through the open doorway in time to see a massive, truck-mounted crane come to a halt on his driveway turnaround. Huge, hydraulic arms whined out to smack into the ground, stabilizing the unit. The key grip shouted directions to the crane operator.
“What the hell?” Alec asked to no one in particular.
“An aerial shot of the balcony scene,” a crew member offered.
Just then, the crane shifted. One of the arms broke the concrete with a deafening boom, and the ground shook.
A few people shrieked, but then most settled to laughing nervously as the disturbance subsided.
Alec wasn’t laughing. His driveway was ruined.
“Where is Charlotte?” he growled. This was her job. She’d promised to keep the film crew from destroying his home.
“Where is Charlotte?” he asked in a louder voice.
The three closest crew members turned to look at him.
“I want to speak to Charlotte Hudson,” he enunciated.
One of the crew members spoke into his walkie-talkie.
“Alec?” came Raine’s voice.
He turned to find the two women, small souvenir bags in tow, jaunty hats on their heads and pretty tans on their perky faces.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, making a beeline to Charlotte.
Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“This was your job,” he shouted, gesturing at the chaos around him. “We might as well be having an earthquake. The château is shaking off its foundation. The driveway is destroyed. And I can’t even hear myself think.”
“I’ll—”
“I want that crane gone,” he roared. “And I want it gone now.” He caught Jack in his peripheral vision.
“But—”
“And no more sightseeing. No more spas. No more fun and games with Raine while I suffer this noise and destruction alone.” He was ranting now, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. All he’d asked was that she hang around and make sure these people didn’t ruin his life. Even that seemed to be too much trouble.
“They need the crane shot,” she tried, but her mouth was pinched and her skin was going pale under the tan.
“And I need my château to be standing when this is all over.”
She shrank back, and Alec could have kicked himself.
Instead, he turned on Jack. “And you? What the hell’s the matter with you? I’m standing here screaming at your sister.”
Jack blinked in obvious confusion.
“Why don’t you hit me?”
Now everybody within earshot looked confused.
Alec cursed under his breath, stomping back into the château, thinking seriously about an extended trip to Rome until this was all over.
Charlotte stared at her brother, but his gaze slid away, and he became instantly interested in a list on one of the production assistants’ clipboards. The noise level in the immediate area went back to normal, as everyone’s attention went to their jobs.
Raine shifted toward Charlotte. “That’s not normal,” she intoned.
“Thank goodness,” said Charlotte.
“I don’t know what got into him.”
“He’s not wrong,” said Charlotte. “I did promise to make sure everything ran smoothly.”
“Alec doesn’t yell,” said Raine. “He stews. He plots. He might methodically bankrupt you. But he doesn’t yell.”
“So, I’ve pushed him over the edge.” Charlotte needed to go clear the air. She couldn’t leave things hanging between them like this. She subconsciously started toward the front door.
“It appears you have,” Raine mused, giving Charlotte a considering look as she fell into step beside her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Like what?” Charlotte stalled, not wanting to lie to her friend, but really not wanting to admit she was attracted to Alec. It was so cliché, so tiresome.
“Like maybe he made a pass at you? And you turned him down. Alec’s not used to hearing the word no.”
“I guess not,” Charlotte chuckled.
“So, did he?” asked Raine, keeping her voice low.
“Make a pass at me?”
Raine elbowed her in the ribs. “Are you avoiding the question?”
“Pretty much.”
“He did.” Raine linked her arm with Charlotte, steering her down the walkway, through a wooden gate and into a secluded garden where they sat down at a white-painted, wrought-iron table next to a trickling fountain. “So, you said no?” There was a fiendish glee in Raine’s wide grin.
“Not exactly,” Charlotte admitted, setting down her purse and the small bag.
Her friend’s eyes went wide. “You said yes?”
“I didn’t really say anything.”
“Oh my God. You two—”
“No!” Then Charlotte lowered her voice. “No. We didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We kissed.” Charlotte sat back in the straight-backed chair. “We kissed, okay?”
“So, why’s he mad at you?”
“I’m guessing it’s because the crane broke your driveway.”
Raine toyed with a tiny leaf that had blown onto the grid-work table. “Trust me when I tell you Alec doesn’t yell over broken driveways. And what was that thing with Jack hitting him?”
“You got me,” said Charlotte, more than happy to move off the kiss. “Does Alec beat up anyone who yells at you?”
“No one’s ever yelled at me. At least not in front of Alec.” Raine paused. “And, actually, no, people don’t tend to yell at me.”
“That’s because you’re sweet and kind,” said Charlotte, only half joking.
“I’m starting to think it’s because I have a pit bull for a brother.”
Charlotte laughed. “You think he warned them off?”
“Maybe. But let’s get back to the kiss. Tell me about it.”
“Nothing to tell,” Charlotte lied. It had been a kiss for the record books, and she’d been avoiding Alec ever since.
“Where were you? How did it happen?”
“We were on the balcony at one of the rental houses.”
“And he just up and kissed you?”
“He thought I was crying.”
Raine frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“I was actually laughing,” said Charlotte, forcing her mind to back away from the memory.
“Alec doesn’t give sympathy kisses.”
“You know about all his kisses, do you?”
“I have heard tales.”
“Well, you’re not going to hear any more tales from me.” Charlotte sighed and got to her feet. “I’d better get out there and see what’s going on. Alec’s right. I did promise to take care of things.” She picked up her purse. “I guess our fun’s over.”
“Uh-uh.” Raine shook her head in denial. “I’m definitely going to talk to him.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Charlotte protested. She had a job to do here, and she was going to take care of it.
“You don’t need to watch every move they make,” said Raine. “I’m not going to let him keep you prisoner here for weeks on end.”
“I’ll talk to him,” said Charlotte. “Later.” After Alec had a chance to calm down, they’d have a discussion and set out the parameters of her role in the film. She had an obligation to him, and she was going to live up to it.
Five
Filming went on until eight o’clock that night. Alec requested dinner in his office, not wanting to inflict his foul mood on anyone else. He’d signed up as a film location—a stupid decision, obviously. But it was a decision he’d made, and now he was going to have to live with it.
Things hadn’t turned out exactly as he’d planned, but that was life. He’d leave for Tokyo in the morning. Might as well roll up his sleeves and ensure the new bicycle line launch came off without a hitch. He could also make a stop in New Delhi and touch base with the high-tech division.
There was always a long list of social events he should attend. Maybe he’d find a plain-Jane date, get his picture taken, make Kiefer happy. He might as well make somebody happy, because it sure wasn’t going to be him, not if he stayed here.
There was a light tap on his office door.
“Oui, Henri?”
The door cracked open.
“It’s Charlotte.”
Oh, good. Now he could apologize on top of everything else. He sighed and came to his feet. “Entrée.”
She slipped into the room, closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She was drop-dead gorgeous in a jazzy gold spaghetti-strap cocktail dress. Its vertical streaks shimmered against her toned thighs.
The wide, mahogany desk and two padded guest chairs formed a barrier between them. Just as well.
“They’re going to replace the driveway,” she finally said.
He moved around the desk, drawn to her. “It wasn’t about the driveway.”
She nodded her understanding. “Still. They broke it, they’ll replace it.”
“I take it you’ve been doing your job this afternoon?”
“I was.”
“I appreciate that.” What he really appreciated was that she was standing here in front of him, and they were alone for the first time in days.
“It was part of the deal.”
“I was angry because you stayed away,” he admitted, moving closer still, marveling that she grew more beautiful with each step.
“I’ve been here every day.”
“With Raine glued to your side. Where is my sister, by the way?”
“She had to do something with Kiefer.”
“At the office?”
Charlotte nodded.
Alec came to a halt in front of her. “And Jack?”
“At the hotel. With the crew.”
Tokyo faded from his mind as Alec stroked his thumb over the fabric of her dress. He discovered the shimmer came from ribbons, beads and sequins. There was a weight and fullness to the dress that felt good under his hand. It had a double hem—scalloped over straight. It was a perfect dress for dancing.
Her long legs flowed down into strappy gold sandals. And the gold hoops dangling from her ears set off her shiny blond hair.
“You know,” he told her softly, reframing his mood. “We all did something wrong.”
She tipped her head questioningly.
“You shouldn’t have stayed away. I shouldn’t have yelled. And Jack should have decked me.”
That got a smile from her. “Jack thinks you’re crazy.”
“He needs to learn how to be your brother.”
“I can only hope that doesn’t involve too many fistfights.”
Alec closed his hand around her rib cage, feeling the texture of the dress tickle his palm.
“I missed you,” he admitted.
She closed her eyes for a long second. “Are we deep into the complicated end of the relationship spectrum?”
“It’s simple from where I’m standing.” He gazed at her creamy shoulders, the delicate straps of the dress, thinking how easy it would be to roll one off and press his lips against the warm fragrance of her skin.
“You’re gorgeous,” he elaborated. “I can’t keep my hands off you. And there’s finally nobody else here.”
He slipped his index finger under the strap, sliding it back and forth. “What could be simpler than that?”
“I came here to talk to you about expectations.”
He smiled. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“I mean my job here. For the film. I don’t want to let you down again.”
“Forget it.”
She searched his expression. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I wasn’t angry about the driveway. I wasn’t angry you had fun with Raine. I was angry because you weren’t in my bed. And that’s not a fair reason to be angry.”
She stilled. Not breathing, staring up at him with desire, trepidation and anticipation all mixed up together.
His hand tightened, drawing her in. He bent his head, parted his lips and met hers in a slow, gentle exploration.
Last time had been too hurried. He’d behaved like a teenager, not giving a thought to savoring the moment, to making sure she felt cherished, to kissing her the way a Frenchman should kiss, the way a Frenchman ought to approach everything in life.
She tasted of fine wine, his own vintage. Her lips were soft and smooth, warm and malleable under his. She was kissing him back, and passion uncoiled within him. His forearm went to the small of her back, pressing her soft curves against his firm body. She was ambrosia, a gift from the gods, an angel set down on earth for him and him alone.
Her tongue flicked against his lips, kicking a jolt of desire from his body to his brain. He struggled to keep it slow, but his mouth was moving of its own accord, delving deeper, kissing harder, bending her backward so that her body arched into his own.
Blood rushed through his system, priming his body, challenging reason. Her hands gripped his shoulders, while small moans worked their way from her chest to her mouth. His lips moved to her neck, and she arched back farther. Her breasts were taut against the dress, cleavage bursting from the V-neck, her nipples outlined against the fabric.
His hand covered one breast, and they both gasped in wonder. He drew his thumb over the peak, and her knees buckled. He held her steady, whispering words of endearment and encouragement.
He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, pushing her dress out of the way and pressing her against the solid door. He took her mouth once more, kissing her deeply. His hands roamed from her breasts to her waist to her bare thighs revealed by the bunched dress. When he touched the lace of her panties, she hissed out a yes.
Her hands cupped his face, and she covered him with tiny kisses. She drew his earlobe into her hot mouth, and his body nearly jackknifed in shock. He slipped his thumb between her legs, over the silk of her panties. She was hot and moist and delectably sweet.
There were condoms in the bathroom adjoining the office. He cradled her bottom, lifting her away from the door, carrying her to the en suite, all the while kissing, caressing and assuring her she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Inside, he perched her on the counter, stripped off his slacks and the scrap of her panties, donned the condom, then stepped between her legs. The counter was the right height, and their bodies touched intimately.
He smoothed back her hair and gazed into her eyes. Then he drew his thumb along her swollen bottom lip, following
it up with his mouth, drawing her lip inside, tasting her essence as his hands roamed lower.
She squirmed forward, bringing his fingers in contact with the fire between her legs. Her hands fisted in his hair, and her moaning little pants heated his ear.
He parted her flesh.
“Now?” he asked.
“Right now,” she gasped in return, and he pushed inside.
She arched back, and he anchored his hands at the base of her spine, pressing her forward, refining his angle, savoring the feel of her body for long moments before he withdrew. Then he pushed in again, swifter, harder.
Her eyes were closed, and sweat dotted her hairline. Her skin was slick and fragrant against his. Her dress rustled against the counter. He drew down the neckline, revealing her breasts, closing his mouth over one pert nipple, laving it, drawing hard, eliciting a groan as her hands tightened and her fingernails dug into his upper arms.
He moved to the other breast, repeating the motion.
Her eyes were scrunched tight. Her hips arched, her body matching his motion. He wished he could rip off the dress and see her naked. But there was no time for that.
His speed increased of its own accord, and her keening cries made his brain buzz with need. There was nothing left but a roar of desire and a primal need to take them both to the clouds and over the edge and straight into eternal paradise.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the tremors shook both of their bodies and heat drenched their skin.
Charlotte lay in the tangled sheets of Alec’s big bed. Her cheek rested on his chest, and his breathing was even and strong. A breeze flowed through the open, third-floor window, billowing sheer curtains and revealing the garden lights below.
“I guess we should probably keep this a secret,” she ventured.
“You think?” He trailed his fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Or should we let Kiefer in with the camera?”
“Or we could hold a press conference right here in the bed like John and Yoko?”
“I can guarantee you the front page.”
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