He smiled, and in his accented English replied, “Like I tell to Tina, in the race I cannot think about the danger. I must focus on the car, the track. If I think mistake, I make mistake … ”
Dominique continued his discussion on the team’s prospects for tomorrow’s race, explaining the many factors that could influence the results. It was a brief insight into a fascinating world, and as Rachel grasped the complexities of the many variables the young driver and his team had to consider, she began to understand what motivated this brave, intelligent young man.
“Now I must leave you, unfortunately,” Dominique said, glancing at the expensive watch on his wrist. “It’s time for me to get a good night’s rest before tomorrow.”
“How fascinating,” Rachel commented as Dominique made his way to the exit, still locked in deep discussion with Luke. Her eyes fell on the tall, handsome man entering the room. With an assertive stride he walked to the bar counter and gave the bartender his order. Dressed in a light blue button-down cotton shirt and a navy blue linen suit, he struck an arresting figure. His broad shoulders filled his jacket, and by the looks of his bronzed skin, Rachel suspected he enjoyed a significant amount of time outdoors. From his casual and relaxed demeanor it was clear that he was perfectly at ease in this company. A few people recognized him and nodded to him or stopped for a brief handshake. He conducted a fleeting conversation with one of the other corporate sponsors whom Luke had introduced earlier.
Then she frowned with a little stab of disappointment when a shapely goddess dressed in a low-cut, daring, red silk gown sidled up to the attractive stranger’s side. Judging by her body language, she was ready to devour him. With sudden irritation, Rachel folded her napkin neatly and placed it back on the table.
“I see you’ve noticed him,” Tina said, and Rachel dropped her gaze, a little embarrassed at being caught staring at the handsome stranger.
“Who are you talking about?” she challenged, unable to hide the defensive tone in her voice.
Tina’s eyes flicked to the bar. “The sexy hunk with the dark hair you’ve been ogling.”
Rachel felt a sudden, hot rush of blood in her neck.
“Oh, him,” and glancing toward the red dress at his side, Rachel continued with a detectable bite in her voice, “He should pay more attention to his choice of companions. She might take his arm off if he’s not careful.”
Tina smiled and looked into her glass as she chased the olive around with her swivel stick.
“Do you know him?” Rachel asked, faking indifference.
“No, but I recognize him from last year’s wine auction at Beaune — think he owns one of the largest wine estates in Provence.” Then Tina smiled brightly at Rachel and said, “But you can find out more about him yourself — I think he is placed at our table tonight.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued, and, gathering her wits, casually lifted her gaze toward the bar counter again.
Light shock ran down her spine. He had been watching her intently. He must have managed to extract himself from the talons of the red dress, for he was now by himself, sipping his drink. His dark, brooding eyes had locked onto hers from thirty feet away, and the impact left her gasping.
Rachel turned her gaze to Tina and stuttered, “Um … where did Luke go?”
Tina smiled knowingly and turned, glancing over her left shoulder to where Luke was making small talk with another group two tables away. He saw Tina and beckoned her to join him.
“Got to go now … duty calls.” Tina inclined her head toward Luke and stood to join him, her tangerine, mid-thigh silk dress drawing appreciative stares from several men across the room. With confidence, she made her way to Luke, ignoring the attentive eyes following her progress.
Chapter Five
Alain approached the cocktail bar and ordered a single malt whiskey. He nodded to the bartender, and taking his drink in his left hand, he turned to observe the room over the rim of his glass. He swirled the heavy glass and breathed in the smoky aroma of the pale gold liquor.
For the second time tonight, he noticed the beautiful, tall woman where she sat at his table, deep in conversation with her friend. He watched with interest as she laughed at a comment from someone in their party, her elbows cupped in her hands, leaning lightly on the table. Her black, silk garment revealed just enough of her legs and hugged her sensual shape, hinting at hidden treasures that any man would love to discover. She had an almost aristocratic air, accentuated by her hair pinned high with an exquisite diamond broach. He noted the sensual lines of her high cheekbones and the alluring pout of her bottom lip. A single, loose coil of chestnut brown hair dangled tantalizingly against her neck. She was simply ravishing. He sipped his drink and caught himself admiring the lines of her long legs again.
“Bonsoir, Alain,” Monica greeted Alain and sidled up to his side, making sure her newly enlarged bosom touched Alain’s upper arm before she laid an excessively jeweled hand possessively on his. “At last I get you alone,” she whispered in a husky voice.
Alain looked down at the perfectly manicured hand and flinched as the long, fire-engine red polymer nail extensions squeezed his hand lightly. Ever since he had bought the neglected vineyard from her husband two years ago, Monica had made no secret of her intentions to bed Alain. Was it her artificially enhanced body or her promiscuity he disliked most?
“Good to see you, Monica. Now, you have to excuse me — I have someone I must meet. Oh, and your husband is anxious to find you,” he said and extracted himself from her clawing hands. Monica’s eyes flashed anger before she stomped off.
“Time for action — let’s meet this gorgeous brunette,” Alain muttered as he locked eyes with her across the room. He placed his glass on the bar counter and headed toward his table.
• • •
Self-conscious and a little ruffled, Rachel busied herself and opened her evening clutch, just to snap it close again. She could still feel his dark eyes on her, and her stomach fluttered as she looked up to see him approaching their table. Alarmed she turned her gaze in the other direction. “Don’t be silly, Rachel. You’re a grown woman, not a college student at a frat party,” she muttered with light annoyance. She straightened her back and ran her hand to smooth her hair.
“Good evening.” His voice was deep and clear, with just a hint of an accent. “We seem to share a table,” he continued with a slight inclination of his head. “I’m Alain.” He extended his hand, palm up. She hesitated for a second and then placed a slender hand in his, palm down.
“Rachel,” she responded, and held her breath as he lowered his head to briefly touch his lips to the back of her hand.
So French — so charming, she thought.
“May I sit?” he asked with assertiveness, and she wondered how anyone could refuse him. It sounded more like a statement, yet he waited politely for her response. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Rachel … a beautiful name, but you’re not from around here. Do I detect an English accent in the single word you’ve spoken so far?” A soft tease sparkled in his eyes.
She sat back in her seat and studied the beautiful creature next to her. There was a certain cavalier look about him, but that might have been because of the small scar on his upper lip. His dark eyes sparkled when he smiled, but she sensed that they could just as easy turn hard if you dared to cross this powerful man. She took in his strong, angular face. His long, black hair was neatly styled, but an unruly twist hung carelessly over his high forehead. She clenched her fists at the inexplicable urge to reach out and push it from his forehead. She noticed the long fingers and the sensual strength in his hands as he moved the drink at her elbow. Swallowing hard, she tried to recall the last time she enjoyed the touch of a man’s hands on her skin.
That could hardly have happened in the last three years, she reminded herself. But ev
en before that, Stuart had lost interest in any physical intimacy after she fell pregnant. This man, however … this man awakened feelings in her she had not experienced before.
Could it be because it has been so long since I … She shut her eyes for a moment, hoping to regain control — aware of a sudden, almost uncontrollable desire, awakening in her. The unfamiliar emotion was not what she expected when she’d decided on a short escape from her grueling routine. Then again, to be carefree for just this one night … to be someone else —
What harm in some innocent conversation — even a little flirting? she thought with false bravado. She opened her eyes and looked at Alain in silence, and then made an impulsive decision.
“You’re quite right, Alain, I’m from London.”
“So, what brings you here — to sunny Provence?”
She inclined her head toward Luke and Tina at the other table. “My friend suffers anxiety attacks if I don’t visit whilst they are at their house in Cassis.” In mock frustration, she shook her head and continued, “So, what’s a girl to do? I’m obliged to enjoy the splendor of Provence every so often.”
“How lucky for your friend, and how dreadful for you — all these sacrifices you have to make,” Alain replied with a teasing smile playing on his lips, and Rachel warmed to his dry wit.
Very attractive, the way he smiles like that, she caught herself thinking. She wet her lips, swallowed, and clasped her hands in her lap. She forced herself to relax.
“You must be from around here though. I noticed you’re known to a number of people here tonight.” Alain studied her over the rim of his glass and she noticed the silent pleasure in his eyes at her last comment.
“And when will you return to London?”
“I fly back on Monday,” and shifted in her seat. Her pulse quickened with apprehension at the direction their conversation was drifting. Painful memories of her rejection by Stuart, his disappearance into Africa, and the shame she’d felt at being forced to sell their house, flashed through her mind.
Not now, please, she almost prayed.
She couldn’t bring herself to share that dreadful period in her life. Not with this beautiful stranger. Not tonight. Not here.
Her mind raced like a startled deer, eager to find a new topic — anything — to steer their conversation away from her past. “S-so … what do you find so exciting about a car race in Monaco — is it the glamour?”
His gaze had drifted toward her neck — distracted. Aware of the curl of hair that had escaped and twirled against the nape of her neck, she ran a hand to brush the lock away.
“Hmm, I guess you can’t ignore the glamour — but so much has changed,” he replied, and cleared his throat. “I remember coming here as a kid with my father — less glamorous then. It was more about hard racing — driver against driver. Today the sport has evolved, and teams depend so much on rich sponsorships to survive.”
“So, you’re a sponsor, like Luke?” she continued, relieved at the new direction their conversation was headed, and the tight knot between her shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t going to probe.
A soft chuckle escaped Alain. “No, not at all. Part of my business is to buy and sell wines internationally. We also invest in young wines, and then supply hotels and restaurants with the product when it peaks.” He waved a hand to indicate the room, his eyes sweeping over the crowd, before he continued, “Hôtel de Paris is one of our oldest clients, and so … ”
“We?”
“My father and I.”
“And your English — it’s almost without accent?”
“English nanny,” and then, as an afterthought, he added, “and the curse of my profession.”
“How come?” She raised her brow, intrigued.
“Well, my father wanted me to learn from the top wine-making regions in the world — both old and new wines. I spent four years of my life learning from wine masters in Italy, Argentina, and Australia. To learn from them, I had to speak their language.”
“Bet you had fun too,” she replied with a teasing smile.
“It wasn’t always hard work,” Alain admitted with a boyish grin, his dark gaze dancing playfully over her face. His smiled stalled and his eyes drifted to her mouth.
Suddenly aware of his lingering gaze, she lowered her eyes. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks and she nervously licked her lips.
“Thirsty?” he asked with a tantalizing smile.
She nodded, and, glancing briefly over his shoulder, he summoned a server and ordered champagne.
How apt, champagne and a man that makes my head spin.
Alain sat back in his chair and raised his brows. “And that smile?”
“My secret.” She crinkled her nose mischievously.
The server delivered their champagne in a silver ice bucket and Alain acknowledged it with a nod. There was a brief silence while he filled their glasses.
“Argentina always fascinated me. What was it like?” Rachel asked.
“They’re a passionate people, and love their dancing.”
“Sounds like you did more than studying wine then.”
He nodded with a smile. “I love to dance, and wanted to learn the Tango.”
“And, did you?”
“Sure, the traditional way. First though, I had to learn how to dance the woman’s part. Only when I had mastered that, was I allowed to lead.”
“That’s not true — you’re just making that up.”
“Believe me, that’s the truth. ‘Imagine a jungle cat stalking its prey,’ my instructor taught me.”
A warm tingle ran down her spine.
“Do you like to dance?” His smile was inviting.
“Sure.” she nodded, and silently thanked her mother for the hours she had to endure in dancing school.
“Then we have a date — tomorrow night at the gala?”
“Yes, but no stalking, please.”
The red dress was lurking at the bar counter, glaring at them with venom in her eyes. “On that note, your companion is looking for you,” she said with a taunting glint in her eyes, and Alain followed her gaze.
“It’s getting crowded in here. Let’s go for a walk.” Alain stood, extending his hand. On impulse she stood, placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and walked from the room with Alain.
Chapter Six
A pleasant evening breeze cooled the air to drive away some of the afternoon’s heat. They stepped through the slow revolving doors and a soft sigh escaped Rachel as she inhaled the fresh, cool air. The angry barks of powerful engines had been put to rest in their pit garages for the evening, and from the nearby yacht harbor came the pleasant sound of halyards clanging against metal masts in the breeze.
They turned toward the sea where the early evening sky was still tinted in a lingering, deep mauve, and slowly meandered in the direction of the Monaco yacht basin. Alain draped his jacket over his shoulder and she realized that he, like her, was happy to leave the stuffy, crowded atmosphere of the ballroom.
“Better,” he said, rather than asked. He lifted his gaze and stared out onto the ocean as they continued their slow walk to the harbor. A small frown played on Rachel’s face and she briefly pondered her decision to leave the ballroom with this man — a virtual stranger. Oddly, she felt completely safe and quietly at peace walking beside him in the last light of the day. She glanced sideways at his lean, muscular frame, broad shoulders, and long legs, and then flipped her hair back with a determined look on her face.
What’s wrong with a bit of innocent fun?
They continued their conversation, switching between music, politics, and other topics with ease. When Rachel briefly mentioned her love for museums, Alain impressed her with his knowledge of nineteenth-century art. She was delighted to learn they shared a deep respect and admiration for the
work of artists Degas and Rodin. His voice filled with passion when he described particular aspects of their techniques, and she was left with a strong impression that he might be a proud collector of their work. But she didn’t inquire, reluctant to interrupt the enjoyment of watching him talk, taking in his beautiful face and hands. His dark, almost black eyes shone bright with intelligence and passion, a ready laugh always waiting to escape.
They came to a low concrete railing overlooking the yacht basin. The air was filled with the sounds of joyful laughter and soft music from the gleaming yachts below. Alain raised his hand to return a wave from a blond giant on a sleek super-yacht lying to his left, the name Vintage displayed in discrete transom lettering. The giant beckoned toward them.
“You know him?”
Alain nodded. “I should. He’s my best friend. More like my brother, I guess.”
She looked down at the scene below them. The elegant yacht must have been at least a hundred and fifty feet long. The deck was bathed in soft light from the luxurious interior, where about a dozen people were enjoying drinks and canapés.
Alain turned to her as she was taking in the scene on the yacht. “Let’s join them?”
“And crash their party?” She searched his face for signs of levity. Surely he couldn’t be serious?
“Not at all. They’re expecting me — but unfortunately my attendance at the sponsors’ event was unavoidable.” He shrugged his broad shoulders once. “Business.”
She bit her lower lip as she considered his invitation.
“You don’t have to stay long … I will walk you back if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the impressive façade of the Hôtel de Paris, now dressed in bright lights.
“Just for a while then.” She flipped open her phone to call Tina.
Alain waited for her to finish her call and then walked to an entrance gate, swiped his access card over the reader, and pushed the spring-loaded gate open for her.
Heart to Heart Page 45