As they approached the sleek, dark blue hull of the sailing yacht, Rachel saw she had underestimated the size of the vessel. Two slanted masts disappeared in the dark evening sky high above them. The spacious teak deck was uncluttered and wide, with several people milling around, enjoying the relaxed hospitality.
They were met at the ship’s gangway by the tall blond man, his long, curly, sun-bleached hair tied back in an unruly ponytail. He flashed Rachel the most brilliant, white smile.
“Rachel, meet my friend Marque. Marque — Rachel,” Alain introduced them with casual ease. Rachel acknowledged Marque’s warm smile and stepped out of her platform sandals before boarding the yacht. She looked up in mild surprise at Alain’s lengthy frame.
He’s at least six inches taller than me. At five feet, eight inches, Rachel preferred the company of tall men.
Marque reached out to help her on board and she noticed the dry, steel-hard hand of someone who filled his days with physical activities. A fellow yachtsman, she thought.
Intelligent, gray eyes, playful and ready to smile, met hers as he greeted her in a soft, relaxed voice. “Well, well, well. Now I see why you’ve left us for the Empire ballroom, Alain. Enchanté Rachel, enchanté.”
“Nice to meet you, Marque.” His casual demeanor was infectious.
“I like your yacht.”
Marque chuckled and shook his head. “Thanks, Rachel, but I sail a real yacht,” he replied, smiling at Alain.
She raised her eyebrows at Alain, trying to fathom the meaning of Marque’s words.
“Vintage is mine, but Marque despises her — not enough of a true racing yacht.” Then, laying a familiar hand on Marque’s shoulder, Alain continued in a melodramatic voice, “His one and only true love is called Pure Joy, and she lies at anchor in St. Tropez, where she eagerly awaits the return of her master, ready to take on the challenge of the next regatta.” For his remark, Alain received a playful punch from Marque on his shoulder.
“Let’s get a drink,” Alain suggested and turned, laying a light hand onto her lower back. She inhaled at the pleasure of his touch as he guided her toward the luxurious interior. Soft background music played from the hidden speakers of the entertainment center. Acutely aware of Alain’s warm presence at her side, they made their way inside.
“Your yacht?” she said, lifting her eyebrows to take in the polished mahogany woodwork, the gleaming stainless steel winches, and expensive electronics.
“I enjoy the ocean. It relaxes me.” He nodded toward the people mingling on the deck. “And I often use it for business. Come, let me show you around.”
Rachel accepted his invitation and Alain took her on a short tour of Vintage. With evident enthusiasm, he explained the yacht’s features, reaching up with his long, muscular arms to point to the tops of the masts, or stroking an instrument lovingly with his strong, sensual hands. Rachel followed close on his footsteps, reveling in the deep, reassuring sound of his voice, hearing, but not necessarily listening — enjoying herself.
Alain came to a halt and she bumped into him, grabbing at his steely biceps for balance. Her hand lingered on his upper arm with a will of its own. She blushed and dropped her hand.
“And this is the master stateroom.” Alain’s voice turned low and husky.
Aware of his eyes on her, she glanced around the cabin, taking in the luxury of the beautiful wood paneling, the deep, piled carpeting, and the two Cezanne paintings — softly illuminated. With just a tang of excitement, her gaze drifted to the oversized, carved mahogany bed dominating the room. She noticed the fine, crisp Egyptian cotton linen, and the scattering of large, soft pillows. The air in the room turned warmer.
Alain’s eyes locked onto Rachel and her heart started racing, thumping wildly in her chest. He took one step toward her.
“Anyone object if I kiss you now?” His voice was hoarse. Rachel had to part her lips to breathe, the air suddenly thin, and her heart fluttered like a trapped wild bird in her chest at the closeness of his magnificent body. A warm tightening started swelling deep inside her.
He gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and she inhaled sharply at the electricity of his sensual touch on her skin. She cleared her throat and stepped back. The edge of the bed touched the back of her legs. With slight alarm she realized she was trapped; but then, strangely, the thought thrilled her — the thought of being vulnerable to his power.
“Anyone?” he demanded in a low voice, and she craved the warm, manly odor of his body as he leaned closer into her.
“No … nobody,” Rachel answered, amazed at her own bravado, her voice a soft whisper. A strong arm encircled her, and leaning farther into her, Alain pushed her back, lowering her slowly onto the bed, his lips brushing briefly against her face. Nervous, Rachel placed her hands on his muscular upper arms, aware of the trembling strength dancing under her fingers. She sank back into the luxury of the bed and the feathery touch of Alain’s lips stroked her neck, slowly moving toward her ear. A hot thrill of pleasure raked her body as he nibbled her earlobe, kissing his way to her mouth.
Their lips touched. Alain tugged sharply on the tender flesh of her lower lip, and then caressed it with his tongue. With another sharp tug he whispered, his voice hoarse, “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening … your mouth is so beautiful, so inviting … ”
Rachel groaned a soft reply. “Alain, please … ”
With urgent passion, Alain claimed her mouth and lowered his upper body, his chest weighing down gently onto her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response.
Something deep inside stirred. A low arousal, a lust, woke in her, growing, eager and hungry. Surrendering, she opened her mouth, moaning softly as she invited Alain’s tongue to explore. She met the hard, powerful thrust of his lower body against her pelvis, grinding herself into him.
A deep groan rumbled in Alain’s chest, his breathing coming faster as the warmth of his arousal pressed against her body.
“Alain! Where’re you guys? The fireworks are about to start!” Marque’s voice boomed from the deck above.
Shock splashed over Rachel like cold water and her eyes shot wide open. With a deep moan, Alain tore himself away. Rachel sat upright on the bed, passion thundering wildly through her body. She raised her chin and straightened her hair, avoiding Alain’s eyes on her.
Alain stood, and extending his hand, he helped her up. “Best we join them — they might think I’m holding you captive down here.” She smiled, suddenly self-conscious, but collected herself, and stood to make her way back to the deck.
• • •
Alain followed right behind Rachel, watching the sensuous sway of her slender hips as she stepped up onto the deck to join the rest of the party in watching the fireworks. A strange, deep desire rushed over him. He tilted his head and frowned in the darkness, struggling to rationalize the strange, new feeling with logic.
The urge to kiss her — where did that come from?
He was no stranger to lust, but this was something different — almost tender. He simply couldn’t stop himself — this had never happened to him before. The sweet taste of her mouth, the delicious smell of magnolia on her silky skin, the soft moan from her throat — all lingered in his mind. He frowned, puzzled. Then he turned to study Rachel’s upturned face where she stood next to him, her gaze on the spectacular explosions high in the sky.
“I think I’ve taken enough of your time,” Rachel’s spoke, her eyes still on the fireworks above them. Then she turned to face him. “Time to leave you so you can tend to your guests.”
Alain smiled down at her and made a swift decision. “I’ll walk you back now, but you must agree to see me tomorrow. Can you join us on my yacht for the race?”
“No, I can’t — my friends will be expecting me,” but he noted the disappointment in her reply.
“Then I will see you at
the gala dinner,” he insisted, and Rachel nodded in agreement.
Chapter Seven
Tina was perched on the edge of her seat, her body turned to take in every expression on Rachel’s face. Her eyes darted with excitement while she listened to Rachel recount the events of the previous evening with Alain. Breakfast had been a lengthy, torturous affair, but finally, they were alone and free to speak in private.
“And that’s all you know about him — he owns a yacht, and trades in wine?”
“We talked about other things too,” Rachel defended weakly. “Besides, I didn’t want to get into my horrible history with Stuart.”
“But you obviously had a good time,” Tina probed, her unrelenting eyes searching Rachel’s face.
“Yes, I had a great evening, thanks.” She tried to brush over the details, but the lingering smile remained on Tina’s face. Almost ten years as best friends would do that. She simply couldn’t hide anything from Tina.
“And?” Tina left it hanging.
“Well, you know … we went to his yacht, met some of his friends. A couple of drinks, and — ”
“And?” Tina persisted.
Rachel exhaled and nodded. “And yes, we kissed.”
“I knew it,” Tina exclaimed, clasping a hand over her wide smile in excitement. “Where?”
“On his yacht,” she responded, capitulating without much further resistance. “Alain showed me around, and we ended up in the stateroom.”
Tina nodded, eager to hear the rest.
“It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, Tina,” she continued. She ran a hand down her arm, from her shoulder to her wrist, and continued in a softer tone, “Look, I still get goose bumps just thinking about it.”
“Yes, and about time you had some fun too — and thank heavens he seems to know how to kiss a woman.”
A soft glow came to her cheeks. “Yes, he certainly knows how to kiss. But it’s more than that. I don’t know if I’m ready for this … ” Her voice trailed off.
“Nonsense,” Tina replied with vigor. “You’ve been hiding from men for too long. Just enjoy it — no strings attached.”
“But that’s just the problem, Tina.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think it is more than just fun for me. I could easily fall in love with him.”
“He should be so lucky,” Tina tried to keep it light, but Rachel noted the dark concern that clouded her friend’s eyes. Ever since Stuart deserted her, Tina’s been rather protective.
After disappearing from her life, Stuart vanished in the vastness of Africa. His assignments took him to the remotest of places on that wild continent, and her letters and emails went unanswered.
A year had passed before Rachel finally decided to file for divorce. But Stuart’s disappearance had made the process tedious — and expensive. It had been more than three years since that dreadful day when Stuart had abandoned them — and almost four months since the last communication with him. Letters from Rachel’s lawyer were returned, unopened and undelivered. Email messages unread.
The sudden sharp bark of a high performance engine screaming from the pit garages announced the true purpose of the weekend’s activities and shattered any further attempt to continue their conversation. With a little shriek of shock, Rachel and Tina hurriedly donned the foam earplugs Luke had provided to them earlier and focused their attention on the drama that was about to unfold in front of them. From their seats in the hotel’s garden terrace marquee, they enjoyed a close-up view of the track, and Rachel reeled at the crushing noise levels of the cars sweeping past them on the warm-up lap. She stared at Tina in disbelief and mouthed to her friend in the deafening din, “This is insane … ”
A frantic tension rippled through the crowd as throngs of excited fans, clad in the bright team colors of their heroes, eagerly took their seats in the stands. Nervous technicians scurried around, making their final adjustments in desperate attempts to satisfy the demands of the tense drivers seated in the body-hugging cockpits of their racing machines.
The instant the set of five red lights went out to start the race, the earsplitting noise of twenty-two racing machines exploded from the starting line. The noise reduced somewhat while the cars raced their way around the back of the track on the undulating, twisting streets. Then, like approaching thunder, the noise levels grew steadily stronger again, to explode with an insane crescendo when the cars flashed through the corner directly below their seats.
The noise and raw power of the brightly colored cars flashing past them was overwhelming. Luke joined them and Rachel turned to watch his lips as he relayed some critical information about his driver’s progress, but most of his words were swept away when another car screamed past them.
She abandoned her effort to understand what Luke was trying to communicate, sat back in her seat and started twirling a long lock of hair around her finger. She turned her gaze toward the harbor where she could clearly make out the tall, twin masts of Vintage. Her mind drifted to the events of the previous evening, and a soft smile lingered on her lips at the pleasant memory of the time spent with Alain.
“Alain.” She whispered the name, enjoying the sound of it. She frowned at the memory of her impulsive acceptance of his suggestion to go for a walk. As if that hadn’t been rash enough, she then joined him on his yacht — a man she hardly knew.
Yes, what was that, Rachel? she thought, but enjoyed the warm glow brought on by the memory of the evening’s events. Thinking back, she could not recall ever being so impulsive … so swept away by passion. She touched her lips at the memory of their fiery kiss on the yacht, and then warmth rushed to her cheeks when she recalled Marque’s untimely interruption.
The guests on his yacht must have included some of Alain’s closest and most trusted friends, but his relationship with Marque was different — deeper. The two men had been friends since kids, but something must have happened in their past — something that forged a strong bond between them — maybe a life-changing event.
A light quiver ran through her body as she recalled the wild passion of Alain’s embrace. She sat back with a deep sigh at the memory of his soft touch on her cheek, the gentle caress of his lips on her neck, their bodies melting together on the bed. Her hand lingered for a moment on her mouth, and she smiled at the thought of Alain’s sharp tug on her lip, urging her to let his tongue explore her mouth.
“Probably a good thing we got interrupted,” she murmured.
She hugged herself at the memory of Alain’s light linen jacket draped over her shoulders when they walked back. She’d felt safe within the warm, silky folds of the inner lining, relishing its manly smell.
At the hotel, he waited politely for her while she collected her room key, and then rode the elevator with her to her floor. It felt good being with him — so strong and self-assured, yet compassionate and gentle — so different from Stuart. Alain was the type of man she’d always wanted in her life. A man who understood himself — a man with passion. A man who would stand by his beliefs.
She shifted in her seat at recalling the disappointment of Alain bidding her a polite goodnight at her door. One kiss — that was all they had. She wanted more. More of the sensual sensation, now that the passion deep inside her had been stirred.
She lifted her gaze to the masts again and mumbled softly, “I’m sure there must be another woman,” and then more vehemently, “or women!” Alain’s lean, muscular body, good looks, and wealth left her with no doubt that he would have a long list of beautiful women in his life. She found herself wishing she had probed him on whether he was currently in any serious relationship. Suddenly agitated, she muttered, “You’ve just met the man, Rachel.”
She had a deep desire to see him again and regretted her decision not to join Alain and his friends on the yacht for the race. With a slight pang o
f guilt, she turned to face Tina on the seat next to her. “I love you,” she mouthed through the noise, and received a quick hug from her.
A loud crash and the sudden, deep inhale from the crowd made her glance up at the giant flat-screen monitor directly opposite the terrace. The slow-motion caption replayed the images of a dark blue, mangled wreck shooting from the tunnel into the bright sunlight, skidding out of control, to crash into a barrier. Two French TV commentators were frantically announcing the gravity of the crash. With relief, she watched the driver struggle from the wreck, but then inhaled with shock at recognizing Dominique when he removed his helmet and walked off to a safety marshal. He waved briefly to the crowd before he disappeared, and Rachel collapsed back in her seat and exhaled loudly.
Someone’s going to get killed. When will this madness ever end?
Chapter Eight
The Formula One Gala Dinner, an event of exclusivity and splendor, made for one of the social highlights on the Monaco calendar. It didn’t surprise Rachel to see the names of Prince Albert and his beautiful new South African wife on the list of attendees.
Rachel stepped into the lavish ballroom dressed in a figure-hugging, silver couture gown. The classic design hinted at her cleavage and the low, draping back revealed her shoulders, drawing several appreciative looks from the men around the room. With a slight nod, she acknowledged the knowing look in Tina’s eyes.
She smiled at the battle of wits she’d had with her friend in finally selecting her gown for the evening. For almost an hour she modeled the seemingly endless selection of evening gowns from Tina’s expansive walk-in wardrobe.
“Too daring — I might as well go naked,” Rachel complained all too often.
“Oh, come on, Rachel — you have the body for it. Flaunt it. Some debonair Frenchmen will appreciate it,” Tina would counter. In the end, the combination of chilled champagne and Tina’s persistence won the battle.
And Tina was right. Despite her hectic schedule, she had always found the time for her morning run. It didn’t take her long to regain her tight body after the birth of her children, and the gown’s fit accentuated the curves of her taut figure. It had been a while since she had found the time or the inclination to dress so sensually.
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