Any woman who misread the signals and tried to step over the invisible line he’d drawn would soon feel the fool.
What she should do was thank him for deputizing his venerable vineyard manager to educate her about the fabulous wines the Chartier family had produced for generations.
But she refrained from saying anything when she sensed a curious tension coming from him since they’d driven away from the vineyard.
As he maneuvered the curve that led them back to town she noticed the way his suntanned fingers tightened almost compulsively on the steering wheel.
Evidently he had something serious on his mind far removed from the possible sale of wine to some nebulous restaurants in the UK.
Was it the same thing that had been on his mind earlier today right before their near miss?
Not wanting him to think she expected tonight’s experience to be repeated, the second he pulled up in front of the hotel she opened the door and slid out while the motor was still running.
Facing him the way she would any business person at the end of a successful meeting, she said, “You’ve made my introduction to Alsatian wines the highlight of my trip.”
“Even if our initial meeting caused you some tense moments?”
She smiled. “Even then. Seriously, I’d like to thank you for giving me this much time. I’m looking forward to meeting with your manager tomorrow. Goodbye, monsieur.”
She shut the door.
If he said anything in response, she didn’t hear it as she hurried inside the hotel.
Since she wouldn’t be seeing him again, she intended to put all personal thoughts of him out of her mind.
After reaching her room, she picked up the bottle of Tokay and opened it once more to inhale the aroma.
Licorice… Of course. He knew all its secrets.
Too exhilarated to think of sleeping yet, she set up her laptop and began recording the evening’s events.
She didn’t want to leave out a single piece of information or a bit of wisdom he’d imparted. One day all this research would go into her book.
When she finally went to bed, she was still reliving the time spent with him.
“Please don’t let him be too unforgettable,” she begged of the darkness before closing her eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
ON THE forty-minute drive back to St Hippolyte, Lucien Chartier, whom everyone called Luc, got on his cell phone to Giles.
“We have a potential buyer from the UK staying in Thann at the Hotel du Roi. According to Philippe, Mademoiselle Valentine buys for three London restaurants, all called the Bella Lucia.
“I asked him to check them out for me. They’ve been established since nineteen forty-six and are reputed to be some of the most exclusive restaurants located in London.”
Mayfair, Chelsea and Knightsbridge wouldn’t mean anything to Giles, but Luc knew exactly what kind of upscale, international clientele visited such establishments.
Many famous actors and musicians from the swinging sixties had made the original restaurant famous. Between all three restaurants, three hundred and fifty people were served on a nightly basis.
Nothing could please Luc more than to know that Domaine Chartier would be gracing the tables at Bella Lucia in future. Little by little the world was getting acquainted with Alsatian white wines.
“Do me a favor and give her the royal treatment tomorrow. She’s surprisingly intuitive about wine. What she doesn’t know, she’s eager to learn. That’s where you come in, Giles.”
The older man made a sound in his throat. “I haven’t met many women buyers from the UK.”
“Nor have I.”
In fact she didn’t have a strong British accent. There’d been moments when he could have sworn she was American. Rachel Valentine was a surprise in more ways than one.
For one thing, he hadn’t thought she would forgive him. To his surprise she was willing to admit some culpability. An unusual woman.
Once they’d gotten past that hurdle, she’d shown an uncommon interest in the whole business of wine culture. There was a great deal more to her than the surface revealed.
An exceptionally beautiful surface, standing there in the vines.
The gentle night breeze had swirled her hair into a cloud of brunette silk. He’d watched it swirl around other parts of her as well, molding the top she was wearing to her lovely body.
He tried to force his thoughts to stop right there, but they filled his mind anyway.
Since first passing her on the road, then seeing her in the hotel dining room enjoying herself to the fullest, it shocked him to discover he was having difficulty controlling certain pictures of the two of them that wouldn’t leave him alone. Breathtaking pictures he shouldn’t be entertaining. Not with Paulette lying comatose in her hospital bed.
Guilt over his ex-wife’s condition caused him to drive faster, but the image of Ms Valentine tasting the wine seemed to be emblazoned in his psyche.
At first he’d thought she’d imbibed too much wine like so many other buyers anxious to sample everything at once.
Taking advantage of the moment had given him time to study her feminine profile—the way the white material of her expensive suit followed the lines and curves of her slender figure.
He’d felt a quickening in his body that hadn’t happened for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time. Years…
Troubled by the involuntary reaction over which he’d had no control, he’d plucked the bottle from the table, curious to know how much she’d consumed.
When he’d realized it was still full, his glance had flown to her wineglass, which had contained only a small residue of wine.
At that point his eyes had fastened helplessly on her pomegranate-red mouth, then her tender throat exposed to his gaze where he’d watched her savoring her first swallow of the velvety liquid.
Mon Dieu. He’d never seen anything so provocative in his life.
His hand tightened on his cell phone. “Since she wants to concentrate on the Tokay and Riesling, I suspect she could be here for a few days. Call me when you’ve taken her order.”
“I’ll make certain it’s a big one,” Giles promised.
“Why do you think I gave you the responsibility?”
Though it was inevitable for Luc to come in contact with attractive women, he was reluctant to be around her again. She’d awakened something inside him totally unexpected.
“If you need to get in touch with me tomorrow, I’ll be at the hospital. Just leave a message on my voice mail and I’ll get back to you. Otherwise I’ll see you at the banquet.”
“D’accord.”
He hung up, relieved to have put Giles in charge of Ms Valentine. Out of sight, out of mind.
As for tonight, the single best way to cure what was ailing him was to drop by the hospital in St Hippolyte.
Needing to ignore what had happened tonight, he drove straight to the long-term-care medical facility and hurried inside. After three years, it had become his second home.
To his surprise he met Yves Brouet’s accusing stare when he walked in Paulette’s room a few minutes later. That was all he needed.
She lay in a coma between them. Only the sound of the machines keeping Luc’s ex-wife alive made any noise.
Normally the two men staggered their times in order to spread out the visits. And to avoid each other. Luc usually went there in the morning before putting in a full day’s work.
“Holy Mother of God, Luc—how long are you going to fight the family on this?”
As he’d just come from battling his attraction to a certain wine buyer from the UK his dark eyes glittered with a mixture of fresh guilt and pain. “For as long as it takes.”
“Let my sister go. Let this be finished so she can rest in peace!”
Luc’s hands formed fists. He leaned over to kiss the forehead of her thin face before walking out of the room into the hall.
He refused to allow any arguing in front of Paulette. On so
me level he was convinced she could hear and understand what was going on. It horrified him that Yves had talked about her dying while standing next to her bed.
The other man followed him into the corridor. “My sister’s gone. You have no right to prolong this agony.”
After being best friends from childhood, it didn’t seem possible the two of them had come to this impasse.
“I’m paying for her care, Yves.”
“Money be damned. We’re talking about Paulette. She wouldn’t have wanted this. You know she wouldn’t!”
“That’s easy for us to say since we’re not the one in there fighting for life.”
Yves’ face screwed up in pain. “That’s no life. You might as well know now. Since there isn’t any reasoning with you, the family got together last month. We’ve hired an attorney to fight you in court and get these infernal machines turned off.”
“I know,” Luc whispered. “My attorney already informed me.” It was only a matter of time before Luc’s sister Giselle found out.
Thank God his new house was ready to move into so he could live on his own again. Between his mother who backed him, and Giselle who sided with Yves and fought him at every opportunity, Luc hadn’t had a moment’s peace in the last year.
“You can’t win, Luc. You’re not her husband. The only reason we gave you this long before getting legal counsel is because of our families’ longstanding friendship over the years. But because of this insanity of yours, that’s gone…disappeared.”
That was right. Because of Luc, Paulette had been consigned to a living death. But not if he could help it.
He shifted his weight. “I’m planning on her waking up, Yves. When she does, I’ll do whatever I can to help her get on with her life.”
Yves plowed fingers through hair as blond as Paulette’s. “No, Luc. Your responsibility to her is over. Even if Paulette were to wake up and make a full recovery, she wouldn’t want you involved.”
Luc closed his eyes tightly for a minute. “When she wakes up, I intend to be here for her.”
“Could it be you’re confusing guilt and remorse with love?”
Those words stung. “I loved your sister. That’s why I married her.”
“But sometimes love isn’t enough. Come on, Luc. That time is long past and now Paulette yearns to escape her body.”
If Luc thought that were true…
“This morning Maman and Papa asked me to talk sense to you one final time. They said that if you really care about her, then prove it and allow her to go free so this madness can end.”
Luc shook his dark head. “I can’t… All the research I’ve done on coma patients indicates they respond to their loved ones’ stimulation. She could wake up at any time.”
Strong hands clasped Luc’s cheeks. “But she hasn’t, and she won’t because she’s in a vegetative state. A few sounds and tiny movements over thirty-six months means nothing! So I’m begging you—give it up!” he half sobbed the words before wheeling away.
Luc watched his friend’s solid figure until it disappeared around a corner. No one could get to him like Yves, who’d been closer than a brother from childhood.
Overwhelmed by guilt attacking him from every direction, he rested against the wall for a minute and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
Not only had his four-year marriage ended in failure, Paulette’s car accident was his fault.
Talking to Yves had just compounded his guilt because of the pain he’d brought to her family. Besides their grief over her condition, they didn’t have the kind of money it took to pay attorney fees.
Had Luc become such a selfish bastard, he didn’t care who got hurt any more as long as he got his own way?
Crucified once more by Yves’ tortured plea, Luc went back to her bedside to say goodnight.
When he left the hospital, he passed by the nursing station to let them know he was on his way out. They had his cell-phone number and knew to call him day or night if there was any change in her condition.
Luc left the hospital aware there was no change in Paulette.
There would never be a change.
That was what everyone was telling him, including his sister’s husband.
Jean-Marc was a good man, but he and Giselle never missed an opportunity to remind him it was Paulette’s family who had the last say in the matter.
Her parents had brought her into the world and raised her. They wanted what they felt was best for their daughter. It was their God-given right after all.
Rights.
How Luc hated that word.
Yves had spoken the truth when he’d said Luc had no legal grounds to fight their family.
But wanting Paulette to wake up from that coma didn’t have anything to do with rights.
At the core of his anguish lay the need to rid his soul of a burden growing increasingly heavy.
He’d had three years to come to terms with the divorce. What haunted him was the inability to go back to the day of her accident and prevent it.
Ever since he’d found out she was lying unconscious in the hospital, he hadn’t ceased begging her forgiveness. But he didn’t know if she’d heard him.
Once her family made the decision to turn off the machines, there wouldn’t be a possibility of her hearing him, let alone forgiving him.
He hit his fist against his palm.
Once again it all got down to what he wanted, as if the universe revolved around him.
One word from him to the Brouet family and everything would change for them.
On the surface he had to admit life would change for him, too. No more daily trips to the hospital.
But inwardly nothing else would be different. Remorse over the accident that didn’t need to have happened stifled life’s possibilities.
Once back in his Wagoneer, his pain and frustration were further aggravated by the faint smell of roses that still lingered in the car’s interior. Sensitive to fragrances all his life, he was haunted by Ms Valentine’s scent.
It appeared this visit to the hospital hadn’t rooted her out of his system the way he could prune a vine and make a clean cut of the unwanted cane.
Part of him resented her intrusion at this critical period in his life. Just the thought of her opened the floodgates to his private thoughts.
Once again he was bombarded by unbidden pictures he hadn’t been able to expel from his consciousness.
He revved up the engine, and his tires squealed as he left the parking lot. In a few minutes he reached his mother’s home where he’d been living temporarily. But he was so conflicted by feelings and emotions tearing him apart, he knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight.
Because of a certain enigmatic Frenchman, Rachel tossed and turned during the long, dark hours of the night. Relieved when the light of dawn crept into the room, she showered and got dressed in a silky cream blouse and tan skirt for her work day with Giles Lambert.
He’d phoned her last night to make the arrangements, promising her a thorough tour of the winery.
Like her grandfather, he had a zest for life and possessed so much charm she was already predisposed to like him.
She could only hope a productive day spent with him would take away her disappointment that it wasn’t Luc Chartier doing the honors. Part of her feared that, when she left Alsace, no ploy would be able to banish him from her thoughts.
Like a comet that only passed near the earth once in a lifetime, he’d left his indelible impression on her, then hurtled on into deep space supposedly out of mind and sight.
Maybe when her grandfather had recovered from his latest bout of illness, the two of them could come back to Alsace so she could legitimately meet with the owner of the Chartier vineyards again.
Legitimately…
Good heavens—she was as bad as a teenager plotting ways to get the most gorgeous guy in the world to be interested in her. It seemed her attraction to him was so intense, she wasn’t above using her grandfather
to accomplish her objective.
Filled with self-disgust, Rachel grabbed her cell phone to put in her purse before going downstairs to eat breakfast. To her surprise it rang before she could leave the room.
For one foolish moment she thought it might be the man whose image had haunted her all night. Just the thought of hearing his deep voice caused her heart to leap. She clicked on eagerly, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“H-hello?” she answered, sounding out of breath, because she was!
“Rachel—”
Her spirits dropped like hot rocks.
“Dad—
“Something must be wrong for you to be calling me this early in the morning.”
Normally he didn’t show up at work until ten-thirty or later. But evidently a problem had arisen and he needed someone to bark at, mainly her.
He always sounded impatient when he was at the restaurant he managed with her half brother Max. Since every day was hectic behind the scenes, she supposed he could be forgiven.
But being this far away and hearing him so abrupt with her caught her off guard.
“What’s this I hear about you traveling to Alsace? I don’t recall us discussing a stop there. Today’s the fifteenth. Your itinerary says you’re supposed to be in Champagne.”
Uh oh. Somehow her grandfather must have let it slip. Not that it was a secret.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Grandfather asked me to look up an old friend in Thann as a special favor.”
“So I’ve heard, but I don’t want you spending too much time there. We can’t afford to slight our other suppliers.”
Her temperamental father knew her better than that, but he had to say it because she hadn’t obtained his seal of approval first.
“I wouldn’t do that, and I’ve already contacted Monsieur Bulot to let him know I’ll be there in a few days.
“The point is, now that I’m here I’m doing a little research, so please don’t worry.”
“You’ve been to Angers, then?”
“Of course, and St Emilion. They’re filling our orders as we speak, so you needn’t be concerned.”
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