Raoul passed a hand over his face. Was every woman a liar?
For the past little while he could have sworn the two of them were feeling something deep and real between them. Yet all Laura Stillman could think about was Guy.
His poor, beguiled brother was in love with a very married woman who had a wife’s access to her husband’s fortune. Louis had done his homework. That Fair Oaks address had the same kind of exclusivity as many of the places near Cap Ferrat.
What was she doing in Europe picking up rich men using her maiden name? She had a successful millionaire husband of her own in tow with looks like a younger Robert Redford. The woman obviously had no shame.
While he stood there trying to blot pictures of Laura and her husband making love from his mind, the hotel phone rang. Raoul grimaced. After being found out, she was too petrified to face him, so she’d resorted to the phone.
With his emotions exploding all over the place he walked to the bedside table and grabbed the receiver. Fighting for calm he answered, “Laura?”
“Who’s Laura?”
Danielle—
Another one of her desperate, attention-seeking phone calls. Perfect timing.
“Don’t hang up on me yet, mon amour. I remember a passionate night we once spent at the Citadel in Alpe d’Huez during the Tour de France. I thought you might be there for this year’s race. When they said you weren’t registered, I called several other places.
“What are you doing at the Auberge? Slumming with the riffraff doesn’t sound like you. Do you have any idea how much I miss you? I know I was wrong for what I did, but how can you throw away what we once had?”
“It’s too late, Danielle.”
“Of course it isn’t. Oh, Raoul, I love you still so much.” She pleaded. “Please let me show you how it can be again. Give us a second chance—”
For a moment he heard the old Danielle in her voice, but her repentant plea still didn’t move him. Five days ago something had happened to Raoul that had turned him into a different man. Someone new had entered the picture….
He glanced at the door to the adjoining room, his pulse pounding while he waited for Laura to make a move.
“It’s too late.” Far too late. “Adieu, Danielle,” he murmured.
Raoul put the phone back on the hook, smothering her angry shout. Before she could call him again, he turned off the ringer.
He could go down to the bar, but no amount of alcohol would wipe out the sting of Laura’s lie. Even though her betrayal was against her husband and his brother, Raoul was the one reeling.
Laura cried so hard all night that when morning came, her eyes were swollen shut. When she left the room at 7:30 a.m. with her overnight bag, she was forced to cover them with her sunglasses.
She hadn’t seen or talked to Raoul since he’d dropped his bombshell outside the door last night. Because he’d brought her here to suit his no-longer-secret agenda, she didn’t feel obligated to discuss anything more with him. She’d see the day through and tough it out, but that was it. When they returned to Cap Ferrat, she’d stay out of Raoul’s way until she returned to the States.
The Auberge served a continental breakfast in the dining area off the foyer. Only a few people were eating. The rest had left to line the road while they waited for the bikers making the ascent. After choosing a baguette and some juice, she sat down at a table. Though she had no appetite, she knew she’d better eat something.
While she munched on the bread without enthusiasm, Raoul entered the dining room wearing his jeans and a navy sport shirt, unbuttoned at the neck where she could see a smattering of dark hair. She closed her eyes tightly to shut off the view, but it was too late to stop the warm rush that permeated her weakened body.
He reached for her bag and took both of them to the counter in the lobby to be held until later. Afterward he wandered over to the side bar for a cup of coffee and a baguette. When he returned, he took the seat opposite her and dunked his bread in the hot liquid before eating it with obvious enjoyment. There was clearly no problem with his appetite.
“When you’re ready, we’ll walk over to the road and watch what we came to see.” His voice sounded half an octave lower this morning. Even after everything that had transpired, she still ached for him.
There was a tiny cut at the side of his jaw where he must have hurt himself shaving. It was the only thing she could find that might indicate he wasn’t in total control. Somehow the thought was reassuring.
As she was finishing the last of her juice, he lifted her sunglasses from her face. His knuckle brushed the end of her nose. “I thought so,” he muttered before setting them back in place.
She froze. “You’re a true Frenchman all right. When you butcher your animal, you don’t leave any parts.”
A faint white line of anger circled his mouth. Good.
He got up from the table at the same time she did. Like a couple who’d lived too long together and didn’t find pleasure in each other’s company, they left the hotel with several feet between them and made their way down the side street to the main road packed with fans. It was tragic, really, that she couldn’t enjoy the glorious view from this famous spot, but she was too numb.
Raoul found a place where they could stand and see everything. She people watched in order not to stare at him. They were probably the only two fans on the mountain who weren’t chatting excitedly. After twenty minutes the first cars riding ahead of the bikers came in sight. The crowd grew noisier. Pretty soon there was an explosion of sound because the first five racers had been spotted.
They looked hot and miserable. Deep lines around their mouths reflected the strain on their bodies. Everyone passed them cups of water. Sometimes the passage became so narrow she was afraid a tourist would ruin the race for them. Finally they cycled in front of her and Raoul. None of the five were on the French or American teams.
A few minutes after they started down the other side of the summit, up came the peloton. For a second she spotted the biker in the yellow jersey. The whole scene looked chaotic when you were seeing it in person rather than on TV. The cyclists rode past, their legs moving like pistons. Several of them fell back, their bikes moving wobbily, as if the racers were on the verge of collapse.
All this effort to see them go by. Now it was over.
She glanced at Raoul through her sunglasses. “I’m going to walk to the helipad.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I collect our luggage.”
Without watching him, she took off down the mountain at a brisk pace. It felt good to expend some energy. This was one time when she wished she could plunge in the surf and swim way out to catch a wave.
Amazing that by the time she reached the helicopter, Raoul had somehow caught up to her and showed no signs of being winded. She greeted the pilot, then climbed in the back and strapped herself in.
Raoul stowed their bags, then took his place in the copilot’s seat. He spoke in rapid French to the pilot before the blades began to rotate. Once they were whipping the air, the helicopter lifted off, leaving her stomach behind.
The scene out the window could only be described as spectacular. She could see the zigzag road beneath them, but there was no sign of the cyclists because the helicopter was headed in the opposite direction from Bourg d’Oisons, the end of the day’s eighth stage.
She didn’t need to ask Raoul anything. He’d accomplished what he had come here to do, but since she hadn’t given him the satisfaction of an explanation, he was taking her home, thank heaven.
While Raoul and the pilot talked quietly together, the uneventful flight back to Cap Ferrat allowed her to sleep. When she woke up, she was surprised to discover they’d landed on the estate.
Raoul had already climbed out of the helicopter and had put her bag in the limo. “Pierre will take you to the villa.”
She said a collective thank-you to him and the pilot before getting in the car. Raoul shut the door as if he couldn’t wait to see her gone fr
om here. Nothing could hurt more than the memory of last night when she’d thought Raoul had truly started to care for her. To think all along he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to expose her. The pain of it was excruciating.
After reaching the villa, Pierre got out and handed her the overnight bag. She thanked him before hurrying inside the house. She almost ran into Guy, who must have heard the helicopter and was coming out to greet her.
He gave her a hug before looking at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “You look pale. Did the helicopter make you ill?”
“Oh, no. I’m a little tired.” She put her bag down.
“You’re back sooner than I would have expected.”
“As it turned out, Raoul didn’t want to see the end of the stage because his team wasn’t winning.” A white lie, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment. He smiled. “My brother always was a terrible loser. Now you’ve seen him at his worst.”
Guy could have no idea…. “How’s Chantelle?”
A shadow crossed over his features. “She went down for a nap a little while ago.”
“And Paul?”
“With a friend. They’ve gone bike riding.”
“Guy—” She took a huge breath. “Could we talk in private?”
“Bien sur.”
“But if you were working—”
“It’s nothing I can’t do later. Let’s go to your sitting room. No one will disturb us there.” That’s right. It was the one room in the villa off-limits to Raoul.
He carried her bag down the hall for her. She went inside the suite first. After he followed her in, she shut the door and they both sat down on the chairs placed around the coffee table.
“Guy—there’s something vitally important I have to tell you.”
“I already know.”
She blinked. “Know what?”
“About you and Raoul.”
Laura started to feel sick again. “There is no me and Raoul, Guy.” Her heart was thudding too fast for it to be healthy.
“Jean-Luc seems to think so. He called me this morning. He doesn’t want to lose out on this latest sale in Antibes. Since Raoul won’t commit yet, he’s been trying to convince me the property is worth buying. That’s when it all came out. He saw you in front of the warehouse with my brother.”
Laura sat forward in a panic, her thoughts reeling. “If you’re talking about that kiss, Raoul did it as a joke. Chantelle told me he has his little demons. I think one came out that day.”
Guy chuckled. “My brother has been full of surprises lately.”
“He’s very amusing. I know it didn’t mean anything. He said the real estate agent was a huge gossip, and he wagered you’d hear about it within twenty-four hours. Looks like he was right.
“Seriously though, you’ve all been terrific to me including Raoul, who’s been kind enough to show me around. He made it possible for me to see a stage of the Tour de France. I was thrilled.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
She eyed him soulfully. “I am, but we both know that’s not why I’m here. I wish I could say I was having a lot of success with Chantelle.”
“While you’ve been here, I’ve seen a change in her. You’ve brought new life into the house. Don’t give up on her.”
“Of course I won’t, but there’s one more thing I’m worried about. My husband has the resources to try to find me while I’m here. I just want you to be aware of it. You need to know his name is Theodore Stillman. He’s an attorney from Santa Barbara, California, with enough backing from his family to cause trouble if he wants. If there’s the slightest problem that could upset Chantelle, I’ll leave here.”
Guy’s mouth firmed before he stood up. “Don’t you worry. I have my own attorneys who can deal with anything the Stillman attorneys might concoct.”
Laura didn’t doubt it.
“Do you want cook to fix you a late lunch?”
“No, thank you. I think I’ll rest for an hour. Maybe by then Chantelle will be up and I’ll tell her about the race.”
“She’ll love that. See you later.”
As he leaned forward to give her a kiss on both cheeks, she heard Raoul’s rasping voice in the periphery. “The maid said I’d find you in here, mon frère.” He moved deeper into the sitting room. His glittery gaze fell on Laura.
“I did knock, but you didn’t hear me. Sorry to disturb, but Paul has had a mishap on his bike coming home from his friend’s. An ambulance took him to the hospital to check him out. The E.R. called to say he’s fine. They’re ready to release him to his parents.”
“He’s all right?” Guy looked visibly shaken. Raoul nodded. “Grâce a ciel!”
“Do you want me to get him?” Raoul asked. “If he’s here before Chantelle wakes up, then she won’t be as disturbed when he tells her what happened.”
“Let’s both go, Raoul.” He turned to Laura. “Will you stay here? If Chantelle wakes up before we’re back, tell her we went on an errand.”
“I will, but, Guy? Maybe she should be told. Paul’s her son, too. She adores him. If she thought he needed her, she might forget herself for a little while and go with you. You never know.”
His eyes grew suspiciously bright. “Why didn’t I think of that? Dieu merci you’re here, Laura! I’m going to wake her up right now. Things couldn’t be any worse than they have been. Why not act on your suggestion and see what happens?” He kissed her cheek again before dashing out of the suite.
CHAPTER SIX
LAURA stood there trembling. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
“What if I do mind?” Raoul challenged. His brother had gone. “Did you tell him I had you investigated?”
Her eyes looked wounded. “I don’t know why you bother to ask me, when we both know you don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “That’s not true, Laura.”
“I thought you would want to go with your brother. He needs you.”
“I think I’ll wait a few minutes. You gave him an idea. Coupled with his guilt over the accident, he might achieve a little success with Chantelle.”
When she bit her lip like that, her whole persona changed from the confident woman of the world to someone sweet and vulnerable. Which one was she, or was she an amalgamation of both?
“Once before, you mentioned Guy’s guilt about the accident. Why should he feel any blame?”
Raoul rubbed his chest absently. “Apparently they’d had an argument that day, one of the few in their marriage. Chantelle was all set to visit a good friend of hers who lives in Monaco. Guy is superstitious about certain things and he told Chantelle he didn’t want her to drive the Monaco road, because it was too dangerous. Princess Grace died on that road.
“She refused to listen to him on that subject. On that particular day he forbade her to go, but she went anyway and ended up having the accident. Not on that road, as it happens, not even in Monaco. It took place in Nice. She was driving her sports car too fast. It shimmied on a bridge. She lost control and it rolled into some heavy shrubbery where the car lay hidden for four hours.”
Laura sank down on the nearest chair. “How ghastly.”
“It was, for a lot of reasons. Guy took it all on, saying it was his fault he’d upset her, thus the reason she’d gone over the side. When the doctor told her she was fully recovered and could stop using the wheelchair, she reverted to the way she is today.
“At first Guy thought she was teasing to get back at him, but after twelve hours it became apparent something much more serious was preventing her from returning to normal. Needless to say, he’s been going downhill ever since, as has their marriage.”
A gasp escaped her throat. “All they need is this bad news about Paul.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “How serious are his injuries?” she whispered.
“A gash on the side of his left thigh. It took ten stitches.”
<
br /> “Ouch.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“Was it his fault?”
“No. A truck passed another car and drifted into the bike lane, sending Paul flying.”
“That must have been so frightening for him.” She jumped back up from the chair, obviously too restless to sit. “Your family can’t take much more.”
Raoul studied her well-shaped head, marveling at the color of her pale-blond hair. It had an ethereal quality, all the more stunning on such a striking woman. Today she wore it loose from a side part. Of all the styles, he liked it the best.
“I couldn’t agree more.” He moved closer to her. “My brother is more fragile than you know. Whatever goes on between you and your husband is your own business, but if it could hurt Guy, then it becomes mine. Why are you afraid to talk about your husband?” he asked her in a voice she had never heard from him before: soft, gentle.
A nervous hand went to her throat. “Why haven’t you ever talked about your wife?”
Her response exasperated him. “Because this is about Chantelle and Guy, not me. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“That depends on your definition of the word.”
“You mean Guy’s going to help you.”
She flashed him a warning glance. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business. Unlike you, I meant no offense. In case you didn’t notice, I don’t ask you personal questions.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said sharply, growing more frustrated every second. “What would you like to know?”
He watched her swallow, another telltale sign she was growing more and more uncomfortable. “Nothing.”
Such an innocuous word said so innocuously. “Surely you’ve wondered why I don’t seem to have a household of my own.”
“Not really.”
“That’s a lie.”
She folded her arms against her shapely waist. “Since you’re now reverting to your baser instincts, I guess that’s my cue to ask the ten-million-dollar question.”
He smiled wickedly and her insides lit. “It’s nice to know you put that high a price on the answer.”
The Brooding Frenchman s Proposal Page 9