“Okay.” Camille rolled her eyes. Greeting the customers was useless when there was nothing to serve them. But who was she to argue.
She shoved through the door and out into the dining area. This was ridiculous. She’d probably end up biting the dust on this one. She’d been holding onto this job by a very thin thread as it was, and she got the feeling the blame for the fallout from this unorganized private dinner would ultimately land at her feet.
Out in the dining room, the place was empty. There was no one there. She ambled toward the front of the diner with slow, almost guarded steps, scanning both rows of booths lining the walls. Pausing at the front window, she looked outside but saw nothing unusual.
Hm…. Her hands landed on her hips and she gave the exterior one last glance before turning back to the interior. Leisurely steps took her back toward the kitchen. Somehow, this was going to bite her in the butt.
She paused a few feet from the kitchen door, near the last booth, and glanced over her shoulder to give the empty restaurant one last look. Weird. And just her luck. The customers probably took one look at the neighborhood and split.
Camille decided to go back into the kitchen and face George. He wasn’t going to be happy about closing up shop for nothing.
A glittering twinkle on the last table before the kitchen, caught her eye.
Julian’s necklace?
Her heart pounded. Camille sucked in a breath, as if that could calm it. She moved closer, inspecting it. It was Julian’s necklace.
The kitchen door swung open, drawing Camille’s attention.
Julian de Laurent stood in the doorway, looking handsome and humbled.
Camille’s heart hammered against her chest. Fearing her mouth would fall open, she tightened her lips and forced them together.
Julian smiled one of those hopeful-looking smiles she was used to seeing from the diner’s gracious patrons. Not a bad thing, just not what she was used to seeing from Julian.
She looked away, not knowing why he was here, but still fearful of losing her heart. “What are you doing here?” she asked, forcing her gaze back to him. “What happened? My check bounce?”
Julian snickered with a one-sided grin and walked toward her. “Chéri…I have missed you so.” He scooped her hands in his. She stiffened.
“You missed me?” she asked. “That’s all you have to say?” Camille yanked her hands free and turned away, more afraid this was some kind of joke than anything else.
Julian, as if he’d picked up on her weakness, stepped closer and guided her face, with gentle fingertips, until her gaze met his. His touch rekindled the hunger she’d been trying to smote. And those green eyes caught her, holding her captive. Undressing her. Caressing her. Tormenting her.
Camille wanted to break the gaze and called upon her anger for assistance. “No. I’m not feeling this, Julian.” She backed away and shook her head. “What do you want?” she asked again, more forceful this time, stopping at the last booth before the kitchen.
He moved toward her. She braced herself against the booth, just in case her head swooned down into her heart.
“I came here to say I’m sorry.” There was none of the usual arrogance in his tone. Only regret with a hint of hope.
That shocked Camille and scared her at the same time. “Apologize to me?” Her fingers landed against her chest. “A liar and a cheat.” She hoped the words stung him. They had when she’d heard them pour from his mouth.
But her words didn’t seem to faze Julian in the least. He moved within inches of her and fenced her in, latching both his hands onto the booth.
“Here.” She tried to use the necklace as a barrier, holding it against his chest. That was a mistake. The feel of his muscular frame beneath his suit sent shockwaves of desire trembling through her.
Julian took the trinket and moved closer, draping it around her neck. She didn’t move, in fact, she held her breath. He took forever to clasp the damn thing. The lack of oxygen squeezed her lungs and fogged her brain. Just when she thought she’d pass out, he trailed his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, stepped back and released her.
She siphoned a deep breath and a shudder of desire slipped in. His magnetism was so potent.
A smile quirked Julian’s lips as he reached into his jacket pocket. “Close your eyes.” The arrogance had returned to his eyes, like he knew he had her right where he wanted.
But Camille couldn’t forget the hatred he’d dealt her back in France. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
He shushed her. “Close your eyes,” he said again, with forceful calm.
She did it, against her better judgment.
Camille felt Julian’s fingers engulfing her left hand and she started to get nervous. She yanked away, opening her eyes. “This is so not cool.” Somehow, she managed to slink out of his snare and rushed to the other side of the restaurant.
As she suspected, he followed.
“Chéri, you’re my wife,” he said. “Can’t you at least give me a chance to explain?”
She stopped. Irritation consumed her. She pivoted around and stuck a finger in his face. “First off…I’m not your wife. Not anymore.” She paused, trying to contain the irrational behavior building up inside. “Secondly…as far as explanations go, I’ll give you the same consideration you gave me.”
She tried to move away, toward the kitchen. Julian grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly, almost violently against him.
“First of all…yes, you are my wife. Still.”
What? She’d signed the papers. They were divorced.
“I don’t know about the rules in America, but in France a divorce takes two signatures.”
“I signed.” She looked away.
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I didn’t sign. I couldn’t.”
“Oh, I get it.” She sighed, disappointed. “You don’t want to be divorced because then you’ll be free to be pushed into marriage with Madeleine.”
“No. That’s not why I didn’t sign.” His tone took on a quality of mockery before it was overshadowed by remorse. “When it came down to it, I couldn’t break our connection. Yours and mine.”
He was good, she’d give him that. A passionate fluttering popped up in her chest. It was wise to ignore her heart and all it desired. Camille had trusted him before and look how that turned out. But he was looking at her with that look of his, the one that made her heart go pitter-patter.
She sighed, fighting that sinking, losing feeling.
“Please come home?”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” she said, shaking her head.
“Please, Camille. I realized something when you left.” His voice drifted into a hushed whisper. “I love you. I need you to come home. Forever.”
Love? Was he serious? She chewed on her lower lip and stole a look at him.
Julian shot her a mischievous grin before releasing her hands. He backed into the nearest booth and dropped her wedding rings onto the table.
“What are you doing?” she asked, his actions sending her pulses spinning.
“I’m sitting down.”
“Why?”
“It looks like I’m going to be here a while.”
She hesitated, blinking with bafflement.
“I’m not leaving until you agree to come home.” There was something genuine and truthful and determined in his manner. Julian was serious.
Camille slid into the opposite side of the booth and laid her hand on the table. “Well, you’ve got a long wait ahead of you.” She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help herself.
“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He reached across the table and grabbed at her fingers.
Camille ignored the blush burning her cheeks. She could hold out about ten minutes. Fifteen, if she tried really hard. When Julian turned on the charm, he had no trouble getting whatever he wanted.
Including Camille.
EPILOGUE
THE NAOMA LOUISE CREPT OUT OF the marina, gliding toward the waters of the Mediterranean as the last, faint colors of day faded away.
Julian waited on deck for Camille. She’d said she wanted to slip into something more comfortable. He hoped that meant sexy.
They’d made a quick get-away right after the ceremony; she hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her dress. They’d done the whole wedding-circus act last time. This time, it’d been just for them.
It seemed like the logical step after Soren had found her wedding dress in that little second-hand shop in Marseilles last week. It’d been a stroke of luck, actually, when Soren saw it in the shop’s window while driving past.
After Julian reacquired the gown—and learning Madeleine had sold it to the shop—it only seemed fitting that he and Camille should renewed their vows so she could wear the dress that’d been made specifically for her.
They had done that today, and now, he was taking her on a cruise of the Greek Islands—a desire she had expressed right after he’d brought her to France the first time.
Julian looked at his watch, and back to the double doors leading below deck. What’s taking so long?
Just when he was ready to go look for her, Camille emerged wearing a sheer black negligee over a bikini of the same color.
Desire swelled inside him, as quickly as a summer storm brews. Drinking in the sight of her, he stood slowly. “You look absolutely stunning.”
A rush of pink stained her cheeks. Julian swept her into his arms. She sank into his embrace, saying, “Thank you for bringing my dress home.”
“Anything to see you smile.” He kissed her, savoring every second. “As far as weddings go, I think this one was by far our best.”
“Well, you know what they say…” She looked at him with eyes that said she was ready to embark on the voyage of love. “Third time’s a charm.”
Julian laughed, and latched onto her hands. “I have something for you.” He led her down to the chaise lounge chair and pulled her into his lap.
She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. “You really don’t have to give me presents.”
“Well,” he said, reaching for a folded document on the table beside them. “This is a special one.”
He offered it to her; she took it and sat up, then unfolded the document and perused it. As she read, her mouth dropped open. She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Julian…?”
“You now own half of everything that is mine.”
She glanced away, and remained silent for a time. It felt like forever before she sucked in a breath, and said, “Julian…I don’t want your money.” She shrugged. “Just your love.”
“And that, Chéri, you have.” He snuggled her closer. “No one will ever tear us apart again.”
“You promise?” she whispered.
“I promise.” He caressed her soft curves and she molded into the contours of his body. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Once or twice, my love. Once or twice.” Her soft, whispering breath tickled his neck.
Holding Camille in his arms, Julian was the happiest of men. Their marriage had started as a business arrangement, but somewhere along the way they’d fallen in love.
Destiny had certainly smiled upon Julian when she paired him with Camille—his perfect match.
THE MARRIAGE CAPER
by
Sandra Edwards
The Marriage Caper
Copyright © 2013 Sandra Edwards
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Sandra Edwards.
Published by SE Press
United States of America
Electronic Edition: July, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-934342-01-5
ASIN: B00BC6SVY8
Edited by Jennifer Lawrence.
Cover Art by Sandra Edwards. Photo obtained from Fotolia.com.
This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.
This book is dedicated to the memory of Kathryn Steele,
who loved nothing better than a good romance.
R.I.P. Aunt Kathryn 1922 ~ 2013
CHAPTER ONE
Marseilles, France
ANDRE DE LAURENT HATED THESE small, intimate dinner parties at the house. He was always expected to attend, even on nights like this when it was just the family and one of his sister Lecie’s friends.
The pre-dinner cocktails had barely started. He didn’t have to look at his watch to know dinner would be served in approximately thirty-five minutes. Enough time—as Tasha had once said—for everyone to get a good buzz going.
Tasha. He wished she was here. He missed her, never having the good fortune of seeing her often enough.
“Andre…” His brother’s voice broke into his thoughts. Funny, he hadn’t noticed when Julian had moved to his side in front of the majestic fireplace made of natural stone. In the winter, the heat permeated a calming effect along with the warmth. Too bad it was the dead of summer. Andre could use a little calming.
He looked up into Julian’s mirror-like eyes. Both brothers’ eyes were a Pacific blue, but Andre’s were a shade lighter than Julian’s. The same with their hair. Julian’s was darker and curlier. Big brother was taller, too. Even though Andre had heard more than one woman say that he, Andre, was the better looking brother, that hadn’t stopped women from throwing him over for Julian. Being the heir to the de Laurent fortune had its own appeal.
And then there was Lecie, Andre and Julian’s younger half sister. She was her mother’s daughter. Blonde hair and blue eyes, just like Claudette.
Andre had to admit that after Claudette married his father, she’d stepped in and been a wonderful mother to both him and Julian. All things considered, they were a close family, though Papa was prone to meddling in their lives.
Now that Papa could no longer interfere in Julian’s love life—thanks to Julian’s solid marriage with Camille—that could mean only one thing. Andre was next. But Andre wasn’t interested in marrying. Not in the least.
Andre leaned toward Julian, and whispered, “How long do you suppose it will be before we can make an escape?”
“Papa’s got his eye on you, little brother,” Julian said, almost laughing.
“Whatever for?”
“I suppose you’ll be his new pet project.”
Andre groaned. “Tell me you’re joking.” He cast a quick, stealth-like glance around the grand salon where Papa liked to impress his guests. The main parlor was directly in the middle of Pacifique de Lumière, Andre’s family home—that Julian would one day inherit—and it had been impressing people for more than four hundred years.
“Papa has been up to something.” Julian paused to knock back his cocktail. “Mysterious trips up to Avignon. More than once in the last month.”
Avignon? That’s where Andre and Julian’s late mother was from. Why was Papa going up there? Andre shook his head. It mattered little. Nothing Papa threw at him could persuade Andre to become the subject of his experimentations.
Deidra, Lecie’s friend, sidled up to Andre’s side. She’d had a crush on Andre for years, he knew that, but he’d never wanted to the hurt the mousy little girl’s feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“Deidra, we haven’t seen much of you lately.” He gave her a friendly smile because he doubted she received many of those. “I hope all is well with your parents.”
“They’re fine.” She glanced away as her cheeks turned red. “I’ve been spending some time in the States with my grandmother.”
Andre grinned. “I’ve been spending some time in the States myself. California.”
“I’ve heard. Florida here.” Deidra’s
tone remained cheerful, but her face showed her sadness over his reason for the trips to the US.
“Who knows…maybe you’ll find your own reason for visiting Florida.” Andre gave her a wink. “Other than your grandmother.”
From the corner of his eye, Andre didn’t miss Parker, Pacifique de Lumière’s butler, whispering in Papa’s ear. Seconds later, both men scrambled out of the parlor.
Maurice de Laurent hurried down the hallway and slipped inside his study, closing the door behind him. Traversing the dimly-lit room proved no problem for him. His feet knew where every obstacle lay and instinctively avoided them.
He settled himself behind his desk and pulled the receiver off the telephone’s base, laying it against his ear. “Maurice de Laurent.” After the simple greeting, he listened intently, showing little emotion. Once the message had been relayed, he said, “thank you for calling,” and hung up the phone.
It was over. His late wife’s uncle, Edouard Renault had died.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FUNERAL OF EDOUARD RENAULT WAS AN unexpected event for Andre and his siblings, although his death, as it turned out, wasn’t that surprising since the man had surpassed eighty years of age last winter and had been diagnosed with incurable cancer some months back.
Andre knew the man was his mother’s uncle, but he had precious few memories of her and even fewer of Renault. After Andre and Julian’s mother Naoma died, more than twenty years ago, they saw little of her family.
Andre, Julian and his wife Camille, and Lecie stood together quietly, respectfully, during the graveside service at the private cemetery at Belle Vallee, a chateau outside Avignon owned by the Renault family. With a bouquet of calla lilies and honeysuckle in hand—Naoma de Laurent’s favorite flowers—Andre waited patiently for the service to conclude and the crowd to disperse. Then, and only then, could he move on to the real reason he’d come here.
When the final prayer was said, Papa and a man whose identity was unknown to Andre approached him and his siblings. All four remained still and silent, waiting for Papa to say something.
Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix) Page 20