The Brooding Frenchman's Proposal. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
can get away for a little while without worrying.”
Maybe on the drive he could get his brother to break down and tell him what was going on. They’d never kept secrets from each other in their lives.
Guy shook his head. “Not this time. You go ahead.” In the next breath he left the patio, his mind and thoughts elsewhere.
Raoul stayed where he was. Part of him was torn up inside to see the change in Guy. The other part felt disgust over his possible romantic involvement with the woman Raoul couldn’t get out of his mind. Laura Aldridge was almost fifteen years younger than Guy. On the loose in Europe, he wondered how many other men she’d ensnared before targeting his brother.
As Raoul had learned, a woman like that didn’t have to earn a living. He doubted Laura even had a real job. That business about getting her boss’s permission was a con if he’d ever heard one. She lived off her victims. When she’d had enough and was bored, she moved on to the next poor devil whose bank account held a twelve-figure balance. Why couldn’t Guy see this?
Tomorrow he’d phone his attorney. It wouldn’t hurt to run a check on the American woman. She might not be who she said she was. She might even have a police record on both sides of the Atlantic.
After their parents had died years ago, Guy had always looked after Raoul. Now it was Raoul’s turn to protect his brother from a possible predator who had the kind of face and body to tempt every strata of saint down to sinner.
The next morning one of the maids led Laura to a patio off the dining room, where Chantelle was seated. It overlooked a fabulous, multicolored rose garden. She’d smelled their fragrance last evening and couldn’t get enough of it.
“Bonjour, Laura.”
“Bonjour, Chantelle.” she said back, trying to imitate the sounds. More than ever she marveled at this family. They all spoke English so well. She couldn’t imagine learning French with the same fluency.
Her hostess had already wheeled herself to the rectangular glass table supported by ornate wrought iron legs. Laura put her sketchpad down against one of them and took a seat across from her while another maid served them breakfast. The patio having a western exposure, they were shaded from the hot sun.
“How did you sleep?”
“Once the pills worked, I passed out. Thank you for giving them to me. I need to go to a pharmacy and get some of my own.”
“Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Like Laura, Chantelle had dressed in a white knit top and matching shorts. She looked cool and perfectly beautiful. Laura’s heart felt a wrench to realize that beneath her facade lived an emotionally frozen woman.
“These croissants melt in your mouth.”
Chantelle flashed her an unexpected smile. “I’ll tell the chef.”
Laura chuckled. “To be honest, I feel like I’m in fantasyland.”
“I’ve been there.”
“I know. I tended little Paul while you and Raoul walked around Disneyland. You have no idea how much I envied you your wonderful husband and son. Yours was the kind of marriage I wanted one day.”
When Chantelle didn’t respond to her remarks Laura said, “Actually I’m talking about a completely different place. Your home is a fantasyland—out of this world. Those rose beds are so perfect. You must have the best gardeners on the Côte d’Azur.”
“Before my accident, I did all the weeding myself. Now I have to tell them how to do their job. They miss too many.”
“Let me do it while I’m here—” she blurted.
Chantelle cocked her dark head. “You like gardening?”
“I remember talking to you about the grandmother who raised me, but I probably didn’t mention that we lived in a little forties bungalow in Manhattan Beach. She loved flowers and had me out working alongside her when I was just a girl. It was the one job I loved most, probably because it was outside.”
“Is she still alive?”
“No. She died eight years ago. I kept up the yard until I got married. My husband convinced me to sell it. I haven’t done any gardening since.”
Laura wouldn’t have listened to Ted except that a developer was planning to buy the whole strip of houses around there and build a mall. The price being offered was better than what an individual buyer might pay for it. That had been Ted’s reasoning at the time.
After she had reluctantly sold it, the project had fallen through, but she had a feeling Ted had known it would. He just didn’t want her holding on to her memories. Everything to do with him had been a mistake.
Not liking the direction of her thoughts, she munched on the chilled honeydew melon, her favorite.
Chantelle eyed her over the rim of her coffee. “If you’re serious about the weeding, be my guest.”
“I already am.” They both smiled at the same time. “It would make me very happy to get out there so I can feel useful. My hands are itching to dig into the soil.”
“I know the feeling.”
How sad that Chantelle could admit to such a thing, yet she refused to act on it.
“Tomorrow I’ll ask the gardener to bring you some gloves and the things you’ll need.”
“Thank you.”
“I believe there’s an artist in anyone who loves gardening. After you’ve finished eating, may I see what you’ve been sketching?”
Guy had hoped Laura would draw his wife out, but so far Chantelle was the one forcing Laura to open up.
“I’ll show you now.” She reached for the pad and handed it to her.
After Chantelle flipped the cover over, a soft gasp escaped her lips. She studied the top page, then began thumbing through the others. Finally she raised her head. Her eyes were shining. For just a moment, she was like the old Chantelle.
“You’ve captured the whole Palio—the people…the costumes…the horses…the city—You’re a genius!”
“No—”
“Indeed you are. What medium do you work with when you make these life-size? Oil? Watercolor?”
“Neither. I studied graphic design in college. After I graduated, I went to work for a video game company in California. My job is to provide interesting backgrounds for games which other people in the company develop.”
“Video games? Like the ones my son plays, much to my disgust?”
“I’m afraid so,” Laura admitted. “The technology is so advanced, the industry has taken off. With my pencil I create backgrounds for all ages. This one on the Palio will be used as a horse race obviously. Each horse and rider runs through a separate part of the town with many obstacles to overcome. My job is to find unusual places that suggest games to me.”
“Where else have you been?” Chantelle actually sounded interested and Laura could glimpse shades of her former self.
“Two months ago I spent a week in Hamlin, Germany, to create a background for a children’s game. It’s an adorable town with a lot of carvings. My grandmother read me all the fairy tales. One of my favorites was ‘The Pied Piper.’ I came up with the idea of him leading all the children out of the town and the player has to prevent them from following him by using various methods that take a certain amount of skill.
“After leaving there I went to Holland for a week to sketch the windmills and old gabled houses for another game about stopping the holes in the dikes.”
Chantelle shook her head. “But this is remarkable!