The Last Summer of Being Single. Nina HarringtonЧитать онлайн книгу.

       The Last Summer of Being Single

      Nina Harrington

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my wonderful editor Jenny Hutton,

      for her unfailing passion for the genre and commitment

      to creating the best story possible for our readers.

      We make a great team. Thank you, Jenny.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘MARRY me. Come on. You know you want to!’

      Ella Jayne Bailey Martinez tapped her finger on her lower lip and nodded her head several times as though trying to make up her mind.

      Unfortunately Henri took this as an encouraging sign.

      ‘I have my own set of wheels. You’ll be able to motor anywhere you like in this town. What do you say, cutie? We could make some sweet music together!’

      ‘Well… It is tempting. Although…Mr Dubois has already promised me the use of his senior citizen travel card. And it’s hard to turn down that sort of offer.’

      ‘Dubois? All promises. No action. Not like me, baby,’ Henri replied with a saucy wink.

      ‘Um. That’s what I’m worried about. I’m a one-guy-at-a-time kind of girl, and I saw you two-timing me last night with the hotel receptionist. You handsome heartbreaker! Catch you later!’

      Henri slammed his hand down hard on the arm of his wheelchair and muttered a vague expletive in French before shrugging his shoulders at Ella and replying in English.

      ‘Darn! Busted!’

      Ella smiled and ruffled up what was left of his hair, before sashaying slowly down the corridor back to the kitchen. Without looking back, as though she knew that Henri was still following her every movement, Ella broke step, gave two exaggerated tight bottom wiggles, then glanced back at the grey-haired Romeo just as he winked at her with a twist of the head. ‘That’s my girl!’

      And with a nodding smile Henri swung his wheelchair around with a rim twirl, and sped off at a surprising turn of speed towards the conservatory dining room, where a peal of raucous laughter echoed around the walls as the automatic doors slid open, then closed behind him.

      ‘I hope my guests are not making life too exhausting for you!’

      Ella grinned back at her friend Sandrine, who managed the small hotel where she worked as cocktail pianist whenever she could—and occasionally helped out at lunchtimes.

      ‘They’re the best! I could talk to them all day about old-style jazz. I grew up with that sort of music. Did you know that Henri spent three years in New Orleans? And his pals have just wolfed down three of my apple tarts! Musicians are the same wherever you go in the world! Food comes a close second to the tune! Even in France.’

      Sandrine wrapped one arm around Ella’s shoulder and grinned. ‘Are you kidding? Those charmers might claim that they don’t have a sweet tooth in their heads, but once they take a look at the dessert trolley? No will power whatsoever! Thanks again for helping me out at short notice. I have my hands full!’

      ‘No problem. I was glad to help. Are you still fully booked for next weekend?’

      ‘Every room! I’ve never had forty guests staying for a complete weekend before.’

      Sandrine gave Ella an extra hug before releasing her with a warm smile. ‘And I know who I have to thank for that! Now don’t look so coy. I know that you told Nicole that this was the only hotel you could possibly recommend for all of the guests who are flying in for her birthday party next week. This is true, of course! But thank you all the same.’

      ‘Well, she did ask for my opinion! I’m just so pleased that Nicole decided to celebrate her birthday at the farmhouse instead of staying in Paris. She visits so rarely these days.’

      ‘Isn’t that one of the advantages of looking after a holiday home? You get to enjoy a lovely house all to yourself for most of the year while Nicole is in Paris or travelling?’

      Ella closed her eyes and grinned contentedly. ‘You’re right. I love the house and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else except the Mas Tournesol. We’re so lucky.’ Then her eyes flicked open. ‘Nicole deserves the best birthday party the old house has ever seen and I’m going to do my best to make sure that she gets it! After all, you are only sixty years young once in your life.’

      ‘Absolutely! And don’t forget. You know where to come for anything you need.’

      Ella air kissed Sandrine on both cheeks and gave her a swift smile.

      ‘You’re a star! But now I’m going to be late for Dan when he gets home from school. See you tomorrow!’

      Time to make her escape before Henri finished his afternoon coffee and the caffeine rush inspired him to come up with an even better offer.

      ‘PSN Media have come back with an even better offer but are still dragging their heels on the employee numbers. I’m not sure how far we can push them on the benefits package without impacting the overall deal,’ Matt explained, his exasperation clear even down a cell phone.

      Sebastien Castellano drummed the fingers of both hands on the leather-covered steering wheel of his low-slung Italian sports car and fought to keep his blood pressure down by focusing on the rows of grapevines that stretched out from his parking spot to the low green hills and shrubby garrigue beyond the isolated narrow country road in the middle of the Languedoc.

      He had just worked through the night and most of Thursday with Matt and a negotiation team from PSN Media in a stuffy conference room in Montpellier to pull together a deal that could save the jobs of the hundreds of employees who made up Castellano Tech in Australia.

      And PSN Media still refused to take him seriously!