Weddings: The Proposals: The Brooding Frenchman's Proposal / Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal / The Playboy Firefighter's Proposal. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
Denied an introduction, his curious friend would be even more eager to know the identity of the new mystery woman in Raoul’s life.
“Oh-la-la—” Jean-Luc clapped him on the shoulder as they walked toward the doors. “When your ex finds out about that one, she’ll want to scratch her eyes out.”
Raoul grinned despite his torment. “She can try …”
The other man’s laughter rang in the air.
What Jean-Luc didn’t know was that Danielle was no match for the woman whose lips were as soft and lush as the rest of her. In trying to protect Chantelle, it was guaranteed Raoul had opened himself up to an infinite number of sleepless nights and cold showers.
Laura couldn’t stop the trembling. Though secretly thrilled to realize the desire she’d felt last night wasn’t all on her side, she was also terrified. What if one of Ted’s undercover agents had discovered where she was staying and had followed the Porsche to Antibes.
With a telephoto lens they could’ve taken pictures of Raoul kissing her. That kind of evidence could influence a judge into siding with Ted’s attorney to hold up the case. Who knew how long it would take before she obtained her divorce? Laura didn’t dare entertain a relationship with Raoul that could jeopardize everything she’d been working so hard for.
She reached in her bag and drained her bottle of water in an effort to rid herself of the imprint of Raoul’s hard mouth. Those male lips that could twist with mocking cruelty had covered hers with enough coaxing pressure to draw a spontaneous response she’d had no power to stop. Knowing that he had a distinct dislike for her made her physical reaction to him even more unacceptable.
Though their kiss had been real enough, she sensed he’d done it for the other man’s benefit. To what end she didn’t know. If Raoul was trying to frighten her off, he didn’t have to wait until they had an audience. Things were more of a mystery than ever unless Chantelle was somehow behind all this.
It pained Laura to think that Chantelle might have asked her brother-in-law to find a way to get Laura to leave the villa without involving Guy. If she truly didn’t want her husband’s attentions, then of course she’d resent his bringing Laura into their home to try to help. Thinking back to this morning, Chantelle had been adamant that Laura go on the drive without her.
Laura could leave France tonight of course and probably ought to, but she owed Guy a truthful explanation. No matter what, her loyalty was to him. Yet to tell him what had happened today could also hurt him deeply if he didn’t know his brother was working against him to get rid of Laura.
She couldn’t figure it out. The two men’s relationship had to be somewhat normal, didn’t it? Otherwise Raoul wouldn’t have been at the party. Surely if there was real animosity between them, the brothers wouldn’t work together or live in such close proximity to each other.
Stymied by so many unanswered questions and the kiss that still haunted her, she came to the conclusion that all she could do was bluff her way through the next two weeks and avoid Raoul as much as possible. He liked making trouble, but she could give it back if she had to.
If things became impossible, she’d go to Guy and tell him she’d changed her mind about staying. To make a good case she’d tell him she didn’t want his family involved in the event Ted found out where she was staying. Surely he’d understand that. Who knew what complications might arise that could upset Chantelle unnecessarily.
Laura was so deep in thought she didn’t realize Raoul had returned until she heard the door open. In that brief moment she glanced around and their eyes met.
“You surprise me,” he said after starting the car.
“What? That I didn’t run away from you?” She sighed. “I’ve been kissed before by men I didn’t know, even when I wasn’t saving their lives.” Enjoying turning this back on him she added, “If you were that anxious, you should have taken advantage while we were in the pool last night, but then I suppose you stopped short because you were afraid someone might be watching.”
The car leaped ahead. His eyes burned like black fires. “Were you disappointed?”
“I think so.”
“Only think?” he challenged.
For a moment he sounded playful rather than serious, catching her off guard. She couldn’t help smiling.
If this was part of his game, he was good at it. He was gorgeous, too. The most beautiful man she’d ever met in her life. Southern California was full of them. Her husband, Ted, had stood out, but no one came close to the gut-wrenching sensuality of Raoul Laroche.
Then his eyes narrowed on her mouth before his expression hardened, causing lines to darken his features. He turned his attention back to the road leading out of the marina area and in a flash, when she’d felt buoyant for no reason, the moment disappeared as if it had never been.
Instead of the interrogation he’d subjected her to on the way to Antibes, he remained silent during the picturesque drive into the colorful hills with their patches of tuberose and jasmine. The tension between them was almost palpable, but until he explained himself, Laura had nothing to say.
Though she was tempted to ask him to take her home, her pride had gotten in the way. She didn’t want him to think his tactics back there had succeeded in destroying her confidence.
The scent of flowers grew more intoxicating the higher they climbed to the craggy summits. His Porsche was made for these hairpin turns on narrow roads. He handled his car like a Formula 1 driver, removing the worry she wasn’t safe. Any fear she harbored came from her own susceptibility to his potent charisma. Just watching the way the steering wheel responded beneath his strong hands, the fluid motion of his powerful body when he moved, brought her pleasure.
Before long they entered a quaint medieval village perched on a spur of land with a stream running through the rocky gorge below. The sign said Tourettes Sur Loup. She loved the unique names.
He pulled into a parking lot full of other cars and turned off the motor. “I’m confident the artist in you will find something to purchase once we’ve eaten. The village is full of local artisan crafts.”
She listened for that dreaded trace of mockery but didn’t hear it. Relieved he’d decided not to hound her for the moment, she alighted from the car before he could help her. Laura would be all right if he didn’t touch her. If someone was photographing them from a distance, she wouldn’t provide them another opportunity to catch her in an intimate moment with Raoul.
They entered beneath an arched porte with a tall clock tower and followed the main street through the oldest part of the town filled with tourists. “The village was fortified in the Middle Ages,” Raoul explained. “These are the only walls remaining.”
“It’s unreal,” she cried softly, her gaze traveling down a sunken, stone-paved path centuries old.
He led them to a little café where they ate steak aux frites and topped it off with a tarte à l’orange, a village specialty. Replete after the delicious meal, they explored the myriad of shops displaying local crafts. Laura wanted to buy everything, but in the end she purchased nothing except an oval-shaped, locally woven basket full of violets that grew in the region. Their deep-purple color thrilled her.
“I’m paying for these,” she announced, putting some Euros in the woman’s hand before Raoul could pull the necessary bills from his wallet.
He eyed her skeptically. “You’re sure this is all you want? You can’t take flowers back to Los Angeles with you.” Oh how politely he’d said the words, like he was speaking to a child. She got the impression he couldn’t wait for her to announce her departure plans.
For a little while she’d forgotten that Raoul was her enemy, and with that reminder the enjoyment of the last hour vanished.
“They’re for Chantelle.” A thank-you gift for allowing her to stay