Weddings: The Proposals: The Brooding Frenchman's Proposal / Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal / The Playboy Firefighter's Proposal. Rebecca Winters

patted his shoulder. “That’s why pictures are so important. Do you know when we went to Disneyland, I pretended you were my little boy? Of course with my coloring no one would believe it, but I always said that when I grew up, I would want a little Paulie of my own. No one else would do.” Her gaze met Raoul’s as her words sank in.

      Raoul wondered why she hadn’t had children with her husband and sensed that there was more to her marriage to Theodore Stillman than she was letting on.

      “Don’t tell Giles you used to call me Paulie. He’ll tell everybody.”

      She kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret.”

      Paul looked at Raoul. “Promise you won’t tell, either?”

      He had to clear the lump in his throat before he could talk. “I swear.”

      “Good.” He reached for his Ipod and began listening to his music while he played with his game.

      Raoul ate his breakfast and looked through the album, always coming back to the page that revealed a history he’d known nothing about. Laura waited until he’d finished his last roll, then she took his tray to the house. When she returned, he was waiting for her.

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.

      Her delicately arched brows met in a frown. “I assumed you knew. Don’t you remember the time they went on that long trip?”

      “Yes, but I never connected their activities with you.”

      “I guess it didn’t occur to them to remind you of it.

      Even so, what difference does it make?”

      He shot out of the chair. “You know damn well it makes every difference. I thought you were a total stranger!”

      “It’s been eleven years. For all intents and purposes, I am. You have every right to want to protect your loved ones, Raoul. Did you tell Chantelle and Guy you had suspicions about me?”

      “No.” Raoul had kept his feelings to himself and allowed them to blind his opinions toward Laura.

      “That’s too bad. You could have saved yourself some initial grief.”

      “Laura,” His voice grated. He’d said unconscionable things to her. “I already told Paul I was taking the two of you out on the boat with me today. Giles can come, too, if he wants.” He took a deep breath. “I’d like us to start over again.”

      Out of wooden lips she said, “You mean no pistols at dawn?”

      “None. No swords, slings or arrows. I’ll come unarmed.”

      One brow lifted. “Raoul Laroche, unarmed?”

      He lifted his hands.

      A faint smile curved one corner of her pliant mouth. “You look about as innocent as Vercingetorix before he swept down on Gergovia, but it might be worth my trouble.”

      Raoul burst into laughter. “I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about Gallic history.”

      “Chantelle is a fan of one of the most famous French warriors in history.”

      His heart rate sped up. “If you have any other conditions, I’ll do my utmost to grant them.”

      Their gazes fused. “For one day I’d like you to show up without your glasses.”

      “I don’t wear any. My eyesight is 20/20.”

      “I’m talking about those lenses you look through from the inside. You might like what you see without them.”

      If he liked what he saw any more than what was in front of him right now, he was in danger of being consumed by her fire.

      A few hours later Laura came up from the galley of the cruiser with two orange drinks for the boys. She arranged the large umbrella so Paul stayed out of the hot, late-afternoon sun.

      “Will you two be all right if Raoul and I take a swim? We’ll stay near the boat of course.” She made sure his sore leg was elevated.

      Paul nodded. Both of them were too involved in their electronic games to talk.

      “Then we’ll see you in a little while.”

      “Ciao,” they both said at the same time.

      She walked to the rear of the big cruiser where Raoul was waiting by the ladder. In black trunks his powerful, tanned body took her breath. Laura felt his black eyes roam over her as she removed her beach coat.

      He’d been the perfect host so far, but this would be the first time they had been alone since taking the boat out.

      “I swear the Italians invented the greatest word in the world.”

      “You mean ciao,” he surmised correctly.

      Laura nodded. “You can have a whole conversation with it. Hi—goodbye—and in English it sounds like ‘chow,’ meaning food.”

      He chuckled. “Lunch was delicious by the way.”

      “You liked my hamburgers and chips? You weren’t faking it?”

      His expression remained benign. “Would I do that?”

      She started to say yes, then remembered their pact. “I’m glad, then.”

      Recognizing she’d practiced self-control, his eyes smiled, filling her with warmth. “Are you ready for our swim?”

      They were anchored a couple of miles off the point of Cap Ferrat in a calm, pale-blue sea. Conditions were ideal.

      “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I arrived.” So saying she climbed up on the side and dived straight in.

      “How is it?” he asked as her head bobbed up.

      She treaded water. “Fantastic. It has to be close to eighty out here, a good twelve to fifteen degrees higher than the ocean off Manhattan Beach. Come on in.”

      He dived off the top of the ladder, reaching her in a few swift kicks. She loved the way he looked when his black hair was plastered to his head, almost as though the water brought out the primitive in him.

      Pretending he was after her, she did the back stroke around the cruiser so she could watch him. Maybe he could read her mind because he stayed a body’s length away while he did the front crawl, as if he were toying with her before he seized his prey. Each time his head lifted above the water, their gazes connected, making it a little more difficult for her to breathe.

      She swam full circle. When she was almost to the ladder, Raoul galvanized into action. He snaked an arm around her waist and towed her with him the short distance to the bottom rung. By now her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

      Their mouths gravitated to each other in a long, drawn-out, saltwater kiss that shook her to the foundations. He’d locked his legs around hers, making escape impossible, but she didn’t want to escape—far from it. Being with him like this had transformed her. She felt alive and treasured for herself. Odd how she’d never felt beautiful before.

      His breathing sounded shallow once he’d allowed her up for air. “Let’s go below deck,” he murmured in a thick toned voice against her nape. “I can’t begin to do what I want with you out here.”

      She clung to him. “We can’t anyway. There’s a pair of chaperones on board.”

      “Let’s take them home. I’m going to fix you dinner at my villa where no one will be around to disturb us.”

      Laura kissed his jaw. “I understand you have a pool.”

      “I do. It’s shaped like a full moon.”

      “Do you ever swim in it?”

      “Not for years.”

      “Why?”