Taming the French Tycoon. Rebecca Winters

No matter how acerbic her words, no matter how shallow he found her for being willing to throw her life away for a thrill, no matter how disappointed he was in Maxim Ferrier’s decision to put a young loose cannon like her in charge, Luc could do nothing but stand by to watch a catastrophe in the making. And despise himself for being more attracted to her than ever.

CHAPTER TWO

      ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Jasmine saw her family off at Nice airport. She’d promised them that in a month she’d be on her way back home in Idaho for good. Before they boarded the jet, the pain in her parents’ eyes revealed their disbelief that she would keep her promise. That look had stabbed her with fresh grief.

      They didn’t know that the glimpse of her life she’d described in front of the TV camera on Friday belonged to the past. Her grandparents were gone. Once she’d carried out her papa’s last wishes—wishes no one else in the whole world knew about except her and his attorney—there was nothing more to keep her in France. But until she’d carried out this plan and moved back to Idaho, they wouldn’t believe she really did want to go home for good.

      After assuring them that she would arrive in time for their thirtieth wedding anniversary party in August, she headed for the Banque Internationale du Midi with a growing pit in her stomach.

      “Papa?” she said to the air growing hotter by the minute under a July sun. “I carried off the first part of our plan on TV. Now I hope to pull off this second part, but I’m nervous. In case I get into trouble, I’ll need your help or I won’t be able to put the third part into motion. Do you hear me?”

      Last Friday’s media announcement had turned the entire Ferrier clan inside out as she had known it would, as her papa, though dead now, had known it would once Robert had read the will at the board meeting.

      She knew positively that several of them, including non-family members of the board, had hoped to be named successor when the will was finally read. Of late they’d made no secret about it.

      Jasmine’s French mother and American father, along with her siblings, were known as the American faction of her grandparents’ progeny. They didn’t want to be involved in company business.

      But all the other Ferriers lived in France and existed to promote the company. Some of them were situated in Paris with key positions at the perfumery. The rest had never left the environs of Nice that included Grasse. All of them worked for Ferriers in one capacity or other.

      In the beginning, there’d been one small foundry in Grasse. In time, thirty distilleries dotted the Basses-Alpes, and the Alpes-Maritime regions. Her papa had his own small private lab in Grasse and eventually divided his time between the perfumery in Hyeres, and the other one in Paris. Little by little, the company expanded until he’d had the big perfumery built in Grasse.

      Naturally everyone in the extended family had a huge vested interest in everything that went on. Jasmine loved them all. They were wonderful people. But when it came to families doing business together in a company with a history and heritage like theirs, emotions ran off the charts. Envy, pride and, in some cases, even greed had crept in.

      For them to hear that Jasmine of all people had been named, as Michel Didier had said—a woman, the youngest nobody in the family—it had to be the lowest blow of all time.

      Her grandfather had been such a private person, it was in keeping with his character to hide his secret agenda until his one great desire had become a fait accompli. Being that he was without a doubt the kindest, most enlightened, generous man she’d ever known, Jasmine had taken his private confidences to her heart. She knew he was counting on her.

      Though her papa realized everyone would be upset and hurt one way or another, he’d had a nobler purpose in mind and was using his willing granddaughter to help right a wrong that had gone on since he’d been a small boy raised at La Tourette, the Ferrier home in Grasse.

      The family’s adverse reaction over Jasmine having been named was nothing compared to the furor that was coming. Tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let you down, Papa.”

      She drove her Audi into the financial district of Nice. The bank that the House of Ferrier had done business with over the years was housed in a former cream-colored palace of neoclassic design. It lay just ahead surrounded with palm trees and exotic flowers. Everything was riding on this visit. Nothing could be accomplished without the bank’s help. It was crucial Jasmine get the CEO on her side.

      After pulling around to the public parking area, she reached for the file folder she’d brought with her and entered through the main doors. A security guard nodded to her. “May I help you?”

      “I’m here to see Monsieur Lucien Charriere on urgent business.”

      “Do you have an appointment?”

      “No, but I’m hoping he’ll have time to fit me in to his busy schedule.” Her papa had always dealt with Raimond Charriere, but she’d learned from Giles LeClos, Ferrier’s comptroller, that he’d passed away within months of her papa. His grandson Lucien had taken over.

      “Without an appointment I’m afraid it would be impossible for him to meet with you. If you’ll call the bank and ask to be put through to his office, his secretary will know how to help you.”

      “I’m sorry, but my reason for seeing him can’t wait. If you’ll please let him know that Jasmine Martin from Ferriers is here in the foyer, I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

      The name Ferrier had always been the magic word and caused the older man’s composure to slip. Without asking for picture ID, he pulled out his phone and spoke in hushed tones to the person who answered. When he hung up, he said, “Someone will be right with you. I didn’t realize who you were.”

      “That’s perfectly understandable.” In a minute she heard, “Ms. Martin?” Jasmine turned in the direction of the man who’d just spoken her name.

      “I’m Thomas, Monsieur Charriere’s assistant.” His eyes fastened on her with blatant male interest. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to his office. He’s on the phone, but he’ll be through with his overseas call shortly.”

      “Thank you.”

      They walked on marble floors and down the north hallway to a suite that had been modernized. But nothing could hide the fact that it had once been a royal Italian residence of the House of Savoy before Nice was made an arrondissement of Grasse.

      Before they reached the double doors of the inner office, they opened. Silhouetted over the threshold stood a tall, thirtyish male who immediately reminded her of...the bad boy at the dock on Yeronisos!

      “You!” The shock of seeing him again, of finding him here, of realizing who he was, left her reeling. Her fantasy had come true! How was it possible?

      Today he was immaculately turned out in a banker’s suit and tie. His black hair, almost unruly, looked like he’d run his hand through it a few times out of frustration or habit.

      Already he needed another shave and it was only eleven in the morning. She knew what he looked like underneath his clothes. Rock hard and lean, with a hungry look around his compelling mouth and nose. He had the genes of his Ligurian ancestry, which had given him moody black eyes. She hadn’t been able to see their color behind his sunglasses.

      A woman wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t notice him. Jasmine had noticed him all right, and hadn’t been the same since. As she’d discovered on the island, he was a standout in any crowd or alone.

      She recalled her grandmother’s description of her grandfather the first time they met. The tall, fit, suntanned man with the penetrating black eyes and hair stood before me. He was so handsome he took my breath away.

      Jasmine could relate, but that pit in her stomach enlarged because this man’s glittering gaze traveled over her, making every feminine corpuscle in her body quiver. He was still angry over her insults.