Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress. Barbara Dunlop

in a friendly squeeze. “We can hang out, visit. It’ll be like we’re back in college.”

      “I can’t move in,” Charlotte protested. “I have a job back in Monte Allegro. My grandfather needs me. There’s a summit in Athens on the twenty-fifth.”

      Alec pinned her with a look. “So you’re willing to inconvenience me, but not yourself?”

      “I’m not…” She gazed into his mocking eyes.

      He raised a brow.

      Instinct told her to grab the yes before he could change his mind. But here? With Alec? For weeks on end?

      She thought back to the hotel room key, and to the way her stomach had quivered in daring anticipation for the split second when she’d thought about accepting it. She was older now, wiser, and she knew full well the importance of leading a perfectly circumspect life—one that didn’t include a stint on the front page of the tabloids.

      But the quiver was still there. And she knew that he knew. She could fight it all she wanted, intellectualize it all she wanted, but the bald truth was that she was attracted to the man. She and several thousand other women fantasized about a night in Alec Montcalm’s bed. And Alec would take advantage of that in any way he could.

      But then she pictured Jack’s joy, her pride when she told him she’d succeeded. She thought about her grandmother and the whole Hudson clan. For once, she’d be part of the team.

      “I’ll stay,” she told Alec.

      Raine squealed in delight.

      Alec reached for his wineglass, raising it in a mock toast while his dark, molten eyes told her the chase was on.

      “They will hound you,” said Kiefer, as he geared his mountain bike down for the incline.

      “She’s a friend of Raine’s,” Alec defended, following suit, putting more power to his pedals.

      They were on a dirt road that wound along the ridgeline above the Montcalm estate. The tires bumped beneath Alec, and sweat began to form at his hairline as the sun cleared the eastern horizon, lighting up the river and the patchwork of fields and woods below.

      “So?” Kiefer demanded. “It’s a Hollywood movie. There’ll be press all over it. You know how the Japanese are going to react—”

      “It’s under control,” Alec cut in, even though the venture wasn’t anywhere near under control. He was attracted to Charlotte, and he’d let that attraction overrule his logic. Filming a movie in his living room? Kiefer, his vice president, was right to be ticked off. They’d met with a high-priced image consultant only last week, and Alec had agreed to try to be more circumspect in his personal life.

      “Kana Hanako wants a business partner, not a playboy.”

      “It’s a business deal,” said Alec, taking a swig from his water bottle, refusing to acknowledge Kiefer’s point. “They’re renting the château.”

      “Who’s the star?”

      “Ridley Sinclair.”

      Kiefer snorted. “You know what I mean.”

      “Isabella Hudson. I’ve never even met her.”

      Kiefer gaped at him. “The Isabella Hudson?”

      Like there would be another. “She is a member of the family.”

      “You’re going to have Isabella Hudson staying at the Château Montcalm. Good God, Alec, why not just go ahead and murder someone? Even the Japanese tabloids will pick up you and Isabella Hudson.”

      “I’m not going near Isabella Hudson. There’ll be no pictures, nothing whatsoever for them to report.”

      But Kiefer wasn’t listening. He was inside his own head, obviously dreaming up one dire scenario after another. “You’re going to have to move out.”

      “No,” said Alec.

      “Go stay in Rome. Better still, go to Tokyo and work with Akiko on the prototype.”

      “They don’t need me in the bike lab.” If the one he was riding was anything to go on, R & D had made great strides with the frame alloy.

      “Well, I need you out of Provence.”

      They crested the hill, and Alec grabbed a higher gear, putting his frustration into muscle power that produced speed. Let a film crew invade his house yet miss his chance with Charlotte? No way.

      “I am staying in my home,” he told Kiefer, bending his head into the wind.

      “We need a mitigation strategy,” Kiefer called, falling slightly behind.

      “Mitigate this!” Alec sent back a rude hand gesture.

      “Don’t let the press catch you doing that.” Kiefer caught up. “Could you maybe get married?” he huffed.

      Alec rolled his eyes. He’d yet to meet a woman who wasn’t after his money or his status—usually both.

      “At least find a girlfriend? Not forever, just while Isabella is there. Somebody who’s a nobody, a plain Jane who won’t get you into any trouble.”

      Alec didn’t want a plain Jane nobody. And he had zero interest in Isabella Hudson. He wanted Charlotte.

      And then he realized he’d missed his big chance. “Damn,” he spat out.

      “What?” Kiefer glanced from side to side.

      He could have made that a condition of the movie location deal. What was he thinking? Charlotte could have played his girlfriend for a couple of months.

      “What?” Kiefer repeated.

      But it was too late now. She didn’t strike him as the kind of person who would renegotiate.

      “I almost had a girl we could bribe,” Alec admitted.

      “Who?”

      Alec shook his head. “We missed the boat on that one.”

      “Who is she?”

      “Nobody.”

      “Perfect,” said Kiefer with enthusiasm.

      “I lost my leverage.” Alec slowed his bike, taking a right-hand turn into the pullout beside Crystal Lake.

      “Well, what was your leverage?” Kiefer’s voice was eager.

      “Oh, no, you don’t.” Alec braked to a halt and put his feet down, taking in the view of the lake while they took a breather.

      “Oh, no, I don’t what?”

      “She’s smart, tough and unreasonable.”

      “At least give me a shot.” Kiefer squirted a stream of water into his open mouth.

      “There’s no real problem,” said Alec. “The Kana Hanako brass aren’t going to give up my Tour de France connection, no matter what the tabloids write.”

      “Yeah, but they can make my life hell in the meantime. Do you know how much time I waste being yelled at by Takahiro’s translator?”

      “Do you know how much I pay you to get yelled at by Takahiro’s translator?”

      “Not nearly enough,” Kiefer grumbled. Then he recapped his water bottle and ran spread fingers through his short hair. “Who were you talking about?”

      Alec shook his head.

      “I swear I won’t even talk to her.”

      Alec paused. “Charlotte Hudson. She’s the friend of Raine’s.”

      “Ah.” Kiefer instantly caught on. “You could have bribed her with access to the château.”

      Alec nodded.