Having the Frenchman's Baby. Rebecca Winters

vineyard manager to educate her about the fabulous wines the Chartier family had produced for generations.

      But she refrained from saying anything when she sensed a curious tension coming from him since they’d driven away from the vineyard.

      As he maneuvered the curve that led them back to town she noticed the way his suntanned fingers tightened almost compulsively on the steering wheel.

      Evidently he had something serious on his mind far removed from the possible sale of wine to some nebulous restaurants in the UK.

      Was it the same thing that had been on his mind earlier today right before their near miss?

      Not wanting him to think she expected tonight’s experience to be repeated, the second he pulled up in front of the hotel she opened the door and slid out while the motor was still running.

      Facing him the way she would any business person at the end of a successful meeting, she said, “You’ve made my introduction to Alsatian wines the highlight of my trip.”

      “Even if our initial meeting caused you some tense moments?”

      She smiled. “Even then. Seriously, I’d like to thank you for giving me this much time. I’m looking forward to meeting with your manager tomorrow. Goodbye, monsieur.”

      She shut the door.

      If he said anything in response, she didn’t hear it as she hurried inside the hotel.

      Since she wouldn’t be seeing him again, she intended to put all personal thoughts of him out of her mind.

      After reaching her room, she picked up the bottle of Tokay and opened it once more to inhale the aroma.

      Licorice… Of course. He knew all its secrets.

      Too exhilarated to think of sleeping yet, she set up her laptop and began recording the evening’s events.

      She didn’t want to leave out a single piece of information or a bit of wisdom he’d imparted. One day all this research would go into her book.

      When she finally went to bed, she was still reliving the time spent with him.

      “Please don’t let him be too unforgettable,” she begged of the darkness before closing her eyes.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ON THE forty-minute drive back to St Hippolyte, Lucien Chartier, whom everyone called Luc, got on his cell phone to Giles.

      “We have a potential buyer from the UK staying in Thann at the Hotel du Roi. According to Philippe, Mademoiselle Valentine buys for three London restaurants, all called the Bella Lucia.

      “I asked him to check them out for me. They’ve been established since nineteen forty-six and are reputed to be some of the most exclusive restaurants located in London.”

      Mayfair, Chelsea and Knightsbridge wouldn’t mean anything to Giles, but Luc knew exactly what kind of upscale, international clientele visited such establishments.

      Many famous actors and musicians from the swinging sixties had made the original restaurant famous. Between all three restaurants, three hundred and fifty people were served on a nightly basis.

      Nothing could please Luc more than to know that Domaine Chartier would be gracing the tables at Bella Lucia in future. Little by little the world was getting acquainted with Alsatian white wines.

      “Do me a favor and give her the royal treatment tomorrow. She’s surprisingly intuitive about wine. What she doesn’t know, she’s eager to learn. That’s where you come in, Giles.”

      The older man made a sound in his throat. “I haven’t met many women buyers from the UK.”

      “Nor have I.”

      In fact she didn’t have a strong British accent. There’d been moments when he could have sworn she was American. Rachel Valentine was a surprise in more ways than one.

      For one thing, he hadn’t thought she would forgive him. To his surprise she was willing to admit some culpability. An unusual woman.

      Once they’d gotten past that hurdle, she’d shown an uncommon interest in the whole business of wine culture. There was a great deal more to her than the surface revealed.

      An exceptionally beautiful surface, standing there in the vines.

      The gentle night breeze had swirled her hair into a cloud of brunette silk. He’d watched it swirl around other parts of her as well, molding the top she was wearing to her lovely body.

      He tried to force his thoughts to stop right there, but they filled his mind anyway.

      Since first passing her on the road, then seeing her in the hotel dining room enjoying herself to the fullest, it shocked him to discover he was having difficulty controlling certain pictures of the two of them that wouldn’t leave him alone. Breathtaking pictures he shouldn’t be entertaining. Not with Paulette lying comatose in her hospital bed.

      Guilt over his ex-wife’s condition caused him to drive faster, but the image of Ms Valentine tasting the wine seemed to be emblazoned in his psyche.

      At first he’d thought she’d imbibed too much wine like so many other buyers anxious to sample everything at once.

      Taking advantage of the moment had given him time to study her feminine profile—the way the white material of her expensive suit followed the lines and curves of her slender figure.

      He’d felt a quickening in his body that hadn’t happened for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time. Years…

      Troubled by the involuntary reaction over which he’d had no control, he’d plucked the bottle from the table, curious to know how much she’d consumed.

      When he’d realized it was still full, his glance had flown to her wineglass, which had contained only a small residue of wine.

      At that point his eyes had fastened helplessly on her pomegranate-red mouth, then her tender throat exposed to his gaze where he’d watched her savoring her first swallow of the velvety liquid.

      Mon Dieu. He’d never seen anything so provocative in his life.

      His hand tightened on his cell phone. “Since she wants to concentrate on the Tokay and Riesling, I suspect she could be here for a few days. Call me when you’ve taken her order.”

      “I’ll make certain it’s a big one,” Giles promised.

      “Why do you think I gave you the responsibility?”

      Though it was inevitable for Luc to come in contact with attractive women, he was reluctant to be around her again. She’d awakened something inside him totally unexpected.

      “If you need to get in touch with me tomorrow, I’ll be at the hospital. Just leave a message on my voice mail and I’ll get back to you. Otherwise I’ll see you at the banquet.”

      “D’accord.”

      He hung up, relieved to have put Giles in charge of Ms Valentine. Out of sight, out of mind.

      As for tonight, the single best way to cure what was ailing him was to drop by the hospital in St Hippolyte.

      Needing to ignore what had happened tonight, he drove straight to the long-term-care medical facility and hurried inside. After three years, it had become his second home.

      To his surprise he met Yves Brouet’s accusing stare when he walked in Paulette’s room a few minutes later. That was all he needed.

      She lay in a coma between them. Only the sound of the machines keeping Luc’s ex-wife alive made any noise.

      Normally the two men staggered their times in order to spread out the visits. And to avoid each other. Luc usually went there in the morning before putting in a full day’s work.

      “Holy Mother of God, Luc—how long are you going to fight the