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

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      “Where is Charlotte?” he asked in a louder voice.

      The three closest crew members turned to look at him.

      “I want to speak to Charlotte Hudson,” he enunciated.

      One of the crew members spoke into his walkie-talkie.

      “Alec?” came Raine’s voice.

      He turned to find the two women, small souvenir bags in tow, jaunty hats on their heads and pretty tans on their perky faces.

      “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, making a beeline to Charlotte.

      Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

      “This was your job,” he shouted, gesturing at the chaos around him. “We might as well be having an earthquake. The château is shaking off its foundation. The driveway is destroyed. And I can’t even hear myself think.”

      “I’ll—”

      “I want that crane gone,” he roared. “And I want it gone now.” He caught Jack in his peripheral vision.

      “But—”

      “And no more sightseeing. No more spas. No more fun and games with Raine while I suffer this noise and destruction alone.” He was ranting now, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. All he’d asked was that she hang around and make sure these people didn’t ruin his life. Even that seemed to be too much trouble.

      “They need the crane shot,” she tried, but her mouth was pinched and her skin was going pale under the tan.

      “And I need my château to be standing when this is all over.”

      She shrank back, and Alec could have kicked himself.

      Instead, he turned on Jack. “And you? What the hell’s the matter with you? I’m standing here screaming at your sister.”

      Jack blinked in obvious confusion.

      “Why don’t you hit me?”

      Now everybody within earshot looked confused.

      Alec cursed under his breath, stomping back into the château, thinking seriously about an extended trip to Rome until this was all over.

      Charlotte stared at her brother, but his gaze slid away, and he became instantly interested in a list on one of the production assistants’ clipboards. The noise level in the immediate area went back to normal, as everyone’s attention went to their jobs.

      Raine shifted toward Charlotte. “That’s not normal,” she intoned.

      “Thank goodness,” said Charlotte.

      “I don’t know what got into him.”

      “He’s not wrong,” said Charlotte. “I did promise to make sure everything ran smoothly.”

      “Alec doesn’t yell,” said Raine. “He stews. He plots. He might methodically bankrupt you. But he doesn’t yell.”

      “So, I’ve pushed him over the edge.” Charlotte needed to go clear the air. She couldn’t leave things hanging between them like this. She subconsciously started toward the front door.

      “It appears you have,” Raine mused, giving Charlotte a considering look as she fell into step beside her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

      “Like what?” Charlotte stalled, not wanting to lie to her friend, but really not wanting to admit she was attracted to Alec. It was so cliché, so tiresome.

      “Like maybe he made a pass at you? And you turned him down. Alec’s not used to hearing the word no.”

      “I guess not,” Charlotte chuckled.

      “So, did he?” asked Raine, keeping her voice low.

      “Make a pass at me?”

      Raine elbowed her in the ribs. “Are you avoiding the question?”

      “Pretty much.”

      “He did.” Raine linked her arm with Charlotte, steering her down the walkway, through a wooden gate and into a secluded garden where they sat down at a white-painted, wrought-iron table next to a trickling fountain. “So, you said no?” There was a fiendish glee in Raine’s wide grin.

      “Not exactly,” Charlotte admitted, setting down her purse and the small bag.

      Her friend’s eyes went wide. “You said yes?”

      “I didn’t really say anything.”

      “Oh my God. You two—”

      “No!” Then Charlotte lowered her voice. “No. We didn’t.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “We kissed.” Charlotte sat back in the straightbacked chair. “We kissed, okay?”

      “So, why’s he mad at you?”

      “I’m guessing it’s because the crane broke your driveway.”

      Raine toyed with a tiny leaf that had blown onto the grid-work table. “Trust me when I tell you Alec doesn’t yell over broken driveways. And what was that thing with Jack hitting him?”

      “You got me,” said Charlotte, more than happy to move off the kiss. “Does Alec beat up anyone who yells at you?”

      “No one’s ever yelled at me. At least not in front of Alec.” Raine paused. “And, actually, no, people don’t tend to yell at me.”

      “That’s because you’re sweet and kind,” said Charlotte, only half joking.

      “I’m starting to think it’s because I have a pit bull for a brother.”

      Charlotte laughed. “You think he warned them off?”

      “Maybe. But let’s get back to the kiss. Tell me about it.”

      “Nothing to tell,” Charlotte lied. It had been a kiss for the record books, and she’d been avoiding Alec ever since.

      “Where were you? How did it happen?”

      “We were on the balcony at one of the rental houses.”

      “And he just up and kissed you?”

      “He thought I was crying.”

      Raine frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”

      “I was actually laughing,” said Charlotte, forcing her mind to back away from the memory.

      “Alec doesn’t give sympathy kisses.”

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