Weddings: The Proposals. Rebecca Winters

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      “I’m paying for these,” she announced, putting some Euros in the woman’s hand before Raoul could pull the necessary bills from his wallet.

      He eyed her skeptically. “You’re sure this is all you want? You can’t take flowers back to Los Angeles with you.” Oh how politely he’d said the words, like he was speaking to a child. She got the impression he couldn’t wait for her to announce her departure plans.

      For a little while she’d forgotten that Raoul was her enemy, and with that reminder the enjoyment of the last hour vanished.

      “They’re for Chantelle.” A thank-you gift for allowing her to stay in their home. “She misses puttering in her garden. I thought she might enjoy these.” Laura buried her nose in the petals to inhale their sweet perfume.

      When she lifted her head, she caught a look of something she couldn’t decipher in those black depths before he took the basket from her. A small shiver ran through her as they retraced their steps to the car parked beyond the walled town.

      After she climbed in, he placed the basket on the floor behind her seat where the flowers would be protected. This time she was careful not to look at him. That way she wouldn’t be subjected to any more fiery darts of accusation.

      Once again they were traveling along the back roads of Provence that were more alive and colorful than any painting she could ever create. They eventually passed through another charming town whose name she couldn’t pronounce.

      “This was the home of Marcel Pagnol,” he informed her in a gravelly voice. “In case you don’t know wh—”

      “I know,” she cut him off. “Hollywood made his novels world famous. I’ve been seeing Jean de la Florette around every farmhouse and fountain.”

      By the shifting of gears she realized she’d irritated him. “You could have played the part of Manon. She was a child of nature, too.”

      “You mean the girl who had every man in the village lusting after her?” she inquired. She shook her head despairingly. “You might have spared me that.”

      Through the grimace he said, “You’re the one who chose to read something negative into my remark. In my own apparently obtuse way I was attempting to pay you a compliment.”

      “You mean to make up for your uninvited advance in front of the real estate agent?”

      His lips thinned in response. “I preferred Jean-Luc to think I was having an affair with you.”

      “Nice,” she bit out. “There’s nothing a woman loves more than to be considered a man’s girl-toy. Yet I have to admit I’m surprised that a Frenchman like you who knows he’s attractive and can obviously have his pick on a whim has to prove anything.”

      She smiled in satisfaction to see the way his fingers tightened on the wheel. Unable to resist she said, “Evidently your agent is a member of the good-old-boy’s network. Every society in the world has them, especially among the exceptionally rich and famous.

      “Are you hoping word of me will get back to your latest girlfriend? Or your wife? Or possibly your ex? Or maybe your almost ex? Now I have to ask myself if you’re praying she’ll finally leave you alone, or maybe this woman is another man’s wife and you’re counting on her jealousy to bring her to heel.”

      She heard a volley of French invective that needed no translation. “That’s quite a tongue you’ve acquired.”

      “It’s been sharpened on wealthy men like you who collect women like some people collect shells.” The Stillman men led the pack.

      “How many have there been?” he ground out.

      “Thousands! However, I dare say that’s not as many as your fertile imagination suspects.” Laura laughed in pain. “Me thinks I’d better get myself away to a nunnery quick before you become my next victim. Heaven forbid, eh?”

      “Heaven forbid,” he muttered so morosely, she felt it to her bones. Ridiculous as it was, his repudiation stung.

      They’d reached Nice and were following the signs for Cap Ferrat.

      “Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, Raoul, maybe we can both enjoy the rest of the short drive back to the villa. The next time you decide to invite me anywhere, better not obey the urge or I’ll know you’re only lusting after me. For your information, that’s the biggest turn-off to a woman there is.”

      He turned his head in her direction. “Then how do you explain your response when I kissed you?” came the slithering taunt.

      The man was a devil. “Chemical reaction.” Knowing what question he would ask next, she answered it. “And yes, it happens every time. It’s my nature. You already called it and you’d be right because clearly you’re a very intelligent man, so consider yourself warned.”

      She was sure he drove them above the speed limit to reach the villa. The second he pulled to a screeching halt, she got out of the car and reached for the basket of flowers. As she turned around Guy came down the steps to greet her. He waved to his brother.

      The sight of him was like a balm to her soul and she flew toward him. He put his arm around her, flowers and all and smiled warmly at her. “How was your day?”

      “I discovered it’s true. Provence is God’s garden. These are for Chantelle.”

      As he took the basket from her, his eyes misted. “Let’s take them in to her. She’ll love them.”

      Without a backward glance Laura walked into the foyer with him. The click of the door coincided with the squeal of tires out on the gravel.

      Guy looked askance. “Did Raoul tear around with you the whole day like that?

      Now would be the perfect time to confide in him about his brother, but she couldn’t do it. Whatever rush he got out of insulting her, it would grow old with time. She could outlast him.

      “Of course not. I think he was anxious to get back to his villa for an important phone call with the agent.” Even if it was a lie, it was an innocent one. “Let me freshen up, then I’ll join you and Chantelle.”

      “What did he think of the property?”

      She averted her eyes. “I’m not sure. He didn’t really say. See you two in a few minutes.”

      Once in the guest suite, Laura decided to phone her best friend in California, who lived in the apartment across the hall from her. Cindy, who’d been divorced for a year, was keeping an eye on her place and gathered the mail for her from the box downstairs. In case there was a bill she hadn’t taken care of, she needed to know about it and get it paid. Laura did the same thing for Cindy when she flew to Georgia to visit her family, and the two women had formed a close friendship. If Ted ever came to the apartment when Laura was out, Cindy documented the time so Laura could give the information to her attorney. There was a restraining order on him, but Ted chose to ignore it whenever he felt like it.

      When she and Cindy played tennis or saw a film, they commiserated about the men in their lives and talked about the ideal man who would one day sweep them off their feet. One СКАЧАТЬ