Rebecca Winters: Having the Frenchman's Baby

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 family on this?”

As he’d just come from battling his attraction to a certain wine buyer from the UK his dark eyes glittered with a mixture of fresh guilt and pain. “For as long as it takes.”

“Let my sister go. Let this be finished so she can rest in peace!”

Luc’s hands formed fists. He leaned over to kiss the forehead of her thin face before walking out of the room into the hall.

He refused to allow any arguing in front of Paulette. On some level he was convinced she could hear and understand what was going on. It horrified him that Yves had talked about her dying while standing next to her bed.

The other man followed him into the corridor. “My sister’s gone. You have no right to prolong this agony.”

After being best friends from childhood, it didn’t seem possible the two of them had come to this impasse.

“I’m paying for her care, Yves.”

“Money be damned. We’re talking about Paulette. She wouldn’t have wanted this. You know she wouldn’t!”

“That’s easy for us to say since we’re not the one in there fighting for life.”

Yves’ face screwed up in pain. “That’s no life. You might as well know now. Since there isn’t any reasoning with you, the family got together last month. We’ve hired an attorney to fight you in court and get these infernal machines turned off.”

“I know,” Luc whispered. “My attorney already informed me.” It was only a matter of time before Luc’s sister Giselle found out.

Thank God his new house was ready to move into so he could live on his own again. Between his mother who backed him, and Giselle who sided with Yves and fought him at every opportunity, Luc hadn’t had a moment’s peace in the last year.

“You can’t win, Luc. You’re not her husband. The only reason we gave you this long before getting legal counsel is because of our families’ longstanding friendship over the years. But because of this insanity of yours, that’s gone…disappeared.”

That was right. Because of Luc, Paulette had been consigned to a living death. But not if he could help it.

He shifted his weight. “I’m planning on her waking up, Yves. When she does, I’ll do whatever I can to help her get on with her life.”

Yves plowed fingers through hair as blond as Paulette’s. “No, Luc. Your responsibility to her is over. Even if Paulette were to wake up and make a full recovery, she wouldn’t want you involved.”

Luc closed his eyes tightly for a minute. “When she wakes up, I intend to be here for her.”

“Could it be you’re confusing guilt and remorse with love?”

Those words stung. “I loved your sister. That’s why I married her.”

“But sometimes love isn’t enough. Come on, Luc. That time is long past and now Paulette yearns to escape her body.”

If Luc thought that were true…

“This morning Maman and Papa asked me to talk sense to you one final time. They said that if you really care about her, then prove it and allow her to go free so this madness can end.”