“Mine.”

“You don’t count. You’re the hired help.” Alec snapped one foot back onto the pedal and pushed off.

Kiefer quickly followed suit. “Will you at least ask her?”

“I will not.”

“If she says no, she says no. But she might-”

“She’ll never agree.”

“How do you know?”

Alec pulled onto the rough road for the return trip. “It’s like this,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “You’re executive assistant to an ambassador. You like your job. In fact, the ambassador is your own grandfather. A man with a public reputation like mine asks you to pretend to date him in order to protect his reputation. You say…what, exactly?”

“Point taken,” Kiefer admitted.

They rode in silence to the crest of the hill, where Alec’s thoughts turned to the croissants his cook had been putting in the oven when they left the château.

“Still,” Kiefer continued, as their speed picked up and the morning air whipped past, “the worst she can do is say no.”

“No, no, no,” Charlotte emphasized into the cordless telephone. “You can’t put Syria next to Bulgaria. Put them next to Canada, or the Swiss-”

The telephone handset was summarily tugged out of Charlotte’s hand.

“Hey!” She twisted her head to Raine, who was lying back in the next deck lounger.

“Charlotte has to go now, Emily,” Raine said into the handset. “She’s in the middle of a pedicure.”

“You can’t do that,” Charlotte protested.

But Raine calmly hit the off button.

“You need to hold still,” warned the esthetician working on Charlotte’s toes. “Or you’ll have purple passion streaked halfway to your ankle.”

“You listen to her.” Raine gestured with the phone.

“You hung up on Emily.”

“You’ve been on the phone with her for half an hour.”

“It’s the summit dinner. She was about to put Syria next to Bulgaria.”

“Will it cause a war?”

“Maybe,” said Charlotte, glancing down at her toes. The purple passion sparkled in the sunshine. She’d borrowed a sea-blue two-piece bathing suit from Raine, and they were lounging on thickly padded lounge chairs next to the Montcalm pool. An emerald lawn stretched out in front of them, while lush cypress trees and flowering shrubs screened them from the house, offering dappled shade.

“They’re cultural attachés,” Raine pointed out. “I doubt they have the launch codes.”

“Maybe not. But I can’t just walk away from my responsibilities on a moment’s notice.” Charlotte had spoken with her grandfather this morning, and he’d been more than gracious in giving her the time off, telling her not to worry. But there were about a thousand details she had to make sure were passed on to other staff members.

“I did,” said Raine. “When I heard you were here, I walked right off the shoot in Malta and onto the corporate jet.”

“Is that a problem?” Charlotte quickly asked.

“I guess we’ll find out when the October issue hits the stands, won’t we?”

“No, seriously-”

“The magazine will survive, and so will the ambassador. You need to relax.”

“You should not move for at least half an hour,” Charlotte’s esthetician advised, admiring Charlotte’s toes as she rose from her chair.

“Thank you,” said Charlotte, raising her newly polished fingernails and fluttering them to compare to her matching toes.

Raine’s esthetician finished a final topcoat, and the two women began to pack their things.

Charlotte leaned over to whisper to Raine. “Do we tip or something?”

“All taken care of,” Raine whispered back. “Shall I ring for strawberries and champagne?”

“It’s still morning.”

“You’re on vacation. And you’re in Provence.” Raine grinned and hit a speed-dial button on the phone.

“At this rate, I may never leave,” Charlotte muttered, sighing and relaxing back into the soft lounger.

While Raine talked to the kitchen, Charlotte closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze caress her face and listening to the gentle hum of the cicadas fill in the background.

“Quick!” Raine’s elbow jolted Charlotte back to reality. “Take a look.”

Charlotte blinked against the bright sunshine, scanning the lawn beyond the pool and coming to two male figures.

Alec. And he was dressed in bicycle shorts and a spandex shirt that clung to every sculpted muscle.

“Isn’t he the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?” asked Raine.

He was, but it seemed an odd thing for Raine to notice. “Alec?”

“Nooo.” Raine grimaced. “Kiefer. The guy with him.”

“Oh.” Charlotte hadn’t paid the least bit of attention to the slightly shorter man with short, sandy-blond hair striding down the brick pathway next to Alec.

“He’s our vice president,” Raine elaborated. “The girls in the office go ga-ga over him.”

“Sounds like you do, too.” Charlotte chuckled, watching the man named Kiefer saunter closer. He was probably six foot two. Though a slighter build than Alec, he was well muscled with an angular face, square jaw and an easy, self-confident stride.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” Raine warned.

“You don’t want to date an employee?” Charlotte asked, her gaze moving involuntarily to Alec. Now that was a gorgeous man. Everything about him moved in perfect symmetry.

“I don’t want him to think I’m one of his groupies,” Raine corrected.

“It’s that bad?”

“Just look at him,” Raine scoffed.

Charlotte glanced back for a split second. Sure, he was attractive enough. But she wasn’t sensing the animal magnetism she saw in Alec. If the girls in the office were going to go ga-ga, she would have thought Alec would be their target.

The two women halted their conversation as the men came within earshot. They stopped in front of the two loungers. Kiefer’s gaze swept Charlotte without sparing a single glance for Raine.

“This is your plain Jane?” Kiefer asked Alec, astonishment clear in his tone.

Charlotte shot Alec an exaggerated expression of offense. “I’m your what?”

Alec’s jaw tightened. “Smooth, Kiefer.” He drew a breath. “Charlotte, this is my vice president, Kiefer Knight. He’s just come up with the most ridiculous idea in the world.”

Three

Kiefer pulled a deck chair up next to Charlotte’s lounger, angling away from Raine. She could feel Alec’s gaze on her honey-brown skin. Maybe a bikini hadn’t been such a good idea after all. His attention was raising goose bumps, and she couldn’t help imagining his fingers trailing over her stomach, down the length of her legs…

“I’m concerned about Alec’s reputation,” Kiefer began in a gentle, cajoling voice.

Charlotte forced herself to concentrate on Kiefer’s words.

“I understand Isabella Hudson is starring in your movie.”

“My family’s movie,” Charlotte corrected. All she’d done was secure the location. Well, and she was going to babysit the shoot. But that was only because Alec was being obstinate. She really had no role here except pandering to his need for power and control.

“If they’re together here, rumors about Alec and Isabella are bound to circulate.”

Her gaze shifted to Alec, who still stood indolently at the foot of her lounger, taking in the color of her toenails.

“You’re involved with Bella?” she asked him. For some reason, the idea put a cramp in her belly.

“You’re botching this,” Alec growled at Kiefer.

Kiefer held up his hands in surrender. “Be my guest.”

“Kiefer wants you to pretend to be my girlfriend to forestall any gossip about me and Isabella.”

Charlotte tried to sort out his words. “You’re dating Bella?” Why hadn’t Isabella asked for the use of the château? Why had Jack sent Charlotte? And what was Alec doing flirting with her?

“I am not dating Isabella,” he huffed in exasperation.

“But she’s high profile,” Kiefer put in. “And beautiful. And the press will invent their own headlines.”

Charlotte got the picture. They wanted to throw her to the wolves to save Alec’s reputation. Like there was any hope for Alec’s reputation.

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

“Sadly,” said Alec, “Kiefer is completely serious.”

“He’s been gracious enough to let you use the château,” Kiefer put in.

“Here’s a thought,” suggested Charlotte, an edge to her tone. “Alec can keep his hands off Isabella, and then there’ll be no reason for a ruse with ‘Plain Jane.’”

“I am not going to have my hands on Isabella,” Alec practically shouted.

Charlotte barely glanced at him then turned to Kiefer. “Problem solved.”

“The tabloids don’t rely on the truth,” said Kiefer.

“Apparently,” Charlotte shot back, “neither do you.”

“Has anyone thought about Charlotte’s reputation?” asked Raine.

“Charlotte has,” said Charlotte.

“He could have made it a condition of the contract,” Kiefer pointed out.

“He didn’t,” Alec said flatly.

Charlotte turned to Alec once more. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” Not that she’d go along with it in any event. And thank goodness Alec hadn’t asked for it before they closed the deal.

“I think it’s an idea,” he said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “Good? Not sure. But it might deflect speculation.”

“Since when have you cared about speculation on your love life?”

Kiefer jumped in again. “Since the president of Kana Hanako, our Japanese partner, expressed concern.”

“Something I should know about?” asked Raine, her alert, businesslike tone at odds with her bikini-clad pose on the lounger.

Kiefer’s attention went to her for the briefest of seconds, but then he blinked and focused on the small pool house behind her. “It’s not that serious.”

“Then why are we having this conversation? Charlotte’s not going to trash her reputation by being seen with Alec-”

“Hello?” Alec tossed in.

Raine waved a dismissive hand. “You made your bed a long time ago, mon frère.”

“Just don’t make a bed with Isabella,” Charlotte advised.

“I have no interest in Isabella.” His eyes darkened to walnut, pinning Charlotte in place. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Not when he looked like that. Not when the predatory set of his jaw made her skin tingle and her spine turn to jelly. “I’m letting my toenails dry.”

Both Raine and Kiefer stilled, while Alec stared at her in silence. Clearly, people didn’t normally turn down Alec’s requests.

“Later, then,” he finally said with a tense nod, turning on his heel.

Later proved hard to come by for Alec. Raine and Charlotte took a shopping trip into Toulouse. The location manager, set designer and second-unit director all arrived, followed quickly by carpenters, set dressers and lighting technicians.

The main floor of Alec’s house quickly turned into a construction zone. There was more than one moment when he contemplated moving out for the duration. But then he’d catch a glimpse of Charlotte.

The more he saw of her, the more determined he was to get to know her better-much, much better.

He finally caught her alone, leaning on the rail of the third-floor hallway, staring down to the rotunda foyer where the grips were setting tracks for a camera.

“Bonjour,” he opened, resting his forearms on the polished wood, matching her pose.

She glanced over at him, then her gaze darted worriedly from the staircase to the front door and to either side of them.

“No photographers,” he assured her.

“I don’t trust Kiefer,” she responded.

“My apologies,” Alec offered. “I shouldn’t have let him make that request.”

“That I fake being your girlfriend?” she clarified.

Alec nodded. Though his only true regret was that she’d said no. It would have given him a perfect excuse to spend time with her. It was also regrettable that the experience had left her suspicious and jumpy. “I promise he won’t jump out of the bushes with a camera.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

A piece of equipment crashed in the foyer below. The noise was followed by an exchange of shouts.

“How do I know you won’t destroy my home?” Alec countered. “I guess we’re both taking a leap of faith.”

She turned her head to gaze at him, and he was struck once again by her beauty. Her crystal-blue eyes sparkled in the sunshine that streamed through the stained-glass dome ceiling. Her lips were deep red as they curved up in a wry smile. And her cheeks were rosy highlights to her creamy skin.

“You can rebuild the château,” she told him.

“That’s three-hundred-year-old limestone on the floor.”

Her glance was drawn downward. “So, it must be pretty much indestructible,” she offered in a perky voice.