Jack smiled down at Charlotte. “We were hoping her connection to Raine would help.”
Alec’s hand tensed almost imperceptibly. “Yes. Well, I hope you’re happy with the results.”
“We’ll also need a couple of rental houses for the VIPs and stars,” said Jack. “Any suggestions?”
“I can make a couple of calls.”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“No trouble,” said Alec. “Charlotte?” He glanced down, his palm warm on her back. “Maybe you could give me a hand?”
More time with Alec?
Her mind screamed no. While her body shouted yes. Then her reflexive nod broke the tie.
To her surprise, instead of taking her back to his office for privacy, he said goodbyes and ushered her out the front door.
“I thought we were making a few calls?” she said as Alec cut toward the garage. She scrambled to keep up in her heels. The sunshine was warm on her bare arms and legs, and the sweet smell of the estate’s flowers and herb gardens invaded her nostrils.
“I brought my cell,” said Alec.
“Where are we going?”
He hit the button on a small remote and one of the garage doors glided open, revealing a burnished copper Lamborghini convertible. The top was down, showing off a black and copper interior, a sexy console and low-slung leather bucket seats.
“Nice,” she acknowledged.
“Thanks.” He popped open the passenger door then offered a hand to steady her as she climbed in.
“Where are we going?” she repeated, even as her body all but sighed into the soft leather. It would be nice to get away from the chaos for a while, clear her head, remember there were other things in life besides the approval of the Hudsons.
In answer to her question, Alec grinned and gestured to the sky. “A day like this? In the south of France? In a Murciélago? Who cares?”
He made a good point.
Charlotte shrugged both in agreement and capitulation. The seat surrounded her body like a glove. Alec leaned in, pulled out the seat belt and reached across to click it into the buckle. She couldn’t resist inhaling his scent, fresh and clean like the region where he lived.
He shut the door, then rounded the hood to the driver’s side, removing his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Next, he untied his tie, slipping it off and setting it behind the seat.
Charlotte glanced around at the classy interior. She couldn’t help a smile at the thought of zooming through the countryside in such a magnificent vehicle.
Henri magically appeared and retrieved the jacket. “You have everything you need, sir?”
Alec nodded, perching a pair of sunglasses on his nose.
“You ready?” he asked Charlotte.
“I don’t have my purse,” she remembered.
“Sir?” asked Henri.
“She won’t need it,” said Alec, turning the key. The powerful engine roared to life, rumbling the seat beneath her. He clicked the car into gear and pulled smoothly out of the garage. They passed semitrailers containing warehouses of filming equipment, one that was a wardrobe room, and another containing a full, industrial kitchen.
“I thought you might like to get away from the circus for a while,” said Alec, picking up speed down the long, concrete driveway.
“That Lars makes me nervous.”
“I don’t know why people put up with him.”
“I guess he’s in charge for the moment.” The second-unit filming was scheduled to take place before the stars and director arrived.
The car came to a smooth stop at the end of the driveway, and Alec turned it toward Castres.
“Being in charge is no excuse for being a jerk.”
“Not an excuse,” Charlotte agreed. “But it’s a reason.”
“There’s never a reason to abuse power,” said Alec, bringing up the revs and changing gears as the road straightened out.
Charlotte considered his profile for a moment.
He glanced over. “What?”
“You have power,” she observed, wondering what he was like with his own employees, remembering how he’d insisted the film crew not cause them any additional work.
“At the moment.” He winked, gearing down and pulling into the oncoming lane to pass a truck. “I also have speed.”
The sports car stuck to the road like glue, accelerating effortlessly past the truck and another car in front.
Charlotte’s hand automatically gripped the door handle.
“Nervous?” asked Alec.
“Not exactly.” There was something about Alec that oozed confidence behind the wheel. Well, actually, there was something about him that oozed confidence about everything. She trusted him not to push himself or the car past their limits.
“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her in a solemn tone.
She’d have to be blind not to catch the double entendre. “How can you be sure?”
“With power comes responsibility,” he said, easing back into the proper lane. “I was born to both.”
Did she dare trust him with her sexual attraction? And was that what this was about? Was he whisking her off to some discreet inn where they could spend the afternoon in bed exploring it?
Pretty bold of him not to ask her. She should tell him no. Just to thwart his arrogant self-confidence, she should tell him she wasn’t interested in a tryst.
He flipped on his signal and left the main road.
And maybe she would.
Soon.
In the meantime, she watched the businesses roll by on the tree-lined boulevard, keeping an eye out for possible hotels and inns. They passed one, then another, then a small bed-and-breakfast.
But, to her surprise, Alec pulled into the parking lot of a real-estate office.
She raised her brows. “Here?”
“My friend Renaldo,” said Alec. “He’ll let us know what’s up for rent.”
“Oh.” Didn’t Charlotte feel like a fool. “A real-estate office.”
A knowing light came into Alec’s eyes. “What were you expecting?”
“This,” she quickly responded with a nod.
He grinned, and she felt her face heat.
Four
Alec wanted to sleep with Charlotte-so much so that it was beginning to feel like an obsession. That kiss this morning told him they would all but combust together, and the confused looks she’d been giving him said she’d felt it, too. And now they were alone. They had several hours to spend together. And there were endless possible locations to make love in town. They had everything but a set of runway lights guiding them to paradise.
But something was holding him back. And he couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be. Guys like him could talk women into bed without breaking a sweat. Half the time it was about his money, of course. But then half the time he didn’t really care.
Maybe he was getting old. Or maybe he wanted to pretend it was different with Charlotte-that there was more to it than sex on his side and manipulation on hers.
Which didn’t make sense. He barely knew her. She could be as susceptible to his millions as every other woman he’d met in this lifetime. Just because she was Raine’s friend, and just because she was bright and witty, with an endearing dash of vulnerability, didn’t make her any different from anyone else.
Still, instead of rushing her to the nearest hotel room, he found himself winding his way through Castres to the first of three houses available for rent.
The first one was an old, converted mill set next to the river on a few acres of lawn.
“Gorgeous,” sang Charlotte, tipping her head back and turning in a circle as they entered a boxy, high-ceilinged main room. A polished wooden staircase was set against the stone wall and led up to the landing on the second story. The wood floors gleamed, and the furniture was big and comfortable.
“You think it might be too small?” asked Alec.
“It’s charming,” said Charlotte, passing beneath the staircase, past the stone fireplace to the arched doorway that led to a restored kitchen. Bright enamel pots hung from the ceiling, and a giant white sink dominated the counter below a window that looked out over the water. The cupboards were worn, and the floor tiles had definitely seen better days.
Alec tested the table for dust. “We’re talking about bigwigs and movie stars.”
Charlotte frowned at him. “I’d stay here,” she declared, wandering to the big sink.
He followed. “Yeah? Well, apparently, you’re not all that fussy.”
She turned suddenly, and they were nearly nose to nose, her back trapped against the sink.
“How would you know that?” she asked.
He held up his finger to show the dust, rubbing it off with his thumb.
She watched the motion, and he felt a flicker of warning heat build up inside him.
“Nothing a little elbow grease won’t fix,” she said.
“I’m guessing stars don’t do windows,” he countered, attempting to keep the mood light.
“Of course not. They have people who do it for them. But then, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
“Got a problem with my money?” Sarcasm wasn’t the female reaction he normally experienced.
She paused. “I like your car.”
“You have good taste.”
“You like to go fast?”
He digested the statement for a second, wondering which tack to take.
A flicker of unease crossed her face.
“I like to go fast,” he agreed softly, keeping his expression steady, allowing her decide whether to let it drop or pick it up and run with it.
They stared at each other in silence. The river rushed by below the window, and a songbird serenaded them from a nearby tree branch. The house itself was still and silent. It seemed to be holding its breath along with them.
“I thought the kiss would get us out of this,” she finally said.
“I guess it didn’t,” he responded.
Another minute went by.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, something decisive one way or the other.”
He smiled. “I thought about that. And then I thought I’d let you make the first move.”
She shifted against the cool ceramic sink. “And if I don’t?”
He shrugged. “Then I guess it’s like a staring contest. We’ll see who blinks first.”
“And you think that would be fun?”
“I think it would be fascinating.” And he did.
He had a will of iron when he wanted it. Not that he necessarily wanted it in this case. But toying with Charlotte was like stomping the accelerator of his Lamborghini. It was always exhilarating to see which would come first, disaster or delirium.
“In that case.” She slipped sideways, dancing away from him, across the kitchen. “I’m betting I can hold out longer than you.”
“You think?”
She snagged his attention with a sultry, sexy look. “I guess we’ll find out. Where’s the next house?”
“Rue du Blanc. Top of the hill.”
It was a modern stone villa with twelve rooms and a pool overlooking an olive grove. Charlotte liked it. So did Alec. The kitchen was clean and modern, and there were plenty of bedrooms and enough baths for an entourage.
Their final stop was a full-on castle, with bleached stones, hewn ceiling beams, a formal dining room and seven bedrooms with king-size beds. A gilded fountain dominated the driveway turnaround, while acres of emerald lawn stretched out front. The furniture was French provincial, with many valuable antiques dotting the impressively large rooms. Out back, there was a swimming pool and a meticulously maintained garden maze that was a work of art.
“I hope they’re not a party crowd,” Alec observed as they moved from the patio back into the formal dining room. Too many highballs, and somebody was going to get hopelessly lost in that maze.
“Okay, now I envy your money,” said Charlotte, making her way back to the grand entrance hall with its octagonal windows, antique rugs and tapestry. “I’d love to pick up something like this on a whim.”
“You like it that much?” asked Alec.
She nodded. “I’d buy it.”
“The kitchen’s a little small.”
“I’d renovate.”
He chuckled. “You’d actually knock out a stone wall?”
She flung open the double doors to the great room. “It’s my fantasy,” she pointed out, walking through the furniture groupings, past oil portraits and a massive, rolltop desk. “I guess I can knock out whatever I want.”
At the far end of the great room, there was a balcony overlooking a duck pond. Charlotte wandered into the sunshine and leaned on the wide rail. “If I lived here, I could name the ducks.”
“You could,” he agreed, moving next to her. “Though I’m not sure how you’d tell them apart.”
“I’d buy a dog. Put up a swing for the kids.”
“Kids?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t use all seven bedrooms myself.” A wistful expression came over her face as she gazed into the distance, obviously imagining a picture-perfect family.
"Transformed Into The Frenchman’s Mistress" отзывы
Отзывы читателей о книге "Transformed Into The Frenchman’s Mistress". Читайте комментарии и мнения людей о произведении.
Понравилась книга? Поделитесь впечатлениями - оставьте Ваш отзыв и расскажите о книге "Transformed Into The Frenchman’s Mistress" друзьям в соцсетях.