Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie West
Working with Seb for the next few days until Nicole returned from holiday was going to be far more challenging than she had imagined.
From that very first moment when she caught sight of him sitting on the grass she had felt that certain, telltale, spine-tingling prickle of attraction that refused to go away.
Of course she had tried to rationalise it. She had seen his photos and imagined what Seb would be like in person. Meeting him, arguing with him, learning more about his reasons for coming home…that had simply helped her to understand the man himself.
Her fingers hammered out the dramatic phrasing from a powerful ballad.
Who was she kidding?
She was smitten.
Which was just about the silliest idea she had heard in a long time.
Looking at Seb now as he effortlessly worked the room, the hopelessness of that attraction shook her by the shoulders like a good friend and demanded that she snap out of it.
He was a tourist who would be gone in a few days. Just passing through like a whirlwind destined to churn up everything in his path. Here was a man who only yesterday had no intention of keeping his promise to Nicole. Selfish perhaps? But also vulnerable when it came to his own family.
It was a powerful combination.
She was far too old to have a summer fling. Wasn’t she?
Ella had been right. The gentle ebb and flow of the piano music blended seamlessly into the bright background chatter and laughter from around the room as Madame Morel introduced Sebastien to her extended family and friends.
Yes, there were several André Morels in the family, but André Sebastien Morel from about thirty years earlier? Cue puzzled faces and questions about places and dates he had few answers to. He had quickly accumulated a list of names and telephone numbers to follow up.
Friendly promises to ask around and get back to him mingled with the excellent food and drink to create a genuinely warm and welcoming sense of community and family.
His greatest challenge was refusing the delicious wine that a local winemaker had supplied for the evening. His apologies ended in a mass exodus of the men, and a few of the ladies, to the car park to admire his sports car. Only the howling cold wind prevented several test drives and they agreed to continue their heated debate on the relative merits of French and Italian motor manufacturers back in the warm comfort of the bar.
Where Seb had his first real opportunity to observe Ella as she worked.
The woman was a revelation! Just when he thought he was starting to understand her, she came up with something even more remarkable!
The elf who had challenged him all morning had been replaced by an elegantly dressed beautiful woman with immaculate grooming.
Her dress was a shimmering blue silk cocktail gown with a matching gossamer wrap that drifted around her shoulders like candyfloss. The shade of the silk was a little darker than her eyes, but fitted perfectly onto her sweet rounded curves. It was an inspired choice. Elegant but not stuffy.
The bed hair was twisted up into a French chignon, leaving the smooth line of her neck clear for a small row of pearls.
Combined with natural looking make-up, which seemed to make her pale blue eyes sparkle even more than normal, the overall effect was stunning.
He had met and escorted many beautiful women and professional fashion models over the past few years whose artifice in making themselves attractive for the cameras evaporated a few hours later. Ella was a natural beauty, as easy in her own skin whether she was cycling along a country lane or baking in a country kitchen, or, now, elegant and sophisticated.
Ella Martinez the single mother, hard-working housekeeper and young widow was gone. Replaced by Ella Jayne Bailey. Solo pianist.
She simply took his breath away.
He was totally attracted to Ella Martinez and everything about her, and this new side of her personality and talent only added to his confused feelings.
Which meant that he was in deep trouble.
Seb gulped down the recognition of what he was thinking and feeling and quickly looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed him growing hot and heavy.
He did not do holiday romances, or short-term affairs.
But it did make him wonder about her choices.
What was Ella Bailey doing here in the middle of the Languedoc when she had so much talent?
Did she love her late husband so much that she wanted to hide away from the world with her son in the countryside? Perhaps she had wanted somewhere safe and secure where she could grieve in peace?
But perhaps it was more than that?
He leant against the wall as the other guests shuffled to the dessert trolley.
For now he was happy to watch the most beautiful woman in the room as her small hands moved effortlessly over the keys, her attention focused completely on the sound she was creating. Now and then her shoulders swayed from side to side with her head as she moved with the melody.
No sheet music. No written notes.
Yet the music soared into a tapestry of emotional, uplifting and inspirational sound.
This was her passion. Her delight.
He had always been fascinated by the work of skilled craftsmen, whether they were the expert cabinet makers who designed and made the dining-room furniture in his Sydney apartment, or the software engineers who saw their virtual designs take shape on mobile technology used around the world.
This was why every part of him knew that he was looking at a true artist.
Ella was superb. The music was perfect. She was perfect.
Except that she was playing the piano in a dim corner of the room, being ignored by the party guests as they chatted and sampled the delicious food. Guests like himself, for example.
He had been to so many parties and events over the years where there had been a cocktail pianist playing in the background, and, thinking about it now, he was shocked to recall that he had not once gone over to speak to the musician or even made a note of their name.
Ella was happy to stay in the background playing the piano while he worked the crowd for information about André Morel. In much the same way, Ella seemed happy to stay hidden away from the world in a remote farmhouse while he travelled the world!
His high-profile lifestyle would horrify Ella. What girl would want to have every aspect of her personal life and past history trawled through by journalists looking for a juicy headline?
And she was a single mother with a son.
Putting all of those aspects together, there was only one conclusion he could make.
He and Ella lived in completely different worlds with very different priorities and the sooner he realised that, the better. For both of their sakes.
Right now he had to focus. He needed to know a lot more about the Morel family before the evening was over.
Over an hour later, Seb was noting down the telephone number of an older lady whose cousin was called André Sebastien when he noticed that the music had stopped.
He calmly promised to call the next day, expressed his thanks, and then turned back to the piano.
Ella was standing now, her cell phone pressed firmly against one ear, her right hand squeezed against her mouth, and from the look on her face whatever she was hearing was not good news.
Seb instantly made his excuses and crossed the room to take her arm.
‘What is it? Is everything all right? ‘
Ella shuddered and shrugged into her jacket. ‘That was