Captivated By The Brooding Billionaire. Rebecca Winters
no trace of the singsong French spoken in this part of Switzerland. He was a Frenchman down to every atom of his hard-muscled body.
“Yes. You must be from La Floraison.”
He nodded. “I was told to look for a woman with golden hair.” His excellent, heavily accented English came as a shock.
“You have the advantage. They didn’t tell me your name.”
“Raoul Decorvet.”
“I thought Magda’s friend was a great deal older.”
“He was. Sadly, Auguste died a month ago at the age of eighty.”
“Oh, no—” she cried. “We didn’t know. Magda didn’t tell us.”
“You weren’t supposed to know.”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m here negotiating the sale of this property business for the former owner. Auguste had a bad heart so he never knew how long he had to live. The vineyard managers, Louis and Gabrielle, have said that you and your friends are welcome to stay here for the month. I was on hand when Gabrielle received a distress call from your friends. She was busy so I offered my help.”
“Thank you, but this isn’t right. We don’t want to put anyone out.”
Again, she felt his penetrating gaze wander over her, missing nothing before it rested on her hair. “It’s no imposition. If you’ll get in the car, I’ll explain while I drive you to the château.”
His potent male charisma made her so aware of him, it was hard to act natural. She felt nervous. After her experience with Nigel, Abby was almost frightened by her visceral response to this total stranger who blew away every man she’d ever known. He reached for her suitcase and helped her into the front passenger seat before putting it in the back.
After he’d started the car, she said, “I’m sorry you had to come for me. I could have waited until my friends showed up. Providing taxi service is hardly the work of a busy Realtor.”
“Pas de problème.”
Abby was sure that wasn’t true, but Raoul Decorvet had a certain air of authority. She didn’t want to argue with him since he’d put himself out on her behalf, so she kept quiet while he started the car. They headed toward the road and wound around the village toward the hillside. En route she detected a flowery scent.
“What is that fragrance I can smell in the air?”
“La Floraison is greeting you.”
She studied his striking profile. “What do you mean?”
“The flowers of the grape vines open in June. This is the reason why Magda wanted you to come now. For the next fifteen days, they’ll emit their intoxicating perfume while they undergo automatic pollination. Their dual reproductive organs, mostly female among the male, ensure the future of the species.” Their glances fused. “Nature’s way is remarkable, n’est-ce pas?”
For some reason the subject of their conversation sounded personal, especially the way he said it in that deep, silky voice. It brought heat to Abby’s cheeks. “Have you found a buyer yet?” she asked in order to change the subject, hoping to break his spell over her.
“Oui. It’s already done. The new owner will take possession at the end of June.”
“Please don’t tell me you put it off for the benefit of me and my friends.”
“For your information, it’s to honor the commitment Auguste made. While you’re here, Gabrielle will take care of you. You’ll be staying in the unattached farmhouse next to the château and should be comfortable there.”
“I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Magda had seen to that, but the appearance of this fascinating Frenchman had knocked the foundations out from under her.
Before long the château came into view. Abby marveled at the gray stone structure. It reminded her of a small fortress and caught at her imagination. In former times it would have been a commanding landmark.
He drove them along rows of lush vineyards in full flower and past a thriving vegetable garden until they arrived at a charming farmhouse with a mansard roof.
“There’s Gabrielle now. It’s getting late in the day. She’ll make something for you to eat if you’re hungry.”
“No, no. I’ll wait for my friends.”
Abby spotted the wiry, middle-aged woman wearing a straw hat with a broad rim, who came around the side of the farmhouse. She was dressed in slacks and a tunic.
“Bonjour!”
The woman’s warm smile made Abby feel welcome. She got out of the car, liking her already. “Bonjour, Madame.”
“Soyez la bienvenue!”
“Merci. Thank you.”
“I see Raoul found you.” The Swiss people impressed her with their ability to speak good English. “My husband is up in the higher vineyard and I was doing some pruning. When your friends called about their difficulty, Raoul volunteered to take our car and go for you.”
“I’m very grateful to both of you.”
“I understand they should be here soon. Come inside with me.” She reached for Abby’s suitcase. “We have five bedrooms with en suite bathrooms. Since you are the first one to arrive, you may have your pick.”
“This is exciting. I’ve been looking forward to this vacation for a long time.”
Abby turned to Raoul. He was too gorgeous and too intriguing. She should be relieved to say goodbye to him, yet deep down she would rather have stayed outside to talk to him, which was crazy. He had the power to sweep any woman away, especially Abby. She couldn’t believe her feelings were so strong, not when she’d promised herself never to get seriously involved with any man for the rest of her life.
“Thank you for picking me up.”
His brooding dark eyes narrowed on her features. Again, she sensed he was in some kind of turmoil. She could feel it. “Don’t forget this.” He handed her the purse she’d left in the car.
What on earth was wrong with her? In his company she’d forgotten all about it and had left it lying on the seat. The slight contact of skin against skin sent another shiver through her body. “À bientôt, mademoiselle.”
She knew that phrase well enough. It meant “see you soon.” To read any real meaning into it meant she was a fool. But he had called her mademoiselle. Maybe he’d noticed she wore no rings. For that matter she hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his finger either, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t married.
Abby turned and followed Gabrielle inside the house, but her mind was filled with unanswered questions about him. Why would a French Realtor be doing business here?
Maybe he lived on the French side of Lac Léman and was authorized to operate in both countries. In that case he wouldn’t be staying at the château. If he had a car, where was it? She wondered if he’d be leaving soon. The manager would know the answers, but if Abby were to ask her anything, it would suggest she was interested.
Don’t do this, Abby. Don’t be a fool.
Gabrielle led her through the beamed common rooms. She found the restored nineteenth-century farmhouse warm and inviting. They went upstairs to the bedrooms. Each had a mini fridge filled with drinks, and every room had a basket filled with fruit and Swiss chocolate.
Abby chose a room that looked out over the vineyard to the west. She could see the estate workers. One of them was probably Louis. Of course there was no sign of Raoul.
“If you need anything, pick up the bedside phone and ring the château. I’ll answer. Your friends know to come straight to the farmhouse. Your breakfast will be