The Frenchman's Bride. Rebecca Winters
money on presents.
The French girl cocked her head. “It looks very elegant with that white blouse you’re wearing.”
“It’ll look elegant with my other blouses, too.”
“I know. They’re all white,” Monique quipped.
Suddenly the three of them were laughing. They had a healthy sense of humor. Hallie loved them and was feeling the sense of loss more keenly than ever.
She wasn’t supposed to form attachments, but they’d happened anyway. First in San Diego where she’d roomed with Gaby Peris before coming to France.
Gaby, a widowed immigration attorney who’d shared an apartment with Hallie to cut down on expenses, was now married to Max Calder, an ex-CIA agent. They had a new baby girl whom Hallie had only seen in pictures. They’d named her Hallie.
“Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
Hallie eyed Monique with a puzzled expression. “We just got here. Why are you leaving?”
“She’s going to her favorite shop before it closes, aren’t you,” Paul insisted with a strange smile.
“That’s right. À bientôt—see you in a bit.”
After Monique disappeared, Hallie turned to Paul. “You’re both acting very mysteriously.”
He rubbed his palms together. “If we are it’s because I wanted to be alone with you.”
“Why?”
“So I can do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”
“What’s that?”
“This.”
In the next breath he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on her closed lips.
It came as such a complete surprise for all the obvious reasons, she decided to treat it as one of Paul’s little jokes. He was a terrible tease on occasion.
“Wow! My last kiss before I go into seclusion. You’ve definitely made this birthday unforgettable.”
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he confessed. “Now close your eyes. I have something else to give you.”
“I think you’ve done enough for one day,” she cautioned, but he ignored her. In a lightning gesture he reached for her left hand and slid something cool and metallic on her ring finger.
Her smile faded when she glimpsed the square-cut aquamarine stone mounted in yellow gold. The gem had to be three carats at least!
The sheer clarity and color made her gasp.
Even if it was an imitation, it must have cost a lot of money. More than was prudent even for someone of Paul’s resources. When he knew what she was all about, it defied logic he actually meant her to have it.
What was he thinking?
She started to ask him, but the look of desire in his eyes stopped her cold.
“Happy twenty-fifth birthday, ma belle.”
Hallie blinked. Paul was serious.
She sensed he was trembling. Gone was the fun loving, lighthearted banter she’d always associated with him.
How long had this been going on?
In her attempt to be there for the twins as part of her service in the outreach program, she hadn’t realized he’d become infatuated with her. If there’d been telltale signs, she hadn’t read them.
“It’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry, but you’ll have to return it.”
“Don’t be silly.” He grasped her hands tighter so she couldn’t remove it. “Even if you don’t wear it, I want you to keep it as a constant reminder of me.”
“I can’t do that, Paul. You know why. Material things don’t matter to me. When I enter the convent, I won’t be taking anything with me.”
His eyes had grown suspiciously bright. “I’m counting on your not entering. I adore you, Hallie—” he cried with all the ardency of a lovestruck teen.
“I’m staying in Paris as long as it takes to talk you into coming home to St. Genes with me. You weren’t meant to be a nun. One day I hope you’ll become my wife.”
His wife—
He pulled her close with surprising strength. This time he gave her a man’s kiss filled with the heat of passion.
She couldn’t believe it!
“Paul—” She pushed her hands against his chest to separate them, but he was so strong! Right now she prayed for inspiration to know how to reject him without hurting his pride.
“What in the name of heaven is going on here?”
A deep masculine voice permeated the stillness. Paul sprang away from her, flushing guiltily.
Hallie, on the other hand, was still so dazed at the depth of Paul’s feelings for her—feelings he’d kept hidden until today—she was much slower to react to the interruption. All this time she’d thought of him like she might a younger brother.
“Papa—I thought you were in London,” he said in a subdued tone.
“Obviously,” came the terse reply. “I had the ridiculous impression my children might enjoy a celebration dinner with me this evening. But it appears your taste runs to something much stronger indeed.”
There could be no doubt from his acid tone that Vincent Rolland had come into the dining room, that he’d caught his eighteen year old kissing a strange woman, that he’d seen the wine bottle and glasses on the table.
The evidence was so incriminating, Hallie shook her head. It just couldn’t be worse for Paul, yet she really wasn’t surprised. She shouldn’t have ignored her earlier intuition that the twins had no business skipping school or bringing her to their father’s apartment.
Hallie simply hadn’t expected the man himself to arrive from England at the precise moment his son chose to reveal his affection for her.
Curiosity caused her to look across the expanse at Monsieur Rolland. She found herself staring at him.
The twins had shown her pictures of their father, but the camera hadn’t captured his disturbing sensuality. She hadn’t thought it possible any man could be more attractive than the new husband Hallie had lost in that horrendous plane crash two years ago. But she was wrong…
The twins had inherited their father’s dark hair and brown eyes. However there was none of their innocence in his piercing eyes as his gaze swept over her, assessing her feminine attributes for a long serious moment.
Hallie had been the object of men’s attention since her teens and had learned to live with it. However this man seemed to be looking for something beyond the physical. In the unremarkable blouse and brown skirt she was wearing, the designer scarf must appear ludicrously out of place.
He advanced into the dining room, his bronzed hands on his hips. Dressed in a pale blue knit shirt and cream colored jeans that molded his powerful thighs, his masculinity threw her senses into upheaval.
Closer now she could see his rock-hard physique topped Paul by several inches.
He picked up the wine bottle. One black brow slanted in displeasure. “I can’t fault your choice of vintage, but on a Thursday evening when you’re supposed to be celebrating the end of school with your classmates?” He finally put the bottle back on the table.
Paul cleared his throat. “Hallie’s birthday is much more important than being with a bunch of guys. Papa—may I introduce my friend, Mademoiselle Linn. We met last fall.”
Lines darkened his arresting features as he examined her face