Love Story Next Door!. Rebecca Winters
order, she went over to the table and pulled out her notepad.
Monsieur Martin— Better put that in case anyone came in here and read it. Your dinner is on top of the stove. All you have to do is heat it for a few minutes. Just so you know, I’ll be staying in Angers overnight, but I promise I’ll be back in the morning.
D.
She put the note on the counter by the sink where he always washed his hands. That way he’d be sure to see it. With that accomplished she slipped out through the pantry to the side entrance and walked around the front of the château to her car.
Some of the cast and crew were getting in their vehicles. They all said hello to each other before she drove off. If Alex could see her leaving from his high perch in a treetop, so much the better.
After the way she’d responded to him in the orchard, she didn’t want him thinking what he was entitled to think. Heat poured into her cheeks remembering how she’d practically devoured him. At eight o’clock in the morning no less!
Last night she’d practiced painful self-control and hadn’t joined him when he’d phoned her. Tonight she knew she’d cave if he so much as looked at her. The only wise thing to do was remove herself from temptation in the hope of gaining some perspective. Since meeting Alex, she had absolutely none.
Dana must have brought Alex his lunch while he’d been sawing and couldn’t see her. When he came down the ladder, there was the basket sitting on top of his truck. Though disappointed she hadn’t called to him, he found himself salivating for his meal.
Tonight he intended to take her out for dinner and dancing. She couldn’t plead fatigue two nights in a row! He needed her in his arms and wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way.
Making it an early night, he did his last haul at six and slipped into the side entrance of the château with his basket, eager to find her. When he walked through the pantry to the kitchen, something smelled wonderful. His gaze went to a covered pot on the stove.
He set the basket on the counter and drew a fork from the drawer. Dana had cooked something that smelled sensational. He lifted the cover, unable to resist putting one of the pieces of beef in his mouth. It was kind of fatty and mild, but the stock was rich. He needed a spoon for it.
As he reached for one he saw a piece of paper lying near the sink. The note was short and sweet. He let out a curse. Dana Lofgren—What are you trying to do to me?
Before he exploded, he needed to calm down. If she thought she was going to hide from him tonight, she could forget it. He’d find her at one of the hotels Paul had lined up for everyone. After her scare on the road the other night, she wouldn’t dare go anywhere else.
His eyes flew to the pot. Alex wasn’t about to eat the rest of it without her. Forget dinner and dancing! He made a place for the pot in the fridge and left the kitchen.
By the time he’d showered and changed, the château had emptied. He locked up and left for Angers, driving his truck over the speed limit. This time he wouldn’t forewarn her with a phone call. No more of that.
He stopped first at the Beau Rivage, but they had no listing for her. His frustration grew when the Chatelet could tell him nothing. By the time he approached the concierge at the Metropole, he was beginning to wonder if she’d checked in at another hotel altogether.
“Bonsoir, monsieur. My name is Monsieur Martin from the Belles Fleurs estate in Rablay.”
“Ah…it’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand the members of the Pyramid Film Company staying with us are shooting a film at your château.”
“That’s right, monsieur. It’s very important that I speak to Mademoiselle Brusse. I understand she’s in room 140.”
“Non, non. The beautiful actress was staying in room 122, but she’s no longer with us. Mademoiselle Lofgren, the director’s daughter, is occupying that room now.”
“You have no idea where Mademoiselle Brusse went?”
He leaned forward. In a low voice he said, “I believe with the director.”
It seemed he and Madame Fournier had a lot in common. “You’ve been very helpful. Merci, monsieur.”
“Pas de quoi.”
Now that Alex knew where his fetching cook would be spending the night, he left the hotel to do a few errands.
Heat from a hot sun still lifted off the cobblestones. A summer night like this was meant for lovers, but he’d never been affected to such a degree before. He was aware of wants and needs growing beneath the surface. To feel emptiness and dissatisfaction with his life after a hard day’s work was a new phenomenon for him.
His jaw hardened. After discovering Dana would be gone until tomorrow, the idea of spending the night alone at the château sounded insupportable. How was it she’d become so important to him in two weeks’ time?
Before long she’d be off to Germany. And then what? Paul intimated she had plans to become a director.
Alex should never have insisted she stay. Knowing she was around day and night had him tied up in knots. Yet if he were honest with himself, he’d be just as nuts if she’d stayed at the Hermitage. No hiding place was too far for him to find her, and find her he would, father or no father.
He’d decided to give her until ten o’clock. It was five to now. After putting his purchases in the truck bed, he returned to the hotel. Mademoiselle Brusse’s room was on the third floor at the end of the hall. This experience reminded him of musical chairs, a game he’d once played in elementary school. Tonight, however, the adults had decided to make it musical bedrooms minus the accompaniment.
“Dana?” he called to her as he knocked. “It’s Alex. I know you’re using this room, so it would be useless to pretend otherwise.”
“Why would I do that?” came a familiar voice behind him. He swung around in surprise to see her coming toward him in the same clothes she’d had on that morning.
The humidity had brought a flush to her cheeks. Her hair had little golden curls with more spring when she walked. His fingers itched to play with them. She was clutching a carton in her arms. Her eyes questioned his without flickering. “If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you phone?”
He sucked in his breath. “Would you have answered?”
“Of course.”
Since he hadn’t tried, he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “Why didn’t you tell me you planned to leave the estate tonight?”
“Didn’t you get my note?” She could play the innocent better than anyone he knew. “I left it by the kitchen sink.”
“I saw it,” he clipped out. “I’m talking about this morning.”
A tiny nerve throbbed at the base of her throat. “If you recall, we were…interrupted.”
“My memory’s perfect,” he murmured, unable to look anywhere except her mouth. She’d started a fire with it at the vineyard. “What about at lunch when you came and went so fast I wasn’t aware of it.”
She averted her eyes. “I didn’t make the decision to stay in town until later in the day.”
He glanced at the carton. “What have you got there? You’re holding it like it’s a newborn baby.”
The color in her cheeks intensified. “Actually it’s something very old and priceless.”
Alex couldn’t imagine. “In that case let’s take it home in my truck where it will be safe and we’ll enjoy that delicious dinner you made. The aroma that filled the kitchen was mouthwatering.”
Her startled gaze flew to his. “Then you haven’t eaten it yet?” She sounded disappointed.
“I