Falling For His Unlikely Cinderella (Escape To Provence 2)

She turned to leave.

“Are you married, Cami?” With her gloves on, he wouldn’t have noticed if she wore a ring or not.

She paused and looked back at him, surprised at the question. “I was married at eighteen and divorced at nineteen.”

He studied her for a moment. “Do you have children?”

Cami shook her head. One month into her marriage proved she’d made a mistake and she was glad she hadn’t gotten pregnant. “I’ve been working ever since. Now I’d better get back to my cleaning.”

His eyes played over her, sending darts of awareness through her. “Then I’ll see you later.”

For the rest of the afternoon she worked her head off. When she and her mother left the villa at five, the owner was nowhere in sight. On the way home she told her mom what she’d learned about him and the nursery he’d painted.

“So...he’s a Fontesquieu... Like I said, money doesn’t ensure happiness. A divorce? A little boy he’s never lived with? Why on earth would he buy that large villa for the two of them when his home is the royal Fontesquieu Château? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither does the fact that he turned down the CEO position,” Cami murmured. Most successful businessmen clamored their whole lives to achieve that status, but she already knew he wasn’t like other men.

Raoul Fontesquieu was his own person. After telling her in a quietly fierce tone that the media had spread lies about him, he could no doubt be formidable on occasion.

Still, a tremor shook her body. Something had happened to her today, something she hadn’t thought possible. His jaw-dropping appeal had taken her by surprise in a way that made her feel—oh, she didn’t know—thrown off course when her path had been set for so long.

After they arrived at the apartment and ate dinner, Cami went to the store for a few groceries in their old black Citroën 2CV. It was on its last legs and looked like an umbrella, but it ran. She hoped it would help her find a way to clear visions in her head of the most devastatingly attractive man she’d ever met in her life!

* * *

Raoul met the pool contractor Wednesday morning. He walked him down the corridor from the kitchen. They passed the locked study and continued to the end of the house. The square-shaped tiled pool was sealed off with a sliding door.

The contractor brought in the supplies; a water kit, balancers, conditioners and chlorine tablets used to test the water. Raoul worked with him so he could do it himself from now on, then saw him out.

Before the applicants for the nanny job started to show up, Raoul took the staircase two steps at a time. He saw Cami in her safety glasses midway down the hall. Behind her he glimpsed one of the other workers cleaning a linen closet.

Cami was up on the ladder scrubbing the ceiling and moldings. Her loose-fitting hunter green T-shirt couldn’t conceal the lovely shape of her body.

Afraid to startle her, he stayed where he was. When she saw him she waved with her free hand. “Bonjour, Raoul. It’s okay to approach,” she teased.

Amused, Raoul strode toward her. “I came to see how things are progressing. You’ve transformed the villa. It sparkles.”

A smile broke out on her face, beguiling him. “That’s good to hear. Our boss will be relieved.”

He liked the way she fastened her black hair in a chignon that suited her oval face and high cheekbones. “Is she a slave driver?”

“Yes. Don’t you agree, Maman?”

His gaze darted to the older brunette woman who’d just lifted her head and glanced at him from the closet. He saw the facial similarities and smiled at her. “You’re all such hard workers, I’m impressed.”

Both women chuckled. “Raoul? Meet my mother and best friend, Juliette Delon.”

“Bonjour, madame.”

“Bonjour, Monsieur Fontesquieu. It’s nice to meet you. My daughter’s right. Our boss cracks the whip, but she’s nice.”

“She’s terrific,” Cami chimed in.

Raoul admired their loyalty. “How refreshing to see a mother and daughter who work well together.” He couldn’t think of a single positive instance within the difficult female circles of the large Fontesquieu family. Years of living together under the roof of the château had done its damage. “I’m glad to have met you, Madame Delon. I promise to give all of you a top rating.”

“We couldn’t ask for more than that. It means work for another day,” the pragmatic older woman commented before getting back to cleaning the shelves.

He couldn’t imagine his ex-wife doing manual labor like this, let alone worrying about where her next euro was coming from. Naturally the comparison wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help but be impressed by the Delons’ work ethic.