Having the Frenchman's Baby

He’d changed into a soft yellow sport shirt and blue jeans that hugged his long, rock-hard legs.

She lost the battle not to stare at the strong column of his throat and the smattering of dark body hair.

Their eyes met for a stunning moment. Though she might be a mature businesswoman, this striking man had the power to reduce her to a moonstruck teen without doing one thing to entice her—except to exist.

But, as Rachel had just found out, existence was more than enough to keep her from concentrating with any degree of coherence.

The moment he saw her, he unfolded his suntanned arms and opened the passenger door for her.

As she moved past him to climb inside she felt a disturbing awareness of him she didn’t want to feel because he was a new business acquaintance. He wasn’t supposed to mean anything more to her.

If being in his presence was going to cause her to forget why she’d come to Thann, she’d better start interacting with him on a professional basis.

Once they’d left the town she said, “I drove past your vineyard on the way to the convent. It looked a lot larger than the ones I passed on my drive from Colmar.”

“You’re very observant. There are less than six thousand vineyards in Alsace. Of that amount four thousand of them are only five acres or less each.”

“So small?”

He nodded. “After Alsace fell back into French hands from the Germans, we had to build up our wine industry all over again.

“My grandfather went from village to village, buying up a few acres here, a few there.

“Today we have a total of five hundred acres located in seven villages. This vineyard of three hundred acres is an exception.”

“That means a lot of little babies to nurture.”

He turned his dark head toward her.

“Babies?” The way his native tongue caused him to pronounce the English word charmed her in ways she couldn’t describe.

“Yes. Fragile under certain circumstances, strong under others. Always needing love and care.”

“An interesting analogy, one I’ll have to pass on to my staff.”

He sounded genuinely amused, as if his thoughts had been far away, yet somehow her comment had managed to penetrate his consciousness.

When they reached the convent, he kept on going. In a few minutes he made a left onto a dirt road that bisected part of the vineyard.

Twilight had descended over Thann. She lowered the window. A gentle breeze filled the interior with warm air still rising from the sun-soaked soil.

He brought their vehicle to a stop and turned off the motor.

“We’ll go on foot from here. Maybe if we listen closely, we’ll hear growing pains.”

Rachel let out a gentle laugh before climbing down without his help. She didn’t want to risk an accidental touch. Already her thoughts about him had grown out of proportion to the occasion.

She followed his lead as they worked their way down two rows of vines in flower on either side of them.

Like her father and grandfather, he was tall, yet he moved with a certain masculine litheness. In fact he seemed part of this fusion of man to nature, as if neither could be separated from the other.

While she reflected on how in tune he was with his ancestral roots, he stopped long enough to scoop up a handful of earth.

Turning to her, he held out his hand.

“Like the seed a man plants in a woman’s womb that brings life from God, so the seed of the Riesling grape lies cocooned in this particular blend of soil found nowhere else on earth.”

The analogy shook her to the core.