Having the Frenchman's Baby

“It wasn’t until I left that I noticed it was a rental car.”

“By then it was too late and the damage had been done,” he finished in a savage tone.

“No, Luc. You did the damage all by yourself when you brought her to your house. If she has left the area, then she’s gone way up in my estimation. A real woman doesn’t cling to a man whose heart is somewhere else.”

Anger consumed him. “You don’t know what’s in my heart, Maman.”

“I know it wasn’t your heart that made love to Mademoiselle Valentine. Let’s be honest about that.

“But I saw into hers when I told her you’d been at Paulette’s bedside three years waiting for her to wake up.”

Luc could only imagine it. Every word from his mother tore his gut up a little more. A whole new world of agony had dawned.

He gritted his teeth. “Since this is a day for the telling of secrets, you should know I’ve talked with Yves. I’m no longer fighting his family. The lawyers have been notified. There’ll be no court case.

“If Paulette hasn’t come out of her coma by the end of August, then that’s it.”

“I don’t believe it,” his mother whispered. “It’s because of that w—”

“Don’t, Maman!” he silenced her. “Don’t go there. You don’t know everything.”

“How dare you say that to me?”

It hurt him to be at odds with her, but certain things needed to be said. Now was the moment.

“You’ve been grieving since Papa died. It has colored your thinking. For a long time it has colored mine. But no longer.”

“Hi, Max.”

His brown head lifted. “Rachel—when did you get back?”

“Late last night.”

Her flight from Basel had been delayed by bad weather. More rain had greeted her at Heathrow. But she decided it was a blessing. People would attribute the moisture bathing her face to the elements.

“I brought you a present.”

She pulled a bottle of Chartier Riesling from her tote bag and placed it on the desk where he was going over the accounts.

He sat back with a grin to examine the label. “Now this is what I call a present! You should go to France every month.”

No. Never again.

“I’m afraid those days are over for me.”

His bright blue eyes squinted up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m changing careers.”

“Over Dad’s dead body.”

Better his than mine. “Has he come in yet?”

“No. It’s Sunday. He’s probably still doing laps in the pool.” Max scrutinized her for a long moment.

“What’s going on? For someone lucky enough to be in France for the last two weeks, you look terrible.”

“I’m worried about Grandfather.”