Having the Frenchman's Baby

Luc’s eyes took in everything at a glance. From the understated elegance of the foyer you could either go left to the dining room, or right to the bar.

“I’m not here to dine. I have an appointment with your wine buyer, Ms Valentine. I missed my flight from France yesterday, so we made arrangements for tonight.”

“I see. What’s your name and I’ll let her know you’re here?”

“That won’t be necessary. She told me to walk on back to her office when I arrived. Thank you.”

Luc strode down the hall as if he knew exactly where to go. At this point he didn’t care how many lies he had to tell in order to speak to her.

After arriving at Heathrow, he’d gone straight to her flat, but she hadn’t answered the door. That left him with no choice but to corner her here where she couldn’t run from him.

Judging

by the crowd, Bella Lucia did a flourishing business. When he didn’t see her behind the bar, he kept on going. There were several doors, none with signs.

He opened the first one, having no idea what he’d find. It was an office with no personal items to tell him if it belonged to a man or a woman. But just as he turned to leave he noticed a bottle of Chartier Riesling on top of a file cabinet.

Interesting, since he happened to know Tokay was her favorite.

Behind the next door he found what he was looking for. Not only was there a stack of wine menus on the shelf, he spied an assortment of small framed pictures on the desk.

He was drawn to the one of a young Rachel and her twin sister. They were probably eleven or twelve, mounted on horseback and showing the proper carriage of expert equestrians.

No doubt the other pictures represented her parents and extended family.

Luc figured she was bound to come in her office before she went home. While he waited, he reached for one of the menus to examine. She’d put a nice list together of probably three hundred wines.

Naturally it was too soon for Chartier et Fils to have been added yet. It was only Monday evening. Two days since her flight from his house above Ribeauville.

As he was putting the menu back he heard voices outside the door, then it opened.

Rachel’s fragrance preceded her into the office. A faint sweet scent of roses that had clung to his bathrobe and the pillows on his bed.

Luc was behind the door so she didn’t immediately see him.

“Rachel?”

She gasped before spinning around. The force caused the material of her filmy lavender dress to swish around her legs.

But the lovely face before him had gone white. Her eyes were a nondescript gray, not the dreamy blue he remembered.

She looked ill. The change in her devastated him.

He hardly recognized her from the last time he’d seen her with her dark glossy hair fanned across the pillow, the lashes of her closed lids brushing against cheeks turned rosy by their lovemaking.

“You’ve wasted your time by coming here,” she stated in a dull voice.

Exhibiting a composure that left him incredulous, she walked behind her desk and unlocked a drawer to pull out her purse.

He moved closer. “We have to talk, Rachel. My mother told me what happened. Unfortunately she only sees and understands things from her perspective as a widow who hasn’t come to terms with my father’s death yet.

“You should have known that ignoring my phone calls wouldn’t keep me away.”

She eyed him without as much as a flicker of her lashes. He could scarcely credit her display of sang-froid.

“When I didn’t answer one of them, you should have known to leave well enough alone.”

He grimaced. “After what we shared, you should know I can’t and won’t accept that.”