Having the Frenchman's Baby

“Yes. Grandfather once told me God gave him grandchildren so he could relive his happy childhood through their eyes.”

One dark eyebrow quirked. “I hardly see you as a child,” he said in a wry tone.

“I think you know what I meant.” She eyed him directly.

“How long have you been divorced?” The question had left her mouth before she could stop it.

He didn’t move a muscle, but she watched shadows chase away the amusement that had lit his eyes for a brief moment.

“Three years.”

Unlike her father, who jumped in and out of marriage without counting the cost, this man had hidden depths that tempered him.

“I’m sorry for your pain, monsieur.”

He shifted his weight. “My name is Luc. Is that so difficult for you to say?”

Her heart raced too fast. “I’ve been wanting to,” she confessed, “but the French ‘u’ is a particularly difficult vowel sound for me to make.” Her tongue kept running away with her. She enjoyed being with him too much.

“I’m afraid I speak two forms of English, so to say Luc, and make that pure sound correctly, will require some practice.”

She felt his low, exciting chuckle reverberate around her insides.

“I’m impressed you work as hard at your French as you do your profession. Which part

of you is American, Rachel?” She loved the way her name sounded falling from those French lips.

“My mother was from New York.”

“She’s passed away, then.”

“Yes,” Rachel said quietly.

“My father died two years ago. You never stop missing them.”

“That’s true. At least you have Giles, who appears to love you like one of his sons.”

“It works both ways. I’m still learning about grapes from him. Is your father alive?”

“Oh, yes.”

She saw the question in his eyes. “You’re close?”

“He manages one of the restaurants, so we see each other pretty constantly. But after four marriages, he’s not exactly capable of forming close relationships with anyone. In fact—”

She stopped mid-sentence, wishing she hadn’t divulged something so personal. What was wrong with her?

“Go on,” he urged.

“No. My family’s problems aren’t for anyone else’s ears.” She gazed at the surroundings. “What kind of grapes are these?”

“Sylvaner.”

“Ah.”

His lips relaxed in a half-smile. “So tell me what you know about them.”

“If this is another test, I’ll inform you right now I’m going to fail it.”