“Because it is. Try it and see for yourself.”
Cautiously, she followed his instructions and surprised herself. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying or alien an experience as she’d expected. The tiles on the bottom of the pool glimmered in the sun-shot blue light. By turning her head slightly, she could see the steps in the corner, a reassuring sight. And when she felt herself running short of air, she simply lifted her face and filled her lungs with a fresh supply.
“I can’t believe I’m able to do this!” she said, absurdly pleased with her small accomplishment.
“But you are, and very well, too.” Without warning, he tugged her off her feet. “So now we progress to the next level and float.”
“Ahh!” She let out a little yelp of fright as, powerless in his hold, she found herself traveling even farther away from the steps.
But he wouldn’t let fear get the better of her. “Concentrate,” he ordered, his voice low and hypnotic as he towed her effortlessly alongside him. “Remember—lift and breathe, lower and blow.”
She did, becoming so engrossed in following his directions that she didn’t notice how far they’d traveled until a shadow fell across the water and, looking up, she found herself under the diving board at the deep end of the pool. Again, the familiar panic rose up, and again, before it got the better of her, he tightened his hold and said soothingly, “You’re perfectly safe, Mademoiselle. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I believe you,” she panted, and the amazing thing was, she did. A total stranger had lured her far out of her depth and into dangerous territory, and for some insane reason, she trusted him implicitly. Not for years, not since she was a little girl, had she known such a sense of security, and she rather liked it.
Her voice must have betrayed something of what she was feeling because he pushed up his face mask and, for the first time since they’d met, he smiled. The problem then was not that she’d forget to breathe properly with her face in the water, but that she’d forget to breathe at all. Because his smile transformed him and he became not merely handsome, but truly gorgeous. Flawless in every detail, from his dazzling white and perfect teeth to the brilliant azure of his eyes. And she, fleetingly paralyzed by the moment, could only gaze in spellbound admiration.
Slowly, he disentangled his fingers from hers, as if he were as reluctant to release her as she was to have him let go. “One more thing, and then it’s Adrian’s turn,” he said, giving her slight push. “Swim to the ladder over there, under your own steam.” Then, before she could give voice to the protest rising in her throat, he added. “It’s either that or make your way back to the shallow end which is five times the distance away.”
Did pride give her the courage to do as he asked, or was winning his respect what motivated her? That she hardly knew how to answer the question disturbed her. What he thought of her shouldn’t matter. And yet, it did. Rather more than she cared to admit.
Heart pounding, she breast-stroked to the ladder, grasped the lowest rung and pushed off her mask. Then, aware of his gaze focused on every inch of her as she climbed out of the water, she hoisted herself onto the pool deck, resisted the impulse to check that her bikini remained in place, and said, “Thank you for the lesson.”
Then, with as much nonchalance as she could muster, she strolled to where Solange waited with Adrian on the bench at the shallow end of the pool. “I thought you’d never get here,” she muttered, picking up a towel.
A smile twitched at the corners of Solange’s mouth. “I hardly think you missed me.”
Anne-Marie waited until Adrian had jumped into his father’s waiting arms and was happily splashing his way toward a huge red ball floating on the water, then she said, “Exactly what do you mean by that?”
“Just that you and my future brother-in-law appeared too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else.”
“He insisted on teaching me to use a face mask.” She mopped the dripping ends of her hair, then tucked the towel around herself, sarong-style. “And all I can say is, it’s a pity no one ever taught him how to take ‘No’ for an answer. He’s very bossy.”
“And you’re unusually flustered.”
Unwilling to debate the truth of that statement, she said, “Never mind me. How are you, this morning? You’re looking a bit more cheerful than you were last night.”
“That’s because you’re here. I don’t feel so alone anymore.” She gestured to the terrace. “Breakfast is ready. Shall we go over and sit down?”
Anne-Marie glanced covertly at Ethan who was still in the pool with his son. “Shouldn’t we wait for the lord and master to give us permission to eat?”
“He’s not an ogre, Anne-Marie! He won’t be upset if we help ourselves to coffee. Finish drying off and let’s go. I’m never properly awake until—”
“You’ve had your morning café au lait.” She laughed, then pulled on her cover-up and slipped her arm through Solange’s. “I remember!”
The inflated ball hit Ethan squarely on the shoulder and bounced into the water. “Papa,” Adrian called out reproachfully, “you’re not paying attention!”
“I know.” How could he be expected to, with her laughter floating through the air like music, and the graceful, easy way she moved her scantily-clad body distracting him every other second? But since he could hardly tell his son that, he sniffed conspicuously, boosted the boy onto the pool deck, and said, “I’m thinking about food instead. Jeanne made fruit crêpes for breakfast. I’ll race you to the terrace.”
The women were chatting animatedly as he approached, and Solange had color in her cheeks, for a change. “You’re looking more rested this morning, ma petite,” he said, dropping a kiss on her head. “Having Mademoiselle Barclay here appears to agree with you.”
“Oui. I am very happy.”
“As happy as when you’re spending time with Philippe?”
His technique must leave something to be desired because, as usual, she didn’t recognize that he was teasing her. “Oh, never that, Ethan!” she said, horrified. “No one can take his place.”
“I’m glad to hear it, especially since he phoned this morning to say he’ll be home in time for dinner tonight.”
Her face lit up—she really was a pretty little thing which, no doubt, was what had first caught Philippe’s eye—but she had a fragility about her, and a desire to please at all costs which, combined with a lack of confidence in her own judgment, worried Ethan. This friend, this Anne-Marie Barclay with the long, tanned legs, minuscule bikini, and outspoken manner, didn’t strike him as the best influence. The sooner Philippe reappeared and kept Solange occupied, the better.
“So, Mademoiselle,” he said, taking a seat opposite his guest, “tell me something about yourself.”
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT would you like to know?” Anne-Marie asked pertly, ticked off by his patronizing attitude. Clearly, his expectations of her possible accomplishments hovered around zero.
He shrugged. “As much as you care to tell me. Let’s begin with your work. You’ve designed Solange’s wedding trousseau, I understand.”
“Yes.”
“As a professional, or is this a favor between friends?”
“Both,” she said sharply. “I’m a graduate of Esmode International in Paris, one of the foremost schools of fashion design in the world.”
“Very commendable, I’m sure. And you work—?”
“In Vancouver, on the west coast of Canada.”
“I’m aware of where it is, Mademoiselle. I’ve visited your beautiful city a number of times and greatly enjoyed its many attractions. But it hardly struck me as the center of haute couture. For which fashion house do you design?”
“My own.”
He almost curled his lip in disdain. “I see.”
“Do you?” she inquired, matching his condescending tone. “Then you’re no doubt aware that my designs have won a number of prestigious awards.”
“Anne-Marie worked in the movie industry in Hollywood for a while,” Solange cut in, trying to be helpful. “She was even nominated for an Oscar, once.”
“Hollywood?” This time, he did curl his lip, as if he’d discovered something disgusting crawling around in the mango-stuffed crêpe the butler placed before him. “The movie industry?”
“Yes,” Anne-Marie purred, taking a certain vengeful delight in his ill-contained horror. “Theatrical costume has always interested me.”
“But you’re no longer connected to the entertainment world? You’ve moved on to a less…flamboyant clientele?”
“Not really. We have a thriving movie industry in Vancouver, too, which is what originally drew me back to my hometown. As a result of the contacts I’ve made there and in California, I number quite a few well-known stars among my private clients, as well as celebrities from other walks of life.”
“And you’ve designed Solange’s wedding dress,” he said glumly, rolling his eyes. “Mon Dieu!”