Having the Frenchman's Baby

Had Luc become such a selfish bastard, he didn’t care who got hurt any more as long as he got his own way?

Crucified once more by Yves’ tortured plea, Luc went back to her bedside to say goodnight.

When he left the hospital, he passed by the nursing station to let them know he was on his way out. They had his cell-phone number and knew to call him day or night if there was any change in her condition.

Luc left the hospital aware there was no change in Paulette.

There would never be a change.

That was what everyone was telling him, including his sister’s husband.

Jean-Marc was a good man, but he and Giselle never missed an opportunity to remind him it was Paulette’s family who had the last say in the matter.

Her parents had brought her into the world and raised her. They wanted what they felt was best for their daughter. It was their God-given right after all.

Rights.

How Luc hated that word.

Yves had spoken the truth when he’d said Luc had no legal grounds to fight their family.

But wanting Paulette to wake up from that coma didn’t have anything to do with rights.

At the core of his anguish lay the need to rid his soul of a burden growing increasingly heavy.

He’d had three years to come to terms with the divorce. What haunted him was the inability to go back to the day of her accident and prevent it.

Ever since he’d found out she was lying unconscious in the hospital, he hadn’t ceased begging her forgiveness. But he didn’t know if she’d heard him.

Once her family made the decision to turn off the machines, there wouldn’t be a possibility of her hearing him, let alone forgiving him.

He hit his fist against his palm.

Once again it all got down to what he wanted, as if the universe revolved around him.

One word from him to the Brouet family and everything would change for them.

On the surface he had to admit life would change for him, too. No more daily trips to the hospital.

But inwardly nothing else would be different. Remorse over the accident that didn’t need to have happened stifled life’s possibilities.

Once back in his Wagoneer, his pain and frustration were further aggravated by the faint smell of roses that still lingered in the car’s interior. Sensitive to fragrances all his life, he was haunted by Ms Valentine’s scent.

It appeared this visit to the hospital hadn’t rooted her out of his system the way he could prune a vine and make a clean cut of the unwanted cane.

Part of him resented her intrusion at this critical period in his life. Just the thought of her opened the floodgates to his private thoughts.

Once again he was bombarded by unbidden pictures he hadn’t been able to expel from his consciousness.

He revved up the engine, and his tires squealed as he left the parking lot. In a few minutes he reached his mother’s home where he’d been living temporarily. But he was so conflicted by feelings and emotions tearing him apart, he knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight.

Because of a certain enigmatic Frenchman, Rachel tossed and turned during the long, dark hours of the night. Relieved when the light of dawn crept into the room, she showered and got dressed in a silky cream blouse and tan skirt for her work day with Giles Lambert.

He’d phoned her last night to make the arrangements, promising her a thorough tour of the winery.

Like her grandfather, he had a zest for life and possessed so much charm she was already predisposed to like him.

She could only hope a productive day spent with him would take away her disappointment that it wasn’t Luc Chartier doing the honors. Part of her feared that, when she left Alsace, no ploy would be able to banish him from her thoughts.

Like a comet that only passed near the earth once in a lifetime, he’d left his indelible impression on her, then hurtled on into deep space supposedly out of mind and sight.

Maybe when her grandfather had recovered from his latest bout of illness, the two of them could come back to Alsace so she could legitimately meet with the owner of the Chartier vineyards again.

Legitimately…

Good heavens—she was as bad as a teenager plotting ways to get the most gorgeous guy in the world to be interested in her. It seemed her attraction to him was so intense, she wasn’t above using her grandfather to accomplish her objective.

Filled with self-disgust, Rachel grabbed her cell phone to put in her purse before going downstairs to eat breakfast. To her surprise it rang before she could leave the room.

For one foolish moment she thought it might be the man whose image had haunted her all night. Just the thought of hearing his deep voice caused her heart to leap. She clicked on eagerly, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“H-hello?” she answered, sounding out of breath, because she was!

“Rachel—”

Her spirits dropped like hot rocks.

“Dad—

“Something must be wrong for you to be calling me this early in the morning.”

Normally he didn’t show up at work until ten-thirty or later. But evidently a problem had arisen and he needed someone to bark at, mainly her.

He always sounded impatient when he was at the restaurant he managed with her half brother Max. Since every day was hectic behind the scenes, she supposed he could be forgiven.

But being this far away and hearing him so abrupt with her caught her off guard.

“What’s this I hear about you traveling to Alsace? I don’t recall us discussing a stop there. Today’s the fifteenth. Your itinerary says you’re supposed to be in Champagne.”

Uh oh. Somehow her grandfather must have let it slip. Not that it was a secret.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Grandfather asked me to look up an old friend in Thann as a special favor.”

“So I’ve heard, but I don’t want you spending too much time there. We can’t afford to slight our other suppliers.”

Her temperamental father knew her better than that, but he had to say it because she hadn’t obtained his seal of approval first.

“I wouldn’t do that, and I’ve already contacted Monsieur Bulot to let him know I’ll be there in a few days.