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Rachel had almost forgotten about it. She thrust a hand into the pocket of her jeans and retrieved it. ‘She did.’ She hesitated a moment then walked on slightly unsteady legs over to a side table, where a selection of bottles and glasses stood on a tray. She poured herself a measure of mineral water and took a healthy gulp—her mouth was so dry she could hardly talk any more.
‘Not that it meant anything to me—JSJ Corporation?’ She glanced at the card in her hand, raising arched eyebrows—trying to play it cool. ‘Another faceless conglomerate—is that who you work for?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’ Jean-Luc strolled over to stand beside her. ‘May I?’ he asked, and began pouring a small measure of whisky into a tumbler before Rachel could say a thing. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it. JSJ has its fingers in several very large pies.’ He reeled off a handful of well-known projects that had received recent media attention in countries worldwide, and Rachel finally had to admit defeat and acknowledge with a slight nod that she had heard of at least some of them.
‘OK! OK! I get the picture. JSJ is a legitimate firm.’ She moved away—because to stand so close to Jean-Luc after all these years was torture of the worst kind—and walked over to the window to look out through the leaded panes at the car parked on the weedy, gravelled drive.
It was large and swish and very expensive. It matched this new image of Jean-Luc, the one that Rachel was having such difficulty coming to terms with—immaculate, powerful, an uncompromising presence that made heads turn and would not, or could not, be ignored.
He had clearly done very well for himself. Rachel had imagined her success in the hotel trade as being pretty impressive, considering she had started on one of the bottom rungs of the ladder as a lowly part-time receptionist and had worked her way up with determination and not a small amount of natural flair, but it was clear that her achievements were nowhere near on the same scale as this.
A chauffeur-driven car meant status, and that equalled success far beyond anything she had ever, or would ever, manage to achieve.
She spun around and said, ‘Forgive me for being dense, but I still don’t see what a company like the JSJ Corporation would find of interest here—a run-down country estate like this. Is your boss totally mad?’
‘I’m beginning to think so.’ She turned then to look at Jean-Luc. There had been something in his voice…‘The initials of the company—they obviously don’t mean a great deal to you,’ he added briskly.
‘No.’ Rachel lifted her shoulders in an uncaring shrug, turned back toward the window and closed her eyes tightly against shared memories which were bombarding her senses. ‘Why on earth should they?’
Jean-Luc, Saul, Jerome—an excessive number of names, I always thought, but, then, my mother and father did only manage to have one child.’
‘JSJ…?’ It took a moment for Rachel to realise the significance of what he was saying. ‘Your company?’ she added in disbelieving tones. No matter how hard she tried, Rachel couldn’t hide the astonishment in her voice. She looked at this new, sharp, hard Jean-Luc—so different from the man she had worshipped, loved—and tried to reconcile the differences between now and six years ago. ‘You mean you actually own…?’
Her voice trailed away in shocked disbelief as she stood and stared and tried to come to terms with the fact that Jean-Luc, the student, had transformed himself into a business magnate of quite incredible proportions.
‘Six years is a long time,’ he drawled smoothly. ‘What did you expect? That time should have stood still? That I would still be tending other people’s gardens?’
‘No, of course not!’ Rachel’s voice was hard. ‘But it’s not that long ago either…’ She made up her mind, and walked towards the door on legs that felt like jelly. ‘Would you please leave?’ She wondered if he could see the glistening of tears in her eyes from this distance, and decided that he probably couldn’t. ‘I don’t think we have a great deal to say to one another!’
‘So polite, Miss Shaw.’ Jean-Luc’s voice was deliberately heavy with mockery. ‘I see those beautiful English manners that I remember so well haven’t entirely deserted you.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you!’ Rachel’s restraint was slowly beginning to give way. ‘I don’t see what possible reason you have for coming here.’
‘This estate is deeply in debt. You are in very real danger of losing everything. That is correct, isn’t it?’ His crisp tones cut through the atmosphere which lay heavy between them.
‘How clever you are!’ Rachel retorted harshly. ‘So my financial position is common knowledge, then?’
‘No, it is not. I have just made it my business to find out what is happening here, that’s all.’
‘Oh, really! And why is that?’ Rachel asked frostily. ‘Am I supposed to feel flattered you’ve taken such an interest?’
‘Flattered?’ He made her suffer by pretending to be dense, and threw Rachel a look of puzzlement that made her want to curl up and die right in front of him, making him almost hate himself. ‘I do not think flattery enters the equation. Oh, I see,’ he added cruelly, ‘you maybe imagined that I had kept some sort of a tab on the place because of old associations?’ There was a cutting smile, the flash of even, white teeth. ‘Sentimentality.’ He arched a dark brow. ‘Never my forte.’
Rachel placed a hand to her brow. She was having trouble coping with all of this. It was bad enough that she should be losing her home, but even worse to have Jean-Luc by her side, pointing out the awful fact. ‘So…what do you want?’ she asked unsteadily, eyeing him with obvious dislike.
‘I can help.’
Rachel looked into the enigmatic dark eyes. ‘Help me? Are you crazy?’ She inhaled, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. ‘Do you honestly believe that I would want any help of yours?’
‘Whether you want it or not—that is immaterial,’ he replied coolly. ‘You need it. You have found debts every which way you turn because of your aunt’s inability to take financial advice, and tomorrow the bank will foreclose. Isn’t that correct?’
‘I…I have some money of my own,’ Rachel informed him unsteadily. ‘I’m not wildly rich, but I have some resources to call upon.’
‘Enough to retrieve this place from the impatient hands of the bank?’ Jean-Luc shook his head. ‘Stop fooling yourself! You might have scrimped and saved every penny for the past few years, but it would be chicken feed compared to what would be needed to get yourself out of debt and pay for the upkeep of such a large estate.’ He crossed the room towards her, standing close.
‘Are you prepared to lose this place just because you’re too stubborn to listen to what I have to say?’ His tone was harsh and full of derision. ‘I can’t believe you’d be that foolish.’
‘Believe what you like!’ Rachel replied shakily. ‘After all, I was foolish enough all those years ago to allow a smooth-talking Frenchman to get me into his bed!’
Silence. The room seemed still suddenly—even the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to suspend its ticking.
‘As I recall, we first made love on the grass,’ Jean-Luc replied quietly.
‘How dare you?’ Rachel continued shakily. ‘How dare you march in here, telling me that I must listen to you? Just who do you think you are?’
‘I know what I was.’
Rachel gasped as Jean-Luc snaked out a hand to prevent her from flouncing off towards the door. He pulled her close and suddenly it was like six years ago as he looked down into her trembling face, except that this time there was an element of punishment and force in his expression, along with the compelling tension and the supreme sexual vitality which was so much a part of him. ‘This place means something to you. Don’t be a fool and allow old prejudices to cloud your judgement just because we were once—’
‘Let me go!’ Rachel struggled free. She didn’t need to be reminded what they had once been to each other. Every nerve end in her body tingled with recollection—with a dreadful and intolerable yearning that had sparked into life the moment she had set eyes on him. ‘You think you can return after all these years and presume to tell me about the way I feel!’ she retorted angrily. ‘You, of all people!’
‘I don’t presume—I know,’ Jean-Luc informed her with disconcerting arrogance. So this was how it was going to be, he told himself—acrimonious, bitter. And to think that he had once been fool enough to imagine she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her.
‘Now.’ He kept his voice hard. ‘I have come here with a genuine business proposition. Are you prepared to stop acting like a petulant little girl and listen, or do you want to lose everything?’ Dark brows were raised questioningly. ‘Think carefully, Rachel, which is it to be?’
CHAPTER TWO
RACHEL wanted to run away. She wanted to scream and cry with anger and frustration—yell at Jean-Luc who was nothing but a cold-hearted, unfeeling swine. He had devastated her life. How dared he come back and open up all the old wounds? How dared he speak to her this way? How dared he?
But she didn’t move. Instinct told her that he would surely get the better of any scene she chose to make, just as before, just as always. And, besides, to display the way she felt would be to indicate that everything mattered—that he mattered—and that was the last thing she wanted.
‘OK.’ Rachel inhaled a steadying breath. ‘Say what you’ve got to say.’
‘Not here.’ He dismissed her offer without the slightest hesitation, pulling back his cuff to glance at the watch on his wrist. ‘Not now. I’m already late for another appointment. It will have to be later.’
‘How much later?’ Rachel struggled to keep the fury out of her voice. ‘I haven’t got that much time. I have an appointment with the trustees of Aunt Clara’s estate and the bank manager first thing in the morning.’
‘We’ll talk this evening—over dinner.’ Jean-Luc surveyed her with a cool expression. ‘Then I will arrange for my accountant and solicitor to meet with your financial advisers so that things can move as swiftly as possible. My car will pick you up at eight.’
‘What if I don’t want to have dinner with you?’
Dark eyes scanned Rachel’s flushed face. ‘It’s part of the deal—besides, that is the only time that I have free.’
‘My, my! What a busy person you are!’ Sarcasm hardened Rachel’s voice, and she turned away towards the window.
‘Eight o’clock.’ Jean-Luc’s voice was brisk and businesslike. There was a slight pause. Rachel had to summon all her will-power not to turn and look at him at the sound of the drawing-room door being opened. ‘Au revoir.’
Rachel watched through the window as he walked to his car, her eyes drawn by every inch of his smartly suited figure. A chauffeur opened a rear door and Jean-Luc climbed inside. There must have been a briefcase on the rear seat for she saw him lift a black leather object onto his lap, open it and draw out a sheaf of papers. He was working.
Was it really as easy as that for him? No time for reflection? Rachel wondered. No need to dwell on the fact that he had seen her again after all this time? Evidently not.
He was shaking. Jean-Luc stared at his trembling hand and gripped the business report he was holding a little tighter. What had he expected? What, exactly? That she would be pleased to see him? That she might care that he had put aside the pain of the past in order to help her when she needed it most?
He looked up and saw that Emile was watching him in the rear-view mirror. What would he be making of this? His employer, usually so cool and calculating, so in control.
Jean-Luc inhaled a calming breath and released it with a vow that he would not allow memories of the past to interfere with the here and now. Foolishly, he hadn’t expected to feel this way, so…disturbed by her. He pictured again the hate in her eyes. Her dismay at seeing him again had been clear.
The car swung away from the Grange and he caught sight of her at the window, watching him. Blonde and beautiful. How many hours had he spent, convincing himself that he was over her, before he’d decided on this course of action? Jean-Luc’s mouth firmed into a formidable line. Too many.
Rachel didn’t move for a long while, even when the vehicle was just a dark speck in the distance and the only evidence that he had been with her was the faint scent of his cologne and the thudding of her heart.
She could scarcely believe that he had been here, that she would have to endure the torture of seeing him again. Rachel held her head in her hands and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Naomi found her some ten minutes later. The old woman bustled into the room, a frown of concern creasing an already lined face. ‘My dear, whatever is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Everything!’ Rachel’s voice broke with emotion. ‘Everything,’ she repeated, picturing the scenes she had had to endure with Jean-Luc.
‘There! There! You have a good cry. I don’t think I’ve seen you shed a tear since your poor Aunt Clara’s funeral. It’s not good for you to keep all that emotion locked away inside. I know you miss her.’ Naomi paused to administer comfort in the form of a plump arm around Rachel’s shoulders. ‘Where’s your visitor?’
‘He’s left.’
‘Wasn’t here long.’ She handed Rachel a wad of clean tissues. ‘These tears aren’t anything to do with him, are they?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘You should have called me. I would have given him a piece of my mind, and him looking so nice and respectable, too. Hounding you for money, was he?’
‘Not exactly.’ Rachel wiped her eyes, struggling for composure. ‘He’s got a…a business proposition he wants to put to me,’ she croaked. ‘I’m meeting him again this evening…He’s picking me up at eight.’
‘You’re going out with him?’ Naomi sounded horrified . ‘But you can’t do that—you don’t know him from Adam!’
Rachel glanced at Naomi and saw from her expression that she really didn’t have a clue as to the identity of the suave and sophisticated gentleman she had shown into the drawing room. If only she knew! Rachel didn’t want to tell her, not at this moment, anyway, not while she herself was feeling so shell-shocked. ‘He comes from a reputable company,’ she murmured. ‘It will be…all right.’
‘Well, I hope so. A business proposition, you say?’ Naomi’s voice brightened. ‘Might there be chance of saving the Grange, then?’ she added hopefully.
‘I’m not sure.’ Rachel struggled to bring her tears under control, but a sob caught in her throat. ‘But if there’s a chance, I suppose I must try…’
She couldn’t decide what to wear—not that it mattered one iota, of course. It was a toss-up between making every effort and making no effort at all. In the end Rachel decided that pride had to show its more attractive face, and she chose a simple, yet elegant long-sleeved dress in fine black wool from her wardrobe.
His car was on time. Rachel, pacing nervously in the hallway, almost jumped out of her skin when the doorbell clanged. She was nervous—more than that, petrified. Jean-Luc’s unexpected appearance earlier that afternoon had had a debilitating effect. She hadn’t been able to do a thing in the intervening hours since his visit. She’d just sat and thought and remembered how it had been during those last glorious few days…
‘Wake up, sleepyhead!’
Rachel stirred faintly as the sensuous voice penetrated her dreams. She moved in the bed, hugging the crisp, white linen sheets close around her slender body, and smiled dreamily.
‘Do you always look this gorgeous in the morning?’ Jean-Luc’s deep voice, heavy with the seductive French accent was soft and enticing against her lips. ‘Baby, come on,’ he whispered, ‘open those beautiful blue eyes.’
She raised dark lashes and looked up in sleepy astonishment at the rugged, handsome face, lifting a hand in something approaching wonderment to touch the angled cheekbone. ‘Jean-Luc?’ Rachel smiled lovingly, hardly able to believe he was here with her. ‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t allow her to finish the sentence, not that she cared. His lips moved with possessive intent over her mouth, and Rachel found herself responding, despite the early hour and the fact that she was still half-asleep, despite the awful possibility that he could be found here in her bedroom by one of the servants or, worse still, her Aunt Clara at any moment.
She entwined her hands around his strong, suntanned neck and accepted his kiss, revelling in the strength and the warmth of his body—wondering once again how she had ever survived without it, ever survived without him.
Jean-Luc was so brave, so bold, so totally alien, like a wonderful being from another planet, entering her cocooned world, changing her perspective on life.
‘Hurry, ma chеrie! It’s a beautiful day and I don’t want us to waste a second of it!’ He kissed her mouth lovingly once again, then disentangled her arms and pulled back the bedclothes, a smile curving his mouth at the sight of Rachel’s extremely functional cotton pyjamas.
‘Well, it’s cold in the country!’ She glanced down at her attire, wishing she looked more seductive for him, and pulled a comical face to hide her embarrassment. ‘My bedroom doesn’t have central heating.’
‘Don’t worry, you look beautiful.’ Jean-Luc ran a fingertip along the line of pearl buttons, tormenting her with the lightness of his touch. His dark eyes sparkled. ‘Fresh and sweet as the daisy.’
Rachel pouted. ‘Not even a little sophisticated and alluring?’
He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth. ‘Sophisticated—no. Alluring—definitely. ‘You are the sweetest of temptations.’ He looked at her as she had never seen him look at her before—naked desire in his eyes, the hunger of wanting her, pure rugged masculinity in every taut line, every fleeting expression. ‘Mon Dieu!’ The words were a groan beneath his breath. ‘How to resist you?’
‘Don’t try.’ Rachel’s eyes were wide and bold. She had never felt this way about any man before, knew with a deeply felt certainty that she never would again. ‘You know how I feel about you.’
‘For me it is the same.’ He tugged her into the circle of his arms to kiss her again with a passion that took all her breath away. ‘Always,’ he asserted huskily, drawing back a little to look deep into her eyes. ‘For ever.’
‘You mean that?’ Rachel’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘Of course.’ He kissed her again. Rachel loved the wonderful fact that she seemed to be irresistible to him. It was quiet in the bedroom for several minutes. Rachel knew she would never forget this moment. Jean-Luc’s gaze, his tender hands, told her all she needed to know. He loved her, just as she loved him.
Never mind what Aunt Clara thought, it wasn’t her fault. She was just…old, out of touch, unaware of the depth of feeling between them. Once she understood the seriousness of their relationship, Rachel told herself, everything would be better. She would be happy for her niece, happy that she had found love.
‘You’re frowning.’ Jean-Luc’s dark brows drew together in comical imitation of hers, his smile gently teasing. ‘Have I woken you too early? Would you prefer to be a lazybones and sleep in?’ He lifted her into his arms suddenly and laid her back down on the bed. ‘Would you like to stay here?’ he murmured huskily, kissing her neck. ‘Shall we both stay here?’
‘You know we can’t.’ Rachel linked her arms around Jean-Luc’s neck. ‘If Aunt Clara or Naomi finds you here…’ She glanced towards the closed door of her bedroom, conscious of the sounds of the house below. ‘How on earth did you get up here, anyway?’ she asked, smiling. ‘And don’t tell me you knocked on the front door, informed Hayes that you wished to see me and simply marched straight upstairs to my bedroom because I won’t believe you!’
‘Do I look that mad?’ Jean-Luc replied, with a curl of a smile. ‘No, I did the correct thing and took the tradesman’s entrance.’
‘But surely Naomi was busy in the kitchen?’
‘She was. But I have a very good line in distraction.’ Jean-Luc’s eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘I knocked at the kitchen door, hid around the side of the house, Naomi came out, followed my trail and…’ He gestured with his hands. ‘Voil?! I simply slipped inside.’
‘Trail?’ Rachel’s expression was a mixture of perplexity and excitement. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The milkman had been. There were eggs, a lot of them. I simply placed them in a line which led away from the house. Naomi followed like un canard…a duck, waddling after a trail of bread!’
‘You are incorrigible!’ Rachel smiled happily, kissing his mouth. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Incorrigible?’ Jean-Luc’s sensuous eyes gleamed. ‘What is that?’
‘Naughty!’ Rachel kissed his finely moulded mouth. ‘Very naughty indeed!’
‘I like naughty.’ Jean-Luc cradled Rachel’s blonde head with both hands and returned her kiss. ‘It feels good. Now, come!’ He rolled away from her suddenly, and Rachel knew that he was having to exert the utmost will-power as he rose from the bed. ‘Get dressed. It’s a beautiful morning—the sun is shining, the birds are singing. I want us to share every second of it together.’
Rachel did as he requested. It never entered her head to refuse—why should it? This was what she wanted—this excitement, this sense of freedom and fun. This passion.
Jean-Luc lifted the sash window while Rachel slipped on jeans and a jumper. She watched him as he stood with his back to her, breathing in the fresh spring air. She loved to look at him. Her blue eyes lingered on the broad shoulders, on the dark brown, slightly wavy hair that brushed the collar of his blue linen shirt, on the clean, but undeniably worn denims that hugged slim hips.
He was everything she’d ever wanted. It really was as simple as that. Everything. The fluttering sensations of desire and excitement had been old friends ever since that day almost two months ago when he had first come to work in the gardens for her aunt.
