скачать книгу бесплатно
Oh, yes, and remind him to go to the local hospital for his weekly blood test. No one would believe what a baby he was, which reminded her she’d better check the medicine cabinet and make sure he had enough blood thinner medication to be gone two months. After they left France, they’d finish up the filming in Germany where Dana had already checked out the locations ahead of time.
With a sigh she got up from the bed needing to do a dozen things, but a strong compulsion led her to the den first. Ever since she’d heard that the Fleury family had once produced wine, she wanted to learn what she could about it. The wine she’d had with Alex had left the taste of nectarines on her lips. As she’d told him that night, it could become addicting.
She typed in Anjou wine, France. Dozens of Web sites popped up. She clicked on the first one.
The Anjou is one of the subregions of the Loire Valley producing a variety of dry to sweet dessert wines. The two main regions for Chenin Blanc are found in Touraine and along the Layon river where the soil is rich in limestone and tuffeau. Long after you’ve tasted this wine, it will give up a stone-fruit flavor on the palate. The Dutch merchants in the sixteen hundreds traded for this wine.
That far back?
Fascinated by the information, Dana researched a little more.
Coteaux du Layon near the river is an area in Anjou where the vines are protected by the hills. It’s best known for its sweet wines, some of the recipes going back fifteen centuries. By the late seventeen hundreds, several wine producers became dominant in the region including the Domaine du Rochefort, Domaine du Château Belles Fleurs and Domaine Percher.
There it was, part of Alex’s family history. Dana’s father would find the information riveting, as well, but for the meantime she’d keep it to herself. The owner was a private person. It would be best if she waited until he brought it up in the conversation, if he ever did.
A few minutes later she’d gone back to her room to do her packing. She had it down to a science, fitting everything into one suitcase. As she was about to leave and do some errands, her father came home and poked his head in the door. “There you are.”
She looked up at him. “Hi.”
“You just got back. How come you’re packing again so soon?”
Dana had anticipated his question. “I’m going to fly to Paris with the camera guys in the morning.”
“Why?”
“Because Saskia will be a lot happier if she has you to herself when you fly out the day after tomorrow.”
“Saskia doesn’t run my life,” he declared.
No one ran his life. Dana certainly didn’t figure in it except to fetch for him, but the actress didn’t like her. “I know that, but it doesn’t hurt to keep the troops happy, does it?” She flashed him a smile, hoping to ease the tension, maybe provoke a smile, but all she provoked was a frown.
“You really think you found the right place?” he asked morosely.
The film was on his mind, nothing or no one else. Until he saw the estate, he’d be impossible to live with. Good luck to Saskia. “If I haven’t, Paul will switch us back to Plan B outside Paris without problem.”
After staring into space for another minute he said, “Have you seen my reading glasses?”
“They’re on the kitchen counter, next to the script. Have you eaten?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’ll fix you some eggs and toast.”
“That’s a good girl,” he muttered, before leaving her alone.
He only said that if he needed something from her. Because he was a narcissist, it was all she would get. She knew that, yet because their natures were exact opposites, a part of her would always want more. Still, when she thought of Alex’s mother being cut off by her father, Dana realized her relationship with her father hadn’t degenerated to that extent. Not yet…
Alex was in his bedroom when the phone rang again. He’d just hung up from talking with another Realtor who hadn’t heard the estate wasn’t for sale and never had been. They never stopped hounding him. With each call he’d hoped it might be Dana.
“Monsieur Martin ici.”
“Bonjour, Alex.”
His lips twitched. Her accent needed help, but with a grown-up rosebud mouth like hers, no Frenchman would care. “Bonjour, Dana. How are things in Hollywood?”
“I wouldn’t know. How are things in that jungle of yours?”
Laughter burst out of him. “Prickly.”
“My condolences.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“In front of the château.”
He felt a burst of adrenaline kick in.
“I was hoping you would let me in, but considering your plight, I’ll be happy to come back after you and your machete have emerged.”
The chuckles kept on coming. “I’m closer than you think. Don’t go away.” He hung up and strode swiftly through the foyer.
As soon as he opened the front door of the chateau, she got out of the car. Today she was dressed in jeans and a white short-sleeved top. If the pale blue vest she wore over it was meant to hide the lovely mold of her body, it failed.
Though she gave the appearance of being calm and collected, he noticed a pulse throbbing too fast at her throat. He knew in his gut she was glad to see him.
“When did you fly into Paris?”
“At six-thirty this morning with the camera guys. When their rooms are ready, they’ll crash until tomorrow, then probably show up around eight in the morning to start checking things out.”
“What about your father?”
“Everyone else will arrive at different times tomorrow.”
“I see. He didn’t mind you coming on ahead?”
“Most of the time we do our own thing.” She gave him a direct glance as if daring him to contradict her.
Alex had asked enough questions for now. It was almost noon. “Let’s get you inside. In case you’d like to freshen up, there’s a bathroom on the second floor at the head of the stairs.”
“Thank you.”
Dana followed him up the steps into the foyer dominated by the central stonework staircase. With no furniture, paintings, tapestries or rugs visible, the château was a mere skeleton, but she seemed mesmerized.
Taking advantage of her silence he said, “The place was denuded years ago. Everything is stored on the third level where the servants used to live.”
He watched her eyes travel from the walls’ decorative Italianate paneling to the inlaid wood floors. “There’s a chandelier packed away that should hang over the staircase. Without it the château is dark at night. I told Paul that if night interiors are called for, he’ll need to plan for extra lighting. Your father—”
“My father’s very superstitious,” she broke in on a different tack. “He gets that from his Swedish ancestry. When he stands where I’m standing, he’ll be frightened at first.”
“Frightened?”
“Yes.” She turned to him. “It’s always frightening for a figment of your imagination to come to life, don’t you think? At first he won’t know if it’s a good or bad omen.”
When her father saw the château, he would be speechless. His excitement wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer, but she’d see his eyes flicker and feel his positive energy radiate. For a while it would insulate him from his usual irritations. Even Saskia wouldn’t grate on his nerves as much, at least not at first. But that was his problem. Dana had done her part.
“Would you mind being more explicit?” Everything she said intrigued Alex. Besides her shape and coloring that appealed strongly to his senses, she had an inquiring mind. It engendered an excitement inside him that was building in momentum.
“My father gave his favorite screen writer some ideas and they collaborated on the script for this wartime film. Your château and grounds could have been made for it. For some time I’ve had the feeling this is the most important project he’s ever taken on.”
He folded his arms. “Can you tell me about it, or is it a secret?”
“A secret? No.” After a pause. “The film is filled with the kind of angst my father is best known for.” He heard her breathe in deeply. “Does that explanation help?”
“About the setting, yes, but I’m curious about the story itself.”
She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders. “That’s for my father to decide. I don’t think he knows it all yet.” As far as Alex was concerned, she was being evasive for a reason. “Dad’s had a mind block lately. It’s made him more irritable than usual. It will take settling into it here for those creative juices to flow again. But to give you a specific answer to your question, his films always leave the audience asking more questions.”
That was the truth, but she was holding back from him and that made him more curious than ever. Evidently she knew better than to give too much away. Was that because her father wouldn’t like it? “Why do you think he came up with this particular story?”
“How does any author come up with an idea? They see something, hear something that arouses their interest and a kernel of an idea starts to form.”
She angled her head toward him. “Part of it could be the guilt he personally feels for his country’s compliance with the enemy in the first days of World War II. Another part might be that deep down he still misses mother and wishes he’d had a son instead of ‘moi.’”
She’d said it with a smile, but Alex felt the words like a blow to the gut. He’d heard emptiness, sadness in that last remark. It made him want to comfort her. “Still, I have my uses. Thanks to you, I found this for him.” She spread her hands, as if encompassing the entire château. “Heaven sent.”
Alex swallowed hard. “For me, too.”
“I’m happy if it helps you. I bet your mother is, too.”
She kept surprising him. “You believe in heaven, Dana?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“After this discussion, I want to.”
A faint blush filled her cheeks. “I’m afraid I’ve rattled on too long and have kept you from your work. Please go ahead and do whatever you were doing. If it’s all right, I’ll just wander around here for a little while before I take a nap. I picked up a sleeping bag in Angers and brought it with me.”
Why would she do that? “If you’re that exhausted, I’ll call the Hermitage and tell them to get your room ready now.”
“No doubt they’d make concessions for you, but I’m not staying there, so it’s not necessary. Thank you anyway.”
Alex rubbed the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture. “Paul told me he would arrange rooms there for you and your father.”
“He already has, but while I’m in France I intend to be on my own most of the time. After everyone goes home at the end of the day’s shoot, I plan to stay right here where I can have the whole château to myself.”
An angry laugh escaped his throat. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
She flashed him an ingenuous smile. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t frighten easily and love being alone.”
His eyes narrowed. Dana had seemed such an innocent she’d almost fooled him. “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” he ground out. “My ad didn’t indicate the château could be used for anything but the filming.”
A long silence ensued while she digested what he’d said. “I assumed that since the company had rented the estate for the filming, it wouldn’t matter if I found myself a little spot in the château to sleep at night.” Her supple body stiffened. “My mistake, Alex. I’m glad you cleared it up before any harm was done.”
“Dana—”
She’d almost reached the front door before turning around. “Yes?”
He started toward her. “Where are you going?”
“To find me a place to stay.”
“Wouldn’t you be better off with your father?” he asked quietly.
“You want your pound of flesh, don’t you.” Her cheeks filled with angry color. “First of all, if I were seventeen I’d agree with you, but I’m going to be twenty-seven next week, slightly too long in the tooth to still be daddy’s little girl.”
His estimation of her age had been way off.
“Secondly, my father isn’t in his dotage yet. In fact, his latest love interest is one of the actresses in the film and will be sleeping with him, which makes three a crowd. When you see Saskia, you’ll understand a lot of things.” She smiled. “If my dad ever found out your impression of him, he’d have a coronary.”
Alex hadn’t seen that one coming. It knocked him sideways.
“Thirdly, while I’m in this glorious region of France, I’d like to pretend I’m an independent woman who needs to spread her own wings for a change. It must have given you an uncomfortable moment thinking I’d made you my target. Again, I apologize.”
He’d anticipated her flight and moved in time to prevent her from opening the door. Their hips brushed against each other in the process, increasing his awareness of her womanly attributes. The tension between them was palpable. She slowly backed away from him.
The last thing he’d wanted was to make an enemy of her, but that’s what he’d done. One word to her father and he could kiss this deal goodbye. The hell of it was, he couldn’t afford to lose this film studio’s business, not when he needed the money so badly. A large portion of his life’s savings combined with the modest inheritance from his father were all invested in this venture.
“Dana—it never occurred to me you might want to stay in the château.”
She refused to look at him. “You’re not a dreamer.”
“You’d be surprised, but that’s not the point.” Trying to gauge what her reaction would be he said, “I live here.”
Her gaze flew to his. By the stunned look in those blue depths, he knew instinctively his revelation had come as a surprise.
“The concierge at the Hermitage intimated you lived somewhere in the vicinity. To me that ruled out the château…” Her voice trailed.
Alex’s first impression of the French woman in Chanzeaux had been right. She was a busybody. When Dana’s father arrived and she learned of his importance, it would bring a flood of unwanted curiosity seekers to the estate. His mouth thinned in irritation. He would have to fit the gate with an electronic locking device to give the film company privacy while they were working. Today, if possible.
“I’m afraid there’s been a lot of speculation about me since I flew in from Bali.”
“Bali—What were you doing there?”
“My work. I’m an agricultural engineer.”
She rubbed her palms against womanly hips, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Are you taking a sabbatical of sorts then?”
“No. I resigned in order to settle mother’s estate before leaving for the States.”
