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Love Story Next Door!: Cinderella on His Doorstep / Mr Right, Next Door! / Soldier on Her Doorstep
Love Story Next Door!: Cinderella on His Doorstep / Mr Right, Next Door! / Soldier on Her Doorstep
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Love Story Next Door!: Cinderella on His Doorstep / Mr Right, Next Door! / Soldier on Her Doorstep

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Following his remark she said, “Then you’re only in France temporarily.”

“Very temporarily, even if my business venture should succeed—” he drawled.

“What is your plan exactly?”

“To restore the château and grounds to a point that the estate can be put on display alongside the others in the area. Millions of tourists pour into France each year willing to pay entry fees for a look around. With a couple of full-time caretakers, it could prove to be a smart business investment, leaving me free to pursue my career overseas.”

Her expression had undergone a subtle change he couldn’t decipher. “It’s an ambitious undertaking, but with your work ethic I’m sure you’ll make it happen.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to go and let you get back to your work.”

“Not so fast.” He looked around before his gaze centered on her once more. “It does seem unconscionable not to let you live here when this was originally built to house several dozen people. Under the circumstances I insist you stay, but it means we share the château.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_cfbd7d1d-9e81-5fe0-91a0-8790657cd369)

INSIST?

The provocative statement was backed by a steel tone, making her tremble. It seemed Alex Martin had changed his mind and was willing to let her stay here. Not willing, she amended. Determined all of a sudden.

Why?

Maybe like Neal he could see himself making a lot more money to save the château if he starred in a film. He was gorgeous enough to be a top box office draw, yet the mere idea that he saw Dana as a stepping stone to influence her father made her so ill, she shuddered.

If she was wrong about his motive, then for the life of her she couldn’t think what the reason might be. The man could have any woman he wanted.

Alex’s dark brows knit together. “Why so reticent now?”

The question coming from his compelling mouth was like a challenge wrapped up in a deceptively silky voice. It curled around Dana’s insides down to her toes. If she didn’t have to think about it, the idea of being under the same roof with Alex Martin for the next three weeks was so thrilling, she was ready to jump out of her skin.

But she did have to think about it for all the usual reasons of propriety, common sense and self-preservation—self-preservation especially because he could be moody and overbearing like her father, the very thing she’d wanted to get away from for a while.

And then there were the unusual reasons, like the fact that her father was coming here to direct the most important film of his career on her say-so alone. If she made a misstep with Alex now and he decided to renege on the contract, how would she explain it to her dad, let alone the rest of the company?

Money had changed hands. Too much was at stake on both men’s parts for there to be trouble at this stage because of her.

When she’d declared that she wanted to be an independent woman and spread her own wings, she’d set herself up to be taken at her word and Alex had acted on it. He was probably laughing at her naïveté right now while he waited to hear that she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to stay here after all.

The stakes were too high for her to turn this into a battle. An inner voice warned her there was wisdom in going along with him. Dana knew nothing like this would ever come her way again. Why not take him up on it? She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t avail herself of such an opportunity.

“Thank you, Alex. I’ll do my best not to get underfoot.” From now on she could fade into the shadows and be like Diane de Poitiers, Henri II’s mistress at Chenonceau, who adored the château and oversaw the plantings of the flower and vegetable gardens.

Dana would glut herself on the history of Belles Fleurs, but wherever she slept, she would make certain it wasn’t anywhere near Alex. When she’d called his château small, she’d meant it hadn’t been built on the scale of Chambord with its 440 rooms, but it was big enough for her to get lost in.

An odd gleam in his dark eyes was the only sign that her answer had surprised him. “With that settled, shall we go upstairs? You can have your pick of any room on the second floor.”

By tacit agreement they both started toward the magnificent staircase. “How many are there?”

“Six.”

While she was wondering where his room was located, he read her mind. “For the time being I’ve made the petit salon off the main foyer into a combined bedroom and office for me.”

They’d be a floor apart. That was good. Of course when she wanted to go out for any reason, he’d be aware of her leaving through the front door, that is if and when he was around. After a few days of becoming aware of his routine, she’d make sure not to disturb him any more than she could help.

When they reached the long vestibule, she was overwhelmed by what she saw. “This is similar to the rib-vaulting at Chenonceau! It’s utterly incredible!”

Alex nodded. “On a much smaller scale of course.” She was conscious of his tall, hard-muscled frame as he continued walking to one end of the corridor on those long, powerful legs. “Let’s start with the bedroom in the turret round.”

“Oh—” she cried the second he opened the door and she took everything in. “This is the one I want!”

A smile broke the corner of his sensuous mouth. “You’re sure? You haven’t seen the others yet. The turret round on the other end has a fireplace.”

“I’m positive. Look at these!” There were fleur-de-lis designs placed at random in the inlaid wood flooring. She got down on her knees to examine them.

“If the original designer of this château could see a modern-day woman like you studying his intricate workmanship this closely, he would be delighted by the sight.”

“Go ahead and mock me,” she said with a laugh before getting to her feet. For the next few minutes she threw her head back to study the cross-beamed ceiling. There were little white enamel ovals rimmed in gold placed every so often in the wood depicting flowers and various forest creatures. “How did they do that? How did they do any of this?”

She darted to the window that needed washing inside and out, but at least it wasn’t broken. The entire room would require a good scrubbing to get rid of layers of accumulated dust. Even so there was a fabulous view of the countryside and a certain enchanted feel about the room. Eventually she turned to him. “Do you think this might have been your mother’s?”

Her question seemed to make him more pensive and probably brought him pain. She wished she’d caught herself before blurting it out.

“My mother lived here until her early twenties. I have no idea which bedroom she occupied, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it had been this one. The view of the Layon from the window at this angle is surreal.”

“I noticed,” Dana murmured. “I’m glad she met your father so she wasn’t so lonely anymore.”

Alex shifted his weight. “Lonely is an interesting choice of words.”

“She would have been, wouldn’t she? To know her father preferred her brother?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he muttered. “Mother often seemed melancholy, at least that’s what I called it, but you’ve hit on a better description. Even in a crowded room she sometimes gave off a feeling of loneliness that no doubt troubled my father, too.”

“Forgive me for saying anything, Alex. It’s none of my business. It must be the atmosphere here getting to me.”

“You are your father’s daughter after all, so it’s understandable.” She didn’t detect anything more than slight amusement in his tone, thank heaven.

“If you’ll tell me where to find some cleaning supplies, I’ll get started in here before I bring up my sleeping bag.”

He tilted his dark head. “I have a better idea. We’ll drive into Angers in my truck and eat lunch. I need to pick up some items. While we’re there, we’ll get you a new mattress and box springs.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I wouldn’t allow you to stay here in a sleeping bag. After we come back, we’ll clean the room together and I’ll bring down a few pieces of furniture from storage. By sunset Rapunzel will be safely ensconced in her tower.”

She chuckled to hide her excitement at spending the day with him, not to mention the rest of the month. “You’re mixing up your fairy tales. I don’t have long hair.”

He gave an elegant shrug of his broad shoulders. “It’s evident you haven’t read the definitive version. Her father had her long golden tresses cut off so no prince could climb up to her.”

A few succinct words dropped her dead in her tracks. In the tale Dana had grown up with, there’d been a wicked witch. Was he still teasing her, or had this tale suddenly taken on a life of its own. “Then how did the prince reach her?”

He paused in the doorway. “I guess you’ll have to read the end of the story to find out.”

His cryptic explanation was no help.

“I’ll bring the truck around. When you’ve freshened up, meet me outside. I’ll lock the door with my remote.”

When she left the château a few minutes later, Alex was lounging against a blue pickup loaded with cut off branches and uprooted clumps of weeds. Dana marveled that he did this kind of backbreaking work without help. Pruning the grounds would be a Gargantuan task for half a dozen teams of gardeners, but he couldn’t afford to hire help because the taxes were eating him alive.

She felt his dark fringed eyes wander over her as she came closer. They penetrated, causing her pulse to race. Still, everything would have been all right for the trip into town if their bodies hadn’t brushed while he helped her inside the cab. Her breath caught and she feared he’d noticed. With nowhere to run, she had to sit there and behave like she didn’t feel electrified.

“This won’t take long,” he said a few minutes later, jolting her out of her chaotic thoughts. They’d stopped at a landfill to dump the debris. Fortunately there was a man there ready to help him, making short work of it. Soon they were on their way again.

After driving this route several times already, Dana recognized some of the landmarks leading into Angers. The massive castle dominating the town on the Maine came into view.

“Have you been through it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, but I plan to. What about you?”

“One look at the condition of the estate and any thoughts I had of playing tourist flew out the broken windows.”

Dana flicked him a sideward glance. “You know what that old proverb says about Jack working all the time.”

He surprised her by meeting her gaze head-on. “Are you by any chance intimating I’m a dull boy?”

“Maybe not dull…” Dana said, before she wished she hadn’t.

“You can’t leave me hanging now—” It came out more like a growl, but he was smiling. When he did that, he was transformed into the most attractive man she’d ever seen or met. There was no sign of the boy he would have once been, one probably not as carefree with a mother whose heart had been broken.

“As you reminded me earlier, you’ll have to read to the end of the story to find out.”

“Touché.”

Dana was glad when he turned onto a side street and pulled up near a sidewalk café full of locals and tourists. She slid out of the cab before he could come around to help her.

There was one empty bistro table partially sheltered from the sun by an umbrella. Alex escorted her to it before anyone else grabbed it. The temperature had been mild earlier, but now it was hot. A waiter came right over and took their orders for sandwiches.

Alex eyed her. “I could use a cup of coffee, but maybe you’d prefer something cold. The air’s more humid than usual today.”

“Coffee sounds fine.” The waiter nodded and disappeared. She sat back in her chair. “I thought most French people preferred tea.”

“I grew up on coffee.”

“No billy tea?” she teased, referring to his Aussie roots.

He shook his head, drawing her attention to the hair brushing his shirt collar. In the light she picked out several shades ranging from dark brown to black. “I’m afraid tea doesn’t do it for me.”

“Nor me.” She smiled. “You seem so completely French, I forgot.”

“It’s a good thing my father isn’t around to hear that.”

After a brief silence she said, “When you want to go home, that’s a long flight.”

“I have no home in the traditional sense. My father’s work took us many places. We globetrotted. Mother died in the Côte D’Ivoire and father on Bali where we were both working for the same company at the time. They’re buried in Brisbane.”

Dana took a deep breath. “Well, you have a home now.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “A liability you mean. I’m not certain it’s worth it.”

She wished she could lighten his mood. “That’s right. You have other plans. Where in the States?”

“Louisiana. It’s where my particular expertise, such as it is, can be fully utilized.”

“Are you in such a hurry then?”

The waiter served them their order before Alex responded. “I wasn’t aware of it, but I suppose I am.”

While he made inroads on the ham and cheese melt, she took a sip of the hot liquid. “Sounds like your father’s lifestyle rubbed off on you.”

The gaze he flicked her was surprisingly intense. “From the little you’ve told me about yourself, I’d say you’ve been similarly afflicted.”

“Afflicted?” An odd choice of word. She stopped munching on her first bite. Of course she understood what he meant. Years of traveling around Europe finding locations for her father prevented her from staying in one spot. But it didn’t mean that under the right circumstances, she couldn’t settle down quite happily.

“Some people never leave the place they were born,” he murmured. “I’m not so sure they haven’t figured out life’s most important secret.”

She chuckled. “You mean, while nomads like us wander to and fro in search of what we don’t know exactly?”

An amused glint entered his dark eyes. “Something like that.”

“Well, given a choice, I’m glad I’m the way I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t be living this fantasy. My own little girl dreams of being a princess in a castle in a far-off land have come true. Never mind that it will all end in a month, I intend to enjoy every minute of it now, thanks to your generosity.”

Aware she’d been talking too much, she ate the rest of her sandwich.

“You think that’s what it is?” The question sent her pulse off the charts. “Little boys have their fantasies, too,” came the wicked aside.

Fingers of warmth passed through her body. “My mother taught me they’re not for a little girl’s ears.” After drinking the last of her coffee she dared a look at him. “Just how young did you think I was when we first met?”

“Too young,” was all he was willing to reveal. He put some money on the table and stood up. “If you’re ready we’ll get some serious shopping done. Groceries last, I think.”

She would pay for her keep, she thought to herself. He might be letting her sleep at the château, but she didn’t expect anything else.

After visiting a hardware store, he took her to the third floor of the department store where the mattresses were sold. Alex sought out the male clerk and they conversed in French. Their speech was so rapid she understood nothing. Within a few seconds the younger man looked at her and broke out in a broad smile.

“I don’t think I want a translation,” she told Alex.

His lips curved upward. “You don’t need to worry. When he asked me what kind of a mattress we were looking for, I simply asked him if he knew the story of the Princess and the Pea. He said he had the ideal one for you.”

She tried not to laugh. “I see.”

The clerk spread his hands in typical French fashion. “Would Mademoiselle like to try it?”

“She says yes,” Alex spoke for her. They followed the man across the floor to the sample mattresses on display.