"Giselle?"
"Yes, Monsieur Armentier? How can I help?"
Jean-Jacques had only recently been installed as CEO of the Giraud Cosmetics Corporation, and since then his private secretary had shown him the greatest deference, but this business about calling him Monsieur, though well intentioned, was irritating the hell out of him. "Couldn't you call me Jean-Jacques like you used to?"
"Are you sure?" She pretended to be scandalized, but he knew otherwise.
"I'm sure."
Her chuckle sounded loud and clear over the speaker. "I'm very happy to see that you're just the same."
"When all is said and done, I'm still a mere chemist and the son of a flower farmer."
"You're a lot more than that now!"
"Don't remind me. I've been told you're the one who normally walks around the complex on the last day giving out the Christmas bonuses."
"That's right. Would you prefer that someone else did it?"
"Perhaps this one time you would allow me the privilege? I need an excuse to meet with everyone personally before they go home for the holiday. If I'm handing out money, they might just return after New Year's."
Giselle's chuckle turned into full-bodied laughter. "The checks are in the safe, all ready for your signature."
"Wonderful. I've been thinking it might be nice if they were to receive their bonuses today instead of Wednesday."
"You must have read my mind," she quipped. Then on a more serious note, "If you want to know the truth, everyone is happy you've been put in charge."
Jean-Jacques cleared his throat. "That's good to hear, but I'm still not sure this isn't a dream. Any minute now I expect to wake up flat on my back in a lavender field just waiting to be harvested."
"Now you have to worry about the entire company instead of one flower farm. I'll be right in with the checks."
By the end of the day he'd delivered envelopes to everyone in the building except Vivige Honfleur, a woman he hadn't yet met. She ran the day care center, which was a recent innovation. Five years ago, before Jean-Jacques had left Vence to get his degree and work for the Giraud perfumery in Paris, the center hadn't existed. As far as he was concerned, it was a terrific and much needed addition to the workplace.
Hopefully the working parents with children had already picked up their offspring, and he'd be able to talk to Madame Honfleur without distraction. He walked out the front doors to the modern facility adjacent to the parking lot, recalling how pleased the workers had been to receive their Christmas bonuses early. Many of them had taken the time to renew their acquaintance with him — and he was glad he had recognized so many of them.
Several mothers he'd spoken with earlier in the day were leaving with their toddlers. They chatted for a minute before he moved inside in the day care.
Voices carried from one of the rooms set up like a class with tables, chairs, and toys. Jean-Jacques walked through the doorway where he saw a curly-headed toddler talking to his teacher while she helped him on with his coat.
A man swept past him to collect his child, but Jean-Jacques's attention was suddenly riveted to the stunning woman who stood up to greet the boy's father, smoothing the skirt which had ridden up one gorgeous, shapely leg where the child had been clutching her.
Mon Dieu. It was Nicole.
Like the flowers that made up his world, Nicole Giraud, heiress to the Giraud perfume fortune, had always been an integral part of it. From their youth, her sweet nature, not just her beauty, had worked its way into his blood. Nicole and Provence. The two were inseparably connected.
If he hadn't known she was getting married right away and going to live in England, he would never have considered returning to Vence as CEO. It had been five years since he'd seen her. Yet looking at her now made it seem like yesterday.
Nicole said goodbye to little Luc, then turned to the other waiting parent. "May I help —"
She didn't finish what she was going to say because it wasn't another father who'd come into the room, looking taller and leaner than she'd remembered. Though she tried to quell it, a soft gasp escaped her throat. "Jean-Jacques —"
She'd known this moment had to come sometime, but she still wasn't prepared for it. His black eyes that used to pierce through to her very soul before kissing her into oblivion had developed a brooding quality. As they traveled over her features, she could find no trace of warmth in their assessing regard. There wasn't even a hint of the gentle, teasing side of his nature, which used to melt her bones.
"It's been a long time, cherie," he finally responded with enviable calm and a certain emotional detachment that made her heart drop to the floor like a stone.
The intervening years — the years he'd left her and been in Paris — had wrought changes. His olive skin wasn't as bronzed as it used to be. Of course that was only natural since he hadn't worked in the fields for years now. He'd become a man with a man's aloofness.
Physically he was more attractive to her than ever. He still wore his dark hair a little longer than was currently fashionable, tempting her to run her fingers through it. But there were new lines of experience around his nose and mouth giving him a harder edge. His very remoteness challenged her to break through the veneer to find the man she'd lost her heart to years before.
Standing this close to him again, she realized that nothing had changed for her. If anything she was even more in love with him.
"You haven't changed, Nicole. You're still the beautiful girl who used to drop by my father's plant to give me a thrill when you didn't have something else more important to do with your time."
Nicole snapped her head back, dislodging the rich brown hair from her shoulders. Until he'd said that, she'd never known he had a problem with their different backgrounds. How strange to think he'd even considered there was a class barrier between them. She had been too caught up in her feelings for him to even consider their differences.
"If you recall, your father's plant was the first place I came every day after school for years because I knew you'd be there. It was the only place I wanted to be," she confessed in a quiet voice.
Jean-Jacques lifted his shoulders in that elegant yet careless shrug so typical of him, before straightening. In an instant his features had taken on a chiseled cast. "That was a long time ago."
"A very long time ago." It was impossible to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"I must admit I'm surprised to find you here at the day care center of all places."
She took a deep breath. "It was built the year you left Vence. Every December since then I've worked with the children to enact the nativity scene for the Christmas Eve program."
The news stunned him. He shifted his weight. "Isn't that a fairly ambitious project when you're planning to get married so soon?"
Nicole's lambent brown eyes searched his with a frankness that gave his heart another dangerous workout. "You mean to Colin?"
Jean-Jacques rubbed the back of his neck. "If you're referring to the Englishman I saw you with in the papers, then I suppose yes. It said something about an impending holiday wedding. I didn't really take note of the rest."
A stillness emanated from her. "No, we're not getting married."
Jean-Jacques froze. He couldn't have heard correctly. If Nicole wasn't getting married, what would it mean for them…?
"You mean you're not getting married at Christmas?" Jean-Jacques needed to be perfectly clear on what Nicole meant.
She paused in the process of straightening the chairs. "I mean, I was never going to be married. It's true I was in London recently to represent my mother at a family party. Some photographer caught me out on the lawn talking to Colin. He's marrying his fiancée in a few days."
With those words, Jean-Jacques's entire world turned inside out. She wasn't engaged — There wasn't going to be a marriage — She wouldn't be living in England — Mon Dieu.
He'd imagined many things since he'd seen the photograph. All of them gut-wrenching.
He fought to smother a groan. "My mistake. I was about to offer my congratulations."
An impish smile broke out on her face. "It appears you've joined a long line of people duped by the paparazzi."
When she looked like that, she had no idea how she came across to the males of the species. It was something she did as naturally as breathing. He'd known her since she was a little girl with a mop of bouncing curls. Her charm had gotten beneath his skin then, and would always have a stranglehold on his heart.
Now that she'd grown into a breathtaking woman, it didn't surprise him every journalist in Europe wanted photographs of her. Heiress to the Giraud perfume fortune, he supposed she would always be hounded by the press.
"Guilty as charged," he replied in the same teasing vein to disguise his shock.
She moved closer to him, her eyes intent on his face. "I never imagined such a thing could happen to Jean-Jacques Armentier of all people. Not when you used to laugh with me over the ridiculous claims in the tabloids linking me to this prince and that shipping magnate. Remember?"
Oh yes. I remember. How I wish I didn't. For the love of heaven, Nicole, don't look at me like that.
It was the same way she used to look at him whenever he tried to play hard to get. He did it on purpose to gauge her reaction. Her eyes would glisten over in pain and she'd go all breathless. Every time she responded that way, it would prove that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Something dark in his nature had always needed that proof because he couldn't believe that Nicole Giraud, the exquisite brunette men all over Europe fantasized about, the daughter of a family worth billions, would rather be with Jean-Jacques Armentier, a son of the soil who was very good at entertaining her, but could never be her equal.
No matter how many times he tested her, she still came after him, undaunted. In front of his peers her unswerving desire for him fed his inflated ego. In the privacy of night, with the taste of her mouth still on his, he felt his heart soar. Then the morning would come, when the harsh light of day brought reality, dashing every dream.
How jealously he'd guarded her all those years. Right up until the moment he left for Paris with an offer that settled an untenable situation for him. But that was a lifetime ago.
His jaw hardened. This conversation needed to conclude so the torture would end. "If you're not getting married, what is the favorite target of the paparazzi doing these days besides putting on a Christmas play?"
Tell me what I need to hear. Tell me you're planning a world cruise with your lover. Anything that puts thousands of miles between us.
Nicole was in so much pain over his indifference to her presence, she didn't know if she could answer him. The question he'd asked her had been motivated by courtesy, nothing more. It went to prove how totally he'd eradicated her from his consciousness.
"Brigitte never mentioned it?"
"I'm afraid my sister and I were both poor letter writers," came the dampening response.
Her heart plunged to new depths. Not only had Jean-Jacques been able to steal away in the night five years ago and abandon everything and everyone he knew without a backward glance, he hadn't shown enough curiosity to ask questions of his older sister who'd been a good friend to Nicole.
There'd been no concern on his part how she'd survived that empty black period of endless mourning.
Devastated didn't begin to describe Nicole's feelings at the time. One day he was working at his father's plant where the harvested lavender was processed. The next day Jean-Jacques was gone. With obvious pride Monsieur Armentier told Nicole his son had left for Paris to study chemistry.
He never wrote her. Never phoned. There'd been no explanation. Dear God. The pain had been so excruciating, she still hadn't recovered, and feared she never would.
"I've been doing what I always intended to do with my life when I grew up."
Her reply managed to wipe the faint mocking expression from his face. In its place crept a sober mask, realigning those attractive features.
"You're a teacher?"
The fact that he remembered even that much of past conversations ought to have brought her a modicum of solace. But his glaring incredulity didn't allow her one second's pleasure in the moment.
She fought not to let him see how devastated she was. In as level a tone as possible she said, "I've been instructing kindergartners for four years now."
"Where?" he asked.
"At the École Charles Martel."
He flashed her an impatient glance. "I meant 'where' as in which town?"
"Here in Vence, of course. I was thrilled to be assigned that school because it's only a few minutes from the office. My brother and I were able to enjoy many lunches together before he moved to New York."
She could have sworn his face lost color.
"But that's impossible.…"
"Why?" she burst out angrily. "Is it so unthinkable that a Giraud might be teaching at the same grade school an Armentier attended?"
"You misunderstand me, Nicole," he ground out. "To be frank, I hadn't imagined you —"
"Working at all?" she cut him off. "Having a job like an ordinary person? For someone who always seemed so down-to-earth, you have a real problem about people with money. I don't know how I failed to recognize it until now —"
His mouth thinned into a white line of anger, but she didn't care. She was just getting warmed up.
"I'm not sure you'll be able to handle what I'm going to tell you, Jean-Jacques, but I'll say it anyway. All those billions you're now responsible for have never had anything to do with me. I didn't earn as much as one cent! The only money I spend is what I make on my salary."
It was fascinating to watch the way his black eyes turned into furious pinpoints of light.
"Impossible as it is for you to believe, money doesn't make my world go round."
Her declaration reverberated in the room. The way Jean-Jacques was staring at her now made her realize how out of control she was sounding.
"The children here at the day care center," she began in a quieter tone, "will be presenting the Christmas play at the villa. Mother's planning a light supper for everyone on the staff. She sent an invitation to your office, but in case you didn't see it yet, I'm extending it personally."
A long silence ensued before he said, "Giselle already brought it to my attention. Please thank your mother for me."
"I will," she whispered. "Does that mean you're coming?"
Would he attend the Christmas party at her mother's home?
Jean-Jacques realized it was like it had been before — Nicole standing there with those velvety-brown eyes beseeching him for an answer.
"I've already asked Giselle to accept your mother's invitation for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must look up Madame Honfleur's address and drop off her bonus."
Anxious to put distance between himself and Nicole, Jean-Jacques pulled out his car keys.
"She lives above her husband's shop," Nicole said before he'd reached the door. "It's the bureau de tabac at the base of the rue Madelaine bordering the Place de Seurat. You know — wh-where you and I used to buy chocolates on our way to the beach." She stammered the last.
Jean-Jacques wished she hadn't mentioned those marshmallow delights covered in chocolate. They'd take a sack of them to an isolated stretch of sand and water to watch the yachts in the distance. But he never did see anything except the invitation in her beguiling smile. There was nothing sweeter than her lips covered in orange, mint, and raspberry.
Even now they were a temptation he could do without.
Auguste Giraud had seen what was happening between his daughter and the boy who was completely unsuitable for her. For years he'd watched and waited until the exact moment to proffer the bribe that had sent Jean-Jacques out of his daughter's life.
Little did her father know that Jean-Jacques had already made plans to leave the Midi, the South of France region in which Vence was located. At 25 he was a man, hot with a man's desire, unable to bear the torture of her presence when he couldn't do anything about it. But he wasn't certain that, at some point, he wouldn't break his own vow and come running back to her. Lyon wasn't that far from Vence.
The bribe to go all the way to Paris was presented to him when he was at his most vulnerable. So many miles between them guaranteed that he wouldn't backslide and come back to Vence every weekend.
Until he'd found out Nicole wasn't getting married after all, Jean-Jacques had actually believed he was home free. Now everything he'd strived so carefully to orchestrate had blown up in his face.
As soon as he made his delivery to Mme. Honfleur, he'd go back to his apartment and phone Dominic Giraud in New York. Nicole's older brother was the one who'd picked Jean-Jacques to be CEO. It was to Dominic he would tender his resignation. Hopefully a replacement could be found and installed by the first of the year.
"Thank you for the information. À bientôt, Nicole." He left, determined to keep as far away from her as possible. If he worked his schedule correctly, there was no reason for him to see her again. He ignored the sinking feeling that thought gave him.
Long after Jean-Jacques had left the room, Nicole stood there trembling. Something was wrong. If her instincts were correct, and she had every reason to believe they were, he was afraid of being alone with her. Why? It made no sense, not after the history they'd shared.
Dear God, they'd known each other since childhood! For as long as she could remember life, Jean-Jacques had been part of the mosaic making up her world. At first as one of the older boys who teased and sometimes played with her while her father visited with Jacques's father at the lavanderie. Later, as the heartthrob teenager she idolized long before she grew up enough to feel physical desire and express it.
By her midteens they'd begun to share an intense personal relationship. In time she realized he was the man she wanted to be her husband and the father of their babies. He'd wanted her, too!
He might not have said the words. He might not have made any commitments, but she knew the depth of his feelings every time he crushed her in his arms, every time he devoured her mouth with an unrestrained hunger that matched her own. Too unrestrained for him to behave around her now as if she were nothing more than an old acquaintance.
Even if his feelings for her had died five years ago, prompting his sudden departure from Vence, how could he pretend an indifference that simply didn't ring true?
If he'd thought he'd had the last word, he was very much mistaken. She was tired of not having answers. He owed her an explanation. She was desperate for closure so she could get on with the rest of her life. Now that he'd been brought back to Vence to run the company, she wasn't about to waste another second torturing herself over the past.
Wheeling around, she locked up the day care center and headed for her car. Tomorrow wasn't that far away. Never before had she deliberately used her name to get something she wanted — not from Jean-Jacques or anyone else. But there was always a first time.…
Starting in the morning, she planned to fight for him any way she could.
"Jean-Jacques?"
"Yes, Giselle?"
"Nicole Giraud is here to see you."
Jean-Jacques broke out in a cold sweat. It was one thing to be able to walk away from her yesterday. But it was quite another to refuse to see Nicole in his office when it was her family's money paying his salary.
Damn Dominic Giraud for being unavailable. His voice mail indicated he'd gone on vacation and wouldn't be back until the first of the year. All Jean-Jacques could do was leave a message that he'd made a mistake accepting the position, and was requesting a meeting with Dominic at his earliest convenience because he was handing in his resignation.
"Tell her to come in, Giselle."
He steeled himself not to respond. But the moment she walked inside and shut the door, the sight of her in a stylish cherry-red wool dress took his breath. Her brunette coloring, combined with the mold of her voluptuous body and long slender legs made it impossible to look anywhere else.
After a lifetime of seeking him out at one of the flower farms or the lavanderie, it must be quite a shock for her to have to come to her brother's former office in order to talk to him.
"Thank you for fitting me in. I know you're busy." She sounded a little breathless as she sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. He attributed the heightened color in her cheeks to the cold weather outside.
"You're always welcome, Nicole. You know that. What can I do for you?" He tried to sound as if he were addressing a member of the board of directors.
Mon Dieu. Her eyes always had that expectant look when they met his, as if she were excited to see him. Five years had changed nothing in that regard! But no degree or title could alter the fact he was still an Armentier. They were adults now. There were certain lines you didn't cross. Nicole had always been out of reach, and always would be. The sooner he left Vence for good, the better.
When her brother demanded an explanation for this sudden about-face, Jean-Jacques would tell him the truth. That he was, and always had been, in love with Nicole. Dominic was a man and understood these things. Once he'd heard that revelation, he'd accept Jean-Jacques's resignation without question.
"With the establishment of the day care center, Dominic and I started a tradition at the villa of giving presents to the children after their performance. We shopped together for their gifts and had a lot of fun doing it. I guess you've inherited that job now."
He groaned inwardly. For years he and Nicole had gone Christmas shopping for their families' and friends' gifts. On their last Christmas together, before he'd made the decision to leave Vence, he'd wanted to take her to a jeweler's and let her pick out an engagement ring.
But that was one of those fantasies no one else knew about, least of all Nicole. He didn't have the kind of money to buy a ring she could be proud of. Of course it was absurd to even entertain the idea when marriage to her was out of the question.
"With Christmas Eve only three days away, the gifts really should be bought today."
Dominic had forgotten to go over this duty with him. Come to think of it, he'd forgotten to tell Jean-Jacques several things…all having to do with Nicole.
"Giselle said you don't have a business lunch scheduled, so I thought we could grab a bite to eat, then run over to Toy World. But, of course, if you're too involved in something else…"
Nicole looked at him, her eyes bright and challenging, as if she were daring him to spend time with her. But that couldn't be right… or could it?
Nicole's request was something Jean-Jacques couldn't turn down, otherwise it would make the situation appear to take on more importance than it warranted.
"How many children are there?" he asked to prevent her from leaving. She was already on her feet.
"Forty, if you count the babies and toddlers. Only the four- and five-year-olds will be coming to the villa. There are 18 of them."
Maybe it would be better to just get it over with now. Then he would only have to see her on Christmas Eve and that would be the end of it. Depending on how soon Dominic returned his call, Jean-Jacques could be back in Paris by New Year's Day.
"I have a phone conference arranged for two o'clock, but can fit in the shopping as long as we skip lunch."
"That's fine with me," she said, sounding undaunted. "Now that my students are out of school for the holidays, I've had a big breakfast with my parents the last two mornings."
He followed her to the outer office, where she reached for her coat. Then they headed for the company car in the parking lot.
"I thought you had a leisurely breakfast with your parents just about every morning of life." He shut her door, then went around to the driver's side of the car.
Nicole waited until they were merging with the traffic. "That might have been true when I was little. But like you, Jean-Jacques, I grew up and moved out of my parents' house years ago."
Where? A tight band around his chest constricted his breathing. As long as she'd lived at her parents' villa, she'd been like the princess on the glass hill. You needed a magic horse to ride to the top to claim her. There was nothing magic about the plow horses in the Armentier barn. They would never fill the bill.…
"Does that mean you're living in Antibes now? It's very beautiful along that stretch of the coast," he asked, remembering a time when they'd been riding around the towns near Vence on his motorbike and she'd pointed out the spectacular home overlooking the water, indicating that her father's aged parents lived there.
"Antibes —"
"Yes. Didn't you move into the villa your grandfather willed to you?"
Nicole let out an angry laugh. "My grandparents' home was meant to be filled with a family, not a single working woman. I rent a small studio apartment down on the rue de Mistral."
His heart slammed into his ribs. It wasn't very far from his own apartment. He didn't want to hear any more. He didn't want to think about her there, alone, where he could have easy access.
"You amaze me, Jean-Jacques." Her voice trembled. "Do you honestly imagine that I lie around in some obscenely expensive designer negligee on my private terrasse overlooking the Mediterranean while I sip champagne and contemplate how I'm going to spend my billions this weekend?"
When he was in his late teens, those had been his exact thoughts, only they hadn't stopped there. He'd visualized himself climbing up to her terrasse and making slow, passionate love to her beneath the Midi sun, their bodies caressed by a gentle breeze filled with the scent of jasmine.
A deep ache seared him at the memory. Shakespeare could have set his two star-crossed lovers in Provence. Their names, Armentier and Giraud. Auguste Giraud wasn't the only person who'd wanted the two of them permanently separated. Jean-Jacques's parents had been equally adamant on the subject of their son ending all association with Nicole.
"It seems a great deal has changed while I've been away. I promise to stop making any more assumptions." He turned sharply to the right into the covered parking of Aux Quatre Saisons department store. "It may take a while for me to find a parking space. Why don't I let you out here and meet you in the toy department?"
To his relief, she didn't object. "See you a minute," she said before getting out of the car.
While he waited for the vehicle in front of him to move on, his eyes followed every bewitching movement of her gorgeous body. All the Christmas shoppers were watching her, too. Nicole was Vence's own unofficial princess. She couldn't go out in public without being the center of attention.
Mon Dieu, Nicole. I shouldn't have come with you. Already I have this gut feeling I'm going to regret it.…
The second Nicole entered the store, she expelled the breath she'd been holding. For a moment back in his office, she'd been afraid Jean-Jacques would refuse to come with her. But just because he'd felt obliged to help with the shopping, it didn't mean she could get him to do anything else.
Deep in her heart, she knew it was going to take some kind of miracle to get back what they'd once had.
With a determination born of her love for him, she proceeded with her plan. By the time Jean-Jacques joined her in the girls' section of the toy store, she'd already ordered mobiles for the babies and push toys for the toddlers to be wrapped and sent to the day care center.
Her pulse raced the moment she saw his tall, dark figure stride down the aisle toward her. Even from the distance separating them, she felt his black eyes searching hers. In his tan business suit, he looked every inch the urbane CEO, yet every woman in the store was aware of his hard-muscled body, the way it moved with that swift male grace of which he was unaware.
Gathering three of the season's most popular dolls in her arms, she turned so Jean-Jacques could see them. "Which face do you like the best?"
Through shuttered lids, his gaze passed over her face and body with haunting thoroughness before he fastened his attention on the dolls she was holding.
His dark brows furrowed. "They're not very appealing."
She chuckled. "I know. They're supposed to be homely. That's what makes them so endearing. Every little girl in France wants one. They're all the rage. Help me pick."
"I'm afraid you've asked the wrong person. If Brigitte had owned a doll like that, I probably would have hidden it just to give her a hard time."
"That's a terrible thing to say." But she smiled as she said it. "A lot of help you're being."
"I guess the redhead isn't so bad. Maybe you'd better give every girl the identical doll so they won't fight. The same ought to go for the boys."
"Have you decided on a gift for them?"
"Of course. A toy car, preferably a red Ferrari like your father's. Every little boy's fantasy."
If he'd profferred that little jab to remind her that they came from different worlds, it wasn't going to work. "Terrific! That made our shopping easy. I'll tell the salesclerk to get everything wrapped and have the gifts sent to the villa."
Before long they were back in the car trying to exit the shopping area, but the crowds were worse than ever. She heard Jean-Jacques mutter something unintelligible as he was forced to start, then stop, while they waited for the line of cars to move.
"We should have come on your motorbike." With her heart thudding in her chest, she ventured, "Do you still have it?"
"I would imagine it's still in my parents' garage."
"After you're through at the office for today, why don't we go for a ride on it?"
Lines darkened his face. "All right, Nicole. It's obvious you didn't need my help to buy toys. What was your real motive for getting me to come with you today? The truth," he bit out tersely.
She swallowed hard. "Five years ago you left Vence without one word of goodbye to me. Considering that I probably spent more time with you growing up than I did my own family or friends, it came as a tremendous shock to drive up to the lavanderie and be told you weren't there, that you'd left for Paris and wouldn't be coming back."
There was a tremor in her voice that touched something deep inside of him.
"Obviously you were so excited to leave, you gave no thought to anything else. It didn't even occur to you to write a note that you could have asked your family to pass on to me. Had you grown to despise my company so much, you couldn't spare me five minutes' explanation?"
Nicole turned to face him as Jean-Jacques decided what to say. Could he tell her the truth?
The tension in the car was explosive as Nicole waited for Jean-Jacques to tell her why he had left without a word all those years ago.
He surrendered the parking slip to the attendant and pulled out into traffic before attempting to respond. It was a question for which he'd had no satisfactory answer five years ago, so he'd done the cowardly thing and had left Vence without facing her.
But just now he'd heard in her demand an underlying bleakness that he didn't want to acknowledge, yet couldn't ignore. Only Nicole had the power to slip past his defenses and tie him in knots.
"Long before I went away, I'd been wrestling with the decision to do something more with my life than grow flowers," he began.
"How come you never told me?"
"Until I'd worked out a plan, it wasn't something I wished to discuss with anyone."
Her head was bowed. "I lived in a fantasy world back then, didn't I? Imagining that I knew everything going on inside of you?"
"Does one human being ever really know another?"
"You knew me!" she blurted with raw emotion.
He sucked in his breath. "I knew you were a Giraud, Nicole. You were also very young."
Her head swerved in his direction. "Why don't you say what you really mean — that I was a naïve little fool."
"You're putting words in my mouth. I meant that you weren't old enough to know what life would present to you one day. Though you've always played it down, you were born to a world of privilege that only a handful of people will ever experience."
"What does that have to do with anything?" she cried out angrily. "Every person is born to a world unique to them. But just because my father makes more money than yours shouldn't have any bearing on our relationship. You make it sound as though we come from different planets." "I'm not so sure that isn't the right analogy." He felt her gaze penetrate to his soul.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing! Up until the day you disappeared, I don't recall those differences preventing you from spending every free moment with me."
"It was always in private, Nicole. I was no more welcome in your home than you were in mine."
"That's not true!" she fired back. "I begged you to come to my house and spend time with me. I could never understand why you refused. Neither could Mother. But until just now, I had no idea your family didn't approve of me." Her voice broke.
Oh, hell. He raked an unsteady hand through his hair. "It wasn't a case of disapproval. I knew they'd be uncomfortable. That's why I didn't invite you."
"Uncomfortable —" she cried. "Why?" Her incredulity made him realize she honestly didn't know. Nicole had always been blind to color and class differences. Those were just a few of the traits he loved about her.
He shook his head. "If you don't understand it by now, then heaven help me, I can't explain it to you. It's a moot point anyway. To explain what happened — an unexpected opportunity came my way to study in Paris, so I took it."
"Did some benefactor give you money?" The tears in her voice tore at his soul.
He was skirting dangerous ground now. "Yes. It was like a miracle. For the first time in my life I could look down the road at the possibility of a different future. But it meant leaving my parents who needed me, though they would deny it."
It meant leaving you, he added in his mind. Looking at you right now, I don't know how I found the strength.
"You couldn't have told me that much in a note at least?"
By now they were getting close to the office. "Nicole — do you remember the day you told me you wished I didn't smoke, and dared me to stop?"
"Yes," came the quiet reply. "You stubbed it out and never smoked again."
"Leaving home was like throwing that last cigarette away. It was all or nothing. If I'd started with the goodbyes, I would never have left. Before I lost my courage, I packed my things and headed for the train while the family was still asleep."
A prolonged silence filled the interior of the car. He turned into the parking lot and pulled to a stop near the main doors of the building.
Her lovely features looked frozen in marble. "Thank you for telling me the truth. All these years I — I thought you must have hated me. Now I realize that the day you left, you chose to put away childish things." After another hesitation, she added, "Did you love Paris?"
Get out of the car now, Armentier. Otherwise you know what you're going to do, and then Nicole will be in no doubt of your feelings for her.
He forced a smile. "Does a Frenchman love the sun?" After turning off the motor, he pulled the keys from the ignition, ready to exit the car.
She lifted tremulous brown eyes to him. "Jean-Jacques? I know you have a phone conference in a minute, but would you do me a favor? It's the last one I'll ever ask of you."
Adrenaline surged through his body as he realized she was prepared to say goodbye. "If I can."
"I'm giving a small cocktail party tonight. Would you drop by my apartment for drinks? Consider it a welcome home present from an old friend who was robbed of the pleasure of giving you a proper send-off. Any time after eight o'clock. I live at number 14, rue du Mistral."
She looked at him rather sadly and smiled. Then she shut the car door behind her before he could answer.
Nicole hovered near the front window of her apartment, worried because Jean-Jacques hadn't arrived yet. She looked around the tiny living room decorated with a small Christmas tree and red poinsettias. It was almost nine o'clock. The hors d'oeuvres would have to be reheated.
He shook his head. "If you don't understand it by now, then heaven help me, I can't explain it to you. It's a moot point anyway. To explain what happened — an unexpected opportunity came my way to study in Paris, so I took it."
"Did some benefactor give you money?" The tears in her voice tore at his soul.
He was skirting dangerous ground now. "Yes. It was like a miracle. For the first time in my life I could look down the road at the possibility of a different future. But it meant leaving my parents who needed me, though they would deny it."
It meant leaving you, he added in his mind. Looking at you right now, I don't know how I found the strength.
"You couldn't have told me that much in a note at least?"
By now they were getting close to the office. "Nicole — do you remember the day you told me you wished I didn't smoke, and dared me to stop?"
"Yes," came the quiet reply. "You stubbed it out and never smoked again."
"Leaving home was like throwing that last cigarette away. It was all or nothing. If I'd started with the goodbyes, I would never have left. Before I lost my courage, I packed my things and headed for the train while the family was still asleep."
A prolonged silence filled the interior of the car. He turned into the parking lot and pulled to a stop near the main doors of the building.
Her lovely features looked frozen in marble. "Thank you for telling me the truth. All these years I — I thought you must have hated me. Now I realize that the day you left, you chose to put away childish things." After another hesitation, she added, "Did you love Paris?"
Get out of the car now, Armentier. Otherwise you know what you're going to do, and then Nicole will be in no doubt of your feelings for her.
He forced a smile. "Does a Frenchman love the sun?" After turning off the motor, he pulled the keys from the ignition, ready to exit the car.
She lifted tremulous brown eyes to him. "Jean-Jacques? I know you have a phone conference in a minute, but would you do me a favor? It's the last one I'll ever ask of you."
Adrenaline surged through his body as he realized she was prepared to say goodbye. "If I can."
"I'm giving a small cocktail party tonight. Would you drop by my apartment for drinks? Consider it a welcome home present from an old friend who was robbed of the pleasure of giving you a proper send-off. Any time after eight o'clock. I live at number 14, rue du Mistral."
She looked at him rather sadly and smiled. Then she shut the car door behind her before he could answer.
Nicole hovered near the front window of her apartment, worried because Jean-Jacques hadn't arrived yet. She looked around the tiny living room decorated with a small Christmas tree and red poinsettias. It was almost nine o'clock. The hors d'oeuvres would have to be reheated.
With every passing minute she had to wait, her temperature rose another degree. The tension made even the sleeveless black mandarin silk dress feel too hot for her.
Her heart gave a furious kick when she heard footsteps outside the door, then a knock. She opened it to meet his unsmiling regard.
There was a forbidding look about him tonight. She wondered at her temerity in asking him to her home. Swallowing hard she said, "Bonsoir, Jean-Jacques. I'm so glad you could make it. Come in."
"Merci." In a few swift strides he moved past her, careful not to brush against her arm. As she was closing the door, she caught him appraising her with the kind of thoroughness that had always taken her breath in the past. Take a good look, my love, she thought. I'm no longer a child you can dismiss like you did five years ago.
If he were as immune to her as he'd led her to believe earlier today, he wouldn't have come over tonight. Overjoyed at this much progress she stared back at him. Few men were as naturally elegant as Jean-Jacques. Tonight his formal navy suit and paisley tie gave him the air of the successful business tycoon.
In her childhood she'd been too young to articulate what she found so attractive about him. By her teens the word dashing came to mind. When she turned 20, he was captivating. Everything about him fascinated her.
But six years had added another element. He now had the irresistible appeal of a virile male who'd outgrown all traces of the younger man. She was staggered by his sensuality.
"I hope you're hungry. Please sit down and help yourself to my homemade eggnog while I get the appetizers from the kitchen."
He remained where he was, his stance formidable. His black eyes had narrowed on her mouth. "Where are the rest of your guests?"
Nicole braved Jean-Jacques's piercing glance. "There are no other guests."
"Why did you allow me to think otherwise?"
"Because I knew you wouldn't have come unless I'd told you there would be other people."
He cursed. "Damn you, Nicole! You got me over here on false pretenses." A dull red had crept beneath the skin of his handsome face. "We covered everything that needed to be said in the car."
She didn't move a muscle. "But I didn't have my Christmas present for you with me then."
His lips thinned in a hard line. "I suppose that's as good an excuse as any for a private talk about my new position with the company. But your effort isn't necessary. I know I could never fill your brother's shoes. We both know that would be an impossibility."
"That's not true," she said, wounded by his aggressive attack — the last thing she doubted about him was his business abilities.
"Tell that to someone who doesn't know you as well as I do," he said with maddening calm. "You always were a highly emotional woman. Why don't you save all that charged energy for someone who would believe you."
Nicole shook her head. "Why are you being like this?" More than ever she was convinced his uncharacteristic rudeness hid something he didn't want her to see.
"You think I don't know you have a right to be upset?" The cords stood out in his neck. "Unfortunately it's a fait accompli. All I can do is make certain the comptroller of the company sends you monthly statements and keeps you apprised of developments as they occur."
"That won't be necessary."
"No one has more right to information than you," he kept talking as if she hadn't said a word. "One day half of the Giraud fortune will belong to you. I promised your brother I would protect and hopefully increase those holdings. I make you the same promise."
"Fine, but I was never in any doubt of it." She moved away from him and reached under the tree for his present.
He backed away from her. "I don't have time for this."
"Surely you have a few minutes to spare. Actually it's the birthday present I made for you, but you left Vence a week too soon for me to give it to you." She moved next to him and when he didn't take the gift, she ripped off the Christmas wrapping so he could see the framed eight by ten color photograph of the two of them on his motorbike.
In the picture, she sat behind him with her arms flung around his waist, their smiling faces pressed together.
Watching his reaction, she saw that Jean-Jacques remembered one of his friends snapping the photo. In the right-hand corner she'd written, "To my love from your love," and the date.
"Do you remember that day? We'd just taken a glorious ride to Eze. Philippe —" his friend who had taken the picture "— said he'd never seen a couple so in love. He told us how envious he was." Her voice throbbed.
Jean-Jacques took the picture from her hands and set it on the coffee table next to the eggnog. Then he turned to her. "We had good times, Nicole. But all of that's in the past." His black eyes glittered with a strange light. "I should never have come here."
She was trembling so hard, her legs would barely hold her up. "Nobody forced you. Certainly your job wasn't on the line if you didn't. If my company is so repulsive to you, why did you bother?"
His chest heaved. "Because I felt I owed you something for hurting you when I went away without a word of explanation."
"What do you think you're doing to me now?" came her tortured whisper.
Jean-Jacques felt as though he and Nicole were back where they had been five years ago. Surely she still didn't have feelings for him. If she did, he was going to put a stop to any crazy fantasies she held. "Mon Dieu. It's happening again. No matter how many times I used to goad you, you always came back for more."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I was a cruel swine wasn't I? Unfortunately it's a habit I can't seem to break." He shot out his hands to grasp her upper arms. "Is that what you want from me tonight? More of the same treatment?"
"Yes!" she cried her answer to his taunting question. It came from the very depths of her being. "If it's the only part of you I can have, then yes — I'll take your cruelty." Her hands reached inside his jacket and slid up that familiar hard chest to his broad shoulders. "Please, Jean-Jacques," she begged from every sensitized cell in her body, so on fire for him she covered his mouth with her own.
Nicole was taller than the average woman. In high heels, she didn't have too far to go in order to wrap her arms around his neck and prevent him from evading the full force of her desire.
It may have been five years, but what was happening right now felt as natural to her as breathing. One moment he was resisting her, the next instant everything changed and she found herself being kissed with a hunger she'd never even dreamed of.
Long, deep sensual kisses that went on and on. He crushed her against him, melding her curves to his solid frame. Their hands roved frantically as if in disbelief that they were back in each other's arms.
His mouth stifled her moans of ecstasy, transporting her back to other flower-scented nights when they couldn't bear to be apart. It was like that now, and yet it was more. Much more. She knew she would die if she couldn't love Jean-Jacques like this for the rest of her life.
"Please don't stop," she begged when he unexpectedly wrenched his mouth from hers, holding her at a distance while he struggled to recover from the passion they'd always aroused in each other on contact.
"Perhaps now you understand why I decided against telling you I was leaving Vence. I have no desire to hurt you, Nicole. Even if it was five years in coming, let's agree we've had our final goodbye." He started for the door.
Ecstatic because he'd lost control in her arms, she followed him considering what had happened between them, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Whatever you say, Jean-Jacques. See you at the villa on Christmas Eve."
The second he slid behind the wheel of his car, Jean-Jacques reached for his cell phone to call Nicole's brother. The same damn message resounded in his ear. Dominic wouldn't be available until the New Year. Letting loose with a couple of well-chosen epithets, he clicked off and shoved the key in the ignition.
He should have gotten out of Nicole's apartment before all hell had broken loose. The heavenly taste of her mouth still clung to his. His body throbbed with unassuaged longing.
One look at that photograph had unleashed every demon driving him. But it also reminded him his bike was still in the garage at the farm. Though he'd urged his father to sell it ages ago, the older man had insisted on keeping it for his son's return, assuring him it would stay in mint condition. Blessing his father's foresight, Jean-Jacques drove to his own apartment where he could change clothes first.
Tonight he needed the wind on his face and enough speed underneath him to find forgetfulness, if only for a little while.…
And then he was going to contact Dominic and leave… before it was too late.
Nicole hovered near the tall French doors of the 18th-century drawing room, desolate because Jean-Jacques hadn't arrived. The Christmas program was about ready to start. She was afraid he'd decided to stay away after what had transpired at her apartment. Her pulse raced to hear her mother's voice coming from the foyer.
"Jean-Jacques! How wonderful to see you after all these years! Please come in."
"Merci, Madame Giraud. The pleasure is all mine. Joyeux Noel."
"What is this?"
"Nicole once told me you liked to collect Pere Noels. I found this wood-carved version of Father Christmas in a little shop in town. I rather like the dark blue velvet of his elegant capuchin hood and cloak."
He remembered! Moved beyond words by his unexpected kindness to her mother, Nicole fought to get her emotions under control. When she heard her mother's cry of pure pleasure, she was lured out of her hiding place to join them.
Her mother caught sight of her. "Darling — come and look at what Jean-Jacques brought us. Isn't this Pere Noel exquisite!"
"He's wonderful," Nicole said in a trembling voice. You're wonderful, her heart cried as her gaze sought Jean-Jacques's, but he refused to look at her. If they'd been alone, she would have forced him to acknowledge her.
"Thank you, mon fils." Clearly thrilled, her mother raised up and kissed him on both cheeks. "As you're our guest of honor this evening, would you be so kind as to hand the children their gifts after the program? Their names are already on the packages."
He nodded. "Of course."
"Nicole? While I put Father Christmas in his own special place on the mantel, why don't you show Jean-Jacques to his seat."
With the greatest of reluctance his glance darted to Nicole. She looked like a heavenly angel in a stunning white wool suit with a jeweled Christmas tree pin attached to one of the lapels. Around her neck she'd tied a white chiffon scarf. She seemed part of the magic of the night. This was the first time he'd been inside the fabulous Giraud villa, which had been decorated to look like a holiday wonderland with decorated trees, swags of garlands, and pots of fresh red flowers everywhere.
He felt as though he was in a dream and Nicole was this exquisite doll who'd come to life from beneath the huge Christmas tree with its colored balls and pink and white lights. Avoiding her eyes, he whispered, "After you, Nicole."
Following her voluptuous figure, he forced himself to smile and nod as they passed parents and staff seated on the Louis XV chairs and love seats. The group had assembled before a makeshift stage complete with a roofed stable, a wooden manger filled with straw, and a baby. Behind the manger stood several life-size cardboard cows and sheep. In the soft light, they looked real.
This was all Nicole's doing. Jean-Jacques was so proud of her he could hardly swallow for the lump in his throat. There was no other woman in existence like her. Debilitating pain shot through him because he was standing inside her world for the first time and had never felt so far removed from it.
As he took his place up in front, she gestured to the accompanist at the grand piano. Then the shepherds, followed by the three wise men in their homemade costumes, began to enter, singing, through the tall mirrored doors.
Next came Mary and Joseph, then the young narrator, who stumbled over his crook before taking his place at the microphone. The parents started to whisper and chuckle as each child made his or her appearance and waved.
Hot tears stung Jean-Jacques's eyes because he couldn't remember a time when he didn't want Nicole to be the mother of his children. It was never going to happen. Deep in agony, he didn't realize what was happening on stage until he heard Joseph cry out, "I want to hold the baby Jesus, too!" Suddenly there was a tug of war between him and Mary who was clutching the baby for all she was worth. The audience broke into laughter.
Nicole flashed Jean-Jacques a signal of distress. He bounded out of the fauteuil and rushed up to the children. Kneeling behind them he whispered, "You can both hold him. Joseph, put your arm around Mary. That's right. Now just stay like that till the play is over."
When Joseph finally did his bidding, Jean-Jacques released the breath he'd been holding and raised his head. Nicole's shimmering gaze fused with his, thanking him for saving the evening from disaster. Her loving expression was too much to handle.
Jean-Jacques couldn't wait any longer for Dominic to return his phone call. Tonight he would tender his resignation to Auguste Giraud. The older man was seated by the French doors. It would be a simple thing to seek him out.
By tomorrow morning Jean-Jacques planned to be long gone from the woman he loved....
While Jean-Jacques passed out the presents to the children, who were jumping up and down with excitement, Nicole worked with the maids to make certain the food and marzipan treats were ready in the dining room.
As soon as she could leave, she fixed a heaping plate for Jean-Jacques, then moved into the drawing room to find him. She had plans for them. Depending on the outcome, they'd never be out of each other's sight again.
But as she scanned the crowd, she couldn't see him anywhere. When she asked her mother, she said he'd gone to the library with Nicole's father. Uneasy because they'd disappeared during the festivities, she handed the plate to her mother and dashed out to the terrace. After walking the length of it past the music room, she stood outside her father's study at the other end of the villa.
She waited for several minutes but when it didn't seem that they would be leaving any time soon, she knocked on the door. "Papa?" she asked before entering the room to discover her father alone at his desk. "Where's Jean-Jacques?"
He sat back in the leather chair, eyeing her through shuttered lids. "After we concluded our talk, he said he had an important engagement and left by the balcony stairs."
"No!" She dashed back outside and leaned against the wrought iron railing to watch for movement in the sunken garden below. But she couldn't see or hear anything except the gentle rustle of the night breeze.
By now he could be anywhere and would make certain she couldn't find him. Pain as real as if someone had repeatedly stabbed her left her immobilized. A deep sob welled up inside of her until she was convulsed.
"Nicolette. Tell me what's wrong."
Her father was a cold man. It had been a long time since he'd reached out to comfort her. For once he'd caught her off guard.
She spun around, wiping the tears that dripped off her cheeks. "Tonight was the company party. What was so important you had to bring him in here?"
"He said he had to talk to me in private. Dominic has been unavailable, so Jean-Jacques resigned to me."
"Resigned —"
"Yes. He didn't give me a reason."
"Dear God — I've got to find him!"
"Nicole — there's something you should know. Five years ago I offered Jean-Jacques a scholarship to go to Paris to study chemistry with the proviso that he work for the company after graduation."
Shattered, she looked at her parent in horror. "You paid him money to break us up? My own father?"
But it all made sense to her. Jean-Jacques had come home the new CEO of the company, a prize more coveted than the love of any woman. What man who'd expected to work in the flower fields all his life could have resisted such temptation? So why had he resigned?
"Non, ma fille. I was acting under your brother's orders."
She blinked. "What are you talking about? Dominic doesn't have a treacherous bone in his body!"
"I agree," he said quietly. "Only once after the day he disowned me as his father did he ask a favor of me. Out of my love for him, I obliged without questioning it or his motives."
Nicole couldn't take it all in. "Dominic wanted my relationship with Jean-Jacques ended?"
"If you want answers, you'll have to ask your brother. For Dominic's sake, as well as my own selfish reasons, I'd rather your mother were kept in the dark. But before you're too hard on him, just remember that Jean-Jacques didn't have to take the offer."
Nicole blinked back tears as she turned and ran the entire distance to her suite of rooms to phone Dominic. But with every step, her father's last words rang the death knell in her heart. Just remember. Jean-Jacques didn't have to take the offer.
Jean-Jacques left the cathedral with his sister and her husband, bundling little Paul against his shoulder for the walk to their cars. During the midnight mass, the baby had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
While they made their way through the crowd, he was loath to give up his nephew's comforting warmth. Heaven knew he needed something to prevent him from thinking about what he was going to do now that he was no longer the CEO.
He was terrified that no matter where he went, no matter how many miles he put between them, Nicole's memory would haunt him to the end of his life.
He felt a nudge in his ribs. "What is it, Brigitte?"
"Don't look now but Nicole isn't far behind and gaining on us with every footstep. Why don't you ask her to join the family for the réveillon. Everyone loves her. You want her to come. Admit it."
Jean-Jacques knew Nicole would attend mass with her family. But he hadn't expected her to search him out in this crowd. He should have known that leaving the villa without saying goodbye was exactly the wrong thing to do.
"Leave it alone, Brigitte. There are things you don't understand. Tell Maman I'll catch up with all of you at the farm.…"
Brigitte flashed her brother an accusing glance. "Mark my words, Jean-Jacques, your stupid Gallic pride is going to be your ruination."
Unable to abide her remarks because they were trampling over his bleeding wounds, he lifted Paul from his shoulder. By the time had made the transfer to her arms, Nicole had reached them.
"Joyeux Noel, everyone. These presents are for your family." She handed her packages to Claude, kissing him and Brigitte on both cheeks, then the baby.
When she lifted her head, she darted Jean-Jacques a glance devoid of emotion. Her eyes no longer reflected her usual joy. The drastic change in her demeanor, especially during this Christmas season, sent a chill through his body.
"If you two don't mind, I'd like to speak to Jean-Jacques for a few minutes. I promise I won't keep him long."
"No problem. We'll see you later." Brigitte shot Jean-Jacques a final fierce glint of disapproval before walking away with her husband and little Paul.
Once they'd gone, he turned to Nicole. "I assume you came to mass with your parents. I'll run you to the villa in my car. It's behind the back of the cathedral."
By tacit agreement they headed in that direction, forming part of the throng of people dispersing from the square. She said nothing and held herself apart from him. Even though this was the most holy of nights for locals and their families, there were still journalists hanging around for a chance sighting of her.
On cue the flashes started popping. A half-dozen video-cam artists followed their progress to the car, shouting at her to make a comment. With regal grace she ignored them as if they didn't exist. Still, it was a relief to get her inside and drive away.
He knew how much she hated the paparazzi. It was testimony of her determination to talk to him that she would face the media's scrutiny without Dominic or her parents nearby to offer protection.
I've always made you walk the gauntlet, haven't I, Nicole. But after tonight, no more.
One glance in the rearview mirror told him the press hounds were in hot pursuit. But he knew they couldn't follow his car inside the gates of the Giraud estate. Pressing on the accelerator, he headed there with tires squealing around the hairpin turns as they wound up the hill. Fortunately, Nicole had ridden on the back of his bike too many times to be nervous. In fact right now she seemed impervious to her surroundings. But he knew inside that beautiful skin of hers, tension had been building. She was ready to explode. So was he. The pain had to end.
The guard at the gate immediately recognized them and ushered him on through. Jean-Jacques drove beyond the fountain to the west end of the villa near a stand of dark cypress trees. It was the one place where they could have total privacy, yet Nicole would still be safe from him. Right now he was going to have to lie through his teeth.
He knew what she was going to say, so he decided to save her the trouble. Without looking at her he said, "After the way I left Vence, not to mention the way I've behaved since I've been back, I don't blame you for coming after me for an apology. No person deserves one more than you do, so I'll be blunt.
"As long as I lived in Vence, you were always a temptation, but not the sole meaning of my existence. After I moved to Paris, I discovered other women who had the same effect on me. When Dominic asked me to come back and head the company, I was flattered and thought it was what I wanted. But I was wrong. Paris has more distractions than I thought, so I've resigned from the company."
"I know. My father told me." To his shock he heard her door open. He jerked his head around in time to see her get out of the car. She leaned down so their eyes would meet. Hers held a mixture of indescribable hurt and anger. "I expected honesty from you tonight, but it's just not in you." Her voice trembled. "He told me about the scholarship."
Jean-Jacques's worst nightmare had come true. Sickness welled up inside him.
"I don't blame you for taking what was offered. You now have what you never thought could be yours. Don't resign because of me. I'll never come near you again. But I have to tell you that if I'd known about this before you left Vence, I would have whispered, 'Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.' One day there may be a price to pay. I hope not. Adieu."
"Un moment!" Jean-Jacques called out as he threw the last pair of socks in his suitcase. The knocking at the door continued. He'd refused to answer any phone calls. In frustration Brigitte must have told Claude to come over, hoping his brother-in-law could talk him into spending Christmas day with them. But he wasn't fit for company, not even his own.
Damn Dominic to hell for flying to Paris and talking him into coming back home. He knew how Jean-Jacques felt about Nicole. Dominic knew a lot more than he ever let on. That's what made him so remarkable. Until he'd allowed him to believe something that wasn't true, there probably wasn't a man outside of Jean-Jacques's father he admired more.
He still couldn't understand why Dominic hadn't asked him to take the position in New York. None of it made any sense. As for Nicole, last night's devastating encounter outside the villa wrote the end of their history. That one last withering adieu from her lips had said it all.
The knocking persisted. As long as it was Claude, Jean-Jacques didn't care if he hadn't shaved and was only wearing a pair of well-worn jeans. When he jerked the door open, his eyes narrowed in disbelief to see Nicole standing there in a two-piece suit the shade of hyacinths. She smelled like a garden of tea roses opened by the sun, and she looked so breathtaking, he thought he was hallucinating.
He couldn't take any more. "Unless it's a case of life or death, I don't know what would bring you to this door."
"This is life and death. I just talked to Dominic. May I come in, please."
There was an element in her voice and mien that convinced him she was serious. His heart did a violent kick. He stepped aside. As she moved past him into the mess he'd made of the living room with all his stuff still to be packed, he heard her breath catch. Her emotions had risen to the surface. Something traumatic had happened. He prayed it wasn't bad news. Nicole idolized her brother.
After closing the door, he leaned against it and folded his arms, not knowing what to expect, yet fearing the worst. She drew close to him. "Jean-Jacques —"
He shook his head. "What, Nicole? Tell me —" he cried softly in alarm.
To his shock, she got down on both knees and grasped his left hand. Looking up at him with her heart in her eyes she said, "I love you with all my mind, body, and soul. I've loved you all my life. I don't remember a time when I didn't. This morning Dominic told me you loved me. He said that's why you went away.
"Now that you're back, would you do me the honor of marrying me? You're the man I want to be the father of my babies. You're the man I want to walk through the flowers with until the day we die. Please say yes.
"I already have a job, and so do you as CEO. I also have a home my dear grandfather willed to me. You've seen it. That lovely villa in Antibes, which is close enough to both our jobs. It's waiting for us. I also have this silver ring from Morocco my grandmother gave to him at their wedding. He told me to give it to my husband one day. It was meant for you, no one else. Will you let me put it on you? Please let me," she implored him. "Then promise me you'll never take it off."
Jean-Jacques couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His vision blurred from tears he couldn't fight. When he felt the warm metal from her hand slide home on his ring finger, an enormous weight seemed to leave his body.
"Nicole —" he cried, joining her on the floor, pulling her on top of him. "Mon amour."
He covered her feverish face with kisses. "Je t'aime." He kissed her mouth. "Je t'adore." He kissed her eyes and nose. "I love you. Dear God, how I love you. I love you. I can't think what I've done to deserve you, but I've always wanted you for my wife. Yes, I'll marry you. I love you. I swear I'll love you to the day I die."
She put a finger to his lips. "Let's never talk about dying again, not when it's time to live. Really live." She kissed his mouth hungrily. "I want to get married as soon as we can. We'll tell the priest it's an emergency. If he gives us any trouble about not waiting for the banns, Dominic will fix it. He fixes everything. He was the mastermind behind that ghastly scholarship that took you away from me," her voice throbbed. "But I forgive him because he brought you back to me."
"On my way to Paris I figured he'd orchestrated everything," he murmured against her throat where her scent was the sweetest. "He knew when I hadn't proposed to you by the time I'd reached 25, I wasn't after your money. He also heard I was leaving Vence to go to college in Lyon."
She gasped. "You never said a word to me."
"I was afraid to, mignonne. Your power over me was too great. If you'd begged me not to leave, I probably wouldn't have. But without more education, I would never have worked up enough courage to ask Nicole Giraud, of all women, to marry me.
"Dominic understood me better than I did myself. When he heard through gossip about my plans, he devised a plan of his own to send me to Paris. I went with it because Paris was farther away from home. I wouldn't be tempted to come back on weekends to be with you."
"If only I'd known," she moaned. "I would have found a teaching job in Paris so we could be together all the time!"
"I wouldn't have let you, mon amour. My plan was to pay back your father every franc so I wouldn't be beholden to your family. By that time, if you were still free, I hoped to find a job elsewhere and ask you to marry me. Then I saw that photograph in the paper and thought you were getting married. My heart died that day, Nicole. It was the only reason I said yes when Dominic offered me the job. If I couldn't have you, I could at least come home to Vence."
"Bless him for deceiving you." She gave him another passionate kiss. "He knew all along our wedding was going to happen. Do you know I'm marrying the most exciting Frenchman on the planet?"
"That is true, cherie," he said very seriously to provoke a response. She didn't disappoint him.
"You're horrible," she teased, before they both chuckled. "Swear to me you won't ever change. Always be my Jean-Jacques," she begged before they lost all sense of time and place in each other's arms.
"I am a horrible man," came his admission some time later, after he'd grudgingly released her mouth so she could breathe. "I never let another guy get near you. I was too possessive. Those five years away were part penance for my sins."
"The other part you'll have to pay for by never letting me out of your sight again. By the way, Dominic made me temporary CEO until you withdraw your resignation. Since I don't have it in writing yet, I'm ordering you to take a long honeymoon."
Low laughter rumbled out of him as he reversed their positions. "He's a man after my own heart. Where does my fetching bride-to-be want to go?" Looking down at her, he could drown in her gorgeous brown eyes.
"Anywhere you are. Merry Christmas, my darling."
After a sharp intake of breath, he gathered her to him and clung. "I think I'm too happy, Nicole."
"You only think? That sounds like a true chemist talking," she whispered into his neck. "I guess this means we'll have to undergo hundreds of experiments to test your theory."
Her mind was as exciting as her body, which was having too powerful an effect on him. He still couldn't believe his fantasy woman was going to be his wife! "More like thousands and thousands. Come closer and we'll get started on our first one…."