The Playboy and the Single Mum (Vintage Love Book 2) (3 page)

But she did. “Your brother is Jacques de Launay, right? I read he resigned as chairman of all his companies, and disappeared.”

“Yes.” His curt answer worked and she didn’t ask any further questions. Even though it had been almost a year, he still wasn’t used to the fact that Jacques and Grand-Papa weren’t at home.

It was one of the reasons he was bringing Alexandra to the Loire. He hated going to the chateau with his family not there. It had always been his sanctuary, the place he could be himself. Now it was just a building, a reminder of a happy childhood. Still, he’d promised his brother that he’d check in periodically to make sure everything was okay.

At least it was still fully staffed. Jacques hadn’t wanted anyone to lose their job when he made the decision to go into hiding with the woman he loved. They were probably bored out of their skulls with no family in residence. So when Daniel did show up, the staff fussed over him as if he were royalty.

Alexandra stared out the tiny window for the rest of the short flight. They sat less than a meter apart, but silence was a brick wall between them. A structure he’d built with his words. They’d have to find some rhythm, some common ground, or this was going to be an uncomfortable eight weeks. Tonight he’d ask the chef to make
steak au poivre,
he’d pop the cork on a premium bottle of wine, and see if he could get Alexandra to loosen up a bit.

Bertrand, the butler who doubled as a driver, was waiting for them when they landed. As the house came into view, Alexandra did a double take. “Holy crap, that’s your brother’s house?”

“
Oui
; welcome to Chateau de Vendee.”

Bertrand stopped the car at the front door, and Daniel ushered Alexandra inside, out of the blustery rain. The housekeeper waited in the hallway. She wrapped him in a big hug before he’d even taken his coat off. “Welcome home,” she said, kissing him on both cheeks.

Finally freed from her embrace, he gestured Alexandra forward. His guest was staring as though she’d just walked into Disneyland by mistake. He helped her out of her coat then introduced her. “Alexandra, this is Marie Dubois. Anything you need, she’ll get it or make it for you.”

Marie shook hands stiffly with Alexandra, becoming once more the formal staff member and not the warm hug she’d been to him since he’d been abandoned by his own mother at the age of three. The housekeeper took their wet coats from him and hurried from the hallway.

“I thought she was your mother from the way she greeted you,” Alexandra said as Marie left.

“I wish. Marie was more a mother than the woman who gave birth to me. That cold-hearted cow lives in Paris and is banned from ever coming to this house again.”

“Oh.” Alexandra looked startled, as though this fantasyland had just become a pit of vipers. He needed to be careful that she didn’t see behind his mask and discover all his secrets.

“Come into the
petit salon
. Marie will bring coffee and tea to us there.” He led the way, resisting the urge to take her hand.

“Wow, this room is gorgeous,” she said.

He was still impressed with the transformation the room had gone through. “My sister-in-law decorated it. Just before she … left.”

Alexandra turned puzzled eyes on him. Then she spotted the oil portrait of him, Jacques, and his grandfather. She walked toward it as though in a trance.

“My brother and grandfather. Well, he’s not really my grandfather, but as he raised me like his grandson; I’ve always called him that. Maya, Jacques’s wife, painted it.”

“She’s very talented. This place is so amazing I can’t imagine owning it and then not living here. Will your family return soon?”

His family circumstances obviously confused her. Probably more so because Jacques kept a hacker on salary to comb the Internet for references to the de Launay family and delete them. To the world, Jacques, Maya, and Grand-Papa had disappeared off the face of the earth for no reason. Love screwed more than drivers’ careers.

“Not for a while. They’re living elsewhere.”

“I’m so sorry for you.”

“For me?” He wasn’t the one who’d given up everything to keep the woman he loved safe.

“Yes. I know what it’s like not to have family to support you. It must be especially difficult in your job. You need someone to share the ups and downs with.” She’d taken a couple of steps closer to him. Her hand hovered in the air for a second before dropping to her side. Had she been about to touch him? A quiver raced through him. What the hell? Was he so desperate for a woman that even near contact set him off? Maybe they should go to Paris where the chances of him hooking up were greater. But that thought made his stomach roil.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, Daniel. Do not get hung up on the pretty brunette with the chameleon personality.

“I have my team,” he replied, trying to shrug off her concern.

He was saved from further psychoanalysis by the arrival of the hot drinks.

“Do you prefer tea or coffee?” he asked. “I guess after two months together I’ll know exactly what you want.”

Her eyes flared for a moment before she looked away. “Tea would be great, with just a spot of milk,” she added as he poured her a cup. “To fast-forward in our get-to-know-each-other quest, I drink coffee in the morning, tea after lunch. And I have one glass of red wine after … after dinner.” There it was again, the hesitation, the hint of a secret.

“Good to know.” He handed her the cup and gestured for her to take a seat. She settled on the sofa. A gentleman would take the chair opposite so they could converse easily. Instead he sat next to her, so close he could feel the heat off her thigh. The teacup rattled on her saucer.

“Alexandra—”

“Please, call me Lexy. People I don’t like call me Alexandra.”

“And you like me?”

She tilted her head to one side. “The jury’s still out on that one. But in the meantime, I prefer to be called Lexy.”

“Well, Lexy.” He tried the diminutive, but it lacked the richness of her full name. “We’re bound to discover things about each other that the other would rather keep private. I want you to know that I’m very good at keeping secrets. And I’ve had extensive media training. So I’m not likely to blurt out things about your personal life in public. You can trust me.” He stared into her eyes to see the effect his speech had on her.

She gazed back as though she could see through to his soul. “All right.” She drew out the reply like she was saying what he expected to hear rather than what she truly meant. “The same goes for me. I won’t divulge your secrets either. So you can tell me what you were doing with Jacqueline Lefebre the other night.” Offer someone a branch and they hit you over the head with the rest of the tree.

He rose from the sofa so suddenly her tea sloshed over into the saucer. “That isn’t my secret to tell. You’ll have to ask Jacqueline when you meet her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have emails to answer. Pull the cord next to the mantel when you’re done, and Marie or Bertrand will show you to your room.”

But rather than head to the home office, he made his way to the library. It was his hideout, and only Marie knew how many hours he’d spent in there as a child, reading and making imaginary friends. But today even his favorite book,
The Great Gatsby
, couldn’t hold his attention. His mind kept drifting to Lexy. She was one hell of a distraction. One he couldn’t afford at this point in his life.

Damn woman. Why’d she have to be so … real?

Good thing I’m not a psychologist yet. With that kind of “open up to me” patter, my patients would mow down new arrivals in their haste to get away.

So far, it was a crap start to their eight weeks together. Daniel clearly had abandonment issues. And she’d just left her three-year-old son in order to gallivant around the globe. There was a huge difference between keeping secrets and accepting them. If Mr. “I don’t need anyone” discovered she had a child, his cooperation would cease and she’d be out of a job and risk losing her son altogether.

Except Max had been so excited about an extended sleep-over with Andrew that he’d barely said good-bye to her before bounding back into the blanket fort Sonia had made so the boys could sleep together. It’d broken her heart that Max would rather sleep on the floor than snuggled up in his bed in the corner of her room where she could hear him breathing at night. A soft, gentle sound that had kept her going during her darkest days. Sheesh, now who needed counseling?

Her phone binged with an incoming message.

Sonia:
Just wanted to let you know that Max is fine. He says he’s going to miss you, but he’s going to be very brave and not cry because that would make you sad and he wants you to be happy.

Lexy
: Tell him I love him and miss him, too. And it’s okay to cry sometimes.

Like I’m perilously close to doing now.

Sonia
: No one is going to cry. Have an adventure! You deserve it.

What did they say about the road to hell?

Lexy
: I’ll try.

Sonia
: You HAVE to. I’m now living vicariously through you. Do it for me.

Lexy
: Of the two of us, I think you’ve been having fun more recently than me.

Sonia
: Sigh. Baby bellies don’t lie. Use protection.

Lexy
: This is a business trip.

Sonia
: You keep telling yourself that, honey. Maybe one of us will believe it.

Lexy
: I’m going now. Chat with you later. And thanks again.

She blinked back the tears. Max would be fine. They’d promised to Skype every night at bedtime. She’d left him with someone who loved him almost as much as she did herself. And the money she was able to pay Sonia would help her family through a tough time. Everyone was happy. So why did she still feel guilty? Ah, the joys of motherhood. No matter how much you tried or did, you always thought you could have done more.

Finishing her tea, she hesitated to pull the cord by the mantel. It seemed such a demanding thing to do, like saying, “Come wait on me now.” Although, the way the housekeeper had greeted Daniel, he obviously hadn’t abused that privilege. But she would like to freshen up before dinner.

She stuck her head out into the hallway, but all she could see were doors and a huge staircase that led to even more rooms upstairs. It would take her days to find the room set aside for her. Besides, it was probably in the servants’ quarters. No help for it; she’d have to ring.

Marie was at her side almost before she’d released the cord. “You wish your chamber now?” the housekeeper asked in halting English.

“Yes, although, if you point me in the right direction, I can probably find it on my own if you’re busy,” Lexy replied in French.

A huge smile creased the older woman’s face. “Not at all,
ma cherie
. You are the first woman Daniel has brought home. I can’t have you wandering this big house on your own. Where is that boy? He should be looking after you himself. I shall smack him later, yes?” The housekeeper led her up the stairs and then down a long corridor.

“No. It’s fine. We’re business acquaintances, not in a relationship. He had some work to do.”

“Bah, that boy needs a good woman. It’s time he stopped playing and settled down.” Marie’s gaze raked over Lexy, as if to determine whether she was a good woman or a plaything. Before the housekeeper could make her diagnosis, she opened a door and ushered Lexy through.

“Wow. This room is amazing.” It was bigger than her whole flat back in London. A large four-poster bed rested against one wall, draped in heavy silks and velvets. Four ten-foot-high windows flooded the room with light. There were even two sofas and a high-back chair arranged around a large marble fireplace. She could quite happily stay right here for the rest of her time in France, ignore Daniel, wherever he was, and just read.

“I have pressed and put away your things. If you need anything else, text me and I’ll bring it to you,” Marie said as she handed a card with her mobile number to Lexy. “Dinner is at seven thirty, although the family usually meets for drinks half an hour before in the
petit salon
where you had your tea. I’m sure Daniel will keep up that tradition now that he has someone to share his meals with him.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

The housekeeper left and Lexy explored the room. A very nice bathroom, complete with a claw-footed tub and glass shower enclosure beckoned her. Even the floor tiles were heated. At the other side of the fireplace, a door led to a walk-in wardrobe, all ten feet of it. Lexy’s few dresses were hung next to six enormous garment bags. Max wasn’t the only curious Camparelli. With a shaking hand, she unzipped the first one.

A stunning gown in deep chocolate brown shot through with gold thread shimmered in the light. The fabric was so soft it felt like heavy cream. Carefully removing it from the hanger, she held it against her, examining the effect in the full-length mirror at the end of the room. The color emphasized her olive skin tone and even made her drab hair look nice. She rehung the dress and opened the next bag. Another designer gown … this one was peacock blue, with a shockingly short skirt. It would barely cover her backside. A black sheath dress was in the third bag and a red, flowing gown in the fourth. The fifth held an exquisitely cut business suit in a dove-gray color. And the sixth had two jumpsuits, one in an animal print and the other a fluorescent shade of orange. All in her size.

While she was still puzzling over the clothes, there was a knock at her door. It was probably Marie back to give her more information on the dress code for dinner, so Lexy called out, “Come in!”

Would she be expected to wear one of these outfits? She normally ate her dinner in her pajamas with Max snuggled up next to her, smelling all clean, just out of the bath. She blinked back the tears, already missing her little boy, to find Daniel leaning against the door to the wardrobe.

He was so gorgeous she went on the offense to hide her reaction to him. “What are these?”

“Clothes.” His full lips twitched upward, drawing an answering smile from her.

“Thank you for your brilliant insight. Whose clothes?”

“Yours.”

“I didn’t pack these things.”

“Nevertheless, they are yours. If I have to wear Destin Designs in public, then so should you. The helpful receptionist at your company gave me your sizes. There are shoes, too, somewhere.” He stepped into the room and it was as though all the air had been sucked out. He’d had a shower, his hair still slightly damp and curled against the collar of his suit. And God help her, the cologne—it should be illegal for a man to smell that good. She took another deep breath, and his gaze fastened on hers. Busted. “There’s also a bottle of perfume for you. It’s not bad. Don’t you agree?”

“What? Yes, you smell nice. But really, I can’t wear these clothes. And I’m not supposed to be seen in public. I’m just to hang around in the background and steer you clear of any mistakes, manage your…”

He put his hand up against the wall behind her, trapping her between the clothes and his tall, hard body. “You think you can manage me?” His minty fresh breath ruffled the wisps of her hair that had sprung free from her bun. She didn’t dare lick her lips in case he misinterpreted the action to think she wanted him to kiss her. But man, did she want him to kiss her.

“Not you; your affairs,” she said, her voice annoyingly breathless.

He shifted even closer. From this distance she could see his green eyes were flecked with gray. No wonder they were so mesmerizing. “You’re planning on pimping me out?” His eyes focused on her lips.

“No, of course not. I’m just here to…”
Why the hell am I here again?
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes softened. He was in full playboy mode, which was pretty powerful stuff to a woman who hadn’t had sex since her husband walked out the door almost four years ago. But Lexy wasn’t going to fall for that. Still…

He reached past her and fingered the fabric of the blue dress right next to her ear. “This is my favorite. Will you wear it tonight?”

She had to get control. Now. Before she flung herself at him. Adventure was one thing. Desperation another. “I don’t think so. It’s not really a dinner-at-home dress.”

The back of his fingers brushed her cheek as he withdrew his hand. “Shame. Well, whatever you choose, you’ll be beautiful.” He took a step back and she drew in a relieved breath, which only filled her head with his scent again and drew his eyes to her breasts. He cleared his throat. “I’ll meet you in the
petit salon
at seven. If you lose your way, just shout and I’ll organize a search party.”

“Yes. Sure. Seven. I’ll be there.”

With a chuckle, he left. She waited until she heard the bedroom door
click
closed and then flung off her clothes to try on the blue dress. It took a bit of contorting to do the zip up at the back. Obviously it was a gown meant to be done up, or down, by someone else. Probably the reason Daniel liked it. She found the matching shoes in a box on the nearby shelf. Slipping them on, she released her hair from its tight bun and let it fall around her shoulders. She dared one peek at the full-length mirror, then another. The fat girl she’d always be in her mind refused to believe what her eyes were telling her. Holy heck in a teapot she was sexy, if she did say so herself. She almost went in search of Daniel to see if she could knock that self-assured cocky grin off his face.

A few more contortions and a possible dislocated shoulder later, she managed to undo the zip. She’d save the dress for when she needed a boost to her self-confidence or she was ready to go after her adventure.

***

The
tap-tap
of high heels on the wood floor alerted him to Lexy’s arrival. He took a deep breath and then glanced toward the door. She stood in the doorway, wearing the black dress. The fabric hugged her every curve, and although the dress went past her knees the bright red heels she wore drew his eye down the length of her legs. For once her hair was loose, and her curls ran riot around her face. Her beauty was natural, but surprisingly she seemed unaware of how enticing she appeared. More of his blood shifted south and he moved to the bar, hidden in a piece of antique furniture, to disguise his discomfort.

“Would you like an aperitif? Perhaps a Campari, given your Italian heritage?” he asked.

“Just a glass of wine will do—red, if you have it.”

“We’re on a winery. Pretty sure we have red wine.” He poured the drink then handed her the glass, their fingers grazing as he did so. Her eyes widened and she stared up at him, her lips slightly parted. As in the wardrobe, he forced himself to move away before he kissed her. This intense attraction was damn annoying.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, took a sip of the wine, and finally asked, “So, what made you want to become a Formula 1 driver?”

At last a topic he could talk on endlessly. “When I was ten years old, my grandfather took me to a race at Magny-Cours, and I fell in love with the sport. It’s all I’ve wanted to do ever since.”

“I wanted to be a driver once. But my father told me girls can’t drive and I’d be better off following my mother into modeling.”

“Your father’s an ass, but I guess you already know that. Had you fought for your dream, you could have been the first woman driver. Your father had the clout to make it happen.”

She shrugged. “I never wanted it badly enough; it was just a passing fancy. And shortly after that my parents split up, so I didn’t stick around F1. Plus, want to know something funny?”

“Sure.” She’d relaxed enough to settle on the sofa, her dark hair spilling over the back of the cream upholstery. For a second he imagined it spread across his pillow, or better yet, his chest. He sat in the chair opposite so he could watch her face as she revealed her first secret.

“I’ve never even learned to drive.”

He put his glass down. “We could fix that. Driving’s easy. I’ll teach you.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, her hair caressing her face now lit with delight.

“Of course. We have four days, twelve cars in the garage, and several kilometers of private roads on the estate. It’ll be fun.”

“‘It’ll be fun.’ Those sound like famous last words. Are you sure you don’t want to add, ‘what could go wrong?’ Like me crashing and you getting seriously injured and unable to drive for the rest of the season?”

“I’ll wear my crash helmet. And we’ll start by driving my brother’s Land Rover. You could roll that baby several times with no ill effects.”

“Your brother may have something to say about that.”