His laughter came in a deep rumble. “Had a good morning?”
“I had an amazing morning. Thank you.” She reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze, then drew it hastily back to her side.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
The sincerity in his voice made her examine his face curiously. “You are a surprising man, Alexandre Dubois.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m afraid once you get to know me, you’ll find me rather boring.”
That made her laugh outright. “Boring! Get serious! You’re a hot billionaire hotelier, and the son of a count—”
“That sonship hasn’t got me far,” he countered. “Everything I have attained in the past ten years, I have attained using my own ingenuity. My father had nothing to do with it.”
She was taken aback by his sudden seriousness. Felt awkward and guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”
“You didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that my father… Well, he and I didn’t get along, not since I was a boy. There are certain events that took place some time ago that changed my life.”
She dared to ask, “Did those events have anything to do with why you left France?”
He was quiet for so long that she wondered if she’d truly put her foot in it. Had she ruined the magic of the moment? She never got the chance to find out, because there was a light tapping at the door, and Jean-Louis was standing there with a basket so enormous he needed both hands to hold it.
“Mademoiselle Jacyn, please accept this gift from Miracle Provençal, as a little memory of your visit.”
She and Alex both rose, and he reached out to take the basket from the happy little man’s arms. She tiptoed to peek inside; it was chock full of hand-wrapped, beribboned products: soaps, creams, oils, lotions, and balms, along with her lemons and limes from earlier. Jacyn gasped. “This is… I don’t know what to say!”
Jean-Louis threw up his arms in a happy, expansive gesture. “Say you will visit again before you return toles États-Unis. The next time you come, I give you a basket, and we go out into the field and pick flowers together, yes?”
She couldn’t bear to tell him she probably wouldn’t be in Provence long enough, but she nodded, overcome by his unquestioning acceptance. Being around Alex did something: everyone welcomed you. Everyone looked at you—really looked at you—and saw something special. It was like basking in his reflected aura.
They said their goodbyes and were escorted back to the car where Alex had some difficulty wedging the loaded basket of goodies into the back seat. It was, after all, a sports car, and the back seat was more a matter of style than utility. Jean-Louis bid them farewell, and Jacyn waved at him until he was out of sight.
And then there she was, alone with Alex, adrift once again in a sea of riotous color. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart had been so full. She struggled with the need to express her gratitude, and her inability to find the words.
She leaned back against the door of the car, rather than allow him to open it and let her in, as he faced her. There they were, the two of them, trapped within their own little bubble. He leaned closer and murmured something in her ear.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I said that your face is like the sun.”
The intensity of the compliment left her flustered. Unsure of how to respond, she tried to brush it off with humor. “You mean, overheated and sweaty? Well, I’m a little young for hot flashes—”
“Don’t make a joke of this, Jacyn.” In his intensity, his French accent thickened. “I mean, you glow with an inner light. A kind of strange heat that comes from deep inside you. It’s almost frightening.”
She was both puzzled and flattered. “Frightening? I scare you? What are you afraid of?”
“That I might do this.” He bent low, his face eclipsed the sun, and pressed his lips against hers. For a second, she felt panic, an overwhelming, breathless sensation that if she didn’t resist, didn’t flee, she would be trapped by him; and in him. This man who was larger than life, virile, powerful, intimidating.
But also fascinating, exciting, demanding.
She couldn’t have stopped even if she’d wanted to. She tilted her head back to grant him greater access, let her lips part to allow for his exploration. The hint of stubble on his jaw raked her cheek as his lips strayed for a second, slipping around to her ear, to press light kisses to her jawline before returning to claim its prize once again.
One hand came up and entangled itself in her hair. She felt the tug as he wrapped a few braids around his wrist, making it clear that she was his prisoner; staking his claim.
Liberty was the last thing on her mind. She could hear her own breath in her ears, coming faster and harsher as she pressed herself against his hard chest. Her breasts felt achy and full and she could her nipples growing taunt under the soft brushed cotton of her yellow summer dress.
Alexandre took a half step further and Jacyn found herself sandwiched between him and the car. She realized that she was caught between twoveryhard places. The heat and pressure of the bulge in his jeans nudged at her belly; not exactly crashing the party, but surely making itself known. And it felt wonderful.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles tense and relax under her fingers. There was a gym back at the château; she’d been there a few times. There was no doubt in her mind that Alex had not let his workout regime slip since he’d left the States. His body was lean and well defined, a thrill to touch.