Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command: The Last Summer of Being Single / An Enticing Debt to Pay / A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby

How exciting.

Make that two fatted calves, Sandrine.

As for Seb?

Sebastien Castellano had entered the room with all of the persona and confidence of someone used to achieving whatever they set out to do.

Plus he had two distinct advantages.

Firstly he had switched on his full-on charismatic charm offensive for anyone within speaking range. And then of course he was dressed for success. His dark suit was cut to perfectly emphasise broad shoulders and slim waist and hips—the same broad chest that she had pressed against so pathetically in the cherry orchard that morning.

Her fingers missed a key change and she quickly masked her error by turning the mistake into a jazzy flourish and carried on. That dazzling smile and those heart-stopping dark good looks had worked their power on more than Sandrine and their hostess!

The simple touch of his arm on hers had been enough to set her heart racing and head spinning. Despite her sweaty palms and dry mouth, she had managed to conceal her physical reaction to him…until now.

Working with Seb for the next few days until Nicole returned from holiday was going to be far more challenging than she had imagined.

From that very first moment when she caught sight of him sitting on the grass she had felt that certain, telltale, spine-tingling prickle of attraction that refused to go away.

Of course she had tried to rationalise it. She had seen his photos and imagined what Seb would be like in person. Meeting him, arguing with him, learning more about his reasons for coming home…that had simply helped her to understand the man himself.

Her fingers hammered out the dramatic phrasing from a powerful ballad.

Who was she kidding?

She was smitten.

Which was just about the silliest idea she had heard in a long time.

Looking at Seb now as he effortlessly worked the room, the hopelessness of that attraction shook her by the shoulders like a good friend and demanded that she snap out of it.

He was a tourist who would be gone in a few days. Just passing through like a whirlwind destined to churn up everything in his path. Here was a man who only yesterday had no intention of keeping his promise to Nicole. Selfish perhaps? But also vulnerable when it came to his own family.

It was a powerful combination.

She was far too old to have a summer fling. Wasn’t she?

Ella had been right. The gentle ebb and flow of the piano music blended seamlessly into the bright background chatter and laughter from around the room as Madame Morel introduced Sebastien to her extended family and friends.

Yes, there were several André Morels in the family, but André Sebastien Morel from about thirty years earlier? Cue puzzled faces and questions about places and dates he had few answers to. He had quickly accumulated a list of names and telephone numbers to follow up.

Friendly promises to ask around and get back to him mingled with the excellent food and drink to create a genuinely warm and welcoming sense of community and family.

His greatest challenge was refusing the delicious wine that a local winemaker had supplied for the evening. His apologies ended in a mass exodus of the men, and a few of the ladies, to the car park to admire his sports car. Only the howling cold wind prevented several test drives and they agreed to continue their heated debate on the relative merits of French and Italian motor manufacturers back in the warm comfort of the bar.

Where Seb had his first real opportunity to observe Ella as she worked.

The woman was a revelation! Just when he thought he was starting to understand her, she came up with something even more remarkable!

The elf who had challenged him all morning had been replaced by an elegantly dressed beautiful woman with immaculate grooming.

Her dress was a shimmering blue silk cocktail gown with a matching gossamer wrap that drifted around her shoulders like candyfloss. The shade of the silk was a little darker than her eyes, but fitted perfectly onto her sweet rounded curves. It was an inspired choice. Elegant but not stuffy.

The bed hair was twisted up into a French chignon, leaving the smooth line of her neck clear for a small row of pearls.

Combined with natural looking make-up, which seemed to make her pale blue eyes sparkle even more than normal, the overall effect was stunning.

He had met and escorted many beautiful women and professional fashion models over the past few years whose artifice in making themselves attractive for the cameras evaporated a few hours later. Ella was a natural beauty, as easy in her own skin whether she was cycling along a country lane or baking in a country kitchen, or, now, elegant and sophisticated.

Ella Martinez the single mother, hard-working housekeeper and young widow was gone. Replaced by Ella Jayne Bailey. Solo pianist.

She simply took his breath away.

He was totally attracted to Ella Martinez and everything about her, and this new side of her personality and talent only added to his confused feelings.

Which meant that he was in deep trouble.

Seb gulped down the recognition of what he was thinking and feeling and quickly looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed him growing hot and heavy.

He did not do holiday romances, or short-term affairs.

But it did make him wonder about her choices.

What was Ella Bailey doing here in the middle of the Languedoc when she had so much talent?

Did she love her late husband so much that she wanted to hide away from the world with her son in the countryside? Perhaps she had wanted somewhere safe and secure where she could grieve in peace?

But perhaps it was more than that?

He leant against the wall as the other guests shuffled to the dessert trolley.

For now he was happy to watch the most beautiful woman in the room as her small hands moved effortlessly over the keys, her attention focused completely on the sound she was creating. Now and then her shoulders swayed from side to side with her head as she moved with the melody.

No sheet music. No written notes.

Yet the music soared into a tapestry of emotional, uplifting and inspirational sound.

This was her passion. Her delight.

He had always been fascinated by the work of skilled craftsmen, whether they were the expert cabinet makers who designed and made the dining-room furniture in his Sydney apartment, or the software engineers who saw their virtual designs take shape on mobile technology used around the world.

This was why every part of him knew that he was looking at a true artist.

Ella was superb. The music was perfect. She was perfect.

Except that she was playing the piano in a dim corner of the room, being ignored by the party guests as they chatted and sampled the delicious food. Guests like himself, for example.

He had been to so many parties and events over the years where there had been a cocktail pianist playing in the background, and, thinking about it now, he was shocked to recall that he had not once gone over to speak to the musician or even made a note of their name.