Taming the French Tycoon

The well-known anchorman was taken by total surprise and looked as blown away as Luc felt.

“Since I came along last of his twenty-one grandchildren, he nicknamed me Jasmine. That’s because Jasmine is the flower harvested last in October. He said it was his favorite flower because of its beguiling scent. Though my parents named me Blanchette after my mother, his name for me stuck.”

Michel shook his head. “Just keep talking. I won’t interrupt because I’m speechless and enchanted, and I know everyone else is too.”

Her gentle laugh reached down to burrow inside a disbelieving Luc, who couldn’t comprehend any of it. “I used to hang around my papa. I thought of him as this amazing sorcerer and pretended to be his apprentice. He never seemed to mind.”

“Obviously not,” the journalist interjected. “Tell the audience why you think he chose you to run the company.”

“He once told me I was the only one in the family who got the nose. Not his own children and not any of his grandchildren got it, he said. Just me. I thought he meant I had a Roman nose like a horse. I was so hurt I ran out of the lab crying. He had no idea how much I loved him, but I was horrified that he thought I was ugly.”

The anchorman laughed heartily, but Luc’s throat closed up with emotion. Children were so literal, as he’d learned from being around his own nieces and nephews.

“Then he came after me and explained what he meant. He said I was so smart, he thought I knew what a nose was. He said I had a beautiful nose like my grandma. But he was referring to the fact that after sixty years, another perfumer had been born in the family, someone like himself who could identify scents. That person was moi and he was overjoyed.”

Michel smiled. “No wonder he named you to succeed him.”

“I still can’t believe he did that and I am still trying to come to grips with it. No one could ever fill his shoes. I’m stunned to think he believed I could.”

“I’m not surprised you’re in shock,” the anchorman commented at last. He stared at the camera. “Mesdames et messieurs, you couldn’t make up a Cinderella story as unusual as this, not in a hundred years. I wish we had more time for the interview. Before we have to end this segment, the audience wants to hear about your grandmother.

“We know she was a great beauty right up to the time of her passing. Not only was she a devoted wife, she was a great intellect who authored several books.”

“She was fabulous.”

“While you were growing up, you must have known over the years that the international press touted them the most beautiful couple in the world. The French have called them the Charles Boyer and Marlene Dietrich of the modern era. American media labeled him more handsome and sophisticated than Cary Grant. She has been compared to Grace Kelly and Princess Diana. What do you say to that, Jasmine?”

“What more can I add? They were beautiful people from that era, inside and out. She loved him so much, she died three months later.”

Luc hated to admit it, but part of him was spellbound by her and knew the anchorman was too.

“After seeing this broadcast, people will say you inherited her beauty.”

“No woman could ever compare to her. If you could have heard my papa on the subject. If ever a man loved a woman...”

Luc heard the tremor in her voice and couldn’t help but be moved by her humility. He could never have imagined this side of her after their explosive meeting on Yeronisos. Unless this was all playacting. If so, she was the greatest actress he’d ever known.

“Is it true he never gave an interview in his life?”

“That’s right. He disliked publicity of any kind. I’m only doing this one interview because our family has been besieged by the media for years. The outpouring of public sentiment over their deaths has been so touching and overwhelming, I hoped to be able to thank them through your program.”

“It’s a personal honor for me, Ms. Martin. Would it be too forward of me to ask if there’s a special man in your life?”

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll answer with a ‘yes, it would.’” But she said it with a mocking little curve of her mouth that made Luc’s emotions churn in remembrance of her erroneous assumption about him. The anchorman was quick to recover, but he looked embarrassed. Luc knew what it felt like to be slammed by her like that, although she’d been gentler with the other man.

“Message received. Wasn’t your grandfather the one who coined the phrase, ‘Provence is God’s garden’?”

“Oh, no, but he often expressed that sentiment to me.”

“While you’ve been talking, I found another passage in your grandmother’s book where she quotes him. He must have been writing about you.

“‘Jasmine seems to be a flower made for nostalgia. It grows in doorways and winds over arches, linking it to the intimacy of home. It begins to bloom as the days become hotter, and it releases its scent at the hour when tables are set in the garden or in narrow lanes. It is associated with the melancholy of dusk and the conviviality of summer evenings. Its fragrance permeates the air, making it a background for love.’”

She cleared her throat. “I remember him saying those words. I think Papa had a love affair with flowers all his life.”

Watching this interview had tied Luc in knots. The woman he’d met two months ago was nothing like the flower just described.

The anchorman nodded. “For those of you who still aren’t aware, the book Jasmine’s grandmother wrote, Where There’s Smoke, is the definitive source on the life work of Maxim Ferrier. It’s being reissued in a second edition with several sections of new information to coincide with the announcement of the new head of Ferriers and will be out on the stands tomorrow. When the first edition of the book came out, it became number one on bestseller lists worldwide. I confess I was enthralled by it.”

“Thank you. Grandma worked on it for years. After my papa died, she had it published to honor him.”

“No one knew him better than she did, except for you, who came in a close second.” Again Luc saw the secret curve in her smile that reminded him of the way she’d smiled at him before letting him have it. The sensation twisted his gut as much now as then.

“Let me read one last thing your grandmother quoted from her husband. ‘An exceptional perfume has a top note to entice, followed by the rich character of its middle note. Then comes the end note to bind all three, supplying the depth and solidity needed to make a lasting signature.’ He was a poet, wasn’t he?”

“Papa was so many things, I hardly know where to begin.”

“I wish we didn’t have to stop. Thank you for letting us see inside your world. It’s been an honor and privilege.”

“For me too.”

“Congratulations on your new position, chosen by the head man himself. What greater endorsement, n’est-ce pas?” He turned to the camera. “That’s it for now from Grasse. Back to you in Paris.”

Luc shut off the TV, stunned out of his mind by her interview. A bomb had been dropped. He was still trying to recover from the fallout. Pacing the floor, he realized this meant he would be dealing with her in the future. His heart thudded at the very thought of it.

Now that the news had gone global, anything could happen and probably had behind closed doors at Ferriers. He couldn’t imagine the members of the Ferrier board, twice or triple her age and most of them family, tolerating the granddaughter to become the head of the company. If they knew what Luc knew...

This was nepotism at its best. Either Maxim Ferrier had become senile toward the end, or she’d had him wrapped around her little finger because she’d inherited his gift. But that gift didn’t mean she had the grasp for business or the necessary ability to run one of the most famous companies in existence. There’d been no mention of her education. She had no work experience. As far as he was concerned, she had no common sense either.

The Ferrier board had to have the same opinion about her and would soon find a way to vote her out. But until then Luc would have to be extra careful how he proceeded when the day came he had his first business meeting with her. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine it after their explosive encounter on the island. Yet, to his dismay, the thought of being with her again charged every cell in his body.

“Luc?”

It had been a long time since Thomas had walked in without knocking, but Luc understood why. His assistant looked dazed. “I never saw or heard anything so amazing in my life.”

“You’re not alone, Thomas.”

“She’s more beautiful than her grandmother was, if that’s possible.”

It was possible. The image of her standing at the base of the cliff had never left him. But there were imperfect parts of her the camera hadn’t seen, parts that he felt spelled a lot more trouble for Ferriers.

“I still can’t believe she’s the new face and power at Ferriers. She may be Maxim Ferrier’s favorite and worth millions herself, but she looks too young and defenseless to go to battle against dynasty builders with three times her age and experience.”

Luc would have thought the same thing if he hadn’t been the recipient of her words, which could slice and dice a man to shreds in seconds. His assistant wouldn’t see her as a defenseless woman if he’d watched her attack that rocky island on those breathtaking limbs of hers with the strength and agility of a military frogman.

Thomas’s eyes gleamed. “This means that from now on you’ll be meeting with her instead of Giles LeC—” he started to say, but Luc stopped him right there because he didn’t want to hear it. He needed time for the news to sink in first.

“I’m late for a party and have to run. See you on Monday.” He left by his private exit. It opened into a hallway leading to the private parking lot with a security guard.