Weddings: The Proposals: The Brooding Frenchman's Proposal / Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal / The Playboy Firefighter's Proposal

Not willing to prolong this conversation, she executed a backward somersault and swam to the other end of the pool. After climbing out to get her towel she didn’t look back, but she still felt a pair of penetrating black eyes follow her progress back to her room.

A quick shower and shampoo did nothing to relieve her heightened senses. In his arms she’d come alive. It was shocking to realize she could respond like that when she thought those feelings were permanently dead. On his part he’d done nothing to make her aware of him. He didn’t have to. Raoul Laroche was one of those men endowed with traits irresistible to women.

After washing out her suit, she got ready for bed. But when she climbed under the covers, she lay awake for a long time troubled by the sensations still passing through her body. Pure physical chemistry had a lot to answer for. It had little to do with liking or disliking him.

Her mind insisted on going over the interrogation Raoul had put her through earlier in the evening. Every comment or question had stretched the boundaries of civility, and Laura couldn’t help but wonder if he was this unpleasant to every stranger he met or if she was the exception.

The two brothers were the pillars of the Laroche financial world. Maybe they were too closely connected and the lines between their professional and personal lives became blurred more often than was healthy.

Judging by Chantelle’s remarks, Raoul had a history of issues. Though it might explain his acerbic disposition to a point, Laura was at a loss to understand the caustic edge that had been directed at her personally. She wasn’t mistaken about that.

She wasn’t mistaken about the fire he’d lit, either. He’d held on to her a little too long for someone who couldn’t stand her. Of course, men had an easier time separating their rational thoughts from their physical drives, but Laura wished she could view that moment in the pool with the same sangfroid as Raoul.

He wouldn’t have trouble going to sleep tonight. There’d been a number of beautiful women at Guy’s party who could make any man’s pulse race including his, but it wouldn’t mean anything more to him than the pleasure of the fleeting moment.

She hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his finger, which meant Raoul was either a bachelor or divorced. Maybe even separated and waiting for his freedom like Laura. Depending on who asked for the divorce, he could be impatient to be let out of his prison, or dying inside because he was still in love with the woman he’d married.

If he was like Guy, it was probably the latter. That might account for his jaded, pointed remarks meant to inflict pain because he was hurting.

Troubled by Guy’s dark, aloof brother, who unfortunately lived on the estate and shared the pool, Laura turned on her side, willing sleep to come. From now on she’d swim during the day to avoid another encounter like tonight. That way there’d be no accidental coming together in the pool, catching her totally off guard.

For one insane moment she’d thought he had been going to kiss her. What was more insane was that she wouldn’t have stopped him. How bad was that? The temptation to taste his mouth had left her breathless.

Those feelings happened between near strangers all the time. It was called lust, a word she’d heard all her life, but had never experienced until tonight. Such feelings were wrong. Even though he’d been borderline cruel to her, somewhere deep inside she knew he would make a gratifying lover.

Ashamed of her thoughts, she turned on her stomach and pulled the pillow over the back of her head in the hope of warding them off.

Since the moment Laura had left the pool, Raoul had done twenty laps in order to exhaust himself before going to bed. He’d purposely run into her in order to provoke a response, yet it was Raoul who’d been the one affected.

His ploy to keep her in the pool longer had failed. Worse, the fact that Paul’s name came so easily to her lips rankled. If this workout didn’t help him sleep, then he’d have to resort to something medicinal.

As he heaved himself out of the water, he heard his brother say, “Raoul? What are you doing here?”

You mean what am I doing out here when I have my own pool?

That was a good question.

Of course, Raoul could have asked a few salient questions of Guy. What made the situation so precarious was the fact that there was only one reason his brother had sauntered out here in his swim trunks.

Like hungry sharks, two grown men were lurking in waters while they circled around a certain woman’s bedroom. Viewed from a distance, the scene was appalling. Laura had made fools of them both.

“Paul asked me to swim with him earlier.” It was only the truth. “But when I came out here to find him, he was gone. How did Chantelle handle the party?”

Guy walked over to him, his towel slung over one shoulder. “I don’t know. She was asleep when I looked in on her. Did Laura swim with you?”

Was that jealousy Raoul detected?

Guy would be shocked if he knew what Raoul hadn’t done with her but wanted to. Ciel!

The idea that his brother could be having an intimate relationship with her made Raoul see black. “She did a few laps and went in the house.”

“So she didn’t say anything about Chantelle?” Guy sounded worried. He should be. In fact he ought to be petrified!

“Why would she?”

Guy ran a hand through his hair. “During the party they left the salon together. I was wondering what they talked about.”

Raoul shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to ask her in the morning,” he said pointedly. “That is the reason you invited her here, to be a companion to Chantelle, n’est-ce pas?”

His brother nodded.

About now a confession was called for. A little sign of remorse for what he was doing to his wife, not even behind her back at this point! But no such words passed his lips. Instead, much to Raoul’s chagrin, the disappointed look on his face betrayed his true agenda.

Guy had no shame, yet with Raoul watching, his brother couldn’t very well walk up the veranda steps to Laura’s bedroom. For Chantelle’s sake the knowledge that Guy couldn’t be with Laura tonight filled Raoul with relief. On a purely personal note it pleased him no end.

“It looks like you won’t be needing this.” Raoul reached for his brother’s towel. Taking his time, he began to dry himself off. No way did he intend to leave the patio until Guy had gone. Tonight’s assignation had been foiled. Raoul had zero sympathy for his brother.

“I may be late going into the office in the morning,” Guy muttered, showing strains of being beaten. There was no ‘may’ about it. With Laura living on the premises, it was doubtful the company would see him for the next two weeks.

“I’m afraid I won’t be there either. Jean-Luc wants me to look over that complex in Antibes. Why don’t you go with me? We’ll decide if we want to buy it. With Laura keeping Chantelle company, you can get away for a little while without worrying.”

Maybe on the drive he could get his brother to break down and tell him what was going on. They’d never kept secrets from each other in their lives.

Guy shook his head. “Not this time. You go ahead.” In the next breath he left the patio, his mind and thoughts elsewhere.

Raoul stayed where he was. Part of him was torn up inside to see the change in Guy. The other part felt disgust over his possible romantic involvement with the woman Raoul couldn’t get out of his mind. Laura Aldridge was almost fifteen years younger than Guy. On the loose in Europe, he wondered how many other men she’d ensnared before targeting his brother.

As Raoul had learned, a woman like that didn’t have to earn a living. He doubted Laura even had a real job. That business about getting her boss’s permission was a con if he’d ever heard one. She lived off her victims. When she’d had enough and was bored, she moved on to the next poor devil whose bank account held a twelve-figure balance. Why couldn’t Guy see this?

Tomorrow he’d phone his attorney. It wouldn’t hurt to run a check on the American woman. She might not be who she said she was. She might even have a police record on both sides of the Atlantic.

After their parents had died years ago, Guy had always looked after Raoul. Now it was Raoul’s turn to protect his brother from a possible predator who had the kind of face and body to tempt every strata of saint down to sinner.

The next morning one of the maids led Laura to a patio off the dining room, where Chantelle was seated. It overlooked a fabulous, multicolored rose garden. She’d smelled their fragrance last evening and couldn’t get enough of it.

“Bonjour, Laura.”

“Bonjour, Chantelle.” she said back, trying to imitate the sounds. More than ever she marveled at this family. They all spoke English so well. She couldn’t imagine learning French with the same fluency.

Her hostess had already wheeled herself to the rectangular glass table supported by ornate wrought iron legs. Laura put her sketchpad down against one of them and took a seat across from her while another maid served them breakfast. The patio having a western exposure, they were shaded from the hot sun.

“How did you sleep?”

“Once the pills worked, I passed out. Thank you for giving them to me. I need to go to a pharmacy and get some of my own.”

“Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very kind of you.”