Amelia looked at the little scrap of paper with his phone numbers on it. He hadnt written his name down, nor had he introduced himself properly. He hadnt asked her for her name, either.
Why?
He had impeccable manners.
Was he famous?
Why did he seem so familiar?
Frances Highest Court Upholds Dismissal of Manslaughter Charges against Comte Remy de Fournier!
Her mouth agape, riveted by the news headlines, lurid photographs and articles in the newspaper she was holding, Amelia sat perfectly still on Carols bloody-expensive sofa.
Remy de Fournier. No wonder hed seemed so edgy. No wonder he hadnt told her who he was.
Hed killed his best friend, André Laffite, because hed driven on bad tires on a wet day to win. Since the wreck, hed slept with every beautiful woman with a title on the continent, heartlessly jilting them, not caring if he broke their hearts as long as they pleasured him.
So, they hadnt met quite by accident.
She took a deep breath against the hurt that threatened to overwhelm her. He wasnt attracted to her. Hed been feeling her out, figuring out a strategy to get the valuable properties he coveted.
Beneath the blaring headline were pictures of the crash that had ended the life of his best friend. Apparently Remy had been determined to win at any cost. More photographs of the wreck were splashed across a back page. There were numerous shots of Remy and the beautiful women hed dated and jilted. One of the women had even made a suicide attempt after her affair with him. Not that the woman herself blamed Remy. No, she said hed helped her through a difficult time. There was an awful picture of him smashing his fist into a reporters jaw.
When she finished reading the articles and looking at the pictures, Amy felt sick. She reexamined them, anyway. When she was done, she shot to her feet and began to pace with the newspaper clutched to her heart. If half the accusations were true, she should despise him. Wadding the paper up, she threw the pages at the wall and then flung herself back down on Carols sofa.
Bastard. Liar. Jerk.
A memory came back to her. Remy had been eighteen, and shed been in the garden when the comte had hurled brutal, damning insults at him. Never would she forget the torment in Remys eyes when hed stormed out of the château and straight into her.
What the hell were you doing? hed thundered. Spying?
But I wasnt.
Damn little eavesdropper! Get out of my way!
No. II wasnt. I swear.
Liar.
No. IIm sorry about what he said. Maybe he didnt mean it.
Spare me your fake kindness. He meant it, all right. I hope I never have the bad fortune to meet you or your aunt again. He slammed past her and out the gate and she hadnt seen him for seventeen years. Till today.
And now? Outwardly he was much changed from the tall, awkward, angry boy whod been so rude to her.
Fool. Hed been deliberately charming because he wanted the vineyard and the painting.
Still, hed gone out of his way to make her like him. Even now when she should be furious because hed deceived her so he could use her or so his agents could trick her, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He is loathsome. So much worse than Fletcher.
But that woman whod tried to kill herself had defended him.
Why did the bad boys of the world always appeal to her? Why couldnt she fall for some nice, paunchy accountant going bald, someone like Carols Steve, an upright, type-A achiever? Or even just the normal guy Remy had described: the nice guy with a job who wants to settle down and marry so he can have a houseful of kids to play soccer with on the weekend.
If a hard-partying surfer was the frying pan, Remy, the womanizing, exFormula One driver, whod watched her buy transparent panties and had made her pulse race, was definitely the fire.
She was lying on the couch in a state of utter depression as she tried without success to conjure up a dull ideal mate when the phone rang.
Hey! Carol said too brightly, sounding like her overly self-confident self. Im at the house. If you took the train from Euston, youd be here in an hour and I could have dinner ready. The kids and Steve are very keen about seeing you.
The very last person in London she felt like seeing was her perfect, superior, drop-dead gorgeous, big sister.
I dont feel too well, she heard herself say.
Whats wrong?
Something I ate, probably. Or jet lag. Ill have to catch you on my way home.
Im so sorry you dont feel well. I worked so hard all day just so we could all be together tonight. Do you need a doctor? Should I come to London?
Guilt swamped Amy. She felt like dirt. Here she was lying, and Carol sounded so concerned and caring. Im sure after a quiet night here, Ill be just fine.
Well, then, if youre sureI really am tired after the trip. Maybe Ill just pop by and check on you first thing in the morning on my way to the firm. Maybe bring you a croissant or something.
They talked a little while longer, making tentative plans to see each other in the morning before they hung up.
I cant believe I did that! Ive let him ruin my visit with Carol! My mood! Everything!
She stared across the room at the wadded-up newspaper.
All those women, women as beautiful and poised and perfect as Carol. They mustve liked him, too.
Hed said he liked her because she was different.
Quit thinking about him!
Usually, Amelia wasnt one for hard liquor, but this was an emergency. She went to the kitchen, telling herself she was after a bottle of sparkling water or a soda, but the bottle of scotch lived in the same cabinet with the sodas, and it spoke to her. She grabbed a glass and poured a shot over some chunklets of ice. Swirling the glass, she returned to the living room, where she settled herself on the couch once more. For a long time, she just sat there, glumly sipping Carols scotch as she glared at the wadded-up newspaper and the half of Remys face she could see.
Then she stood. Crossing the room, she picked up the newspaper again. This time a photograph shed barely noticed caught her attention. His stony face bleached of arrogance and any conceit, Remy was walking through the pits carrying Andrés helmet under his arm. All she saw in his hard features was shock and grief.
Who was he really? Hed been so nice to her today. Hed been attentive to her needs, and hed gone out of his way to make her feel special and beautiful. Was he that sensitive, caring person or the man shed just read about?
Hed had lots and lots of women. He couldnt have had all those women if he wasnt a really good lover. He was French. Frenchmen had a worldwide reputation for being good lovers. She knew it was crazy, but she began to envy those glamorous women whose hearts hed broken.
Fletcher had accused her of being old and boring. More than anything she wanted to be exciting.
Remy de Fournier had asked her to go dancing tonight. Maybe he was totally awful like the papers made him out to be.
Or maybe he was just the man she needed to show her how to be a more exciting and confident woman. Hed made her feel interesting and beautiful today.
Maybe it was time she learned a new set of life skills. What sort of things could he teach her if she spent an entire night with him?
Maybe it was time she learned a new set of life skills. What sort of things could he teach her if she spent an entire night with him?
Her mother was always saying she could be and have so much more if she refused to settle. Maybe it was time to live a little dangerously.
Slowly Amy dug into her pocket and felt for the scrap of paper with Remys phone numbers on it. For a long moment she studied the flowing black letters. Then with shaking fingers she began dialing his mobile, but after letting it ring once, she hung up, and would have chewed her nails except she couldnt because she had on those new tips.
Damn!
She was still staring at her fake pink fingernails in utter frustration when the phone rang.
Expecting Carol, she picked it up.
Did someone from this number call me? Remys deep, dark voice spoke with such tender concern she almost forgot he was the terrible person shed read about and not the sweet man shed met by chance and had liked so much this afternoon.
He sounded so nice.
Me! she squeaked, forgetting the terrible bit. That would be me! The girl you bumped
He laughed as if he were thrilled, too. I know who you are. Somehow the way he said that made her feel very special, like she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him. Which was ridiculous. He was a womanizer.
I was afraid you wouldnt call, he said, again sounding so sincerely worried and humble she could almost feel her heart shatter. He was that good.
Or that bad.
Either way, this could be a win-win.
Hang up on him.
She plunged in recklessly. IIm free tonight. Carol Amy glanced across the room at a silver-framed photograph of her blond sister and Steve and silently crossed herself. Wewe wont be getting together, after all. Shehas a headache.
Nothing too serious, I hope.
No.
Excellent. I can be there as soon as you can be ready.
But I dont have anything to wear.
I dont really object to that, he teased. I could bring dinner over, and we could stay in. You could wearnothing. I wouldnt mind. I swear.
She laughed. You are terrible.
So Ive been told. He laughed. What do you want, chérie?
If she wanted lessons in love from an expert, she should say, You. She should say, Yes! Yes!
Fortnam and Masons is only two blocks away. If I could just pop over there
I particularly liked your dress this afternoon.
Ill call you when Im ready.
I cant wait to see you, he said in a dark, eager tone that sent a chill through her.
Me, too, she responded in a voice that was probably too low for him to hear.
When he hung up, she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and drew a slow, deep breath. Just talking to him made her feel sexy and daring.
She exhaled a long, shaky breath. And then another. Oh, my God. She was so excited shed held her breath almost the entire phone call.
Deep down she knew that if she were smart and practical, she would return to Honolulu and regroup. No way should she fly to France to negotiate with his agents or his family about the vineyard or even think about the Matisse until she had her head on straight. If she were smart and practical she would tell him she knew who he was and ask him to leave her alone.
But despite everything shed read about him, or maybe because of it, she wanted to go out with Remy. Which was crazy.
Hed tricked her!
But hed been charming, devastatingly charming. And he had not pressed his advantage, she told herself.
Not yet, anyway.
Her mind warred with itself, but soon the hunger for adventure with a dangerous, incredibly attractive man won out over good sense and logic.
He was a comte. Despite his many faults, that would cut a lot of ice chunklets with her shallow mother and brilliant sister. Definitely, he was a win-win.
Now all she had to do was to find a sexy red dress!