‘Yes, boss,’ he said and walked out wondering what it would be like to take a shower with her and what her soft pale skin would feel like up against his body under a cool stream of water.
‘Dear God,’ said Hattie bashing her head lightly against the glass shower screen fifteen minutes later. Life just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t enough that Luc Brémont had a face that could launch a thousand after-shave ads, he also had the taut muscled body of an Olympic swimmer. Hattie had always prided herself on being above noticing someone for their looks but seriously, Luc was a little mind-blowing. He was Hot with a capital H and he had the strangest effect on her body, as if every erogenous zone was covered in iron filings that leapt to attention to Luc’s magnetic force.
She had a crush on him, that was all. She was a normal healthy young woman with sexual urges that had been neglected for … she couldn’t actually remember the last time she and Chris had had sex. Talking about their lack of sex life had affected his self-esteem, the counsellor had said, so Hattie had given up trying to do anything about their increasingly loveless relationship.
‘You’re acting like a flipping born-again virgin. You’ve seen a man’s body before, for God’s sake.’ She paused and glared at herself in the mirror ‘What is wrong with you?’
Yes, the voice in her head said, before pointing out with a fair amount of glee,but not one like that.
‘Get a grip,’ she told herself.
After a quick, cool shower, something made her choose to put a dress on and she brushed her hair and left it loose before applying a quick layer of tinted moisturiser and a dash of lipstick.
‘You’re only going to the market,’ she told her reflection and resisted the urge to wipe off the lipstick. If she wanted to look nice, that was up to her. Grabbing her phone and her purse, she left her room and ran lightly down the stairs to meet Luc.
He’d beaten her to it and had brought his car round. At the sight of it, her mouth curved into a delighted smile. ‘I’ve never been in a convertible before.’
‘She’s seen a few years. My parents disapprove heartily but she’s fun to drive.’ Leaning over from the driver’s seat, he opened the passenger door and Hattie stepped in, gathering her skirts as she did, hoping that she looked a bit more elegant now.
As they drove down the drive, the wind whipping her hair and the sun beating down on them, she pulled on a pair of large sunglasses and relaxed into her seat. This was rather glamorous. She could be a chic character in a European film.
‘So what’s the problem with the caterer?’
Luc’s question brought her problems back and shattered the happy movie star illusion.
‘The catering company that had been booked are now saying they can’t do the wedding.’ Her shoulders drooped with the reminder that she needed to sort it out and quickly.
‘They can’t do it? That’s not very good. Why not?’
‘The woman at Garnier’s said they’d double-booked and wouldn’t budge. And I’ve spent all morning on the phone trying to find someone else, to no avail.’
‘Garnier’s? Juliet Garnier.’
‘Yes. Do you know her? Damn, you could have put a good word in for me.’
‘I don’t know her but the name’s familiar. I’m pretty sure she’s a friend of Yvette’s.’
She glanced at him alerted by something in the tone of his voice and saw his brows draw together.
‘Yes, Solange said they were at school together.’
‘That would be it,’ he murmured almost as if he were speaking to himself. ‘What are you going to do? Could you self-cater?’
Hattie laughed with a touch of mild hysteria. ‘You are joking. There’s no way I would have the confidence to attempt to cook for a hundred-odd people and I couldn’t do it on my own. Besides Gabby’s going to expect something fancy. Proper cooks do all the fancy presentation which I don’t have a clue about. At the place, a castle, I stayed in at Christmas I had the most amazing soup but what made it even more special was the garnish of pickled fennel. I’d never think to do anything like that.’
‘Juliet might not be able to help but there will be another solution,’ he said before adding, with reassuring pragmatism, ‘I find that the best way to solve a problem is to relax. Preferably with a long lunch. Let your subconscious do the work and something will come to you.’
Easy for him to say that but worrying about it now wasn’t going to help, so she took his advice and enjoyed the whip of the wind through her hair and the sight of the tight green lines of vines fanning out over the hills around them.
As they drew into the town, driving between stone houses with wooden shutters, the something niggling at the back of her head blossomed into a full-blown idea. It was worth a try. She dug her phone out of her bag and began to type a text, stopping to edit it constantly and then add more bits.
‘Are you writingWar and Peace?’
‘No, I’m trying to persuade someone.’ She pressed send. ‘But it’s a very long shot.’
‘If you like I could speak to Juliet Garnier? Maybe tell her that she’s letting the St Martin family down as well.’
‘That’s really kind of you but she sounded fairly adamant. Actually, not that. She was indifferent. As if she couldn’t care less.’
