“It’s worth a try.”
Her green eyes gleamed in anticipation of confronting Alex. “I agree. Thanks for the talk.”
Dana watched her slender figure disappear before she went to her bedroom. Saskia had been fighting a losing battle when it came to Dana’s father. No doubt seeing the eight-by-ten photograph of Dana’s mother and a smaller photograph of her parents propped on the dresser underlined the futility of Saskia’s relationship with him.
As for Dana, she had her own problem in the futility department where Alex was concerned. He couldn’t leave for the States fast enough. How ironic that because she’d seen his ad on the Internet, she’d unwittingly made it possible for him to reach his goal sooner. Saskia could dream all she wanted, but she was in for a shock.
Alex worked in the orchard until twilight. One more trip to the landfill and he’d call it a night. The delicious, filling lunch Dana had delivered air express without consideration for her personal safety had kept him going through the dinner hour.
Much as he’d wanted to go after her, he hadn’t wanted an audience that included her father, grace a dieu. Since no one knew what had transpired, he decided it would be better to apologize to her after hours when they were alone.
On the way back from his last haul, he locked the gate for the night and drove on to the front of the château. The sight of her rental car meant she was home. His pulse shot off the charts as he hurried inside and made a quick inspection of the ground floor in the hope he might bump into her.
To his chagrin all he found besides furniture in the grand salon was an empty basket and thermos placed at the foot of the paneled door. It was identical to the one she’d brought Alex. He carried it to the kitchen where he’d put his on the way in from the truck.
A few minutes later after a shower and change of clothes, he phoned her while he was warming some food for his dinner. Maybe she’d come down and join him.
“Alex?” She answered on the fourth ring. “Is there something wrong?”
“Yes,” he blurted. At this point in their relationship, nothing but honesty would do.
“Did you lose your remote and can’t get in the château?”
“I’m afraid my problem can’t be fixed that easily.”
He felt her hesitate before she said, “Did the studio from Paris cancel on you for mid-September?”
The strong hint of anxiety in her tone plus the fact that she remembered what he’d told her humbled him. He’d grovel if necessary to get back on the footing they’d had before she’d brought him his lunch.
Alex cleared his throat. “I appreciate your concern, but the truth is, I was rude to you earlier today. It takes a lot to frighten me, but when I saw you appear among the leaves like some impossibly adorable wood nymph and realized how far you were from the ground, I lost any perspective I should’ve had.”
She let out a wry laugh. “The relegation from cherub to wood nymph is a subtle improvement I like, so I’ll take it.”
Dana…
“As for the rest, I’ve had all day to ponder my actions over that brainless stunt. Chalk it up to the enchantment of this place.”
He had to clamp down hard on his emotions. “I can safely say it was the best meal I ever had in a tree.”
“That’s another distinction I’ll treasure, but to save you from an early heart attack, I’ll leave your lunch basket on the fender of your truck from now on.”
“Why don’t you come downstairs and we’ll talk about it over a glass of wine.” If he hadn’t made the rule that he would never take advantage by going up to her room after dark unless invited, he’d be there now.
“Lovely as that sounds, I’m already half asleep. May I confess something to you?”
“By all means.” He had to swallow his disappointment.
“You’ll think me more superstitious than my father.”
That particular word wasn’t on the growing list of adjectives he found himself ascribing to her. The mention of her father in the same conversation didn’t improve his mood. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Somehow it seems sacrilegious to drink anyone else’s wine on Belles Fleurs property. Does that make sense?”
His eyes closed tightly for a minute because deep in his core he’d had the same thought last night. Like the seed of the precious chenin blanc grape buried in the soil of the Anjou centuries ago, it seemed to have germinated out of nowhere, reminding him of his mother’s roots.
“More than you know,” he answered huskily.
Until last night he hadn’t felt that emotional connection. Now, suddenly, it tugged at him and he realized it was all tied up with Dana, who had everything to do with this unexpected awakening.
“Alex? Are you still there?”
“Mais oui.” He gripped the phone tighter. “Do you remember asking if I could see the famous Belles Fleurs vineyard from the top of the tree?”
“Are we talking about the same question you didn’t answer?”
“Meet me out in back in the morning at eight. There’s something I want to show you.”
“I thought I’d been warned off climbing trees.”
Alex rubbed the back of his neck absently. “This requires some walking. Wear boots if you have them.”
“I don’t. Will trainers do?”
“Those will protect your feet better than your sandals.”
“We’re not going to be trekking through some snake-infested region are we? I have an irrational terror of them.”
A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “Few of the snakes in France are venomous. Even then their bites aren’t worse than wasp stings. So far I haven’t come across any.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring, Alex.”
“I’ve survived the snake worlds of Indonesia and Africa.”
“But you’re—”
“Yes?” he prodded after she broke off talking midsentence. She’d left him hanging, the perpetual state he’d been in since meeting her…and didn’t like.
“I was just going to say you’re invincible.”
“Not quite.” She’d been making inroads on his psyche from the moment they’d met, infiltrating his thoughts. No woman he’d known could claim that distinction. “For what it’s worth, I promise to protect you.”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to be with her now. “Are you sure you’re too tired for Scrabble? I brought the game with me from Bali. My father and I often played.”
“In how many languages?”
He couldn’t suppress his laughter. “Why don’t we find out?”
“Maybe another night when I’m not worn-out.”
“What’s your birthdate?” She’d be turning twenty-seven. That wasn’t a day he was bound to forget, not after his assumption that she’d been much younger.
“The sixteenth.”
“Next Monday. Don’t make any plans. We’ll celebrate and I’ll let you beat me.”
“I intend to.”
He grinned. “Where