to make some coffee. Would you like some?”
Lost in her musings, she hadn’t realized Raoul had come back downstairs.
“That sounds good. Thank you. Do you think Philippe’s asleep?”
“Yes. I just read him a story. He was out like a light before I could finish it.”
“That’s because he’s happy. Raoul, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something important before I leave.”
“I was going to tell you the same thing. I’ll be right back with the coffee.”
The first part of Raoul’s plan to get her alone had just been put in motion. He carried two mugs out to the living room, where he found Crystal studying the pictures on the far wall next to the bookcase. Some were of family, others of his adventures with friends, with Des.
He reached around to hand the coffee to her and felt her body quicken though they weren’t touching. She’d reacted that same way once before. It was about a month before Eric died running the piste, but he remembered the moment as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
He’d happened to be in the ski shop with his father while Eric was there talking to Jean-Luc. They were discussing the possibility of his trying out a new boot.
When the secretary buzzed through that there was a call from Eric’s wife, he told the secretary he couldn’t take it and would call her back later.
The casual way he’d blown her off was a pattern Raoul had noticed for the last year. Though it was none of his business and shouldn’t have angered him, it did. Deciding there were too many people in the room, he left work and got in his car. Remembering another call she’d made that had turned out to be an emergency when she’d gone into early labor, he found himself driving over to their condo in a hurry.
Relief swept over him to discover Crystal out in front trying to appease Philippe, who was in tears. He looked so unhappy holding the handle to his little red wagon. Raoul could only assume he’d been waiting for his father. Eric hadn’t had a legitimate reason for being away from home that day. He could have at least taken the call.
When Raoul got out of his car, Crystal had looked up at him. The defeated expression in her eyes and body language cut him to the core. Philippe noticed him coming and ran to welcome him. Without conscious thought Raoul picked him up and carried him over to Crystal. He put his arm around her, his only thought to comfort her.
But as he did it, other feelings took hold. He felt the unmistakable rush of desire for his sister-in-law course through him, shocking him to the foundations. She was Eric’s wife, yet he wanted her. It was insane. Wrong.
As he was wishing he could go on holding her and never let her out of his arms again, he felt her body give off something he could only describe as a shock wave. He felt it travel through his system and knew in his gut she was aware of what had just happened to him. But to her credit, she went on treating him the same as usual.
With that defining moment of revelation, he’d made a silent vow to keep his distance and had never broken it. But Eric’s death changed certain dynamics because Philippe had turned to him, and that meant the three of them were thrown closer together than ever.
From then on, whenever he was around her, he felt like a live wire spitting sparks and knew it was dangerous to be anywhere in her vicinity. When she left for Colorado so abruptly, he realized she was uncomfortable around him.
Up until then she’d been able to shroud her feelings all she wanted with the family and use Philippe for a shield. But today, that particular defense mechanism was no longer working for her.
Shaken again by her reaction to him just now because it might mean what he hoped it meant, Raoul sat down in one of the chairs and stretched out his long legs while he sipped his coffee.
“I have a proposition for you, Crystal.” He’d said it to her back. “If you’d sit down, then we could discuss it.”
“Proposition?” She turned around with a puzzled look. “If this is about Philippe—”
“It’s about both of you,” he interrupted before allowing her to finish the sentence.
He noticed shadows beneath her eyes as she sank down on one end of the couch.
She cupped her mug, but didn’t drink. “What about us?”
“For the last year I’ve been hearing the same thing come out of Philippe every time I’ve called. He wants to come home. Now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to leave. It’s a fact you can’t deny.”
She finally swallowed some coffee. “I’m not.”
For her to admit it meant another hurdle had been achieved.
“You’ve already seen that he’s taken to going to school with Albert the way you Americans like to say, ‘a duck takes to water.’ His presence has brought my father back from the brink. I believe he has rejuvenated my parents to the point that I think he’s added another twenty years to their lives at least. The cousins are thrilled he’s home again. So I have a solution. On the strength of the friendship we’ve shared over the years, will you hear me out?”
She jumped up from the couch and put the mug on the end table. “I don’t need to because I have a solution of my own. As I told you before, I’ll bring Philippe to Chamonix several times a year for a visit from now on.”
He eyed her steadily. “Then that’s a solution for you, not Philippe.”
Crystal made a betraying motion with her hand. “He’ll adjust in time. He’ll have to.”
Raoul leaned forward. “Did you know your son thinks you hate it here and that you hate me?” Her color faded a little, letting him know she did. “Is it true?”
Her hands formed fists at her side. “You of all people have to know that nothing could be further from the truth. After yesterday, how can you even ask me such a thing?” Her voice throbbed with feeling, convincing him she’d been as honest as she knew how to be.
They’d got past the second hurdle. Now for the third.
This was the crucial one. If she took the bait, it would tell him he was way off base. That’s what he’d told Des and his friend had agreed.
“Then for all our sakes I’d like to see you prove it by coming to work for the family business.”
Her translucent blue eyes darkened with some unnamed emotion.
“Eric may not be alive, but you are. I’ve already told you you’re a world-class skiing celebrity in your own right with your own legacy to hand down to Philippe. With him in school full-time, you could devote some of your time to your own ski school here.”
“A ski school—”
“Yes. People would flock to classes taught by the one and only famous Crystal Broussard, the Colorado bronze medalist. You could start a brand-new Broussard tradition on your terms and still be a full-time mother to Philippe. It would be the best of both worlds for the two of you.”
“You’re not serious.”
He
