fortune in investments, coming home only for vacations and various events.
He would have stayed there permanently, but four months ago he’d received a frantic call from his mother that his father was seriously ill with pneumonia and might die. Dominic had intended to return to Vence only temporarily but his grandfather immediately insisted Dominic take over his father’s position as funds manager while the older man was ill.
Still hesitant to remain in Vence, it was Raoul, now vice president in charge of marketing and sales for the Fontesquieu Corporation, who’d been the one to beg Dominic to take the job and not go back to Paris.
The two of them had been best friends growing up, always watching out for one another. Over the years they’d always stayed in touch, Raoul visiting Paris when he could. In the end, Dominic hadn’t been able to refuse Raoul and so had stayed on while his father was recovering.
He was no fool though. Ever since his return, he’d known his grandfather had an ulterior motive in wanting Dominic to take over the management of funds. Because of a bad year of frost and rain two years ago, the vineyards in France had suffered severe financial losses and even their family had been impacted despite their assets in other businesses.
Dominic knew his father and grandfather were plotting for him to marry Corinne Herlot, who’d bring the fabulous Herlot industrial fortune with her. She’d been at several family parties, but he could never be interested and had planned to leave for Paris by the time the harvest was over.
At least that was what he’d intended until today when Nathalie Fournier had appeared. Now there was no way in this world could he leave yet...
Nathalie could hear the sound of jazz outside the swinging doors of what turned out to be the Guinguet bistro. There were people going in and out, enjoying the balmy Friday night air with its hint of fruit from the vineyards. She could well understand the lure this atmosphere had held for her stepsister.
Easing past couples, Nathalie walked inside the crowded establishment filled with small round tables and people slow dancing to the music. In the romantic atmosphere, she realized she hadn’t had a date since breaking up with Guy three months ago.
It had hurt that he wouldn’t want to take on anyone else’s child, whether it was Alain or a child they might adopt after marriage. She couldn’t imagine a childless union, but knew that adoption wasn’t an option for everyone. She’d hoped Guy would be open to it but he couldn’t have made his feelings against it clearer.
She’d learned of her condition at the age of twenty. Nathalie had ovulated only once by then. That was seven years ago. Since that time, she’d ovulated only twice. After what had happened with Guy, her natural worry was that any man she would meet in the future might have reservations about adoption, but she couldn’t think about that now. Nathalie knew it had been the right decision to stop seeing Guy and didn’t regret it.
Her mind kept going over what had happened to Antoinette. Her stepsister had fallen madly in love with a man she’d met in this very bistro. She’d loved him so much she’d had his baby.
Today Nathalie felt certain she’d met her stepsister’s lover inside that tent. One look at him and she’d understood the chemistry. Love at first sight, sweeping Antoinette away. But clearly the fire had been only on her stepsister’s part because he’d disappeared on her.
He couldn’t have known he’d left her pregnant, could he? After meeting him, Nathalie knew he was the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted. Antoinette had likely been a dalliance for a month, then nothing more.
Now that Nathalie had met him, she feared that if he was Alain’s father, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a baby he hadn’t intended to sire. Nathalie was beginning to think this had been a terrible idea and she should leave this whole thing alone. Alain had a surfeit of love from her and his grandmother. That would have to be enough.
“Mademoiselle?”
A man’s voice caused Nathalie to turn around. She’d been admiring some of the paintings of the Fontesquieu chateau and gardens adorning the walls.
“Perhaps you remember me?”
She blinked. “Yes. You were the man handing out applications earlier today.”
“That’s right. When I saw you walk in alone just now, I thought I’d say hello and offer to buy you a drink. My table is right here.”
This was probably how it had happened for Antoinette. Her lover had approached her in exactly the same way. Nathalie had to do some fast thinking. If she accepted the invite, she could at least learn the name of the man who had interviewed her. But she wasn’t attracted to this man and didn’t want him to misunderstand.
“Thank you, but I only came in to look around.”
“You can do that right here.” He pulled out a bistro chair for her so she would sit down. Then he took the other seat. “Have you been in here before?”
“Never.”
“My name is Paul Cortier, by the way.”
“I’m Nathalie Fournier.”
“Eh, bien, Nathalie, please allow me to order you the specialty of the house, although you may not like it. Guinguet is an acquired taste.”
“Guinguet? Like the name of the bistro?”
“C’est exacte.” He signaled for a waiter who took their order. “The word comes from the guinguettes that were popular drinking places on the outskirts of Paris years ago. They served local sour white wine, a tradition this bistro keeps up.”
“Who makes the sour white wine here?”
“The Fontesquieu Vineyards.”
“Of course. Your employer.”
“That’s right. They make enough of it to keep the owner here in business.”
“Even though their grapes are red?”
Paul chuckled. “There are lots of secrets about red grapes I’d be happy to explain to you on another occasion. Perhaps on a tour of the winery itself? I’d be happy to arrange to show you personally.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but just so you know, I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone, Paul.” It was the truth.
He squinted at her. “At least you’re honest.”
The waiter brought them each a small goblet of pale white wine. After he walked away, Paul lifted his glass. “Try it and let me know what you think.”
Nathalie, who didn’t actually like wine, took a sip, then struggled not to make a face.
Paul laughed. “Somehow I knew that would be your reaction. It’s not for everyone. But since you’ll be helping with the harvest, I thought you’d like a sample. Sort of a christening for you.”
She took another sip to please him. “I may not be hired.”
“Unless
