Since the accident Chantelle has avoided company like the plague.”
“This is different. He wanted everyone to meet Mrs. Aldridge, the American woman you’re staring at.”
Raoul realized he was staring. It irritated him that Maurice had noticed. “Who is she?”
“The woman who saved him from choking to death.”
His black brows met. “Literally?”
After Chantelle’s accident, the idea that his elder brother had experienced a close call like that wasn’t exactly the best news in what had started out to be a hellish afternoon. He’d received another abusive phone call from his ex-wife, Danielle, swearing she would end her life if he didn’t give their marriage another chance. Raoul had become weary of her attention-seeking tactics and had cut her off, but the distaste he had felt stayed with him.
“Quite literally.” Maurice sounded shaken.
“When was this?”
“Last evening at the Palio in Siena. We were eating dinner with Luigi before the race started. I didn’t realize Guy was even in trouble until she came flying to the rescue. She grabbed him and performed the Heimlich maneuver. Out came a piece of roll lodged in his throat and suddenly he could breathe again. It was over within minutes.”
Raoul murmured Grace à Dieu. He was thankful his brother was all right, but continued to frown. Guy hadn’t said anything to him about the incident while they had both been in the office earlier, and it was strange for him not to share something that had been a life-and-death situation. “What she’s doing here in Cap Ferrat?”
“Guy wanted to do something to thank her and decided a party would be a good way to celebrate.”
“And Chantelle agreed?” Considering the guilt Guy had suffered over feeling responsible for Chantelle’s present condition, not to mention the fragile state of their marriage at this point, this piece of information was somewhat disturbing. The woman was a virtual stranger, even if she had saved him from choking.
“It would seem so. Mrs. Aldridge is extraordinary,” Maurice exclaimed. The awe in his eyes and voice as his gaze wandered over her left little to the imagination. This woman might be at least fifteen years younger, but age didn’t matter when she was built like a mermaid decorating the prow of an eighteenth-century ship.
Even from the distance separating them, she oozed more unconscious sensuality than should be let loose on humanity. Between her wide-set green eyes and a sculpted mouth, his brother’s male guests could be forgiven for halting midconversation to drink in the sight before them. The female guests pretended without success not to notice the goddess floating about in Guy and Chantelle’s house.
The scenario would be laughable if Raoul weren’t one of the males affected by her femininity, which was even more provocative because she was modestly dressed in a summery outfit and seemed oblivious to the sensation she created. But he knew better. A woman who looked like her understood precisely the power she wielded.
Raoul had been targeted by such a woman in his early twenties and had come close to ruining his life because of her. Back then he’d become too physically enamored of her to read the signs, but fortunately he had discovered the truth behind her facade just in time. She’d lied about everything including her name, and had hoped to make Raoul husband number three and live the rest of her life in comfort.
Though it had come as a bitter blow to his pride, he’d survived and had finally gotten her out of his system. When he had met Danielle he had been immediately attracted, and since she came from a good family with money and didn’t need his, he was able to let his guard down and had proposed to her shortly after.
Another fatal mistake. In time his supposedly adoring wife had turned out to be a much worse liar. It had spelled the end of their marriage, and no amount of pleading could ever resurrect the feelings he’d once had for her.
One of the maids offered him a glass of wine. Raoul turned her down, needing something a lot stronger. “How long will she be here?”
“She’s been working on assignment in Europe. I have no idea how soon she has to get back to her job.”
But not to her husband? Raoul mused cynically. She stood five foot seven, maybe eight, a height he discovered held an appeal he hadn’t consciously thought about until now. Again he chided himself for noticing something that shouldn’t even have played in his mind.
“What does she do?” Besides save lives …
Maurice took another sip from his wineglass. “I wouldn’t know. The choking incident took precedence over everything. Guy asked us to keep Paul occupied while he accompanied her to her hotel.”
Ciel! Terrific marriage the woman had. What was Guy thinking? Through shuttered eyes he tracked her movements. “Where’s she from?”
“Southern California.”
The mold of her body ruled out her being a supermodel. She was probably a grade-B actress who didn’t have to act to get a part. All she needed to do was walk and breathe.
His jaded gaze flicked to his sister-in-law who sat composed in the wheelchair drinking her wine, looking young and elegant. And untouchable…
When Raoul thought about the drastic change in her since the accident, his gut twisted. She didn’t need any more trauma. What in the name of all that was holy was Guy doing bringing this woman into their home? The sooner Mrs. Aldridge boarded her flight and left, the better.
He was about to ask more details, but Guy had spotted him standing next to Maurice and escorted his esteemed guest toward him, cupping her elbow with a familiarity Raoul found disturbing, if not repellant.
“Raoul? I’d like you to meet Laura Aldridge. Laura? This is my younger brother, Raoul, the brains of the family. She’s the woman who saved my life yesterday.”
“So I heard,” he murmured, striving to keep his voice steady when what he really wanted to do was take his brother aside and demand an honest explanation. He reached for Mrs. Aldridge’s hand, noticing she didn’t wear a wedding ring. “Enchanté, Madame,” he said on purpose.
Only a woman who was confident in herself would give him a substantial shake in return, yet her hand with its tapered fingers and manicured nails was soft and well shaped … like the rest of her. When Raoul realized where his thoughts had wandered, he cursed inwardly.
“How do you do, Mr. Laroche,” she responded in a polite but dismissive voice, as if she knew he’d been assessing her and didn’t like it.
That, plus the surprising intelligence coming from her eyes and expression put his teeth on edge. “It’s fortunate for the Laroche family that you save lives in your spare time.”
She smiled easily, but it was meant for Guy’s benefit. “It’s one of the things I do for a living.”
Intrigued in spite of his growing frustration over his reaction to her he said, “You’re an EMT then?”
Guy grew serious. “Laura is a part-time lifeguard at Manhattan Beach in California.”
Like Baywatch, Raoul mused. He recalled the reruns from the famous American television
