it.’ He dismissed her words with a shrug.
She tried to take a breath but only a distressed wheeze emerged.
Bastien’s gaze sharpened. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.
She tried to shake her head but he was already taking her arm. One finger urged her face up to his, where concern was etched.
‘Nothing. I’m fine. When did your mother try to take her own life?’
He dropped his hand. ‘Not now. We need to get back.’
‘Bastien, please talk to me—’
‘Unless you want to get caught in the rain we need to get moving.’
She glanced up at the sky, surprised to notice storm clouds rolling over the lake. Whilst they’d been locked in the past the weather had changed.
She helped him pack their picnic away, despite his terse instruction to let him do it. They returned to the boat in silence, even though she felt his concerned glance more than once.
Placing the basket in the tiny galley, he led her to the single cabin. ‘Stay down here. If the rain hits the journey back might be a little bumpy.’
‘I’ll stay here if you’ll promise me we’ll talk when we get back.’
He blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Oui, we’ll talk,’ he said. And left.
Ana tried to relax, but her thoughts churned. Bastien’s parents had stayed together but the circumstances she’d imagined, the assumptions she’d made, were very far from the truth. Another wave of empathy surged through her.
She headed for the door, but paused and groaned when she caught her image in the mirror beside the bed.
Her skin was pale, her eyes wide pools of anguish. And some time between leaving the château and now her hair had become a tangled web. She thought of repairing the mess, but gave up.
The outward mess she could deal with later. It was the inner mess that terrified her—because she feared the path her heart had taken was fraught with danger.
* * *
Bastien steered the boat alongside the pier, his thoughts grim. What the hell had happened on that hill in Villeneuve? How had he let go of his control so much that he’d spilled the cause of his deepest pain to Ana?
Revealing what his mother’s ultimate rejection had done to him was inexcusable. He’d thought that particular fear was buried deep, unreachable.
But all it had taken was one softly voiced challenge to send him back to that dark, harrowing place.
Jumping onto the pier, he secured the rope with a vicious twist, silently thankful that the production crew were arriving tomorrow. The earlier he wrapped the ad campaign, the earlier he could end this enforced hiatus and return to his life. A life devoid of Ana, devoid of heated looks from sultry chocolate-brown eyes. No more second-guessing the choices he’d made for a life without emotion. A life that stretched out bleak and empty at the thought of Ana not being a part of it...
With a muted curse, he turned. She stood at the top of the steps leading to the galley, one hand lifted to catch her hair as the breeze played with it.
Bastien’s breath strangled in his chest. Just looking at her made his world fracture, threatening to splinter into a million pieces. No matter how much he tried to wrestle back control everything in him wanted to stride over to her, snatch her tiny waist in his hands and devour her lips. Maybe then they’d both forget what he’d let slip on the hillside.
As if she’d read his thoughts she parted her lips. Desire arrowed straight to his groin, leaving him as weak as a day-old kitten. That in itself was such a shock he couldn’t move for several seconds.
In all his affairs no woman had ever brought such an intense, debilitating feeling to him. Such...freedom. As if he was poised on the brink of some cataclysmic discovery.
Pour l’amour de Dieu. He stepped back into the boat and retrieved the basket. All this idle time was addling his brain. Facts. Figures. Cut-throat negotiations. That was what he needed. Not Ana back in his bed. That was not going to happen.
They entered the château through the kitchen, where Chantal was putting groceries away in the large pantry. He thanked her for the picnic and left the basket on the counter.
As he turned to leave, he caught sight of a tiny picture by the window. Stunned, he moved towards it, even though the image was one he remembered very well.
It was his father, his mother and himself on the pier, taken when he was five or six. They all looked so...happy. He picked up the picture, rubbing his hand across the dusty surface.
‘I kept it from...before,’ Chantal said from just behind his shoulder. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
Before... When he’d moved back here and ordered everything that reminded him of his parents to be boxed up and shipped to Gstaad.
Without warning, Ana’s words echoed in his mind. ‘You’re letting the sins of your parent shape the way you live your life.’
He set the picture down, fighting endless waves of disquiet. But this time the righteous anger that usually fuelled his bitterness was missing. Was she right? Had he let what had happened sixteen years ago dictate the way he lived?
He turned. Ana stood in the doorway, her eyes seeking, her skin pale.
That jolt came again—harder than before. The chocolate depths were clear, fringed by lashes so thick and luxurious most women would kill to own them.
As if she couldn’t stand his blatant scrutiny she dropped her lids. That didn’t stop the arresting power of her face. His gaze moved down to the sensual curve of her lips and his chest tightened. How many times during the night had he tasted their sweetness? Yet he craved another taste so badly he could barely breathe.
He watched as colour rose in her cheeks. Knowing she wasn’t over this crazy chemistry between them either did nothing to ease his suffering.
Get a grip.
‘I need to clean up,’ she said.
Relief poured through him. ‘Okay. We’ll talk later.’
When he’d had a chance to regroup.
He went straight to his study and poured himself a brandy. Taking it to the terrace, he watched the sun set on his favourite lake. Nothing in the scene soothed him the way it normally did.
Prowling to the edge of the terrace, he lifted his face to the cool breeze washing in from the water.
His work was his life. Had been for as long as he could remember. Yet what he yearned for now, above everything else, was to be upstairs with Ana, losing himself in her body. Even the ‘we need to talk’ that normally sent him running didn’t eradicate this intense need to be with her.
He was definitely losing it!
Knocking back
