getting to know you better, I find that entirely understandable. Sit down and I’ll serve you.” As she took her place, he uncorked it and poured the pale gold liquid into their glasses.
Their eyes met. “Is this a special wine?”
“It is now.” His deep voice sounded more like a purr. He sat down opposite her and lifted his glass. “To us. May our unexpected month together hold many more pleasant surprises.”
He’d just laid down the ground rules. She wasn’t to read more into that kiss than he’d intended. After the month was over, this season of enchantment would come to an end. She smiled through her distress at the thought and clinked her glass against his. “To you, monsieur. May you outlive any regrets for your magnanimity.”
With her emotions in turmoil, she forgot and drank her wine like it was water. Too late she realized her mistake and tried to recover without him noticing, but it wasn’t possible considering she was choking. His dark brown eyes smiled while he munched on a croissant. “When you’re able to speak again, tell me how you find your wine.”
Embarrassed, Dana cleared her throat. “It’s sweet like the one we had the other night, but it’s not the same domaine, is it? This time I tasted honey.”
“That’s very discerning of you. When you seemed to enjoy the one we had at the Hermitage, I bought this bottle for you to try. It’s another Layon wine called Chaume from the Domaine des Forges. I’m told it’s the sweetest of all.”
She got this fluttery feeling in her chest. Anxious not to appear disturbed by him, she bit into the quiche he’d warmed for them. It wasn’t just his words, but the way he said them. Here she’d promised herself not to get carried away, but being alone with him like this caused her to think many forbidden thoughts.
“You were very thoughtful to do that. Now that I’ve sampled both, it makes me wonder what the Belles Fleurs wine tasted like.”
“We’ll never know…” His voice trailed. “Every bottle has disappeared from the wine cellar. I suppose there are a few connoisseurs who bought them up. They might still have them stored in their wine cellars for a special occasion. Good dessert wines can last for decades.”
“It seems so sad there’s no more wine being made from the grapes grown on your property.”
He stared at her, deep in concentration. “I’m afraid I’m not a vintner. It’s a whole other world that requires the best oenologist you can hire. A wine expert doesn’t come cheap, nor a vintner and crew.”
“What do you suppose happened to the records kept by the vintners of this estate?”
“I have no idea. Possibly they’re hiding in one of the tons of boxes holding the contents of the library. You haven’t seen that room yet. It’s in the right wing next to the music room.”
After she finished off her quiche, she asked, “Are the books upstairs with the furniture?”
“They’re in one of the third floor turret rounds.”
She peeled an orange and ate several sections as she digested what he’d told her. “Alex—aren’t you curious about them? About the history of this place?”
He ate some cheese before swallowing the rest of his wine. “Not particularly.”
“Why?” When he didn’t immediately answer her, she felt terrible. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about his family’s past. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.”
Unable to sit there any longer, she jumped up and started clearing the table.
“Leave it, Dana.”
Ignoring his edict, she took everything over to the sink. “I want to make myself useful before I go upstairs.”
“You’re tired then?”
“Yes.” She seized on the opening he’d given her. “You must be, too, considering how early you get up and the exhausting labor you do every day.” She found detergent to wash their plates and glasses.
Her heart skipped a beat when he joined her with a towel to dry them. Soon she had the table wiped off and the kitchen cleaned up. They were both standing at the counter.
“Since one of your jobs is to provide your father with his daily lunch, feel free to fix it here.”
Surprised by the offer, she lifted her head to look at him. “I would never presume on your generosity like that. I’ve already made arrangements with the Hermitage to bring them here. When everyone else breaks for lunch, he likes to stay put and eat alone. I always bring him hotel food when we’re on location.”
He stared at her through veiled eyes. “When I have a perfectly functional kitchen, that’s a lot of needless going back and forth.”
Dana’s attraction to him was eating her alive. “I couldn’t.”
“Not even if I asked you to make lunch for me at the same time?”
Her heart skidded all over the place. “You mean, and bring it out to you while you’re working?”
Something flickered in the dark recesses of his eyes. “It would save me a lot of time and trouble.”
Yes, she could see how a cook would make his life easier so he could get on with his business. In that regard he wasn’t any different from her father.
“I have to admit doing something for you would make me feel a little better about staying on the premises.”
“Good,” he said in a voice of satisfaction. “I’m anxious to clear out the debris from the rest of the orchard as soon as possible.”
“That’s right,” she murmured, trying to disguise her dismay. “You’re in a hurry to leave for Louisiana.” The thought of him not being on his property one day was anathema to her.
She rubbed her palms against her hips in a self-conscious gesture he took in with those dark, all-seeing eyes. “W-what do you like for lunch?” Her voice faltered.
He studied her for a moment. “I’m certain anything you make will be delicious.”
His charm caused her breath to catch. “In the morning I’ll do some grocery shopping when I go into Angers to get the tire repaired.”
“As long as you’re doing that, would you mind buying enough food to cover breakfast and dinner for a week, too? In the end it will save our energy for more important matters.”
Except that her job of making sure her father had his lunch wasn’t on the same scale of doing it for Alex. The thought was preposterous. “You trust me?”
“Let’s just say I’m willing to go on faith.”
Her lips curved upward. “That’s very courageous of you.”
Alex’s eyes glimmered. “Just as long as you don’t simmer pickled pigs feet in wine sauce and tell me it’s chicken, we’ll get along fine.”
Her
