Boisterous laughter and lively music filled the lounge at the St. Tropez yacht club. The room was packed with groups of people, their animated discussions drowning the sound of the background music. The mood was festive, while anxious servers ran around in their efforts to fill the glasses of the thirsty crowd. A journalist and her photographer prowled amongst the throng, eager to interview the class winners and shoot a photo of them brandishing their trophies.
Rachel tried her cocktail, and, finding it to her taste, sat back in her chair, crossing her legs. After the excitement and the demands of the day competing in the strong winds, she’d happily returned to her hotel room where she enjoyed a long, hot bath. She returned to the festivities at the yacht club refreshed, and was now enjoying the jovial camaraderie of the people with whom she had shared today’s tough racing.
Her eyes drifted to where Alain stood, one shoulder leaning against a pillar on the far side of the room, deep in casual conversation with the skipper of the yacht that had chased them hard all day long. His arms crossed lightly over his chest, he was relaxed and confident.
She had noticed Alain surreptitiously watching her every move on the yacht today. Was he judging her? Testing her, to see if she passed the grade? Did he doubt her ability as a crewmember? She hated the idea of him judging her capabilities, and remembered with satisfaction the words of congratulations from Marque and the other crew when they finally docked in the harbor after the race.
At that moment, the female journalist interrupted Alain’s discussion with the skipper, and Rachel’s mouth tightened when the reporter placed her hand possessively on Alain’s forearm and started interviewing him.
Rachel flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned her back on Alain to participate in the discussion at their table. Marque had the group in stitches with his dry recounting of the story about the club’s commodore and his secret mistress. Apparently, his yacht Tres Bonne was frequently used for adventures other than the ocean-going type.
• • •
Alain cut the interview with the journalist short and returned to their table. He was delighted and secretly a little relieved to see Rachel had joined them for the rest of the evening.
He took a seat at their table and studied her across the short distance. She looked remarkably invigorated, her skin glowing, sun-kissed from the day on the open ocean. The silk strapless dress she wore complemented the sensual lines of her body. A single, brilliant cut, white diamond pendant hung on a delicate chain from her neck, the glittering brilliance of the stone inviting his attention to the slight cleavage of her breasts. She reached for her drink, took a small sip from the glass, and turned her gaze to meet Alain’s burning eyes on her.
A light jolt passed through him as they locked eyes across the table. He tried to read her emotions, but she held his gaze without giving away anything. He resisted the sudden urge to reach for her hand on the table.
“You did well today.”
She accepted his compliment with a nod and raised her glass to him. “Ditto,” she replied and sat back.
“Can we go for a walk?”
Rachel held his gaze for a long moment, and then, without a word, they both stood. They left the warm, merry atmosphere of laughter, music, and clinking glasses, and stepped out into the fresh night air, the strong smell of the sea blown in from the Mediterranean by a light wind.
In a comfortable silence, they started walking, heading toward the pier. Rachel turned her face to the ocean and the soft, cool wind briefly lifted her hair before it fell back onto her shoulders again. Alain paused and cleared his throat.
“Rachel, I want us to start over.” His was voice low and sure.
Rachel looked up, but he struggled to read her emotions. His eyes searched her face, waiting for her response. The wind ruffled his hair, and a loose twist fell over his forehead. He brushed it away with his right hand and stepped closer.
“Why?” she asked, the simple question causing him to pause, his jaw clenched. He was facing a crucial juncture with that question and thought about all the ways to answer it. His mind raced in search of the right answer. He briefly imagined what it would be like to leave her tonight and never see her again, and a crushing feeling suffocated him.
Running his hand through his hair, Alain continued, “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you Rachel, and … ” he said with sudden realization, the sincerity thick in his voice. He paused, a little surprised by the frankness of his response.
“And I miss you when I’m not with you,” he continued, staring down into the pools of her eyes, the urge to put his arms around her and hug her tight to his chest suddenly overwhelming.
“That evening in Monaco,” he continued, haltingly, “I overreacted — have some issues from my past … ”
“I know. Let’s forget about it. Eugene told me about your mother.”
Alain narrowed his eyes at her words. She had apparently earned Eugene’s trust. How can I win her trust? Rachel turned to continue their walk.
Alain gently touched her elbow, urging her to stay. “There’s more.”
“I never wanted this to happen — but I’ve fallen in love with a married woman. I just want to be with you. I’ve felt this way ever since we met, and I don’t — ”
“Was married.”
“I don’t want … ” Alain stopped mid-sentence at the shock of the words she had just whispered.
“Was married? But you told me — ”
“I was married at the time. But you stormed from my room like a mad man. No buts, ifs, or ands, remember?” She smiled, but he noticed the hurt of the memory in her eyes.
Alain’s arms dropped heavy and lifeless to his side. He exhaled long and slowly.
“When we met in Monaco, I had been separated for almost three years. My divorce was finalized shortly after I returned to London,” she explained. “He disappeared into Africa, so it took a while to get divorced,” she added, shrugging matter-of-factly.
Alain watched her in stunned silence. He gathered himself and with a slight edge in his voice implored, “Why, in all this time, haven’t you told me?”
Rachel inhaled deeply. “At first I was angry — you were arrogant and judgmental.”
Alain searched her face, and then asked, “And then, after that, when you figured out the reason for my behavior — why did you not tell me then?”
She turned to face the harbor, and replied, her eyes searching the far horizon, “I tried, Alain … after Cassis. But you were not interested … so cold. I couldn’t deal with your rejection.”
“I had to — I had to find a way to control my emotions,” he replied.
“I wanted to tell you … tell you about my divorce, and that Stuart has not been part of my life for so long — ” she added softly.
“Stuart is the father of the twins?” Alain asked gently.
“Yes, but fatherhood didn’t suit him. He left us when they were six weeks old.”
“Why?” This time the simple question came from Alain, and she didn’t back away from his hand gently touching her shoulder.
“When we were young, love was easy. We had a carefree life. Then injury put an end to his tennis career. At the time the twins were born he was trying a new career. I guess he panicked — maybe the responsibilities brought on by the twins — I don’t know … ”
Alain watched while Rachel recounted the painful memories of her short marriage, strangely relieved at the absence of sadness or bitterness in her voice. She had put it behind her.
“And you’ve been raising the twins on your own since then?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“Yes, and I would not want to change that for anything.”
“Never?”
“No,” she said, brushing a wisp of hair from her face. “What I meant was that raising them on my own has been a good thing. I think they have been better off without Stuart. I don’t want them hurt.”
“And Stuart, does he not want to know them?”
“He made that decision long ago. He never bonded with Iain and Mia, and I was a fool for not understanding. To him, the twins were just a burden.” Then, in a low voice, her eyes burning fiercely, she continued, “To me, they are everything.”
Alain nodded. “I understand, but would you allow me to show you how I feel … trust me to be part of your life?”
Rachel studied his face in silence, a serious little frown on her forehead.
“Alain, is that really what you want? I’m the mother of two kids who mean the world to me. Our relationship thus far has been an emotional rollercoaster. I don’t want to be hurt again.” She dropped her gaze. “You’re a carefree, attractive, single man. There are many other women you could pick that would suit your lifestyle much better.” In a matter-of-fact voice she continued, “I don’t think we should take this further.”
Her words stung like hell. He wanted to correct her, but she turned and started walking down the pier toward her hotel.
“I will not give up — she’s mine,” he muttered softly, and with a few long strides, he fell in next to Rachel. They were silent until they reached her hotel.
“You’re cold?” he asked, but she just shook her head. Alain removed his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders.
The streets were quiet at that late hour in the sleepy part of the town. Rachel stood on the first step to the stairs leading up to the hotel entrance, her head level with Alain. He looked up to the building, shook his head, and smiled knowingly.
“Probably not a good thing if I walk you to your room. Remember what happened last time?” Embarrassment flushed briefly to her cheeks, but she said nothing.
“Rachel, you don’t understand.” Alain stepped closer. “I’ve made up my mind. I want you in my life — I need you in my life.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “And that includes Iain and Mia — give me an opportunity to show you.”
• • •
A light charge rippled through her at his touch. She inhaled the sensual, manly smell of his warm body. Alain’s burning eyes scanned her face for any signs of her emotions, but Rachel dropped her gaze to shield the deep, hidden need slowly awakening in her. She was betrayed by the slight shudder of her hands resting lightly on Alain’s biceps.
His hand touched the skin of her cheek, and then, slowly, he raised her head with a tender finger under her chin to meet his gaze. She lifted her eyes to his, and she froze, catching her breath at the intensity of his eyes.
He pulled her closer, wrapping strong arms around her, and Rachel leaned her head on his chest. She closed her eyes at the warmth of his body, listening to the strong beat of his heart.
“Alain — ”
“Ssshhh … .let me show you how we’ll take this further.” He silenced her gently and lowered his head, his lips stroking her forehead tenderly. She looked up at him and his mouth found hers, his tongue probing softly. A hushed sigh escaped her. Tension dissipated from her body as Rachel relaxed, and she leaned back in his arms, enjoying the soft touch of Alain’s hand on her throat. His tongue skimmed the inside of her warm mouth, flicking over her teeth.
A soft moan came from her when he pulled her closer, and her breasts hardened. With more urgency, his tongue swirled in her mouth, warm and smooth, searching for more, and she gasped, dizzy from lack of air.
The world spun uncontrollably as he pressed his hard torso against her, his arousal strong and warm against her thigh. Her eyelids fluttered helplessly, painting flashes of hot red and white, and she grabbed a fistful of his black hair to steady herself. She shifted her lower body, grinding into Alain, the hot closeness of his sex driving her to bite on his lower lip.
Alain sucked in his breath at the unexpected pain, and with his right hand grabbed Rachel’s upper thigh and pulled her upwards into him. Her body arched, and her head flopped back, leaving him to explore her neck, nibbling softly on her skin. His jacket slid from her shoulders to the ground. Shivers of pleasure rippled in waves down her body and she groaned again, this time with more passion.
The sound of the bell in the clock tower exploded above them, loudly ringing once. Rachel’s eyes shocked wide open and she breathed in sharply, letting her hand slide down Alain’s back and stepping out of his embrace.
“It’s late.” Her voice was shaky and heavy with lust. “You’d better go.”
“You’re killing me here, Rachel,” Alain replied hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he demanded, “When can I see you again?”
She picked up Alain’s forgotten jacket from the stone steps and held it out to him. “Well, you’re driving me back tomorrow morning, aren’t you? And you always know where to find me on Monday,” she added with a playful smile and stepped back slowly as she started making her way up the stairs to the hotel entrance.
“No — you know what I mean.” He groaned deeply.
Rachel looked down at the magnificent being standing at the foot of the stairs, jacket draped casually over his shoulder, wearing an inviting smile.
“Want to come for dinner?” she challenged him.
“Yes … ” he responded quickly, and then suggested carefully, “ … then I can also spend time with the kids.”
“You’ll have to be there early then,” she warned him, almost at the top of the stairs.
“Won’t miss it for anything in the world.”
“Tomorrow evening, six o’clock.”
Alain smiled brightly, turned and headed back in the direction of the yacht harbor.