Innocent in His Diamonds (14 page)

Bastien caught her glance. ‘What's wrong?'

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I'll go and freshen up and meet you here in an hour.'

* * *

Bastien finished his calls in half that time but deliberately stayed in his study, even though he wanted to shove back his chair and hunt her down. The confusion that had assailed him in the middle of the night when he'd watched her sleep had returned, intensified, since her stark announcement that morning.

He didn't know what to do with the rush of protectiveness he'd felt when he'd seen her pain. Nor his undeniable need to seek her out in the garden, make sure she was all right.

Destroying the contract had been a no-brainer once he knew.

His jaw tightened. Lily Duval had wronged her daughter on so many levels. His own parents' callous rejection had eroded any thoughts of a family of his own from his mind well before he'd emerged from teenhood. A life of solitude with the occasional liaison suited him fine. But Ana, despite her mother's treatment of her, had forgiven her over and over. Bastien found it hard to grasp that forgiving spirit. But he couldn't deny that he found it humbling...that it forced him to examine his relationship with his parents.

He glanced at the phone, found himself reaching for it. This time he dialled the number even as his senses reeled. He listened to the echoing ring, then the answer machine clicked in.

He cleared his throat. ‘Maman,
c'est moi
, Bastien... I...I'll call back tomorrow.' He dropped the phone and speared a hand through his hair.

What the hell was happening to him? What the hell was he doing, risking rejection all over again?

His every thought seemed to go back to Ana. She was responsible for this madness. For this upheaval in his life. The wisest thing would be to stay away from her.

He surged to his feet, but his intended path to the window veered off course when he heard her voice outside his study. Her fist was poised to knock. Her eyes, devoid of the tears that had slashed at his insides earlier, clashed with his.

‘Our picnic's ready. Do you want me to take it down to the pier?'

Glancing down, he saw the large basket at her feet, but almost immediately his attention was riveted on her legs displayed beneath the skirt of her sundress.

A tremor coursed through him, displacing thought and reason and creating a vivid picture of how those legs had felt wrapped around him.

With more force than necessary he grasped the handle of the basket and yanked it up. ‘It's all right. I'm ready to leave.'

She fell into step beside him. Bastien tried not to inhale her scent greedily.

They walked down to the pier and he saw her surprise when they reached his twenty-foot navy blue cabin cruiser.

‘I thought the boat would be a replica of your big, flashy super-yacht moored in Cannes. Or is that only for seducing the employees you want to fire?'

He slid her a glance. ‘What happened on that boat has only happened once. With you.'

He helped her in and passed her the basket. Their fingers touched and she trembled. Resisting the urge to cancel the trip and sweep her off into his bed, he started the engine and eased away from the pier.

‘Where are we going?' she asked.

‘We're headed upstream to Villeneuve.'

They picked up speed and Ana threw back her head, a wide smile on her face as she enjoyed the rush of the breeze.

Bastien watched her wave to other sailors, unable to take his eyes off her. When she glanced at him the look in her eyes stopped his breath. Forcing himself to concentrate or risk crashing, he pulled the boat into a tiny inlet and pointed to a hill above them.

‘There's a spot just over that rise. We'll have lunch there.'

They reached the top of the hill and she gazed down at the view. ‘It's beautiful,' she said.

‘Indeed,' he agreed.

She turned and Bastien's gaze dropped to her mouth. Relentless desire pounded at him. She swayed as if the force of his need had physically reached out and tugged her to him.

Last night had done nothing to ease his hunger, he admitted grimly to himself. If anything, it had only intensified his yearning for her.

That didn't mean he had to act on it. Turning away, he briskly laid out their lunch, gesturing to her to take her place opposite him.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Ana sank onto the blanket. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?'

‘Grab a plate and dish out the food. The bread should still be warm. I'll cut up some cheese after I pour the wine,' he said.

He filled a crystal glass and passed it to her. Her slim fingers brushed his. He heard her faint gasp and forced himself to ignore it.

‘The weather is much cooler than I imagined it would be at this time of year.'

‘To Genevans this is positively arctic weather.'

‘You're very lucky. I hate being cold.'

‘Then why do you live in London?'

She shrugged. ‘That's where I grew up. But I won't be for much longer.'

‘Archaeology is a huge change.'

She took a bite of her food and chewed before answering. ‘I love a challenge.'

His wry smile confirmed that observation. ‘Most women would give everything to be in your place. And the paparazzi certainly loves you.' He watched her, twirling his wine glass lazily between his fingers.

‘I'm not most women. And I don't court publicity, if that's what you're implying. What I do is part of my job—'

‘It's part of your job to constantly appear in public wearing as little as possible, hanging off the arm of the latest male model?' A dark emotion stormed through his gut and his fingers tightened around his glass.

‘You'd be surprised how often the same pictures are modified and reused. Anyway, how do you know? Have you been checking up on me?'

Bastien felt a dull flush creep across his cheeks. He refused to admit he'd taken more than a little interest in her since she'd become the model for the DBH campaign.

When her eyes collided with his, heat flared within him. ‘I take a healthy interest for professional reasons.'

She laughed. ‘Really? Are you saying a powerful businessman like you doesn't have minions to check things like that for you?' Her voice had grown husky and her head had tilted seductively.

He grew hotter. He took a few bites of food as emotions tumbled through him.

They'd long passed civilised conversation and moved on to the subtext of sex and feelings that seemed inevitably to spring up between them when they were alone. His gaze flicked down to her mouth, her throat, caressed her neck and settled on her chest before climbing back up.

Her tongue snuck out, moistened her plump lips, and right then he would have given anything in the world to taste those lips again.

But he had to end this fevered need that clawed at him every time he looked at her. ‘Don't look at me like that,
ma petite
.'

‘Like what?' she challenged. ‘Help me out here, Bastien. I don't know how this works. You kiss me when you feel like it, touch me, hold my hand. But I can't
look
at you?'

His jaw tightened. ‘You don't just look. You beguile with every sigh, tempt me with every breath.'

Hurt fleeted through her eyes, making him feel deeply unsettled.

‘I'm not deliberately trying to.'

He half laughed, half groaned. ‘I know. That's the problem.'

‘Has it even occurred to you that I react like that because I'm attracted to you?'

Bastien was used to women speaking plainly about what they wanted from him—sometimes explicitly. Ana wasn't one of them. He'd witnessed her struggle before succumbing to the incredible chemistry between them last night. The same way she'd struggled with revealing her painful relationship with her mother.

But the last thing he wanted, or needed, was for her to confuse their sexual encounter with something else. Or, worse, read some deeper meaning into the act. Emotion was messy. Emotion led to heartbreak and rejection.

She cleared her throat. ‘Last night—'

He cut in. ‘Last night was all it can ever be.'

Boldly, she met his gaze. ‘Why?'

‘Because letting temptation and emotion rule my life would make me no better than—' He stopped, shock stabbing him at what he'd almost revealed.

‘Than who? Your father? That was what you were going to say, wasn't it?'

He jerked upright and walked to the crest of the hill, staring down at the lake.

‘Leave it, Ana.' He growled the warning.

‘But I guessed right, didn't I? What are you so afraid of?'

He whirled. ‘Afraid! You think I'm
afraid
?'

‘Well...what, then? You won't let yourself feel, and you snarl at anyone who attempts to get to know you.'

His laugh sounded edgy even to his own ears. ‘You'd prefer me to wear my heart on my sleeve like some paperback hero?'

‘No, but you told me this morning not to be ashamed of my shortcomings. You're letting the sins of your parent shape the way you live your life.'

‘Parents. Plural.' His eyes met hers. ‘What about you? Did you not hang on to your virginity because you didn't want to end up like your mother?'

‘Yes, but I'm not a virgin any more,' she pointed out softly. ‘And I'm trying very hard not to be like my mother.'

The deep conviction in her voice sparked something inside him. Something he realised, to his chagrin, was jealousy. Somewhere between his rescuing her from the courtroom and now she had attained a certain unshakeable confidence that had nothing to do with her poise or profession.

He stared at her, compelled, unable to take his eyes off her as she took another step closer.

‘What happened sixteen years ago was terrible. I was there too, remember? But at least your parents found their way back together and stayed together. You were lucky.'

Harsh laughter erupted from a place of dark, shuddering pain he thought he'd sealed off for ever.

‘Lucky! You call living with a serial adulterer of a father who didn't bother to hide his transgressions from his family and a mother who instead of protecting her son tried to take her own life in the most dramatic way possible,
lucky
?'

CHAPTER TEN

A
NA
STRUGGLED
TO
BREATHE
. ‘What?'

‘You heard me,' he rasped, his voice raw and pain-filled.

‘But I thought... Oh, Bastien, I'm so sorry.' Her chest felt tight, but it had nothing to do with her asthma. All she felt was overwhelming compassion for what Bastien had suffered.

‘Forget 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 the rest of the drink, he returned to his study.

He entered the words into the search engine of his laptop and read through the information that came up. Satisfied he'd found what he needed, he closed the programme, then paused mid-stretch as he heard Ana's voice in the hallway.

He'd lunged towards the door before he'd fully recognised his intentions.

She'd changed into a dark orange shift dress that set off her golden skin so spectacularly he had to shove his hands into his pockets to stop them from reaching for her. Her loose dark hair rippled with vitality, caressed one cheek as she turned. Slim fingers tucked the strands behind her ears, a small smile appearing on her lips when she saw him.

‘Are you hungry?'

She grimaced. ‘Not really. My appetite seems to have taken a hike.'

She started walking towards the library. He fell into step beside her, opened the door and let her precede him, trying not to get too lost in her subtle perfume. Feeling like a geeky teenager caught gawping at the hottest girl in class, he plucked the nearest book from the shelf and cleared his throat.

‘I have something for you. Come.'

She glanced at him, but said nothing as she followed him to his study. A smaller laptop sat next to his large one. He turned it towards her.

‘Sit down,' he said.

Too surprised to protest, she sat. He pressed a button on the small laptop and the screen flickered to life. ‘I'm not sure what your tutor was using before, but I've found a programme to tutor you in basic reading and writing. Do you use a laptop at home?' he asked.

Flushing slightly, she nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘Good.' He guided her through the simple programme until she could manage on her own. Then he handed her the laptop. ‘This one's yours. We'll have a lesson every morning after breakfast. Make no mistake: I will be hard on you if I think you're slacking— Why are you biting your lip?'

‘Because I'm trying to stop myself from crying, you idiot.'

That protective instinct he'd been trying to stave off washed over him when her eyes filled. He found himself crouching before her, cupping her cheek before he could stop himself. Hell, there was no denying it. Ana undid him like no other person on earth.

‘If you're trying to find a way to make me go softer on you, forget it.'

She laughed and the sound suffused his veins with happiness. When she bent her head and a swathe of hair covered part of her face he tucked it behind her ear.

‘Why are you doing this, Bastien?'

He stilled, searched for a flippant answer but failed. ‘Because you're a generous, talented person and you deserve someone in your corner.'

Her beautiful eyes filled again and he cursed under his breath.

‘But on the hill you said—'

‘I shouldn't have ripped into you like that.' His smile felt strained. ‘Truth is, no one has ever dared to examine my baggage so closely. No one has ever been allowed close enough to try. Except you. Hell, I even called my mother today because of your pushing. I'm thinking of heading to Gstaad when the shoot is over. Will you come with me?'

Her eyes lit up. ‘If you want me to.' She reached out and touched his knee. ‘Tell me what happened with her. Please—I want to know,' she implored softly.

Bastien swallowed. That he was even considering sharing any more of his painful past with her surprised the hell out of him.

‘Are you sure? It gets a little messy,' he warned, aware that his voice was huskier than usual.

She pursed her lips and waited.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Do you remember that last day at Verbier? You may have been too young—'

‘I remember.' Her smile was poignant. ‘Your mother turned up out of the blue and demanded to see your father. Lily was screaming vile things at your father...'

He clenched his jaw. ‘And he was busy taking out his anger on my mother. They spoke in French, so you didn't understand, of course. He told her she had no right to be there. That he was done with her pathetic, needy clinging.'

Ana flinched. He smoothed his thumbs down her cheeks.

‘He said was leaving her—divorcing her as soon as they returned to Geneva.'

‘Oh, Bastien...'

He shook his head, a cold, icy hand clamping over his chest where for a long time he'd remained frozen. ‘Here's the kicker. He told her if she intended to fight for me he wouldn't stand in her way. And she...' An old wound, never really healed, split open, throwing him back sixteen years, so that his parents' voices were as clear as if they were in the room with him now, ‘She said if she couldn't have my father then she didn't want me.'

Ana gasped and threw her arms around him. He held her tight, reeling from the remembered rejection even as he acknowledged that the pain he'd felt all these years was considerably less this time around. As if baring his soul to Ana had washed away the rough edges of anguish.

‘Oh, my God, Bastien. I'm so sorry. I had no idea,' she murmured softly.

He finally pulled back, focused on her crouched before him. One hand touched his cheek and he exhaled noisily. She was offering comfort. When had that
ever
happened to him? He'd forged his way through life on his own after that stark double rejection sixteen years ago. And he'd succeeded. Hell, he'd more than succeeded. He'd excelled at everything he'd ever set his mind to.

He glanced into Ana's face, ready to tell her to save her pity for someone else. Tears shone in her eyes.

‘You're crying again.'

‘No child should hear that from anyone—most of all their parent.'

‘You cry for
me
even after all you've suffered?'

His voice sounded strange in his own ears, and that tight band around his chest loosened. Shaken by the feelings rolling over him, he caught a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

‘Maybe I cry for both of us.' Slowly she raised herself up on her knees and kissed his cheek—one, then the other. ‘I'm sorry for both of us.'

Bastien wanted to catch her to him, to hold her tight and never let her go. And that thought above everything else unsettled him, shook him to his core, made him pull away from her.

‘Don't be. It was a lesson well learnt. People use love as a tool to hurt each other. My mother tried to take her own life because she loved my father too much to watch him with another woman. She never once stopped to think of her son or how her actions would affect
him
.'

She rocked back. ‘You think she betrayed you?'

‘No, I don't. In fact I don't think she was thinking about me at all. She was thinking only of herself—obsessed with living in fairytales, searching for that elusive happy-ever-after.'

Clenching her hands in her lap, she swallowed. ‘Love isn't a fairytale.'