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CHAPTER ONE
August 31

ADRENALINE GUSHED THROUGH Nathalie as she sped toward the Fontesquieu vineyards of Vence—queen of the cities of the French Riviera, in her opinion. They stretched eye to eye above the blue Mediterranean, row after row of immaculately tended terroirs with their healthy grape vines dotting the undulating green hills and summits.

The August afternoon sun had ripened the luscious grapes, filling the air with a sweet, fruity smell as she neared the Fontesquieu estate with its enormous seventeenth-century chateau, rumored to contain twenty-two bedrooms. It reminded her of the book My Mother’s Castle, made famous by the French author and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol. He’d been born in Provence too and had written some of her favorite books about his childhood memories.

But the Pagnol family’s quaint little vacation home in Provence couldn’t compare to the one she could see out the window of her trusty old Peugeot. The magnificent chateau had always been closed to the public, but the estate drew artists and tourists from all over the world.

Nathalie couldn’t imagine the wealth of a family like the Fontesquieux. She’d been born in Provence and had passed by the vineyard many times, but she’d never enjoyed its scenery more than this afternoon.

With pounding heart, she followed the signs posted to find the tent set up for people seeking temporary work grape picking. After planning this since her talk with Claire a month ago, the day had come for her to get a job that would last only the three weeks of the grape harvest. In that amount of time, she hoped to find the man who had fathered her nephew, Alain, if he was still there. But as Claire had said, it would take a miracle.

When she reached the nearby mobile home park she’d visited earlier in the week, she parked and walked down the road toward a line of people waiting outside the tent in the distance.

Before entering, a man—probably early twenties—with dark blond hair handed everyone an application to fill out. He also gave them a list of items they would need if they were eventually hired. She put that list in her purse and sat down at a small table to fill out the form before getting in line. He eyed her with obvious male interest before it was her turn to enter the tent.

The line moved slowly until there was only one person in front of her being interviewed. That’s when she saw the man vetting everyone and stifled a gasp. She wished she had a better description of Alain’s father. All she had to go on was that he was a Provencal, which meant dark haired and dark eyed. The man sitting there certainly filled that description, but it could be a coincidence. Was it possible she’d found him?

The breathtaking, late-twenties-looking male could easily be the heartthrob Antoinette had fallen for! Her darling stepsister’s now sixteen-month-old child possessed this man’s square chin and black hair. He had the same type of build and olive skin.

Thousands of Frenchmen claimed those same qualifications, but this one’s piercing black eyes had a distinct look that reminded her so much of her little nephew, Nathalie was astonished. To think, it might be Alain’s father sitting there not ten feet away interviewing would-be grape pickers. By applying for this job, she could have found him!

According to one of the people in line, hundreds of workers had already been hired during the week. Today represented the last group seeking temporary employment.

“Prochain?” he said in a deep voice that reached her insides.

Nathalie’s heartbeat sped up as she realized she was next in line and needed to follow through. She moved forward to sit opposite him on a chair beneath the tent. The heat of the sun had made the interior uncomfortably warm.

Though he was seated, she could tell he was a tall man, lean in that appealing masculine way. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves pushed to the elbows and as he took the application from her, she noticed a small, pale, café-au-lait birthmark on his underarm beneath the elbow. She had to stifle another gasp because the back of Alain’s right calf had the same birthmark.

Maybe it was a coincidence. Millions of people had them, but this was just one more bit of evidence to convince her he could be Alain’s father.

Nathalie noticed that he wore a watch and no rings, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. His nails were immaculate. When he looked up, their eyes met and her breath caught.

Heat crept into her cheeks as she got lost in his intense gaze. They were both taking measure of each other while she waited for him to say something. He couldn’t have recognized her as Antoinette’s stepsister. Nathalie was a blonde. Her stepsister had been a brunette. They came from different sets of parents with different last names.

His virile male beauty stunned her. Her stepsister, who’d been two years older than Nathalie, would have taken one look at him and that would have been it! How well Nathalie understood the instant attraction. She couldn’t look away.

He continued to study her features. “Mademoiselle Fournier? I see here you’ve had no experience as a vendangeuse.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know that was a prerequisite.”

“It’s not, but it’s hard labor, seasonal, and the pay isn’t that great. Why would a pharmacist from La Gaude apply to do entry-level work like this?” La Gaude, France, was a town a fifteen-minute drive from Vence along the Côte d’Azur, the playground of the world’s rich and famous.

She felt those black all-seeing eyes travel over her with a thoroughness that caused her to tremble, and she looked down. He was so gorgeous she was in danger of forgetting why she’d come. For her little nephew’s sake, it was vital Nathalie pull this off. She needed to think fast.

“I’ve lived in Provence all my life and thought that for once I’d use my vacation time to find out what it’s like to work in a vineyard as world renowned as this one.”

On their website she’d seen one photo of the Duc Armand de Fontesquieu, the gray-haired, eighty-year-old patriarch and CEO. She’d seen no other pictures and realized they had to be a very private family.

Though many vineyards used machinery, some vintners—like the vastly wealthy Fontesquieu family with their many terroirs—also hired pickers called coupeurs, plus collectors and sorters for the grape harvest vendange. It lasted for the first three weeks of September. She’d done her homework.

After a slight pause, he spoke. “You do realize that we have no accommodations for you here.”

She raised her eyes to him again. With that comment, she sensed he didn’t believe her reason for wanting the temporary work.

Though it was this man’s job to vet would-be workers, she sensed he had reservations about her. Obviously the “no previous vineyard work” written on the form bothered him. Naturally anyone could apply for grape picking, but their vineyard would welcome those with experience.

“Yes. That’s why I’ve rented a mobile home at the park down the road from here.” Actually she’d come two days ago to put a hold on one until she knew the outcome of this interview.

He gave her a level stare. “Keep in mind you’ll have an hour for lunch and quit at four thirty. If you’re still interested in working here by Monday morning, report to the tent at six o’clock and the assistant vineyard manager will let you know if you’ve been hired.”

It was all up to this man who would have the weekend to check out her references. He spoke with authority. There was an aura of sophistication about him that let her know he had a position of importance at Fontesquieux and had likely worked here long enough to have met Antoinette at the bistro.

“Merci, monsieur.” She got up, aware of him watching her as she walked past the people standing in line, and left the tent. The younger man outside giving out applications flashed her a smile, but she looked away and headed for her car, not wanting to encourage him.

When she got behind the wheel, she was still feeling shaky from all the sensations bombarding her. It might be a long shot, but now that she suspected she’d met the man who could be Alain’s father, she’d do everything possible to get to know him. When she sensed it was the right moment, she’d show him photos of Antoinette and Alain, including the birthmark. If he was the father, she couldn’t imagine him not wanting to see his child.

Of course, if she didn’t get hired, then she needed to find innovative ways to cross paths with him, starting tonight. She planned to seek out dinner at the bistro Claire had told her about. Maybe he’d be there... Just imagining his handsome features left her breathless.

Having finished the interviews, Dominic Laurent Fontesquieu stopped in the midst of fastening his briefcase full of applications. He couldn’t resist taking another look at the Fournier application.

The woman with translucent green eyes and natural silvery blond hair had robbed him of breath. Her deportment and stunning beauty had captivated him. As Dominic studied the particulars on her application, her image swam before him again.

Age: twenty-seven.

Home address: La Gaude.

Cell phone...

Email address...

Employed full time at La Metropole Pharmacy.

Driver’s license.

Own car.

Bank account.

Covered by social insurance.

Degree in pharmacology from Sophie Antipolis University in Nice.

No experience picking grapes.

He tapped the paper against his jaw. What was missing here? Only everything else about her life that might answer the question of what prompted her to apply for this temporary work.

This mysterious, gorgeous, educated woman suddenly appears at the vineyard out of nowhere, wanting to know what it’s like to help with the harvest for a few weeks?

Dominic didn’t buy it for a second. He put the application in the briefcase with the others before leaving the tent, unable to get her off his mind. He was so attracted to her, it shocked him.

Vetting would-be workers was one of his brother Etienne’s jobs as director of the vineyard so he usually oversaw the vendange hiring. But he’d been struck down by a nasty flu bug for the better part of a week and their grandfather Armand had rung Dominic’s apartment in the south wing of the chateau and demanded that he fill in for his brother.

Little had Dominic known that the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on in his life would be among the applicants. He’d wanted to catch up with her after she’d left and take her to dinner to get to know her better. But that had been impossible when other people needed to be interviewed.

Frustrated, he headed for his office in a building on the estate behind the chateau. He left the applications for his assistant, Theo, to deal with until Etienne recovered and drove the short distance to the chateau. Once he reached his apartment, he took a quick shower to cool off.

Until today he’d never found a woman whose looks turned him inside out in just one short meeting. In fact he’d doubted if such a woman even existed. But this afternoon, a pair of translucent green eyes had caught him completely off guard.

Throughout the eleven years he’d been away from home in Paris, he’d enjoyed several intimate relationships with beautiful women. But he’d never experienced this instant, intense, earthy kind of attraction to a woman, not even when he’d been a teenager. And he sure as hell hadn’t seen a woman like her show up for work at the vineyard before.

After putting on a robe, he went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. While he ate, he phoned Etienne with an update and told him not to worry, Dominic would continue to cover for him and told him to get better. After hanging up, he needed a distraction. He turned on the TV to watch the news, but nothing helped get his mind off Nathalie Fournier.

She was on some kind of mission. He was certain of it. Though a pharmacist, maybe she had an ambitious streak and did freelancing undercover for a newspaper or a wine industry magazine to make extra money.

He wished his cousin Raoul was home so they could talk. They were closer than brothers and always confided in each other. But Raoul and his father, Matthieu, the comptroller of the company, were in Saint Tropez at a vintners’ conference and they wouldn’t be back until Sunday night.

Any conversation would have to wait until Monday. And then what, Dominic?

Maybe some politician was paying a lot of money for her to get an exclusive on the vineyard. Was it hoped that her digging would turn up something she could expose concerning the migrants who worked at the Fontesquieu vineyard? No one would suspect her under the guise of a pharmacist, of all things.

He supposed anything was possible and didn’t like what he was thinking. Half a dozen ideas of what she might be up to percolated in his mind, as his domineering grandfather was always guarding against trespassers.

Dominic’s thoughts turned to his autocratic grandfather who’d been born with a divine right of kings syndrome. He felt a bleak expression cross over his features. The austere man’s dictatorial personality had forced the whole family to live under his thumb. He’d forced arranged marriages for all his six sons and daughters, and insisted they all live and work together at the massive chateau, determined to keep it all in the family.

Armand had screwed up more lives than Dominic dared count. Under his tutelage, Dominic’s own father and mother, Gaston and Vivienne, had put unbearable pressure on him and his siblings to marry certain moneyed, elite people they’d picked out for them. At eighteen, Dominic had refused to be told what to do.

No one in the family—including his parents—had had a good or happy marriage, souring Dominic’s taste for the institution. Early on he’d made up his mind to study business and carve out his own future. It had been imperative he get away from the family dynamics to survive. His dreams had gone far beyond being a vintner and he’d left home for Paris under the threat of being disinherited, but he hadn’t cared.

He’d begged his brother to go with him, but Etienne had held back, too unsure to challenge their father and grandfather. Their older sister, Quinette, had already been married off.

Ultimately, Etienne stayed and Dominic had left alone, putting himself through college. After graduation he’d studied investment banking in Paris and, in time, he’d worked for a firm there where he’d made a considerable fortune in investments, coming home only for vacations and various events.

He would have stayed there permanently, but four months ago he’d received a frantic call from his mother that his father was seriously ill with pneumonia and might die. Dominic had intended to return to Vence only temporarily but his grandfather immediately insisted Dominic take over his father’s position as funds manager while the older man was ill.

Still hesitant to remain in Vence, it was Raoul, now vice president in charge of marketing and sales for the Fontesquieu Corporation, who’d been the one to beg Dominic to take the job and not go back to Paris.

The two of them had been best friends growing up, always watching out for one another. Over the years they’d always stayed in touch, Raoul visiting Paris when he could. In the end, Dominic hadn’t been able to refuse Raoul and so had stayed on while his father was recovering.

He was no fool though. Ever since his return, he’d known his grandfather had an ulterior motive in wanting Dominic to take over the management of funds. Because of a bad year of frost and rain two years ago, the vineyards in France had suffered severe financial losses and even their family had been impacted despite their assets in other businesses.

Dominic knew his father and grandfather were plotting for him to marry Corinne Herlot, who’d bring the fabulous Herlot industrial fortune with her. She’d been at several family parties, but he could never be interested and had planned to leave for Paris by the time the harvest was over.

At least that was what he’d intended until today when Nathalie Fournier had appeared. Now there was no way in this world could he leave yet...

Nathalie could hear the sound of jazz outside the swinging doors of what turned out to be the Guinguet bistro. There were people going in and out, enjoying the balmy Friday night air with its hint of fruit from the vineyards. She could well understand the lure this atmosphere had held for her stepsister.

Easing past couples, Nathalie walked inside the crowded establishment filled with small round tables and people slow dancing to the music. In the romantic atmosphere, she realized she hadn’t had a date since breaking up with Guy three months ago.

It had hurt that he wouldn’t want to take on anyone else’s child, whether it was Alain or a child they might adopt after marriage. She couldn’t imagine a childless union, but knew that adoption wasn’t an option for everyone. She’d hoped Guy would be open to it but he couldn’t have made his feelings against it clearer.

She’d learned of her condition at the age of twenty. Nathalie had ovulated only once by then. That was seven years ago. Since that time, she’d ovulated only twice. After what had happened with Guy, her natural worry was that any man she would meet in the future might have reservations about adoption, but she couldn’t think about that now. Nathalie knew it had been the right decision to stop seeing Guy and didn’t regret it.

Her mind kept going over what had happened to Antoinette. Her stepsister had fallen madly in love with a man she’d met in this very bistro. She’d loved him so much she’d had his baby.

Today Nathalie felt certain she’d met her stepsister’s lover inside that tent. One look at him and she’d understood the chemistry. Love at first sight, sweeping Antoinette away. But clearly the fire had been only on her stepsister’s part because he’d disappeared on her.

He couldn’t have known he’d left her pregnant, could he? After meeting him, Nathalie knew he was the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted. Antoinette had likely been a dalliance for a month, then nothing more.

Now that Nathalie had met him, she feared that if he was Alain’s father, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a baby he hadn’t intended to sire. Nathalie was beginning to think this had been a terrible idea and she should leave this whole thing alone. Alain had a surfeit of love from her and his grandmother. That would have to be enough.

“Mademoiselle?”

A man’s voice caused Nathalie to turn around. She’d been admiring some of the paintings of the Fontesquieu chateau and gardens adorning the walls.

“Perhaps you remember me?”

She blinked. “Yes. You were the man handing out applications earlier today.”

“That’s right. When I saw you walk in alone just now, I thought I’d say hello and offer to buy you a drink. My table is right here.”

This was probably how it had happened for Antoinette. Her lover had approached her in exactly the same way. Nathalie had to do some fast thinking. If she accepted the invite, she could at least learn the name of the man who had interviewed her. But she wasn’t attracted to this man and didn’t want him to misunderstand.

“Thank you, but I only came in to look around.”

“You can do that right here.” He pulled out a bistro chair for her so she would sit down. Then he took the other seat. “Have you been in here before?”

“Never.”

“My name is Paul Cortier, by the way.”

“I’m Nathalie Fournier.”

“Eh, bien, Nathalie, please allow me to order you the specialty of the house, although you may not like it. Guinguet is an acquired taste.”

“Guinguet? Like the name of the bistro?”

“C’est exacte.” He signaled for a waiter who took their order. “The word comes from the guinguettes that were popular drinking places on the outskirts of Paris years ago. They served local sour white wine, a tradition this bistro keeps up.”

“Who makes the sour white wine here?”

“The Fontesquieu Vineyards.”

“Of course. Your employer.”

“That’s right. They make enough of it to keep the owner here in business.”

“Even though their grapes are red?”

Paul chuckled. “There are lots of secrets about red grapes I’d be happy to explain to you on another occasion. Perhaps on a tour of the winery itself? I’d be happy to arrange to show you personally.”