Falling For His Unlikely Cinderella (Escape To Provence 2) - Page 12

Experiencing a pang she shouldn’t be feeling, Cami turned the van to head up the drive. As she passed, one of the men smiled at her with male interest, but no man could compare to the owner who’d already slipped past her defenses to make chaos of her emotions.

After parking around back, she entered the villa and found her coworkers in the kitchen. For their last job, they paired up. Cami and Patrice worked on the downstairs windows inside and out. By one o’clock, every pane in the villa had been cleaned and they were free to go. Madame Gilbert thanked them for their outstanding work before the four of them walked out in back to go home. Patrice and the others left first.

Cami got behind the wheel of her van. She’d brought a lunch, but since they’d finished work early, she would eat after she got home. After finding the keys, she started the engine. But Raoul suddenly appeared, blocking her way. Her heart jumped to her throat.

Shaking, she lowered the window. “I could have run you down!”

Laughter escaped. “I’m a little faster than that.” His chiseled jaw and sensuous smile melted her bones. He came closer. With that black hair and those gleaming black eyes, he looked too marvelous in a navy pullover and khaki chinos.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you without your safety glasses. Has anyone ever told you those eyes are the exact lavender blue color of the flowers popping up in my family’s vineyard?”

Heat surged to her cheeks. “Never, but then I don’t know anyone who’s had an intimate knowledge of your vineyard.”

“You know me.”

Cami couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“Before you go, I’d like you to see the nursery and tell me what you think. The furniture company delivered everything while you were cleaning windows this morning. Do you have time?”

How could she turn him down when he sounded this eager? Cami had to be honest with herself. She’d drawn closer to him so fast, she’d been disappointed to leave without at least seeing him once more to say goodbye.

“After telling me what you’d picked out, I’m curious to see the finished product.”

He seemed happy with her answer and opened the door for her. They walked in the house. Several times their arms brushed, bringing a new awareness of him as they climbed the elegant staircase to the second floor.

“Oh—” she cried when they reached the nursery. She’d never seen a more delightful sight in her life!

The room contained the white furniture he’d talked about including a stand for diapers next to the dresser. There was also an adult rocking chair and a toy box. She spied a collection of toy cars and trucks in a basket with some other toys. Blocks filled another basket.

She loved the blend of the blue walls with white woodwork and white window shutters. A sand-and-ivory rug covered part of the pecan floor. All the wall prints and books in the bookcase added vibrant colors.

Cami chuckled over the French bulldog placed in a child’s rocking chair. On a shelf in the bookcase she saw a blue-and-white toy sailboat.

She smiled at him. “This room is utterly enchanting, Raoul. What little boy in the world wouldn’t want to claim it for his own?”

“I hope he’ll learn to be happy here. I’ve spent part of every day with him since the grape harvest, but he’s never lived with me.”

Why? “To live morning, noon and night with his own papa who loves him? Surely you couldn’t have any doubts.” Yet Cami knew that he did and it tugged at her emotions to feel his vulnerability.

The sweetest sight of all was an exquisite quilt of nursery rhyme characters hanging over the end of the crib. She moved closer to examine it.

Raoul followed. “Alain’s grandmother made several quilts before he was born. The other day she gave me this one for the nursery.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful!”

Cami looked up at him. Where was the boy’s mother? She was dying to know.

“Antoinette died ten days after Alain was born.” Raoul had read her mind after seeing the question in her eyes.

“Oh, no—” Cami put a hand to her heart. “How tragic.” All this time she’d assumed Alain’s mother was still alive somewhere.

“That’s her picture on the dresser.”

She glanced at the propped eight-by-ten framed photograph of a beautiful brunette woman.

His former lover.

“I want him to see her face every day.”

Tags: Rebecca Winters Escape to Provence Romance
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