But the sight of her clothes flung haphazardly on the floor brought another wave of heat to her cheeks, warming her clear through. She paused long enough to gather them up and put them on a chair before going into the bathroom.
She flicked on the light, but nothing happened. Still no power. Forget hot coffee.
Her eyes darted to his yellow toweling robe. It hung from a hook on the door. She buried her face in the fabric where she could smell the scent of the soap he used.
After her shower, she put it on, loving the feel of something he wore all the time wrapped around her body.
She cinched in the belt at the waist, then reached for a striped towel and dried her hair as best she could.
Later she would blow-dry it, but right now she was ravenous and left the bathroom for the kitchen. Maybe there was another quiche left to go with one of those delicious pears.
The first thing she saw sitting on the counter was her bottle of wine, a wineglass and a half quiche lying on a plate. He’d left another note.
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou…
Forgive me for stealing half the loaf. As you’ve found out, I’m a man with several appetites. You’re at the top of my list.
Luc.
She smiled and trembled at the same time in anticipation of his arrival. How she loved him!
This was better than breakfast in bed. This was Luc, so wonderful, so unique in every way. No man compared to him.
Delighted by the love feast he’d placed before her, she poured herself a little wine. It wasn’t just any wine.
This came from the Tokay grapes grown in his vineyard, nurtured with all the love and concern of a parent for his child.
Between bites of quiche, she took swallows of the hand-crafted elixir created by a master. As its warmth spread through her body, she could imagine it was Luc’s hands caressing her, making her aware of her womanhood in a way only he could do. There was no heat like it.
She felt sorry for every woman who’d never been loved by a man like him.
Just thinking about him made her heart thud wildly. That was his effect on her and always would be.
Always.
She had plans for them.
Dreams…
In the midst of her reverie, she thought she heard footsteps coming from the foyer. She spun around and called out Luc’s name in a voice of pure joy.
“Non. It is not Luc,” said the slim older woman who’d entered the kitchen carrying a covered basket. She had to be five feet seven, Rachel’s height.
She didn’t know who was more surprised as the two appraised each other for what seemed like minutes. The other woman had spoken English in the same heavy French accent as Luc.
Her brown hair was cut short and stylishly. She wore a small silver crucifix around her neck. The top of her outfit reminded Rachel of an artist’s smock. It was chic and suited her.
“I’m his mother, Ma
dame Chartier.”
Rachel reeled.
His mother?
With all the confidence of a parent who felt as at home in her son’s house as her own, she put the basket on the counter near the wine bottle and plate.
Rachel didn’t know if his mother had been able to read the contents of the note before she’d turned to her. “And you are…”