EXCERPT

“Can I speak with Jean-Pierre LaClaire?” Wade asked as he sat in his well-worn leather recliner in the great room of the house he’d helped build. This was his favorite room. Everything about it from the hand-picked leather furniture to the braided rug made by his great-grandmother to the framed photos on the mantel comforted him. Today he needed all the comfort he could get. His world had been knocked off kilter only a couple of hours ago at the reading of his father’s will.

He heard the jostling over the line as it took several seconds for the phone to be handed from one person to another. Finally a woman answered, “He is busy. Perhaps I can help you.”

The French-accented voice had sounded stressed, but feminine, almost melodic, even though she’d basically snapped at him. He was intrigued and annoyed at the same time. “I really need to talk to Mr. LaClaire.”

She huffed in clear frustration and yelled to someone evidently not close to her. “Get Papa! The man appears insistent on speaking with him.” A second later she grumbled, “Dammit!” and then promptly repeated what she’d yelled out only in French this time. At least he assumed she’d repeated the same thing.

Then she came back to him. “Are you sure I cannot help you? He really did not want to be disturbed right now.”

“Are you Aimee LaClaire?” Wade was trying to envision the blond-haired, gangly eight-year-old he’d seen a photograph of this afternoon as a grown up woman. She would be around twenty-six now, six years younger than him.

“What if I am?” she countered warily.

“I’m your cousin.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair that could stand a good cut. “Unless you didn’t know about me either.”

“Ah, the American cowboy. Wade Robertson.”

So she did know about him, and probably about his relationship with her family. It seriously pissed him off to be the last to know about this whole messy business. What the hell had his dad been thinking? Keeping something this big, this important a secret all these years?

While he was still somewhat lost in his irritation with the situation, she spouted off a long strand of French words to someone who must have entered whatever room she was in. And she didn’t sound happy.

The phone jostled again as an older man said curtly in a mixed bag of French and English, “You are in need of une fessee, daughter.”

Then Wade heard a sharp slap, which sure sounded like a hand connecting with flesh. He must have heard wrong.

“Papa, no!” The protest was followed by a rapid fire of French protests.

Wade found himself listening to an obvious family spat thousands of miles away. He should probably hang up and call back later, but it had been difficult to get through this time. He decided to wait the situation out.

 “La minute,” said the man Wade now assumed to be his “new” uncle. Jean-Pierre went back to what should have been a private conversation. “Sassy ever since you came home. Sleeping late, not helping out. Now rude on the phone. Definitely in need of une fessee.”

“You cannot spank me, Papa. I am too old,” Aimee hissed loud enough that Wade heard. Then he heard the stomping of feet as she apparently walked away.

Wade had to smile at that, thinking she sure sounded in need of a bottom warming. A woman’s age didn’t make a difference, in his opinion.

Evidently it didn’t matter to Jean-Pierre either. “Oh, but I can and I will.”

Interesting new family Wade had just gained. But before he could think anymore about that his uncle came back on the line. “You will come here, oui? We’ve much to discuss.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard for me to get away. I’m a rancher and—“

“I know all this. Still, we must talk. Soon.”

Wade was trying to sort out all of what currently needed his attention at the ranch, what he could pass on to his trusted foreman, Pete. Maybe if …  Next month, possibly. June would be better. Yes, next month.

“Next week. We’ll expect you here at Chateau de LaClaire early next week.” More phone jostling as his uncle appeared to be distracted by another person who had approached him. “I must go. Guests are arriving and I must deal with them. My impossible daughter has disappeared, of course.”

The line went dead and Wade sat there blinking in surprise. Next week? Things did need to be talked out, in particular this half interest in the chateau he’d just learned that he’d inherited. And he was mighty curious about these new relatives of his. French. He still found it damn hard to believe he was half French. Hell of a chunk of news to swallow. Yep, his whole damn life had been turned upside down.

******

His gaze had shifted and stopped at the low neckline of her spaghetti-strapped cami. She wore such body-hugging tops all the time, but suddenly she felt seriously exposed. Her traitorous breasts appreciated his heated examination and her nipples pebbled. She snapped, “Totally inappropriate, the way you’re looking at me. I’m your cousin.”

His smile faded, not the intensity of his look, though. “Not by blood.”

Aimee blinked at the huskiness in his tone, at the blunt truth in what he’d said. Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t like you,” she lied out of desperation. “You’re…you’re… Well, I just don’t like you.”

That hint of amusement danced again in his eyes. “Because…” he prompted.

Because you make me want to do something outrageous, like kiss you, like run my hands over your chest and see just how muscled you really are. Because I’ve never been this attracted to a man before and I don’t want to be attracted to you.

“I make you uncomfortable, don’t I? You think I’m threatening your world, don’t you?”

She latched onto that line of thinking. “Yes! You don’t belong here. You didn’t have to come. You should have refused and just handled the business details of selling your share of the chateau via mail.”

He leaned against the wall, crossed his boots and looked more serious now. “I don’t handle business dealings that way. Admittedly, this wasn’t the ideal time for me to leave the ranch, but your father insisted.” He glanced around the immediate area and then focused on her again. “I was curious about the family I never knew about.” He waited a second before adding, “And I haven’t made a definite decision about selling my share.”

“Of course you’re going to sell,” she protested, narrowing her eyes. Or did she really want him to do that? If he sold his share to her father, well, then she would be back to one day dealing with the problem of her having to take over or sell the chateau and vineyard. It seemed that any decision he would make would cause her a problem.

“No ‘of course’ to it.”

He’d gone back to sneaking peeks at her cleavage; her nipples hardened again. “Would you stop that!”

“Can’t blame a man for noticing what you’re basically flaunting in front of him.”

She bristled more annoyed now with his focus on her personally than on discussing the chateau. “A gentleman wouldn’t just stare. He wouldn’t be so blunt.”

“A lady wouldn’t flash her breasts so boldly.”

“Are you saying I’m not a lady?!” She stepped toward him, fury simmering off her in waves.

He rubbed his jaw and studied her, eyes sparkling in challenge. “Let me think. You come driving recklessly onto a gravel parking lot, dinging the paint on that fine car of yours. You sass your father, getting a hand smacked to your butt. You dress in a way that displays all your fine assets.”

She stiffened.

 “No, I’d have to say you’re more of a spoiled brat than a lady.”