His Perfect Partner by Laura Martin

Author:Laura Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘YOU clearly have a gift for organisation.’

‘Thank you.’ Rachel surveyed the good-humoured mêlée on the vast expanse of newly laid lawn. ‘Everything’s gone far better than I could have hoped.’ She took a sip of champagne, leaning back against the low wall that edged the terrace at the rear of the house. It was very warm. She wished she had thought to wear a large-brimmed hat like some of the other female guests to protect her face from the sun. She was beginning to wonder if her face matched her dress.

‘Luncheon was excellent. I’ve congratulated Pierre. He told me you helped to choose the menu.’

‘I offered some suggestions, that’s all,’ Rachel murmured. ‘He’s a marvellous chef. Where did Colin find him?’

‘Actually, he was my choice. He’s worked in France for all of his career. I persuaded him that now was the time for a change.’

‘You’re good at that—persuading people to do as you want.’ It was a statement of fact, pure and simple. Jean-Luc, Rachel noticed, didn’t disagree.

He had chosen to wear a cream linen suit which fitted in perfectly with the summery, celebratory occasion. He looked so handsome, so effortlessly stylish. She noticed the interested looks of the guests as they passed by—the smiles from the women.

‘The jazz quartet are quite a find—they add just the right ambience. And I like the circus acts. I’ve received a great deal of favourable comment.’ He paused, watching as a brightly dressed clown juggled an amazingly diverse quantity of objects a few feet away and a sinewy man with skin like leather—naked, except for an oversized loincloth—bent himself into a variety of positions. Another, ten feet high at least, skirted the periphery on stilts. ‘Quite a bizarre collection.’ He turned and smiled. ‘Your idea?’

‘Yes.’ She tried not to allow the glow of approval in Jean-Luc’s gaze to temper her determination to remain cool and businesslike, but it was difficult. Very difficult. She took another sip of champagne, and realised belatedly that her glass was empty.

‘Another?’

‘Mmm…please. Something less…’ Rachel touched fingers to her heated brow. ‘I’m beginning to feel a bit woozy,’ she admitted, smiling at the hovering waiter. He handed her a tall glass filled with freshly squeezed orange juice, clinking with ice cubes, and she smiled her thanks and drank in silence, her gaze firmly fixed on everyone and everything except Jean-Luc.

After a moment, he reached forward and removed the glass from Rachel’s hands, placing it carefully onto the top of the stone wall beside them.

‘What are you—?’

‘We’re going to dance.’

‘No.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘I really don’t think…No, Jean-Luc. It’s not a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ His eyes were dark and challenging. ‘You’ve danced with just about every other man here. Why not me?’

‘You know why.’

Jean-Luc chose to be dense. ‘No. I don’t think I do. Rachel…’ His eyes were compelling. ‘Lighten up a little. You deserve to let your hair down after such a lot of hard work. All the staff are out here enjoying themselves.’ He held out a hand.

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