His Perfect Partner - Laura Martin Mills & Boon Cherish

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suffer by pretending to be dense, and threw Rachel a look of puzzlement that made her want to curl up and die right in front of him, making him almost hate himself. ‘I do not think flattery enters the equation. Oh, I see,’ he added cruelly, ‘you maybe imagined that I had kept some sort of a tab on the place because of old associations?’ There was a cutting smile, the flash of even, white teeth. ‘Sentimentality.’ He arched a dark brow. ‘Never my forte.’

      Rachel placed a hand to her brow. She was having trouble coping with all of this. It was bad enough that she should be losing her home, but even worse to have Jean-Luc by her side, pointing out the awful fact. ‘So…what do you want?’ she asked unsteadily, eyeing him with obvious dislike.

      ‘I can help.’

      Rachel looked into the enigmatic dark eyes. ‘Help me? Are you crazy?’ She inhaled, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. ‘Do you honestly believe that I would want any help of yours?’

      ‘Whether you want it or not—that is immaterial,’ he replied coolly. ‘You need it. You have found debts every which way you turn because of your aunt’s inability to take financial advice, and tomorrow the bank will foreclose. Isn’t that correct?’

      ‘I…I have some money of my own,’ Rachel informed him unsteadily. ‘I’m not wildly rich, but I have some resources to call upon.’

      ‘Enough to retrieve this place from the impatient hands of the bank?’ Jean-Luc shook his head. ‘Stop fooling yourself! You might have scrimped and saved every penny for the past few years, but it would be chicken feed compared to what would be needed to get yourself out of debt and pay for the upkeep of such a large estate.’ He crossed the room towards her, standing close.

      ‘Are you prepared to lose this place just because you’re too stubborn to listen to what I have to say?’ His tone was harsh and full of derision. ‘I can’t believe you’d be that foolish.’

      ‘Believe what you like!’ Rachel replied shakily. ‘After all, I was foolish enough all those years ago to allow a smooth-talking Frenchman to get me into his bed!’

      Silence. The room seemed still suddenly—even the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to suspend its ticking.

      ‘As I recall, we first made love on the grass,’ Jean-Luc replied quietly.

      ‘How dare you?’ Rachel continued shakily. ‘How dare you march in here, telling me that I must listen to you? Just who do you think you are?’

      ‘I know what I was.’

      Rachel gasped as Jean-Luc snaked out a hand to prevent her from flouncing off towards the door. He pulled her close and suddenly it was like six years ago as he looked down into her trembling face, except that this time there was an element of punishment and force in his expression, along with the compelling tension and the supreme sexual vitality which was so much a part of him. ‘This place means something to you. Don’t be a fool and allow old prejudices to cloud your judgement just because we were once—’

      ‘Let me go!’ Rachel struggled free. She didn’t need to be reminded what they had once been to each other. Every nerve end in her body tingled with recollection—with a dreadful and intolerable yearning that had sparked into life the moment she had set eyes on him. ‘You think you can return after all these years and presume to tell me about the way I feel!’ she retorted angrily. ‘You, of all people!’

      ‘I don’t presume—I know,’ Jean-Luc informed her with disconcerting arrogance. So this was how it was going to be, he told himself—acrimonious, bitter. And to think that he had once been fool enough to imagine she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her.

      ‘Now.’ He kept his voice hard. ‘I have come here with a genuine business proposition. Are you prepared to stop acting like a petulant little girl and listen, or do you want to lose everything?’ Dark brows were raised questioningly. ‘Think carefully, Rachel, which is it to be?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      RACHEL wanted to run away. She wanted to scream and cry with anger and frustration—yell at Jean-Luc who was nothing but a cold-hearted, unfeeling swine. He had devastated her life. How dared he come back and open up all the old wounds? How dared he speak to her this way? How dared he?

      But she didn’t move. Instinct told her that he would surely get the better of any scene she chose to make, just as before, just as always. And, besides, to display the way she felt would be to indicate that everything mattered—that he mattered—and that was the last thing she wanted.

      ‘OK.’ Rachel inhaled a steadying breath. ‘Say what you’ve got to say.’

      ‘Not here.’ He dismissed her offer without the slightest hesitation, pulling back his cuff to glance at the watch on his wrist. ‘Not now. I’m already late for another appointment. It will have to be later.’

      ‘How much later?’ Rachel struggled to keep the fury out of her voice. ‘I haven’t got that much time. I have an appointment with the trustees of Aunt Clara’s estate and the bank manager first thing in the morning.’

      ‘We’ll talk this evening—over dinner.’ Jean-Luc surveyed her with a cool expression. ‘Then I will arrange for my accountant and solicitor to meet with your financial advisers so that things can move as swiftly as possible. My car will pick you up at eight.’

      ‘What if I don’t want to have dinner with you?’

      Dark eyes scanned Rachel’s flushed face. ‘It’s part of the deal—besides, that is the only time that I have free.’

      ‘My, my! What a busy person you are!’ Sarcasm hardened Rachel’s voice, and she turned away towards the window.

      ‘Eight o’clock.’ Jean-Luc’s voice was brisk and businesslike. There was a slight pause. Rachel had to summon all her will-power not to turn and look at him at the sound of the drawing-room door being opened. ‘Au revoir.’

      Rachel watched through the window as he walked to his car, her eyes drawn by every inch of his smartly suited figure. A chauffeur opened a rear door and Jean-Luc climbed inside. There must have been a briefcase on the rear seat for she saw him lift a black leather object onto his lap, open it and draw out a sheaf of papers. He was working.

      Was it really as easy as that for him? No time for reflection? Rachel wondered. No need to dwell on the fact that he had seen her again after all this time? Evidently not.

      He was shaking. Jean-Luc stared at his trembling hand and gripped the business report he was holding a little tighter. What had he expected? What, exactly? That she would be pleased to see him? That she might care that he had put aside the pain of the past in order to help her when she needed it most?

      He looked up and saw that Emile was watching him in the rear-view mirror. What would he be making of this? His employer, usually so cool and calculating, so in control.

      Jean-Luc inhaled a calming breath and released it with a vow that he would not allow memories of the past to interfere with the here and now. Foolishly, he hadn’t expected to feel this way, so…disturbed by her. He pictured again the hate in her eyes. Her dismay at seeing him again had been clear.

      The car swung away from the Grange and he caught sight of her at the window, watching him. Blonde and beautiful. How many hours had he spent, convincing himself that he was over her, before he’d decided on this course of action? Jean-Luc’s mouth firmed into a formidable line. Too many.

      Rachel didn’t move for a long while, even when the vehicle was just a dark speck in the distance and the only evidence that he had been with her was the faint scent of his cologne and the thudding of her heart.

      She could scarcely believe that he had been here, that she would have to endure the torture of seeing him again. Rachel held her head in her hands and sobbed as if her heart would break.

      Naomi found her some ten minutes later. The old woman bustled

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