Chapter 2
2
Despite intense scrutiny, Laura could find no fault in the full-length reflection in the mirror on the back of her hotel room door.
She had bought a new dress for this occasion.
The plunging, sweetheart neckline was framed by two wide straps that almost formed sleeves because they somehow managed to hang at the very edge of her shoulders. The rest of her dress clung to her figure and finished just above the knee.
It was black.
It was, ironically, a French dress she had found in a Glaswegian boutique.
A necklace would have detracted from the way the design put the focus on her shoulders and collarbone, so Laura simply put her hair up into a neat chignon and wore long, silver drop earrings that had crystals sparkling like tiny leaves on a vine.
Even her make-up was flawless tonight. Had she, in fact, found the holy grail of freckle disguise in her new high-end mineral foundation?
The black stiletto shoes were the perfect finishing touch.
Laura was satisfied enough to take a photo of her reflection. If she ever found herself lacking in confidence ahead of, say, an important interview, she could take a peek at this image of a woman who looked like she had the whole world in her hands. A woman who was exactly who she wanted to be and where she wanted to be in life.
But maybe the shoes weren’t quite the perfect finishing touch, after all. That would be when she was holding the premier award for sales as the regional winner. Could she dare dream of such a coveted achievement this year?
If that happened, she certainly wouldn’t need to be taking selfies.
The Georgian architecture of this restored nineteenth-century building, with huge Romanesque pillars and elaborately decorated ceilings, was a sharp contrast to the tumbled edges of stone and the almost organic jumble of ancient buildings in the South of France. Far more Laura’s style, however. Corporate and glittery – the kind of background that was perfect for the professional games of doing business and a world away from the kind of softness that whispered of romance and seduction. She approved of the military precision of the rows of wine glasses hanging by their stems above the bar, which were catching glints of light from enormous chandeliers, and the silver trays on the marble top of the bar with their sparkling crystal flutes of champagne already poured.
Let the games begin.
About to take a sip of her champagne, she put her glass down on the bar as she felt her phone vibrate silently in the small clutch bag she was carrying. Was it Ellie? Had she left her sister alone in a bat-infested house that she was too scared to sleep in?
There were two messages on her phone. The first was from her mother wishing her luck for the award ceremony tonight. The second was from a French number.
No…
Surely she hadn’t somehow summoned the presence of Noah Dufour in a more concrete form than the random thoughts she was having trouble controlling?
Perhaps Ellie had needed to get a new phone?
But the message wasn’t from her sister. It was a photo of what looked like a typical old French street – very like the ones Laura had been walking on only that morning – but she had no idea why it had been sent to her. Or who had sent it. There was a door, an unusual archway-shaped depression in a wall with strange decorations, and a sign that read La Farigoule.
Text came next.
Bonsoir Laura. This is where I would have taken you to dinner if you were still here, as part of our marketing research. My favourite resto in Vence.
Laura blinked. Yes… on second glance she could see a wooden box on the wall which would have a menu behind a glass door, and the odd-looking decorations in the archway made sense now. There was a bunch of grapes and a mortar and pestle. Even an octopus…?
She pushed the phone back into her tiny bag. Why would Noah think that she would have gone out to dinner with him, anyway? His confidence was more like arrogance and it wasn’t attractive.
It really wasn’t.
She picked up her glass of champagne and took a sip. Maybe it would wash away the odd tickle, deep in her belly, that almost felt like the butterflies of being nervous.
Which she was, of course. She desperately wanted to win an award tonight and not just in the categories of outstanding property presentation or client satisfaction like she had last year. No… she wanted the big one this time. Regional Estate Agent of the Year.
In the meantime, there were people that Laura really should be networking with, including the CEO , Colin Armstrong. It wasn’t often an opportunity like this presented itself and… was it her imagination, or was there more than polite interest in his gaze as he nodded in her direction?
Ah… hadn’t she heard recently that his wife had left him?
Nobody had been particularly surprised. Colin was middle-aged, very successful and – it had to be said – more than a little boring.
But boring men were safe, weren’t they?
Did it really matter if they were predictable and boring in bed as well?
Good Lord… where had that thought come from? The same place, perhaps, that images of shaggy dark hair, designer stubble and sinfully appreciative glances had been tucked away?
The images of a man who was reckless enough to ride a motorbike. Did he carry pillion passengers on the back of that overpowered machine? Women who would have to be pressed against his body and cling on with their arms around him?
Oh, my …
Laura took a much larger sip of her champagne but put her glass down as her phone buzzed again.
What if it was Ellie this time?
It didn’t really surprise her that it was another photo, but the actual image made her catch her breath.
A garden courtyard with terracotta paving and a rough-hewn stone wall. Beams that were a playground for lush greenery overhead. The tables had white linen cloths and shining silver and glassware like the ones in the room Laura was about to go into, but this dining area had an understated elegance that was totally missing in the glitz and glamour of the event she was attending.
The restaurant in Vence offered pure romance, especially when the central feature of this photograph was a table for two. Tucked away in a corner, with shadows from candlelight on the stonework and leaves and the shelter of a nearby pillar with a flowering plant spilling from a hanging basket, it made a private oasis for lovers. It was an invitation that could make any woman breathe out a soft sigh of longing – the way Laura just had.
Notre table, Laura. Une coupe de champagne pour toi, peut-être?
Clearly, it had been unwise to give Noah Dufour a business card that also had her personal cell phone number, but…
The idea that an inexplicably attractive man in France was thinking about her right now was…
Flattering, that’s what it was. It gave her a sensation deep in her stomach that felt like the curl of an appreciative smile.
That he was dangling the seduction of pure romance in front of her was…
Oh… dear Lord… it was tempting , that’s what it was. That feeling wasn’t reminiscent of a smile any longer. It was more like a licking of lips.
Romance on this level was something that Laura had never experienced and wouldn’t trust anyway, but she had to admit that this photograph was exerting an oddly powerful pull. Laura did her best to dismiss the unsettling desire to be on the other side of the English Channel as the evening progressed. She really didn’t want to be anywhere else, especially when it came to the highlight of the event.
Colin was smiling broadly. ‘And the award for The Property Centre’s Regional Estate Agent of the Year in Oban, Argyll and the Isles goes to… Laura Gilchrist!’
The applause was thunderous. Laura had to pose holding her trophy, and she had friends as well as the official photographer taking pictures. People forwarded copies to her as she accepted congratulations and celebrated with more champagne – because she wasn’t driving home, was she?
One photo stood out because the angle made her dress look as stunning as it had on the exclusive boutique’s mannequin and her smile made her look as if she was well aware of the significance of the award in her hands but wasn’t as excited as a small child on Christmas morning. Laura thought she might have a copy printed to go in a discreet frame in her office but, for now, she was just going to forward the image to her mother. It was time to do some celebrating, and she could see Colin walking towards her, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
Hurriedly, Laura opened the recent message from her mother to forward the photograph. The ping of an almost instant response made her glance at the screen as she slipped the phone back into her bag. It also made her frown.
Her mother never used emojis as a response to a text message. She was old school and preferred to use words. She would definitely not be sending a shower of hearts.
Oh, no …
No, no, no …
Colin was right beside her now. ‘Congratulations, Laura. Tonight’s award must be the icing on the cake for you right now. Someone’s just told me that you’ve inherited a house in the South of France. I want to hear all about it. I’m thinking of getting into a bit of international real estate myself. And your award tonight! So well deserved. You must be very happy…’
Laura managed to dredge up a bright smile but Colin’s words were little more than a background buzz. She wasn’t happy.
She wasn’t happy at all.
Had she accidentally just sent that photo of herself to Noah Dufour?