a man—probably early twenties—with dark blond hair handed everyone an application to fill out. He also gave them a list of items they would need if they were eventually hired. She put that list in her purse and sat down at a small table to fill out the form before getting in line. He eyed her with obvious male interest before it was her turn to enter the tent.
The line moved slowly until there was only one person in front of her being interviewed. That’s when she saw the man vetting everyone and stifled a gasp. She wished she had a better description of Alain’s father. All she had to go on was that he was a Provencal, which meant dark haired and dark eyed. The man sitting there certainly filled that description, but it could be a coincidence. Was it possible she’d found him?
The breathtaking, late-twenties-looking male could easily be the heartthrob Antoinette had fallen for! Her darling stepsister’s now sixteen-month-old child possessed this man’s square chin and black hair. He had the same type of build and olive skin.
Thousands of Frenchmen claimed those same qualifications, but this one’s piercing black eyes had a distinct look that reminded her so much of her little nephew, Nathalie was astonished. To think, it might be Alain’s father sitting there not ten feet away interviewing would-be grape pickers. By applying for this job, she could have found him!
According to one of the people in line, hundreds of workers had already been hired during the week. Today represented the last group seeking temporary employment.
“Prochain?” he said in a deep voice that reached her insides.
Nathalie’s heartbeat sped up as she realized she was next in line and needed to follow through. She moved forward to sit opposite him on a chair beneath the tent. The heat of the sun had made the interior uncomfortably warm.
Though he was seated, she could tell he was a tall man, lean in that appealing masculine way. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves pushed to the elbows and as he took the application from her, she noticed a small, pale, café-au-lait birthmark on his underarm beneath the elbow. She had to stifle another gasp because the back of Alain’s right calf had the same birthmark.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Millions of people had them, but this was just one more bit of evidence to convince her he could be Alain’s father.
Nathalie noticed that he wore a watch and no rings, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. His nails were immaculate. When he looked up, their eyes met and her breath caught.
Heat crept into her cheeks as she got lost in his intense gaze. They were both taking measure of each other while she waited for him to say something. He couldn’t have recognized her as Antoinette’s stepsister. Nathalie was a blonde. Her stepsister had been a brunette. They came from different sets of parents with different last names.
His virile male beauty stunned her. Her stepsister, who’d been two years older than Nathalie, would have taken one look at him and that would have been it! How well Nathalie understood the instant attraction. She couldn’t look away.
He continued to study her features. “Mademoiselle Fournier? I see here you’ve had no experience as a vendangeuse.”
“That’s right. I didn’t know that was a prerequisite.”
“It’s not, but it’s hard labor, seasonal, and the pay isn’t that great. Why would a pharmacist from La Gaude apply to do entry-level work like this?” La Gaude, France, was a town a fifteen-minute drive from Vence along the Côte d’Azur, the playground of the world’s rich and famous.
She felt those black all-seeing eyes travel over her with a thoroughness that caused her to tremble, and she looked down. He was so gorgeous she was in danger of forgetting why she’d come. For her little nephew’s sake, it was vital Nathalie pull this off. She needed to think fast.
“I’ve lived in Provence all my life and thought that for once I’d use my vacation time to find out what it’s like to work in a vineyard as world renowned as this one.”
On their website she’d seen one photo of the Duc Armand de Fontesquieu, the gray-haired, eighty-year-old patriarch and CEO. She’d seen no other pictures and realized they had to be a very private family.
Though many vineyards used machinery, some vintners—like the vastly wealthy Fontesquieu family with their many terroirs—also hired pickers called coupeurs, plus collectors and sorters for the grape harvest vendange. It lasted for the first three weeks of September. She’d done her homework.
After a slight pause, he spoke. “You do realize that we have no accommodations for you here.”
She raised her eyes to him again. With that comment, she sensed he didn’t believe her reason for wanting the temporary work.
Though it was this man’s job to vet would-be workers, she sensed he had reservations about her. Obviously the “no previous vineyard work” written on the form bothered him. Naturally anyone could apply for grape picking, but their vineyard would welcome those with experience.
“Yes. That’s why I’ve rented a mobile home at the park down the road from here.” Actually she’d come two days ago to put a hold on one until she knew the outcome of this interview.
He gave her a level stare. “Keep in mind you’ll have an hour for lunch and quit at four thirty. If you’re still interested in working here by Monday morning, report to the tent at six o’clock and the assistant vineyard manager will let you know if you’ve been hired.”
It was all up to this man who would have the weekend to check out her references. He spoke with authority. There was an aura of sophistication about him that let her know he had a position of importance at Fontesquieux and had likely worked here long enough to have met Antoinette at the bistro.
“Merci, monsieur.” She got up, aware of him watching her as she walked past the people standing in line, and left the tent. The younger man outside giving out applications flashed her a smile, but she looked away and headed for her car, not wanting to encourage him.
When she got behind the wheel, she was still feeling shaky from all the sensations bombarding her. It might be a long shot, but now that she suspected she’d met the man who could be Alain’s father, she’d do everything possible to get to know him. When she sensed it was the right moment, she’d show him photos of Antoinette and Alain, including the birthmark. If he was the father, she couldn’t imagine him not wanting to see his child.
Of course, if she didn’t get hired, then she needed to find innovative ways to cross paths with him, starting tonight. She planned to seek out dinner at the bistro Claire had told her about. Maybe he’d be there... Just imagining his handsome features left her breathless.
Having finished the interviews, Dominic Laurent Fontesquieu stopped in the midst of fastening his briefcase full of applications. He couldn’t resist taking another look at the Fournier application.
The woman with translucent green eyes and natural silvery blond hair had robbed him of breath. Her deportment and stunning beauty had captivated him. As Dominic studied the particulars on her application, her image swam before him again.
Age: twenty-seven.
Home address: La Gaude.
Cell phone...
Email address...
Employed full time at La Metropole Pharmacy.
Driver’s license.
Own car.
Bank account.
Covered by social insurance.
Degree in pharmacology from Sophie Antipolis University in Nice.
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