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  The Reluctant Au Pair

  By Melinda Barron

  ©2010 Blushing Books Publications and Melinda Barron

  Copyright © 2010 by Blushing Books® and Paige Mallory

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Barron, Melinda

  The Reluctant Au Pair

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-405-1

  Cover Design: ABCD Graphics

  Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us!

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe the airline lost all your luggage! I mean really, what do they expect you to do for the next three days while they look for it, go naked? It could be in London, or Sydney, or Cario for all we know. It’s a good thing we’re about the same size, and you can borrow some of my clothes. Plus, it’s a perfect excuse for me to buy new clothes.”

  Beatrice Rousse nee McGovern expertly maneuvered her Range Rover through the Parisian traffic and smiled at her best friend. “Perhaps we should go shopping now, while we’re in Paris. We could hit some of the trendy shops and spend a lot of money -- hint, hint, hint. Then, I could blame you when Luc questions me about the bills. ‘Oh darling, it was all Mic’s fault, she made me buy that thousand-franc dress.’”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Michelle Rawlins answered in menacing tones. “I know that husband of yours, and I don’t want him venting his French temper on me. True, I do need some things to tide me over, but no thousand-franc dresses! Isn’t there a Wal-Mart nearby?”

  Both women dissolved in laughter, which brought a sharp response from the back seat of the vehicle.

  “What’s so funny, Mama?” Nine-year-old Georges asked in heavily accented English. “Did Tante Michelle tell a joke?”

  “Why Georges,” Michelle responded, turning to look in the back seat. “Your English is perfect. I’m very impressed.”

  Georges beamed, his dark eyes gleaming with delight. “Mama taught me from the time I was very young. And, I take English in school. The teacher says I am very good, as do mama and papa.”

  Beatrice smiled in response. “I’ve taught all the children English, so they can communicate with their grandparents. I may be a French citizen now but English is still my first language, although as time as gone by it’s easier for me to speak French, because I do it day in and day out. The only time I really speak English now, except when I practice with the kids, is when I talk to you, or my parents.”

  Michelle looked back at the three children buckled into the back of the Range Rover. Both Georges and his five-year-old brother, Thierry, had dark hair and dark eyes, like their father. Two-year-old Amelie, who had fallen asleep as the vehicle wound its way through Paris, was blond and blue-eyed like her mother and her “Tante” Michelle.

  It had been a kick for Michelle and Beatrice, who had grown up two blocks from each other in Littleton, Colo., to pretend they were sisters, because their coloring was so much alike. Both the women were tall, about five feet nine inches, and approximately the same size.

  “Do you want me to stop at the bank, so you can change some money?” Bea asked as she pulled into a shopping area.

  “No, I think I’ll put everything on plastic for now,” Michelle answered. “I’m not going to buy very much, just some jeans and a few shirts and something to sleep in. And, or course, make-up and perfume. You can’t come to Paris without buying perfume.”

  Bea parked the car and after loading Amelie into her stroller, grabbing Thierry’s hand, and receiving a rebuke from Georges, ‘Mama, please, I’m too old to have you holding my hand like a child,’ the fivesome made their way toward the store. Hours later, armed with more than the few items Michelle had intended on buying, including a healthy dose of Anais, Anais, Michelle’s favorite perfume, they were making their way toward the Burgundy region of France, where Michelle lived with her husband and children.

  “You really should have bought that green dress, Mic,” Bea said once they were outside Paris. “I’m sure Luc has a few men he wants you to meet while you’re here. We’re both dreaming you will marry one of them and move here. I need it right now. Need you here to help me deal with things.”

  Michelle was shaking her head even before Bea had finished her sentence. “Oh no, no fix-ups. I’m not here to meet men, as you said, I’m here to help your friend go through his brother’s papers. When that’s done, I have to go back home and start looking for a new job. Besides, fix-ups never work."

  Bea scoffed and slapped the steering wheel. “I beg your pardon! I married a fix-up missy, and as I remember it, it was YOU who fixed me up with him. So don’t go telling me that fix-ups never work. You’re lucky I don’t invite half the province here to meet you and knock you off your feet! I would, too, if I thought it would keep you here. ”

  It had been twelve years since Bea and Michelle had graduated from high school in Littleton, and Bea had married Luc, the foreign-exchange student who had lived in Colorado that year. Michelle was the editor of the high school newspaper, and had interviewed Luc for the publication. The minute he had started talking Mic had known that Luc and Bea were destined to be together. So she’s arranged for the three of them to meet for pizza at a local restaurant, and then conveniently not shown up for the date. The rest was history. Luc and Bea were inseparable from that moment on, and had married one year after high school, moving to France right after the wedding.

  Michelle on the other hand had not married. Instead she had gone straight to college, where she had earned her teaching certificate in English. After a year as a teacher, she decided it wasn’t for her. She liked children, she just didn’t want to spend all her time with them. So she’d earned an associates degree to become a paralegal. After the first week on the job, she knew she’d taken the right course. She was hooked.

  After ten years with the same law firm, and working with the same criminal lawyer, disaster had struck. Her boss, Paul Tiner, had been convicted of fraud. A jury was convinced that Tiner had collected bribes from his guilty clients to make sure their cases were won at any expense. Those expenses included bribing witnesses and giving orders for witnesses from the other side to be intimated by violence. In addition, he’d been convicted of embezzling from the law firm for which he worked.

  Although Michelle was not indicted, those she worked with found her guilty by association. She had lost her job, and had been without one for the past year and a half. Her savings were quickly running out, so when Bea had called and said she was needed in France, Mic had jumped at the chance.

  Luc’s boss at the winery and his wife, Antoine and Luca Bauchet had been killed in a car accident. Bea was devastated to lose the one true friend she had made in France. On top of that, the new boss, Antoine’s brother, Alliot, was a stern boss who was giving Luc a hard time because Antoine had left th
e winery in less than pristine condition. Alliot said that Luc, as the foreman, should have been aware that the books were in terrible shape, and filing hadn’t been done in almost a year and a half.

  According to Bea, Alliot had gone through several employees in an effort to get the records straightened out. When that had been unsuccessful, she had suggested her friend, Michelle, a paralegal who could do anything.

  Michelle was grateful for the chance at a job, even if it meant going through a lengthy process of filing out papers and getting the proper permissions for staying longer than a tourist normally would.

  Besides, she’d been worried about her friend since the accident. They’d talked several times and Michelle knew that Bea was taking Luca’s death very hard.

  “How have you been?” Michelle asked quietly, sneaking a peak in the backseat to see who was listening to the conversation. All three Rousse children were now napping. “I know it’s been really hard on you to lose your friends. And you say they had a baby just before they died?”

  Bea sighed and pushed an errant hair off her forehead. “Yes, his name is Alex, after Antoine’s father. He was born in January, so he’s six months old now. Alliot has custody, although he leaves his care up to the nannies.

  “Nannies? More than one nanny for one child?”

  “No. Nannies as is plural, and not all at the same time. Alliot is hard to work for, and the nannies come and go. He’s without one right now. He’s a lawyer in Paris, so you two should get along very well. Right now he’s on leave, to deal with the estate and the winery after Antoine’s death. But Luc is hoping that Alliot will make him manager of the winery, and Alliot will go back to Paris and leave the running of the business to Luc. Alliot’s older than Antoine was, and is somewhat, well ....” her voice trailed off as she searched for a word. “Difficult. He’s a nice man, but hard to get to know. Closed-off, stern. He’s a high-priced attorney who didn’t want to have anything to do with the winery. That’s why he let Antoine run the business. I think that’s why he was so keen on you when I mentioned that you had legal training.”

  “Antoine on the other hand was fun-loving and care-free. He and Luca were so much in love. Alliot was their first child and they were so happy. Antoine was thirty-two when he died, and Luca only twenty-eight.”

  Bea looked over her shoulder and maneuvered the Range Rover onto a road with less traffic. They were in the countryside now, heading through tree-covered hills dotted with lavender. Off in the distance Michelle could see rooftops and the outskirts of a small village. A short ways from the road two people were taking a leisurely horseback ride. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here, Michelle thought to herself, almost like a paradise.

  It all seemed so peaceful and serene, like something out of a fairytale. Michelle imaged picnicking in the countryside with a nice broad-shouldered Frenchman, not too tall, with dark hair. A smoldering look would flash in his green eyes as he handed her a glass of wine. She would sip it slowly, savoring the flavor before he took it from her hands and kissed her lips, his tongue darting inside her mouth gently, his hands on either side of her face. He would take her in his arms and pull her into his masculine chest, his lips nuzzling her neck.

  He would lay her back on the blanket, and…

  A loud noise from the back seat broke through her fantasy.

  “I mean honestly, can you believe they can’t make it an hour and a half in the car without fighting? And they slept for more than half that time!” Bea’s question interrupted her thoughts. “They remind me of you and your brother. How is Joey anyway? Still searching for the perfect career, or has he kept to the last one ... what was it this time, anyway? Professional gambling, auto racing, horse jockey?”

  Michelle straightened in her seat and ran her fingers through her blond hair. “No, nothing as exotic as all that. Besides, he’s too tall to be a jockey. Right now he’s working at the Royal Gorge.”

  “Sounds exciting to me,” Bea said as she turned to the left onto a narrow dirt driveway. Pushing a button on a remote control she opened a gate that blocked their way about a quarter mile down the road. “If I know your brother he probably tries to bungee-jump off the bridge everyday.”

  Michelle laughingly agreed and then turned to again take in the lush scenery that was surrounding her. Green trees lined the roadway. Colorful wildflowers dotted the border of the driveway. Off in the distance Michelle could see the start of the vineyard that supplied Luc’s employer with grapes for his wine.

  “We live in the ‘caretakers’ house, which was added in the late 18th Century,” Bea said. “The main house is about a ten minute walk from here. It was built in the 14th Century and is huge, and beautiful. It’s been steadily remodeled over the years to add bathrooms and an indoor kitchen. You’ll love it when you see it. Alex lives there now, with Alliot.

  Bea’s voice took on a wistful note. “It’s hard to believe Luca will never be back. I used to walk to the house and we’d cook lunch together for Luc and Antoine. It was wonderful. I just hope that Alliot doesn’t want to change too much; that he’ll allow Luc to run the winery. Then, Alliot can go back to Paris and be a lawyer and quit giving Luc a headache every night.”

  Michelle turned a questioning look at Bea as they parked in front of the house. “A headache every night? Why? Is it that bad?” But before Bea could answer the passenger’s side door of the Range Rover was jerked open and Michelle was pulled from the vehicle.

  “Michelle!” Luc’s voice boomed out as he pulled Michelle into a bear hug. “How wonderful to see you. Did you have a good flight? I expected you hours ago, where have you two been?”

  Without waiting for an answer Luc turned to his children and clapped his hands together. “Everyone into the house, now, go. Clean up and put on nice clothing. We’re going to the house for dinner.”

  Luc held up a hand to stop Bea’s protest before it could leave her lips. Reaching down he kissed her tenderly and smiled into her eyes. “Don’t say a word. Alliot told me today he wanted to see me, to talk to me about the winery. He’s been interviewing au pairs all day and I think tonight is the night. He will tell me the winery is mine to run and get out of my hair. So come along, don’t dawdle. I told him we’d be there by seven thirty so we only have a hour to get ready.”

  *****

  Forty-five minutes later, freshly showered and changed into her new jeans and black-ribbed sweater Michelle joined the family on the outside deck of the house. They were all waiting for her and she winced.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No problem,” Luc said. “We’re just very glad you’re here. Should we take your things now, or do you want to stay here tonight, so you can talk to Bea some more?”

  Michelle gave him a confused look and he cocked his head at his wife.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  “No, because I still think it’s a bad idea.”

  “Bea, Michelle is here to work, not play.” He turned to Michelle and smiled. “Alliot wants you to stay in the main house with him and Alex.”

  “Oh. There’s not room in the smaller house. I understand that.” Michelle hid her disappointment behind a fake smile.

  “That’s not it,” Bea said. “Alliot just has to be in control of everything. I’m afraid he’s going to use you living at the main house as an excuse to keep you working all the time.”

  “Well, from the sounds of it, that may be what it takes to get the filing under control.”

  “But it’s unfair,” Bea said. “I want you to stay here, with us. You can come home from work at night and we can talk and have fun together. Please, Luc, can’t you say something to him?”

  “Darling, you know Alliot.” Michelle laughed at Luc’s tone. “Once he has his mind set on things, he’s not going to change it. So, I’ll ask again. Should we take your things up now, or later?”

  Michelle laughed. “Now it’s my turn to say, ‘you didn’t tell him, did you?’”

  She expla
ined to Luc about her lost luggage, and said all she had right now the few sacks of clothing they’d bought in town.

  “Isn’t that fantastic? And if they don’t find your things in three days?”

  “Then, I get replacement money,” Michelle answer. “I’m not sure how much, but I can use that to buy new things in the nearest village. I didn’t have anything of real value in the bags. I had my make-up and jewelry in my carry-on. Plus, we did a little shopping earlier.”

  Luc nodded slowly, his face impassive. He picked up his daughter and tickled her, and then he turned to his wife. “How much money did you spend?”

  “Tattletale.” Bea pouted and then playfully stuck her tongue out at Michelle. Then, she took her husband’s hand. “We’re going to be late.”