One Autumn Proposal. Marie Ferrarella
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of the steps that would take her to the top of the cliff. He thought of Sabine and couldn’t bear to see this woman hurt or possibly killed doing something so reckless.
She was young like they’d once been, eager for adventure and heedless of the danger. Didn’t she know her body could be tossed against the rocks and knocked unconscious or worse? Fearful for the welfare of this beautiful woman, he climbed out onto the dock again and called to her.
She stopped and turned around. “Yes?” she answered in French. “Were you speaking to me?”
The sight of her made his heart beat faster, a reaction he hadn’t felt for a woman in years. “Haven’t you read the sign? No cliff jumping! You heard those screams. Don’t you realize that what your group is doing could end in fatalities?”
Her arched brows frowned. “If it’s your job to enforce the rule, you should have stopped the group in the first dinghy.”
He moved closer to her. “It’s anyone’s job to stop a bunch of headstrong young people from bringing harm to themselves.” Without thinking he said, “I’d hate to see a lovely woman like you lose your life for a thrill. Have you no concern for your family or loved ones who would be devastated if anything happened to you?” Luc would never forget the pain.
She stared at him for a full minute. One corner of her mouth lifted in a mocking curve. “Félicitations, monsieur. That’s the most original pick-up line any Frenchman has ever thrown at me and believe me, I’ve heard the best of them.”
Frenchman? That was an odd thing for her to say since she was French. Her response stunned him in more ways than one. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“It looks that way to me. I’m wondering how often you loiter at the dock, lying in wait for an unsuspecting, accessible female to detain.”
“What?” he almost hissed the word.
“If I’m wrong...je regrette.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Is it possible you never did anything so daring as cliff jump when you were young? Might I point out that you took your life in your hands just coming out here in your speedboat rental?”
Luc had to tamp down his temper, caught between his concern for her welfare and her provocative insinuations about him. “In what way?” his voice grated.
“Surely you know the Mediterranean has its share of great white sharks. What are you? Approaching forty? I hope you’re still a good swimmer in case you should meet with an accident at sea. A rental boat isn’t always reliable, but try to enjoy your sedentary day anyway instead of attempting to ruin it for everyone else. Ciao.”
In the next breath, she started up the steps with surprising speed to reach her destination.
Between the disturbing flashback and their shocking conversation, Luc had been thrown into a particularly foul mood. He got in the boat without looking back. Once he’d started the engine and edged away from the dock, he headed for the mainland.
When he thought about it, he could imagine that many a man had lain in wait for her, thus her ready defense, which was damn off-putting. The female who’d clashed with him was probably twenty, maybe twenty-one, but he’d found out she could take care of herself without effort. Before the plane crash he might have done exactly what she’d accused him of doing in order to get to know her.
To his chagrin, the vision of the captivating young woman stayed with him long after his flight home, as he picked up his car at the airport and drove to his villa in Cagnes-sur-Mer outside Nice. In that moment when he could imagine their outing ending in tragedy, the memory of the plane crash had swept over him. He’d wanted to spare her from plunging to her death. Instead she’d managed to get under his skin.
Though born with an adventurous spirit, he was no longer willing to take risks when life was so precious. Over the last fifteen years he’d grown particularly cautious when it came to making landmark business decisions that could affect not only his professional life, but his family’s welfare and reputation.
The plane crash had changed him into a different person. He’d learned the meaning of mortality. That caution had also kept him out of involved personal relationships that could put his emotions in jeopardy. It was the reason he hadn’t cut the motor and reached for his binoculars to watch her defy danger because she thought she was immortal. He needed to put her and the incident out of his mind.
* * *
Jasmine reached the top of the island with only a little time to spare. The dinghy full of guys eager to cliff dive had been rented for two hours. Since this group of teens had room in the boat for her, she’d ridden to the island with them, glad she didn’t have to drive a boat herself.
While they jumped, this would be her one and only chance to take pictures of the excavations before she couriered the negatives to the publisher. With this last task done, the book could be printed by the end of the month and ready for the distribution date. She was no photographer, but it didn’t matter as long as they turned out.
To her chagrin, the encounter with the man at the dock had shaken her. He wasn’t anything like André, the French guy with the seductive way of talking. She’d dated him a little at university before dropping him because he’d turned out to be way too controlling. But just now, when the stranger in sunglasses had come at her about the dangers of cliff jumping, she had been reminded of André, and her adrenaline had taken over in a negative way.
With hindsight, Jasmine realized she’d been ruder to this man than any male she’d ever met. The trouble was, with his unruly black hair and strong masculine features, he was all male and breathtaking in those white shorts that hung low on his hips.
Her instant attraction to him had come as a tremendous surprise. That was why his erroneous conclusion about her reason for being there had caused her temper to flare. She wasn’t some foolish teenager, yet he’d put her in that category. Little did he know, she thought the cliff jumpers were crazy too, but she’d grown up with older brothers and knew you couldn’t stop them if they saw a challenge.
If only the man had just stopped there, but he hadn’t. It was the mention of family that had hit a nerve where her guilt lurked. Where did he get off implying that Jasmine didn’t care about them? The intensity of his attack had caught her on the raw, creating a negative reaction in her that went volatile.
In retaliation, she’d hurtled little insults back at him like darts thrown at balloons, hoping to damage his ego, but she doubted he’d felt them. He was most likely in his early thirties. Being rock-hard lean and fit, she imagined he could outswim a shark. Deep down, she knew he was the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted and didn’t need to hang around some lonely outpost waiting for an opportunity.
For the next hour, she concentrated on her task, trying to shake off the encounter. Once finished, she went back down to the dock and ate her lunch while she waited in the dinghy for the others. The speedboat had long since gone. She wondered what the man had been doing there in the first place, but why she cared was quite beyond her when she was still smarting from their confrontation.
Pretty soon, the first dinghy filled up and took off. A few minutes later, the others divers came running. She learned that one of the guys had cut his lower leg open. Someone had wrapped it in a towel, but he needed medical help. They left for the mainland, where she’d parked her rental car at the boating concession.
Jasmine looked around, but didn’t see the man with whom she’d traded insults. She was relieved he hadn’t been there to watch them come ashore with the injured teen. She could just imagine his “I told you so” smirk as the guy was lifted into the ambulance.
There was something wrong for her still to be thinking about him. Determined to put the incident behind her, she got in her car and drove the short distance to Nicosia. From the airport there she would catch her afternoon flight back to France.
Later in the day, when the plane began its descent to the Nice airport, it dawned her that the stranger had spoken with a distinct, cultured