Free Hooked Up: Book 2 by Arianne Richmonde Page A

added, “it’s so beautiful here, I’m loath to go anywhere.”
    “That’s how I always feel when I’m here; it’s hard to get away. But let’s go for a drive and you can see some of the surrounding countryside. The party doesn’t start till about eight—we have a few hours.”
    Alexandre’s garage was a low stone building covered in pink, climbing roses. Perhaps they were the roses he used for his homemade rose jelly. The garage blended in beautifully with his house. Madame and Monsieur lived in a small guesthouse next door, and behind was a walled-in garden bursting with rows of organically-grown vegetables, dominated by tomatoes which were a dazzling sunny red, and other produce like cucumbers, onions and even strawberries. The garage housed a host of shiny vehicles, even a Deux Chevaux, the quintessential French car. Batman’s car was there, too, in its full glory, the Murciélago, proud and intimidating, but Alexandre opted for a royal blue, vintage Porsche.
    “She’s a 1964 356SC Coupé with an electric sunroof. I had to have her the moment I laid eyes on her,” and he looked at me, his gaze roving from my toes up to my face, where he fixed his stare. I caught my breath. I was just wearing shorts, a thin cotton top, and flip-flops—nothing special, and was amazed how desirable Alexandre made me feel. Each time he looked at me like that, his green eyes piercing me, my solar plexus leapt and circled around itself. I felt like a teenager inside.
    “She’s adorable,” I said, stroking her smooth lines. “So cute. I’ve always dreamed about having a car like this.”
    “Would you like to drive her, see how she feels beneath you?”
    “You make it all sound so sensual, Alexandre, so naughty.”
    “She is naughty. She likes to be driven fast, likes to grip the road around corners. This baby likes to have fun.”
    I looked him in the eye. “Speaking of babies,” I said guardedly. “What you did on the plane? It’s a slim chance, but I could get pregnant. A slim chance, as I say, but still possible. This isn’t something you can treat cavalierly like it’s all a game.”
    He took my hand and held it in his. “Pearl, you make me happy. I’m crazy for you, can’t you see that? I want to be with you, and stay with you. I’m a monogamous type. Once I find someone special I don’t play the field. Look,” he emphasized, locking his gaze with mine, “if you were twenty-something—which you wouldn’t be because I’m not into young ingénues—but if you were, then you’d be on the pill or something. But we don’t have time.”
    “You mean my biological clock?”
    “I hate that expression—it sounds like some sort of time bomb, but yes. It’s unfair for women, and God was being pretty sexist when he designed that one, but there it is. Let’s just see what happens, shall we?”
    “You’re acting as if I have no say in the matter. You’re just assuming I want children. You never asked me. I have a demanding career—maybe I don’t even want a family.”
    He looked shocked. “You’re right, I never even brought the subject up with you. I did just assume—”
    “But your instincts were spot on. I do want a baby. It’s just . . . I’d given up. I didn’t imagine I’d meet anyone special enough. You’re the only person I’ve slept with since my divorce.”
    “I know. I was lucky to catch you before somebody else snapped you up.”
    I took a big intake of breath and asked him the question that had been on the tip of my tongue all day. “Why did you split with Laura? Did you want to have her baby too?”
    “Laura . . . how can I explain Laura . . . I’ll show you some photos of her when we get home and some letters she wrote me. When you see the pictures, you’ll understand why she left me.”
    “Was she a supermodel, or something?”
    “She was beautiful both inside and out. And yes, she did do some modeling.”
    I felt a painful stab at my heart. Obviously I was the