Taming the French Tycoon

“Spill it!” Luc muttered furiously to the TV anchorman, who knew this broadcast was making the kind of news the media lived and died for and was milking it for all he was worth.

“Our station is the first to announce the name of Jasmine Martin, a total unknown, who has been put at the helm. She’s an unmarried twenty-six-year-old with no formal job experience and has brought no resume to the position of the multibillion-dollar corporation.”

“What?” In a state of shock, Luc shot to his feet.

“It’s an unprecedented move since only two men have ever held that coveted position in the Ferrier perfume empire...Maxim Ferrier, and before him, his uncle, Paul Ferrier, whose father had run a flower farm in the very beginning. Right now, we’re taking you live to the sacrosanct laboratory of the brilliant perfumer in Grasse. Our anchorman, Michel Didier, is standing by there, ready to interview her.”

While Luc walked over to the TV screen to get a closer look, the other anchorman introduced himself.

“Good evening from our network in Grasse. I’ve been invited inside the room where Maxim Ferrier himself developed his famous formula for Night Scent, a perfume that won every award and still tops perfume sales around the globe. This is a privilege for me and all our viewers. The whole world is waiting to meet you, Jasmine. May I call you that?”

“Of course.”

As the camera panned in on her, a cry of shock escaped Luc’s throat. No—it couldn’t be!

Hers was the beautiful face he’d seen at the dock on Yeronisos! He took a deep breath, trying to comprehend it. The woman who’d given Luc battle before he’d watched her charge up those steep steps, possibly to her death, was Jasmine Martin? The new CEO at Ferriers?

His dark head reared. He’d never thought to see her again. Yet there she was in the flesh, that fiery beauty he’d been fantasizing about every night.

How was it that she of all people on this planet had been made head of one of the most iconic companies in France? She was a daredevil who’d insinuated that Luc was on his way to middle age before she’d ignored him and gone straight up the cliff to jump off. He rubbed the back of his neck in consternation.

It defied logic that a woman so careless with her own life was now running a billion-dollar corporation. Luc was so incredulous over what had been announced, he couldn’t make sense of anything.

This evening she wore her hair caught back at the nape. Instead of wearing a T-shirt and bikini, she was dressed in a peach-colored suit that revealed her gorgeous figure.

Behind her were stacked rows of hundreds of bottles, reminding him of the wizard’s shop in the Harry Potter film he’d seen with two of his nephews. Those magic potions that still delighted moviegoers everywhere.

Yet the potions behind this woman had worked their own special magic in the cosmetic world, yielding billions of dollars in revenue.

“I have many questions to ask. But for all those watching our broadcast around the globe, this question is foremost in everyone’s mind. How did you of all people, of all women, get picked, and at such a young age?”

An impish smile broke out on her alluring face. Luc’s breath caught. The memory of their heated exchange had caused him one restless night after another since his return. Twenty-six meant she was older than he’d thought, but it still rankled that she’d dared to accuse him of trying to pick her up.

She folded her arms and lounged against the edge of the lab table.

“You’re going to get your scoop now, Michel,” she teased with that same audacious maturity, so at odds with her lack of judgment when it came to her safety. There was a twinkle in her dark blue eyes. The first time they’d met she’d been wearing sunglasses. Luc had to admit he’d never seen anyone so natural in front of the camera. “I’m Maxim Ferrier’s youngest grandchild.”

Grandchild?

The well-known anchorman was taken by total surprise and looked as blown away as Luc felt.

“Since I came along last of his twenty-one grandchildren, he nicknamed me Jasmine. That’s because Jasmine is the flower harvested last in October. He said it was his favorite flower because of its beguiling scent. Though my parents named me Blanchette after my mother, his name for me stuck.”

Michel shook his head. “Just keep talking. I won’t interrupt because I’m speechless and enchanted, and I know everyone else is too.”

Her gentle laugh reached down to burrow inside a disbelieving Luc, who couldn’t comprehend any of it. “I used to hang around my papa. I thought of him as this amazing sorcerer and pretended to be his apprentice. He never seemed to mind.”

“Obviously not,” the journalist interjected. “Tell the audience why you think he chose you to run the company.”

“He once told me I was the only one in the family who got the nose. Not his own children and not any of his grandchildren got it, he said. Just me. I thought he meant I had a Roman nose like a horse. I was so hurt I ran out of the lab crying. He had no idea how much I loved him, but I was horrified that he thought I was ugly.”

The anchorman laughed heartily, but Luc’s throat closed up with emotion. Children were so literal, as he’d learned from being around his own nieces and nephews.

“Then he came after me and explained what he meant. He said I was so smart, he thought I knew what a nose was. He said I had a beautiful nose like my grandma. But he was referring to the fact that after sixty years, another perfumer had been born in the family, someone like himself who could identify scents. That person was moi and he was overjoyed.”

Michel smiled. “No wonder he named you to succeed him.”

“I still can’t believe he did that and I am still trying to come to grips with it. No one could ever fill his shoes. I’m stunned to think he believed I could.”

“I’m not surprised you’re in shock,” the anchorman commented at last. He stared at the camera. “Mesdames et messieurs, you couldn’t make up a Cinderella story as unusual as this, not in a hundred years. I wish we had more time for the interview. Before we have to end this segment, the audience wants to hear about your grandmother.

“We know she was a great beauty right up to the time of her passing. Not only was she a devoted wife, she was a great intellect who authored several books.”

“She was fabulous.”

“While you were growing up, you must have known over the years that the international press touted them the most beautiful couple in the world. The French have called them the Charles Boyer and Marlene Dietrich of the modern era. American media labeled him more handsome and sophisticated than Cary Grant. She has been compared to Grace Kelly and Princess Diana. What do you say to that, Jasmine?”

“What more can I add? They were beautiful people from that era, inside and out. She loved him so much, she died three months later.”

Luc hated to admit it, but part of him was spellbound by her and knew the anchorman was too.

“After seeing this broadcast, people will say you inherited her beauty.”

“No woman could ever compare to her. If you could have heard my papa on the subject. If ever a man loved a woman...”

Luc heard the tremor in her voice and couldn’t help but be moved by her humility. He could never have imagined this side of her after their explosive meeting on Yeronisos. Unless this was all playacting. If so, she was the greatest actress he’d ever known.

“Is it true he never gave an interview in his life?”

“That’s right. He disliked publicity of any kind. I’m only doing this one interview because our family has been besieged by the media for years. The outpouring of public sentiment over their deaths has been so touching and overwhelming, I hoped to be able to thank them through your program.”

“It’s a personal honor for me, Ms. Martin. Would it be too forward of me to ask if there’s a special man in your life?”

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll answer with a ‘yes, it would.’” But she said it with a mocking little curve of her mouth that made Luc’s emotions churn in remembrance of her erroneous assumption about him. The anchorman was quick to recover, but he looked embarrassed. Luc knew what it felt like to be slammed by her like that, although she’d been gentler with the other man.

“Message received. Wasn’t your grandfather the one who coined the phrase, ‘Provence is God’s garden’?”

“Oh, no, but he often expressed that sentiment to me.”

“While you’ve been talking, I found another passage in your grandmother’s book where she quotes him. He must have been writing about you.

“‘Jasmine seems to be a flower made for nostalgia. It grows in doorways and winds over arches, linking it to the intimacy of home. It begins to bloom as the days become hotter, and it releases its scent at the hour when tables are set in the garden or in narrow lanes. It is associated with the melancholy of dusk and the conviviality of summer evenings. Its fragrance permeates the air, making it a background for love.’”

She cleared her throat. “I remember him saying those words. I think Papa had a love affair with flowers all his life.”

Watching this interview had tied Luc in knots. The woman he’d met two months ago was nothing like the flower just described.

The anchorman nodded. “For those of you who still aren’t aware, the book Jasmine’s grandmother wrote, Where There’s Smoke, is the definitive source on the life work of Maxim Ferrier. It’s being reissued in a second edition with several sections of new information to coincide with the announcement of the new head of Ferriers and will be out on the stands tomorrow. When the first edition of the book came out, it became number one on bestseller lists worldwide. I confess I was enthralled by it.”

“Thank you. Grandma worked on it for years. After my papa died, she had it published to honor him.”

“No one knew him better than she did, except for you, who came in a close second.” Again Luc saw the secret curve in her smile that reminded him of the way she’d smiled at him before letting him have it. The sensation twisted his gut as much now as then.

“Let me read one last thing your grandmother quoted from her husband. ‘An exceptional perfume has a top note to entice, followed by the rich character of its middle note. Then comes the end note to bind all three, supplying the depth and solidity needed to make a lasting signature.’ He was a poet, wasn’t he?”

“Papa was so many things, I hardly know where to begin.”

“I wish we didn’t have to stop. Thank you for letting us see inside your world. It’s been an honor and privilege.”

“For me too.”

“Congratulations on your new position, chosen by the head man himself. What greater endorsement, n’est-ce pas?” He turned to the camera. “That’s it for now from Grasse. Back to you in Paris.”

Luc shut off the TV, stunned out of his mind by her interview. A bomb had been dropped. He was still trying to recover from the fallout. Pacing the floor, he realized this meant he would be dealing with her in the future. His heart thudded at the very thought of it.

Now that the news had gone global, anything could happen and probably had behind closed doors at Ferriers. He couldn’t imagine the members of the Ferrier board, twice or triple her age and most of them family, tolerating the granddaughter to become the head of the company. If they knew what Luc knew...

This was nepotism at its best. Either Maxim Ferrier had become senile toward the end, or she’d had him wrapped around her little finger because she’d inherited his gift. But that gift didn’t mean she had the grasp for business or the necessary ability to run one of the most famous companies in existence. There’d been no mention of her education. She had no work experience. As far as he was concerned, she had no common sense either.

The Ferrier board had to have the same opinion about her and would soon find a way to vote her out. But until then Luc would have to be extra careful how he proceeded when the day came he had his first business meeting with her. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine it after their explosive encounter on the island. Yet, to his dismay, the thought of being with her again charged every cell in his body.

“Luc?”

It had been a long time since Thomas had walked in without knocking, but Luc understood why. His assistant looked dazed. “I never saw or heard anything so amazing in my life.”

“You’re not alone, Thomas.”

“She’s more beautiful than her grandmother was, if that’s possible.”

It was possible. The image of her standing at the base of the cliff had never left him. But there were imperfect parts of her the camera hadn’t seen, parts that he felt spelled a lot more trouble for Ferriers.

“I still can’t believe she’s the new face and power at Ferriers. She may be Maxim Ferrier’s favorite and worth millions herself, but she looks too young and defenseless to go to battle against dynasty builders with three times her age and experience.”

Luc would have thought the same thing if he hadn’t been the recipient of her words, which could slice and dice a man to shreds in seconds. His assistant wouldn’t see her as a defenseless woman if he’d watched her attack that rocky island on those breathtaking limbs of hers with the strength and agility of a military frogman.

Thomas’s eyes gleamed. “This means that from now on you’ll be meeting with her instead of Giles LeC—” he started to say, but Luc stopped him right there because he didn’t want to hear it. He needed time for the news to sink in first.

“I’m late for a party and have to run. See you on Monday.” He left by his private exit. It opened into a hallway leading to the private parking lot with a security guard.

Ever since the incident in Cyprus, he’d fought the temptation to find out who she was. A simple phone call to the boating concession that rented dinghies would have told him what he wanted to know, but somehow he’d managed to stop himself in time.

Dieu merci he hadn’t let the desire to meet her in person and set her straight about a few things outweigh his innate caution. Otherwise, she truly would have had the last laugh knowing the director of the Banque Internationale du Midi was a voyeur stalking beautiful young women throughout the Mediterranean while on vacation.

The bank couldn’t afford to lose one of the biggest accounts since its inception. No matter how acerbic her words, no matter how shallow he found her for being willing to throw her life away for a thrill, no matter how disappointed he was in Maxim Ferrier’s decision to put a young loose cannon like her in charge, Luc could do nothing but stand by to watch a catastrophe in the making. And despise himself for being more attracted to her than ever.

CHAPTER TWO

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Jasmine saw her family off at Nice airport. She’d promised them that in a month she’d be on her way back home in Idaho for good. Before they boarded the jet, the pain in her parents’ eyes revealed their disbelief that she would keep her promise. That look had stabbed her with fresh grief.

They didn’t know that the glimpse of her life she’d described in front of the TV camera on Friday belonged to the past. Her grandparents were gone. Once she’d carried out her papa’s last wishes—wishes no one else in the whole world knew about except her and his attorney—there was nothing more to keep her in France. But until she’d carried out this plan and moved back to Idaho, they wouldn’t believe she really did want to go home for good.

After assuring them that she would arrive in time for their thirtieth wedding anniversary party in August, she headed for the Banque Internationale du Midi with a growing pit in her stomach.

“Papa?” she said to the air growing hotter by the minute under a July sun. “I carried off the first part of our plan on TV. Now I hope to pull off this second part, but I’m nervous. In case I get into trouble, I’ll need your help or I won’t be able to put the third part into motion. Do you hear me?”

Last Friday’s media announcement had turned the entire Ferrier clan inside out as she had known it would, as her papa, though dead now, had known it would once Robert had read the will at the board meeting.

She knew positively that several of them, including non-family members of the board, had hoped to be named successor when the will was finally read. Of late they’d made no secret about it.

Jasmine’s French mother and American father, along with her siblings, were known as the American faction of her grandparents’ progeny. They didn’t want to be involved in company business.

But all the other Ferriers lived in France and existed to promote the company. Some of them were situated in Paris with key positions at the perfumery. The rest had never left the environs of Nice that included Grasse. All of them worked for Ferriers in one capacity or other.

In the beginning, there’d been one small foundry in Grasse. In time, thirty distilleries dotted the Basses-Alpes, and the Alpes-Maritime regions. Her papa had his own small private lab in Grasse and eventually divided his time between the perfumery in Hyeres, and the other one in Paris. Little by little, the company expanded until he’d had the big perfumery built in Grasse.

Naturally everyone in the extended family had a huge vested interest in everything that went on. Jasmine loved them all. They were wonderful people. But when it came to families doing business together in a company with a history and heritage like theirs, emotions ran off the charts. Envy, pride and, in some cases, even greed had crept in.

For them to hear that Jasmine of all people had been named, as Michel Didier had said—a woman, the youngest nobody in the family—it had to be the lowest blow of all time.

Her grandfather had been such a private person, it was in keeping with his character to hide his secret agenda until his one great desire had become a fait accompli. Being that he was without a doubt the kindest, most enlightened, generous man she’d ever known, Jasmine had taken his private confidences to her heart. She knew he was counting on her.

Though her papa realized everyone would be upset and hurt one way or another, he’d had a nobler purpose in mind and was using his willing granddaughter to help right a wrong that had gone on since he’d been a small boy raised at La Tourette, the Ferrier home in Grasse.

The family’s adverse reaction over Jasmine having been named was nothing compared to the furor that was coming. Tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let you down, Papa.”

She drove her Audi into the financial district of Nice. The bank that the House of Ferrier had done business with over the years was housed in a former cream-colored palace of neoclassic design. It lay just ahead surrounded with palm trees and exotic flowers. Everything was riding on this visit. Nothing could be accomplished without the bank’s help. It was crucial Jasmine get the CEO on her side.

After pulling around to the public parking area, she reached for the file folder she’d brought with her and entered through the main doors. A security guard nodded to her. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Monsieur Lucien Charriere on urgent business.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I’m hoping he’ll have time to fit me in to his busy schedule.” Her papa had always dealt with Raimond Charriere, but she’d learned from Giles LeClos, Ferrier’s comptroller, that he’d passed away within months of her papa. His grandson Lucien had taken over.

“Without an appointment I’m afraid it would be impossible for him to meet with you. If you’ll call the bank and ask to be put through to his office, his secretary will know how to help you.”

“I’m sorry, but my reason for seeing him can’t wait. If you’ll please let him know that Jasmine Martin from Ferriers is here in the foyer, I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

The name Ferrier had always been the magic word and caused the older man’s composure to slip. Without asking for picture ID, he pulled out his phone and spoke in hushed tones to the person who answered. When he hung up, he said, “Someone will be right with you. I didn’t realize who you were.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” In a minute she heard, “Ms. Martin?” Jasmine turned in the direction of the man who’d just spoken her name.

“I’m Thomas, Monsieur Charriere’s assistant.” His eyes fastened on her with blatant male interest. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to his office. He’s on the phone, but he’ll be through with his overseas call shortly.”

“Thank you.”

They walked on marble floors and down the north hallway to a suite that had been modernized. But nothing could hide the fact that it had once been a royal Italian residence of the House of Savoy before Nice was made an arrondissement of Grasse.

Before they reached the double doors of the inner office, they opened. Silhouetted over the threshold stood a tall, thirtyish male who immediately reminded her of...the bad boy at the dock on Yeronisos!

“You!” The shock of seeing him again, of finding him here, of realizing who he was, left her reeling. Her fantasy had come true! How was it possible?

Today he was immaculately turned out in a banker’s suit and tie. His black hair, almost unruly, looked like he’d run his hand through it a few times out of frustration or habit.

Already he needed another shave and it was only eleven in the morning. She knew what he looked like underneath his clothes. Rock hard and lean, with a hungry look around his compelling mouth and nose. He had the genes of his Ligurian ancestry, which had given him moody black eyes. She hadn’t been able to see their color behind his sunglasses.

A woman wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t notice him. Jasmine had noticed him all right, and hadn’t been the same since. As she’d discovered on the island, he was a standout in any crowd or alone.

She recalled her grandmother’s description of her grandfather the first time they met. The tall, fit, suntanned man with the penetrating black eyes and hair stood before me. He was so handsome he took my breath away.

Jasmine could relate, but that pit in her stomach enlarged because this man’s glittering gaze traveled over her, making every feminine corpuscle in her body quiver. He was still angry over her insults. She could feel it, but she was angry over his too!

Here she’d been afraid that Raimond Charriere’s grandson would be a hard sell, though she’d come prepared to influence him until he couldn’t say no to her request. How could she possibly have known that the CEO of the most prominent banking institution in the South of France was the man she’d accused of lying in wait to pick up defenseless young women?

A moan escaped her lips. Jasmine could appeal to other bankers, but because Ferriers had done business with this bank since the beginning, she wanted this man’s help above all. Otherwise, her plan could be dashed to pieces and all would be lost. She couldn’t let that happen! Somehow she had to salvage the situation. But after their caustic exchange on the island, his icy smile told her he’d show no mercy. She knew that much in her bones, and it put her on the defensive. She spoke first.

“I take it from your silence that you didn’t expect me to survive my outing on Yeronisos.”

His eyes narrowed on her features. “From your long, quiet assessment of me just now, I take it you’re equally astonished that despite the sharks, I made it back to the mainland in the rental boat in one piece.”

She’d just made things worse. “I should have called for an appointment.”

One dark brow lifted. “But as you’ve already demonstrated, you like to live life on the edge so I’m not surprised you didn’t go through normal channels. I hardly recognized you from the television broadcast on Friday evening.”

Red-hot heat enveloped her. She’d never blushed in her life, but there was always a first time, as she was finding out. It crept from her toenails to the top of her head, missing nothing in between.