Chapter Twelve
In France …
Veronica Rutledge German lounged beside a pool of clear water. Hardly a ripple disturbed the glassy surface, and only rarely would a tame breeze ruffle her hair or tickle her cheek. Her skin was turning bronze, a dewy glaze of suntan oil and perspiration beading up on her thighs and shoulders as her body baked under a hot sun. She’d been sleeping, drowsily awakening when she heard the sound of footsteps disturb her peaceful slumber. She didn’t bother to open her eyes, sensing who was at her side simply by the feel and smell of his body close to hers.
“Ah! Pierre, what do you want now?”
“You’re needed in a meeting, Mrs. German.”
“I’ve spent days in meetings.” Her exasperated drone sounded almost shrill.
Pierre was patient, hardly making a move. He’d likely
