Be My Bride

‘I didn’t want to miss it.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She laughed again and patted his chest a couple of times. ‘But I am glad you’re not. Thank you.’

‘Anything for you.’ He winked and gently brushed the back of his hand along the edge of her fine-boned jaw. ‘Now you’d better go stop him from coming up and spoiling any of your surprises.’

As Aurelie left the room Victoria sat in a swelter of confusion and defiance and embarrassment.

‘You thought I was Aurelie’s fiancé?’ Liam walked back towards her, his smile had widened yet he managed to look less friendly.

Could he blame her when Aurelie had said ‘he’d’ arrived and then Liam had walked in as if he owned the place?

‘You thought I was marrying her?’ He stepped closer, suddenly very tall and a lot like a roadblock. ‘And playing you?’

Victoria tried to glance behind him but it was impossible. He was fully in her face and expecting an answer with his eagle eyes. The only thing to do was play it cool. Frigidly cool. ‘Do you blame me for thinking that?’ She arched her brows as if that could make her taller. ‘You have form.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I could spend some time arguing that, but why bother?’ He stayed in place, right in her space. ‘Just as I was five years ago, Victoria, I’m here as a guest.’

A guest. He truly wasn’t Aurelie’s fiancé.

For a second relief flooded her. But then mortification screamed back. Her cheeks burned under his mocking scrutiny.

Of course she’d thought he was the groom. In the rare moments she’d ever let herself think of him in the last five years, he’d always been the groom. The guy she’d never said yes to and refused to ever regret.

‘Your name wasn’t on the guest cards,’ she said defensively.

‘I didn’t think I was going to be able to make the wedding,’ he explained. ‘That’s why I’m one of the late additions.’ He pointed to the sheet of paper Aurelie had put on the desk.

He hadn’t made it to Victoria’s wedding. She wasn’t sure he’d even been invited. Not after what had happened. It was the only time she’d seen Oliver uncontrollably angry. She’d gone upstairs and the rest of the family had retired to change for lunch. Oliver and Liam had gone outside. Victoria had pressed close to her bedroom wall, secretly peering out of the window.

Liam had taken the blow without putting up any physical defence. The spot on his jaw had reddened, but all the while he’d quietly insisted to Oliver that nothing had happened. That she’d done nothing. That his interruption wasn’t her fault. It had been his mistake alone.

He’d been facing the house. He’d glanced up, seen her. Their eyes connected for one split second.

Withdrawing. Apologising. Leaving.

He’d never looked at her again. Until today.

But had she done nothing? Really? Who had made the bigger mistake? Whose fault was it really? She’d been scared. She’d never had the strength to stand up to any of them—her parents, Oliver. Even Liam. She’d always done as they bid because she’d needed their approval. And all of them had steamrollered over her. But she’d let them—she’d helped them. That wasn’t happening again. Only now she did look at the list Aurelie had handed to her. The third name down?

Liam Wilson.

‘Oh.’ She faked a bright smile. ‘I thought—’

‘I know what you thought,’ he said, easing back into position against the desk. ‘You never thought much of me, did you?’

That wasn’t true but she couldn’t reveal what she’d thought of him all those years ago. She couldn’t admit it then, she couldn’t now.

There were five names on that list: three men, two women—one of whom had the same surname as another of the guests. The other woman’s name was written last, beneath another man’s name. Liam’s name stood alone in the middle there. Was he coming to the wedding without a partner?

She didn’t need to know. She really didn’t. Because it didn’t matter.

That didn’t stop her glancing at his hands—his fisted fingers. Bare knuckles didn’t mean anything for men. Many guys didn’t wear wedding rings or, if they did, only when convenient. And even if they did wear them?

Victoria knew all too well how a wedding ring wasn’t necessarily an obstacle as far as another woman was concerned. Or for a husband who was no longer satisfied in his marriage. Liam’s lack of ring meant nothing. Nor did his lack of date.

But still that unwanted excitement heated her blood and anticipation zinged through her veins. What was she, some teen girl going to meet her fave ever boyband?

But he might be free. And now? So was she. There was nothing to stop them from finally exploring this thing…

Only the ten tonnes of baggage she was constantly pushing in front of her. And the baggage he’d worked into some kind of bullet-proof vest that he wore beneath that easy-come, easy-go attitude.

‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up at him. For today, for all those years ago. For what could never have been and never could be. She’d moved on; she didn’t want to go back to the doormat she’d been. She had plans and they didn’t involve anyone else. Not him. Not any man.

Liam looked right back at her, his mouth curved in that slight, sexy smile. Time shifted—five years disappeared in that unspoken communication. She was drawn right back into those feelings that should have been forgotten—warmth, want, desire.

And she had to get out of there before she did something really dumb.

He wrapped his fingers right round her wrist—halting her just as she moved. ‘I’m not anyone’s fiancé.’ His grip was sure and warm. ‘That means I’m free to flirt with whoever I want,’ he added.

‘Not with me,’ she said huskily, swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat. She didn’t want to flirt with anyone.

‘Yes, you.’ His smile was oddly gentle. ‘You’re not anyone’s fiancée either, or wife.’

So he knew her marriage had ended.

‘I can’t believe you still blush like this—’

‘I’m not here to flirt,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘I’m here to work.’ The emphasis was for herself as much as for him. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by this quirk of fate.

His gaze rested on her for a long moment, as if he were weighing the truth of her words. His grip remained firm— could he feel her pulse accelerating?

He let her go. ‘Then let’s see you in action.’ He handed back her pen.

As if.

‘I can’t do this with you watching.’ Her palms were damp; she’d already smudged ink everywhere just from hearing his voice. She’d be less competent than a two-year-old with a pack of finger-paints right now.

‘You always had a problem with me watching.’

She tensed, hoping to stop him from seeing her all-over tremble. She had always been aware of the way he watched her. ‘It’s not you,’ she lied sassily. ‘I don’t like anyone watching me work.’

‘In case you make a mistake?’

‘Not at all.’ She lied yet again. ‘I’m not afraid to make mistakes. I’ve made many.’ Too, too many.

‘Then you’re fine to write in front of me. Write my name.’

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to make more mistakes. She had to focus now.

‘You’re still a chicken,’ he jeered.

‘You’re confusing cowardice with being sensible.’ She had always tried to do the sensible thing. No shame in that, right? ‘And with these smudges?’ She held up her fingers. ‘Why would I waste my time and resources?’

He glanced at the table. ‘You’re really into all this?’

‘I want Aurelie to have what she wants.’

‘So you’ve not been put off weddings and all that’s wonderful about them?’

‘Of course not,’ she mocked. He was the cynical one, not she. ‘You think because my marriage didn’t work out, I’d go all bitter and anti?’

His lips twitched. ‘No. I just…wouldn’t have expected you to be so into weddings, I guess.’

‘I’m into other people’s weddings,’ she said smoothly, putting her pen back into its case. ‘And you’re still not into weddings at all.’

His shoulders lifted. ‘And yet here I am. Happy to enjoy someone else’s wedding.’

‘That’s an improvement on the last time I saw you. You didn’t seem to want anyone to marry then.’

‘And I was right, wasn’t I?’ He casually picked up a candle and breathed in the scent.

She took that hit. ‘You couldn’t have foreseen what was going to happen.’

‘Couldn’t I?’

No. She rejected the idea totally.

‘You and I both knew it wasn’t right,’ he said softly, lowering the candle and coolly looking at her. ‘Even Oliver knew it wasn’t right.’

‘I think it’s best if I go home and work on these in my studio,’ Victoria said through gritted teeth.

‘Where are you staying? Paris?’ Liam asked, his lips curving in that suspiciously sinful way. ‘I can give you a lift.’

‘You’re not staying here?’

He shook his head and straightened, looking all man-of-action. ‘I have some things in town I need to do.’

She couldn’t possibly get a lift with him. Never. The train was the only option.

Victoria looked up to meet his gaze and saw the mockery written all over him. But as she was about to answer he laid a finger over her lips.

‘What are you so worried about?’ he taunted slyly. ‘You’ll be stuck with me for less than an hour. What harm can come?’

To be stuck in a car with the guy who’d once tempted her so completely? She’d be mad to contemplate it. She had to think of some excuse.

‘With you driving?’ she tried to tease archly. ‘You always travelled too fast, Liam. So I’d say all kinds of harm could come.’

‘Oh, well.’ His answer came lazy and insolent. ‘If it’s speed you’re afraid of, why don’t you drive?’

TWO

Liam tried not to hold his breath as he waited for her answer. Victoria Rutherford—the only woman he’d wanted, but had never had. The one who’d got away. It was such a cliché, but face to face with her for the first time in five years?

He still wanted.

She was even more beautiful now. Until today he wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

‘Sure.’ Her very pretty chin tilted upwards as she finally gave him an answer.

Liam had to suppress more than a sigh of satisfaction—there was a burn in his blood and in his gut as well. Last time he’d asked her something it had been a denial she’d issued. Not today. And, as crazy as it was, Liam had more to ask of her. Much more. He wanted to hear ‘yes’ from her mouth many times over.

Maybe then his mind would be freed from all those memories.

Victoria willed confidence. Of course she could drive that big black car. It might have power but it’d also have every safety feature ever invented. And no doubt it had a fancy sat-nav system and automatic clutch. It’d be a cinch. ‘I’d love to drive.’

Yeah, she just oozed faux confidence—refusing to show how flustered she was.

She carefully packed her gear into her bag. Shame she didn’t have some light leather driving gloves to don with chic aplomb. Gloves would hide the almost permanent ink stains. ‘Let’s get going. I’ve got a lot of work to do.’

But the car that an assistant brought to the front entrance of the chateau wasn’t the big black machine she’d seen from the window. It was a tiny two-seater.

Victoria eyed the sleek gleaming silver with its explicit promise of speed and seduction and turned to Liam. ‘Who do you think you are—James Bond?’

Even she, no car fiend, recognised a vintage Aston Martin when she saw it. No automatic clutch, no sat-nav, no airbags. No roof even. And no chance she was driving it.

He held open the driver’s door for her. ‘You don’t think it’s gorgeous?’

That wasn’t the point. ‘Is it yours?’

Of course he had some zippy racing thing. The guy only knew one speed—supersonic.

He shook his head. ‘It’s a rental. But I figure that’s no reason to be boring.’

As if he could ever be boring. Still, the ownership gave her an out from the nightmare. ‘Then insurance won’t cover me. I’m not taking the chance of damaging a rental car.’

‘But you wouldn’t mind damaging mine?’

Her gaze clashed with his. He didn’t look away. Nor did she. Like swords crossed to the hilt, their eyes were locked. Neither would disengage.

‘You’re driving,’ she spoke through lips that barely moved.

‘See, you are a coward,’ he answered equally softly.

‘I choose not to take unnecessary risks.’ She broke the fierce challenge by walking round to the passenger side, yanking open the door and sliding into the seat. She really couldn’t afford a bill if she pranged. And given how shaky her hands were right now, a prang seemed inevitable.

After a minute that felt like an hour, she glanced over to where he still stood by the open driver’s door. He was smiling as he stared at her.

‘If you’re not willing to drive either, please let me know so I can catch a train,’ she said impatiently. ‘I need to get home to get on with my work.’

‘Of course,’ he answered ever so politely.

Frankly, she didn’t see how a guy with legs as long as his could actually fit into a tiny roadster like this. But he did with a way-too-sensual ease, pulling sunglasses from a small compartment and putting them on. That was when she registered the next problem. The two-seater was a close fit. It wasn’t big enough for her to be able to slink into the far corner. Instead his shoulder was merely inches from hers.

Too intimate.

Swallowing, she glared out of the window. She’d focus on the external view, not the Greek-god-gorgeous guy sitting so close.

He revved the engine and cruised down the gravel driveway. Victoria breathed again, inhaling the fresh summer air. They’d be on the motorway and he’d put his foot down and they’d be back in Paris in no time and this would all be over. As they reached the end of the drive she braced herself for the acceleration. But when they hit the road, Liam didn’t quit the leisurely pace.

‘What’s with the speed, Grandpa?’ she finally asked. She wanted away from him as soon as possible. ‘Are we anywhere near the speed limit?’

‘If I drive too fast, I won’t be able to hear you.’

Hear her what? Breathe? She wasn’t about to have any kind of deep and meaningful conversation with the man. As far as she was concerned, the less they talked, the better. Her overly sensitive nerves didn’t need to hear more of the laughter that was always audible in his voice. So she sat silent, keeping her eyeballs glued to the window. After five minutes they were still going at that ridiculous pace.

‘You’ll get pulled over for holding up the traffic,’ she finally muttered.

‘There aren’t any cars behind me and, if there were, there’s a lane for them to overtake me.’

See, there it was. That latent lazy humour. As if everything was warm and easy with him. Well, if he was going to insist on the snail’s pace—and he clearly was—then she might as well quench some of the curiosity burning out her brain. ‘Why are you at the chateau so far ahead of the wedding? Isn’t your life so busy you could only fly in the day before?’

‘I’m on holiday. Thought I’d help her out with some arrangements.’

As he’d helped prepare for that Christmas years ago? He’d worked alongside her—helping out in all kinds of ways. As if he, like she, couldn’t cope with sitting around idly all day. She’d always wanted to feel needed. But she didn’t think he craved other people’s approval in the same way she did. ‘You don’t want to laze on the beach?’

He shook his head. ‘I’d want to be on the water.’

‘You’re not good at having a holiday.’ He’d always sought out something to do.

‘I prefer to keep busy.’

‘Why’s that? You can’t relax?’

She glanced at him. His eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, but his mouth curved into that wicked grin.

‘I can relax,’ he said softly.

‘By ‘getting busy’, right?’ she asked sarcastically, knowing that was exactly what he was thinking of. ‘But you can’t cope with quiet? You scared of being alone with your thoughts?

‘I’m a professional sportsman, right? Therefore I don’t have thoughts.’

Oh, he was no brainless jock type. He was smart, successful—you didn’t need to note the expensive watch and discreet-but-mega-expensive clothing labels to know that.

‘So what have you been keeping busy with these last five years?’ Once more she gave into her urges and asked.

‘You don’t know?’

She sent him a cool look. ‘No. You left on Christmas Day and that was that.’

His brows waggled above his sunglasses. ‘You mean you didn’t Google me?’

‘No.’ Laughter bubbled out at his irrepressible arrogance. ‘I’m sorry to deflate your ego, but I haven’t spent the last few years cyber-stalking you.’ Which wasn’t to say she hadn’t ever thought about him. But she’d resisted curiosity then and pushed him from her mind. Now his answer made her wonder. ‘Did you ever Google me?’

He smiled at the road ahead, his fingers rhythmically tapping the steering wheel.

Oh, my. ‘You did.’ She twisted in her seat and stared at him. ‘When did you Google me?’ It would have been easy to find her. She hadn’t changed her name—something that had really bothered Oliver. She had a website—it even had her picture on it. And she was on Facebook like anyone. She frowned, drew her lip between her teeth. What had Liam found out about her online? What info was out there that she didn’t know about?

‘When I heard you and Oliver had broken up,’ he said.

All that time later? A lone butterfly fluttered in her stomach. ‘How did you hear about that?’

‘I’m still in touch with some people in London.’

But not Oliver? ‘You know he’s gone to Canada.’

He nodded.

So he probably also knew Oliver hadn’t gone to Canada alone. What else did he know?

Suddenly cold, Victoria didn’t want to find out. She didn’t want to think what some of her old acquaintances might have said about how it all fell apart.

‘How do you know Aurelie?’ She turned back to stare out of the windscreen, folding her arms across her tummy.

There was a pause. ‘I’m one of her ex-boyfriends.’ Victoria clenched her fingers into fists, glad they were hidden under her arms. She kept her eyes firmly on the window. So he had wanted Aurelie. He’d had Aurelie. Then she remembered the expression that had briefly flared in his eyes when she’d interrupted him hugging Aurelie. Was he hurt because his former love was marrying someone else?

Victoria released the breath she’d held too long. ‘You’re still friends?’

‘We’re close.’ He inclined his head and briefly glanced at her. ‘Is that hard to believe?’

Frankly yes. What woman could be ‘just friends’ with Liam Wilson? He was too intensely attractive.

And what surprised her more was that he chose to remain in touch with Aurelie. He’d been the burning bridges type a few years ago.

‘Is she the one who got away?’ She tried to joke but it sounded flat to her. ‘Do you still hold a torch?’

‘I care very much about Aurelie, but—’

‘You care about yourself more?’ She couldn’t help interrupting rudely—she regretted asking anything now. She didn’t want to know.

He chuckled. ‘What is it about me that threatens you so much?’

‘Nothing. You don’t. I’m not bothered by you.’ Lord, could she sound any more flustered?

She tilted her head back and hoped the breeze would cool her cheeks.

‘No? I bothered you once. I made you want something you thought you shouldn’t.’ His smile was still there but all sense of joking was dead.

‘As arrogant as ever, I see.’ And a game player. He’d considered her sport. He’d done it because he couldn’t help himself—consumed by that driving need to win. Even over his best friend. Oliver had told her about the new sailor who’d come into the team—that he was driven like no one else.

He was driven to win in everything.

But even though she knew that to be the truth, her heart puckered. Surely it hadn’t entirely been a game? That attraction had been intensely fierce. Surely there was no way it had only been her feeling it for real?

And the night they’d first met, Liam hadn’t known she was Oliver’s girlfriend. Not until that heated look and those soft, searing words had already been exchanged.

‘You’d be disappointed if I wasn’t.’

She rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help those urges again. ‘So you and Aurelie?’

The wry smile on his lips told her he was amused by her curiosity. She lifted her chin and ploughed on anyway. Because, damn it, they’d shared something. They weren’t mere acquaintances. A moment of connection had forged a thread between them. Incredibly, she almost felt a right to know. He’d once interfered in her personal life—didn’t that give her certain leeway in return? ‘How long were you together?’

‘On and off, almost three years.’

She snapped her mouth shut, almost as shocked as when she’d first seen him walk into that room at the chateau. He’d been with Aurelie longer than she’d been married to Oliver? He must have loved her.

Liam chuckled. ‘I’ve surprised you.’

‘Yes.’ She drew a breath and nodded. ‘You have. But in a good way.’

‘Why good?’

‘You committed that long.’

‘You didn’t think I could commit?’ His brows shot high, an odd note sounding in his voice.

‘It doesn’t fit with your image.’

There was a pause. ‘What’s my image?’

Victoria swivelled in her seat again to look directly at him, determined to play it up and ease them back into that slightly wary, almost joking mood. ‘Untamable. Challenging. Arrogant.’

There were so many more adjectives she could add to his definition. But she wasn’t going to feed his ego any more.

‘And that makes me seem like I wouldn’t commit?’

‘Well, you’re such a flirt,’ she said bluntly.

He laughed and his hands tightened on the wheel. ‘Only with you.’

‘Yeah, right.’ That was a prime example of his flirt talk just there. And it totally wasn’t true. He’d had them all eating out of his hand all those years ago. She’d seen how the other girls there had watched him. They’d looked at him the same way Victoria had covertly looked at him. With dazzled hunger.

She couldn’t believe he’d been with Aurelie three years. What had happened to break them up? Why was she marrying someone else? Victoria thought she already knew. Liam wasn’t the marrying kind. Not even to a total dream-girl like Aurelie. He’d never be pinned down by any woman—not for life. No doubt there were too many other challenges—races, trophies, women.

‘Are you in a new relationship now?’ That curiosity got her once more.

‘No,’ he answered with a soft drawl. ‘I have commitment issues.’

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. Even though she knew it was the truest thing he’d said all day.

‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Are you with someone new?’

She shook her head. ‘I have commitment issues too.’

Now his laughter rolled.

‘Well, you can’t blame me for being wary now.’ She smiled wryly.

He stopped laughing immediately. ‘No.’ He turned his attention to the road ahead. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’

‘I thought you were all ‘I told you so’?’

He shook his head. ‘He was an idiot.’ There was a silence. ‘We were all idiots.’

Victoria shrank in her seat. She’d been the biggest idiot. She’d been unable to stand up for herself and say what she’d really wanted. And in some ways, what she’d really wanted had been neither of them. She’d needed freedom and independence and she’d been too afraid to reach for it. But she had it now and she wasn’t giving it up.

‘The calligraphy’s going well for you?’ He changed the subject.

‘Yes,’ she said proudly. It mightn’t be world famous but it was doing okay.

‘It’s an interesting way to make a living. Doing the purely decorative.’

‘It’s nice to make things beautiful for people. Life shouldn’t just be functional,’ she declared, knowing he was deliberately provoking her and responding regardless. ‘Anyway, it’s no less meaningless than sailing from point A to point B as fast as possible. You’re hardly securing world peace with that career.’ She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with an affected gesture. ‘At least what I do makes a difference to a few people—it makes them smile.

‘I make people smile too, you know,’ he said slyly. ‘I make people cheer. And scream.’

She bet he made many women scream. ‘Is that why you do it?’ She couldn’t resist a little provoking either—asking him in terribly polite tones, ‘You need the adulation?’

His resulting chuckle made her smile inside. ‘I just like to win.’

He hadn’t won with her. He still wouldn’t.

She looked at him. ‘Not everyone can win all of the time. Not even you.’

‘That’s not going to stop me trying.’

No. Hadn’t he made a play for her even when he knew she was with someone else—someone who was supposed to be his best friend?

But once more her conscience niggled because he could argue he hadn’t made a play. He’d not said or done anything out of line once he knew who she was. Then again the man was so devastating he hadn’t needed to do or say. He’d only needed to look. And when he had finally spoken? In front of everyone? She sighed. He was the one who’d got away.

‘This the street you meant?’

Despite his determined effort to fly well under the speed limit for the entire journey, they were indeed finally in her neighbourhood.

‘Yes.’ She directed him to her apartment and he pulled up outside.

Her heart thundered. Her silly hands were actually sweating as she unclipped her seat belt. She was going to say goodbye to him again. For ever. Good, right?

He turned in his seat and faced her. She should get out of the car. She should open the door and walk away. But she couldn’t; somehow she needed to see him—see his eyes. See if that look was there.

And he knew it. He took off his sunglasses, meeting her eyes. His were serious, but there was that glint of laughter and of something else.

Determination. Desire. Challenge.

She recognised them all. But she couldn’t let this happen. Even if she was dying of curiosity inside. She’d resisted him once, she could again, right? She had a new man-free plan and she was sticking to it.

‘Victoria—’

‘No.’ She pre-empted him. She was not inviting him in. She was not touching him. She was not letting him—

He smiled. Reaching out, he touched her burning cheek with just the tips of his fingers.

She clamped her jaw together.

‘Even now you want to resist it?’ he murmured.

‘You can’t just pick up with five years in between when we last saw each other.’ Did she have to sound so breathy?

‘Why not?’

‘Because…’ So much had gone down between then and now.

‘I’m single.’ He glanced at her hands in her lap. ‘You’re no longer attached.’

‘And you’re pleased about that,’ she said tartly.

He clamped his hand over hers, a quick frown pulling his brows. ‘Of course I’m not. Believe it or not I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you both to be happy.’

She swallowed, conscious of the strength of his hand pushing on hers. The heat of it. ‘We were,’ she said hoarsely, but honestly. ‘For a while.’

‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out. But it not working out was nothing to do with me.’

‘I never said it was.’ And she wouldn’t. But the edges of her heart shrivelled because, while Oliver had been the one who’d cheated, she’d been the one who’d withheld part of herself. She’d not been honest with him. Or herself. Or anyone.

Liam leaned closer. ‘Don’t make me pay the price of him hurting you.’

‘I’m sorry?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘What is it you want to do?’

‘What I’ve always wanted to do.’ His shoulders lifted. ‘From the second I first saw you in nothing but a towel and steam. At least I’m honest enough to admit it.’

She felt the steam now as heat surged through her body.

‘This thing between us?’ He shook his head. ‘Still the same, even after all this time. You can’t deny it.’

Of course she’d deny it. Self-preservation was a basic instinct. ‘I can.’ Because she knew all that was important to know about Liam, yet he knew nothing of what was important about her. Like the fact she wasn’t about to let herself get distracted. ‘You don’t know me now, Liam. You don’t know what I want.’

‘So you’re going to take the easy option and avoid it? You’re good at that.’

She shook her head. ‘You thought you were so clever. That you saw it all. But you saw nothing of what was really going on with me. You didn’t know me.’

‘I knew enough,’ he argued. ‘I still do.’

‘And what do you think you know? That I was sexually attracted to you?’ She kept her head high despite another flare of heat in her cheeks. ‘You intrigued me then, yes, I admit it. But I’m not interested now.’

‘Then prove it.’ His gaze locked on hers. ‘Come closer without blushing.’

‘Oh, please.’ She covered up with a laugh. ‘I don’t need to prove anything to you.’

‘What about to yourself?’ he challenged right back, his expression wicked and tempting. ‘Isn’t that part of what you’re doing now? Isn’t your move to Paris all about proving things to yourself?’

‘You still think you’re so smart.’

‘No, but I know when I’m right.’ He brushed that strand of hair behind her ear for her. ‘You’re out here on your own. Proving you can do it. You can handle it.’

‘And I can,’ she whispered.

He smiled. ‘Yet you won’t even try to handle me.’