so are the rest of the men in your family.”
There. She folded her arms to close the topic.
He folded his, bunching those gorgeous shoulders in a way that made her throat go dry. “You’re funny,” he said.
“I’m completely serious!”
“I know. That’s why it’s funny. Calling marriage to any of us an ambition is hysterical.” He didn’t laugh. He only gave his mouth an ironic twist, which drew her notice to the shape of his lips. The lower was fuller than the top one, but the upper had a shallow space between the two peaks, perfect for a fingertip. The corners of his mouth extended into short, deep lines that gave him that look of being perpetually amused by the lives of the mortals around him.
His smile grew and he jerked his chin in a nudge of insistence, voice pitched intimately low, filled with knowledge that she was responding to him. “Have dinner with me, Natalie.”
She was mooning. And he’d noticed. Of course he had. He was a serial pickup artist. Where were the natural disasters when you needed them? It was definitely time for the earth to open up and suck her underground.
“Dating among coworkers is frowned upon,” she managed, delighted to have found both the excuse and a steady voice. “I’m sorry you thought I was making a play for your brother-in-law, but I’m highly cognizant of company policy and have no intention of violating it, even if he were available. Now, if we’re finished, I really should get back to work.”
“You’re sorry for my mistake? This really is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Come on. Dinner. It will be my apology.” He splayed his straight fingers against his wide chest. A gorgeous chest, she was sure. He looked like he worked out. Often. His physique distracted her from how suddenly he’d turned on the charm. “Where’s the harm in the boss taking an out-of-town employee to dinner? It’s networking,” he cajoled.
“Is that what it would be?” She couldn’t help her snort of laughter. She’d thought he was merely a playboy, but he made the sharing of his favors sound like some kind of a job perk.
His expression changed slightly as she laughed, becoming less arrogant as his regard sharpened with male interest and something more acute, as though he was reassessing her. It made her think she might be holding her own in this match of wits, surprising him.
Which gave her a thrill that she did her best to ignore.
“Look, I’m flattered,” she rushed to say, glancing away so he wouldn’t see how flattered. As sophisticated as she dreamed of being, she wasn’t prepared for someone like him. “But I’ve seen the women you date and I’m not in their league. Which, by the way, is another reason I would never set my sights on your brother-in-law. So thank you for this extremely interesting conversation, but I need to get back to work. I don’t want to get fired,” she added pointedly.
“Not in their league?” he repeated, frowning in disagreement as he gave her yet another thorough assessment in a way that set her alight. Her entire body actually hurt from the blood rush that prickled through her.
She’d starved herself and worked out like mad before leaving Montreal, determined that if any sort of corporate limelight fell upon her—or any sexy Frenchmen—she’d have nothing to be insecure about. Nevertheless, she experienced a pang of insecurity under his review, worried she wasn’t up to standard.
He dragged his gaze back up to hers and let her see undisguised male desire.
Tingling excitement encompassed her. It wasn’t exactly confidence, but it wasn’t uncertainty, either. It was a delicious and involuntary “yes, please” that scared the hell out of her.
“You’re very much in an elite league of your own, Natalie. Or are you making excuses to spare my feelings? It would surprise me if you are. You don’t strike me as someone who would bother. Not considering the frankness we’ve already arrived at.”
That made her chuckle drily, but she suppressed it with a sheepish dip of her chin. “You’re right. But read my personnel file, Mr. Makricosta—”
“Demitri,” he corrected.
“I don’t live nearly as fast as you do. Demitri.” She tried to make her voice diffident and amused, but Demitri was a surprisingly erotic name for a man with an American accent. “If I thought you were issuing a genuine invitation—and one that was only for dinner,” she added with a you-can’t-fool-me look. “I would be tempted. My coworkers here have families to go home to. It would be refreshing not to eat alone. But I suspect you’re mocking me. Or maybe punishing me for said frankness?”
He was taken aback by that. “Why wouldn’t I want to take you out? You’re beautiful, amusing and you have a pretty laugh.”
The sincerity in his tone made her heart swing inside her chest, dipping and lifting in a way that made her set a hand on the edge of her desk for balance. She grappled for humor to deflect how thoroughly his simple compliment disarmed her.
“And you want to hear that laugh in bed?” she challenged.
“Ha!” His chuckle was surprised and real, his grin appreciative before it turned hot and hungry. His gaze closed around her like a fist.
“I’ll have the car brought to the curb for seven.”
DON’T BOTHER.
That was all she’d had to say before he had winked and left her alone in her office. She could have chased him down, although she’d kept her eye out for him the rest of the day, filled with misgivings, but hadn’t seen him. The intercompany email was the simplest option. It didn’t even require the awkwardness of explaining herself. All she would have had to type was I can’t make it.
She hadn’t.
Why not?
Oh, she’d come up with dozens of rationalizations including, “it’s only dinner.” She was lonely and homesick. Travel for work wasn’t as glamorous as she’d expected, especially without someone to share stories with, and calling Zoey twice a day wasn’t nearly enough. She was used to her daughter disappearing for a weekend with her father up to the farm, but going on ten days without being able to hug her girl was a form of slow torture.
Therefore, she reasoned, she was entitled to a night out on the company that had separated them. She’d already put in tons of extra hours on this project. She and Demitri would probably talk about work anyway. She certainly wasn’t looking at this as a real date. Definitely not one where she might get lucky.
She shaved her legs anyway. Then put on the sexy black underwear she’d bought here in Paris and topped it with a black lace sheath over a black slip. She stepped into the heels she’d picked up at the consignment store before leaving Montreal, the ones she’d debated whether to bring at all because they were too high to be practical for anything less than a night on the town. With her fake diamond earrings winking from behind the fall of her freshly washed hair and her makeup more dramatic than usual, she was as date-worthy as she’d ever been.
Then she stood at the curb like an idiot for ten minutes.
Wow. What a prince. And she had developed quite a jerk radar
